Two Disciples Cannot Coexist Under Heaven
And so, spring came again.
Standing at the summit of the mountain, Sian gazed down at the slopes dyed pink with blossoms. A cool breeze slipped between his sweat-soaked sleeves, chilling his body through.
With the fevered heat of exertion settling into calm, the tension in Sian's shoulders melted away.
It was a new hobby he'd picked up lately. After finishing an exhausting training session, when his whole body was drenched in sweat, he would climb up to the mountaintop and let the wind cool him down. With breathtaking scenery spread before his eyes, listening to the chatter of birds drifting up from far below, he felt as though the entire world lay at his feet.
Iris, sitting beside him, seemed to be savoring the same quiet luxury. Which meant it was probably time to carefully, cautiously, broach a certain subject.
"Master. Would it be all right if this unworthy disciple of yours dared to say something?"
Iris cracked one eye halfway open, glanced at him, and gave a small nod. "Speak."
"It's nothing much."
Sian cleared his throat once before continuing.
"Is it possible that you're, well... slowly running out of things to teach me?"
"..."
"And if so, please don't be embarrassed. They do say the student outshines the teacher, after all. A disciple has to be allowed to walk right over his master's shadow, or what was the point of being taught?"
He'd delivered that quite politely, he thought, and felt rather satisfied with himself. For all his appearance, Sian was a fine young man who had lived twenty-one years in the modern era and knew exactly how much respect a student owed his teacher.
Iris clicked her tongue.
Before long, three vivid bruises had bloomed in a neat row atop Sian's head. Watching him clutch his skull, Iris spoke with an air of utter disbelief.
"I ease up on you for a little while and you turn into a regular peacock, do you?"
"...Gah. Then what else am I supposed to think?"
Sian protested, still holding his head.
"It's been a whole month and you haven't taught me a thing. When I train, you just stand way off in the distance and watch."
Indeed, Iris had stopped giving Sian instruction entirely. Whenever he trained, she would simply stand at a remove, watching in silence.
And Sian was not happy about it.
"...I think you're misunderstanding something. I can't say it because it's not something I should put into words."
A mischievous look crossed Iris's face.
"There are certain realms you can only truly claim to have reached if you grasp them on your own."
Sian parted his lips, then closed them again.
Because of those eyes that were watching him so openly.
Those eyes, brimming with expectation — as if hoping for something from him — pricked at Sian's chest.
It had always been that way. From the very moment they first met, Iris had been expecting something from him.
Expectation. Yearning. Curiosity.
...So in the end, I'm supposed to figure it out for myself.
But figure out what, exactly?
He had turned the question over and over in his mind, yet nothing flickered to life. He felt like a scholar confronted with a metaphysical equation.
"Still, I suppose I could give you a hint."
Rising to her feet, Iris stepped down from the great boulder where she had been sitting. Then, with a light tap, she rapped her knuckles against the rock.
"You will split this boulder with your wooden sword."
"...?"
"I can see you want to ask how that could possibly be done."
"I mean... can I?"
Even punching the thing bare-knuckled wouldn't draw so much as a drop of blood — from the rock, anyway. How on earth was he supposed to cleave solid stone with a sword, let alone a wooden one?
"Remember this."
Iris's voice dropped low.
"Human potential is not confined to the fences of your own imagination. The moment you draw a limit and call it common sense, you snap the possibility inside you with your own two hands."
Split a boulder with a wooden sword.
It was, realistically speaking, impossible. Sian understood the logic well enough. No matter how powerful the strike, against solid rock the wood would always be the first to give way and shatter.
Yet knowing it was hopeless, his grip on the sword still tightened.
Belief that it could be done. The refusal to deny a possibility simply because it defied everything he knew.
That recklessness was precisely what Iris had been pushing him toward — and, as it happened, it was also the thing Sian had always been best at.
Once again, the same days repeated themselves.
The wooden sword broke. And broke again.
Even as he laughed bitterly to himself that the only thing improving was his skill at whittling new swords, Sian never stopped swinging. It wasn't just because it was Iris's assignment, either.
He was simply, purely enjoying the reckless process itself — the brush of wind against his fingertips with every swing.
Then, one day —
As usual, Sian had left the village behind and stood before the boulder. As he raised his wooden sword into the cool breeze, an unfamiliar sound wormed its way into his ears.
Scuff. Scuff.
Footsteps. A person's footsteps.
Not Iris.
He knew the metronome-steady rhythm of her military stride far too well by now to mistake it for anything else.
Sian quietly lowered the sword he'd raised. His eyes turned toward the source of the sound.
...A person?
Perhaps two hundred meters from where he stood, a girl was hauling herself up the mountainside, panting hard.
A lost hiker? Or had she come for some purpose?
Either way, she didn't seem likely to do him any real harm. Having made his judgment, Sian resumed his training.
Some time passed. The presence drew closer — and before he knew it, her face had come into clear focus. Only then did Sian lower his sword and meet her gaze.
"Haah... haahh... Found you at last."
Sian gave her a quick once-over. Her clothes screamed money at a glance, and her flawless, porcelain face sat ill at ease against this barren landscape.
...Who is she supposed to be?
She wasn't someone he could place at a glance. But the way she kept her eyes locked on him even while gasping for breath suggested she was no ordinary visitor.
"...You're Iris's disciple, aren't you?"
Sian said nothing.
Aside from Iris, he had never seen this face before. And judging by her clothing, she was hardly someone to be trifled with. One careless word, and who knew what trouble it might invite.
"No, seriously — you're really Iris's disciple? You look like the wind could carry you off. Forget a sword, can you even lift a stick properly?"
Sian's eyebrow twitched once.
"That's right."
"Huh, unexpected. Iris taking on someone like... wait, no — why are you talking down to me?"
"You started it."
"I did? Uh... hm. Huh. Now that you mention it, I guess I did."
Casting about in visible confusion, she cleared her throat and drew herself up, leveling her gaze at him once more.
"Anyway! That settles that."
A sly smile crept across the girl's lips. In the same instant, something came hurtling at his face with a sharp whistle of displaced air. Sian tilted his head just slightly, and a single leather glove thumped harmlessly against the tree stump behind him and dropped to the ground.
"A duel!"
She grinned and raised her sword.
"Two disciples cannot share one sky! Let's settle it right here — who is the more worthy disciple of Lady Iris!"
Sian's right eyebrow arched.
...First I'm hearing about the Master having another disciple.
But then, what did it matter? His master surely had her reasons, whatever they were. Besides, a far sweeter proposal had just landed in his lap.
Sian smiled, slow and easy.
"Sure."
And so Sian nodded, glad and willing.
He wanted to test his own strength.
Iris could never serve as a measuring stick. But the girl before him looked to be around his age, and claimed to be Iris's disciple — which meant her skill came with a certain guarantee.
...How strong am I now, exactly?
Sian lifted his wooden sword. The girl's eyes went wide at the sight of it — a crude, obviously hand-whittled thing.
"...You're serious? You're going to fight with that?"
"It suits me just fine."
At Sian's flat reply, the color drained from her face.
"...Don't come crying to me when you're hurt!"
BOOM—!
The inn's ground floor kept a small tavern for its lodgers. In the farthest, most secluded corner of it, Iris looked across the table at her guest.
"The last time I saw you was at the front lines. Two years ago now, I believe."
"Has it really been that long?"
Iris gave a bitter smile. Two whole years had passed since then, and yet to her those days remained as vivid as if they'd been only yesterday.
"I take it my visit isn't a welcome one."
"I wanted to forget it all."
The man — Alfred — fell silent.
He had a rough idea of why she had come down to this remote corner of the world and gone into hiding. That was precisely why he did not dare touch the depths of that silence.
A heavy quiet settled low between the two of them. At length, Iris, who had been toying with her cup, spoke.
"Get to the point. Then leave."
So she won't share so much as a greeting with a comrade she once bled beside, he thought. The bitterness chafed at him inside, but he let none of it show. There were things that mattered more right now.
"Return to the Empire."
"And if I refuse?"
"What if I called it not an order, but a request?"
"If there's no force behind it, then there's even less reason for me to walk there on my own two feet."
With that, Iris propped her chin on her hand. The slight shrug of her shoulders was magnificently indifferent.
"It is not my request, my lady. It is the request of the one I serve."
"You mean Lumine."
"Yes. That is correct."
Lumine von Astrea.
The Third Imperial Princess of the Empire — and, once upon a time, Iris's own student.
She had somehow ended up serving as the girl's swordsmanship instructor, though the arrangement had not lasted long. When war broke out, she had answered the Empire's summons and gone to the front.
"That's a name I haven't heard in a while."
The child had adored her. Wherever Iris went, Lumine would come trailing after her like a duckling, and it had been impossible not to find endearing. So she had cherished her, dearly.
"Tell Lumine I'm sorry."
"..."
"I came down here intending to bury my bones."
Saying this, Iris lifted the cup on the table and moistened only her lips with it. The sharp bite of cheap swill lingered bitter on her tongue.
"The political situation in the capital has become dire."
Iris's hand, on its way to her mouth, froze in midair.
"As the power struggle has intensified, Her Highness the Princess's position has grown extremely precarious. The Imperial Guard alone can no longer protect her."
Unmistakable urgency bled through Alfred's voice. Even Iris, who had maintained her air of indifference until now, felt a ripple of unrest stir in her eyes.
"...That child."
"Believe me, the last thing we wanted was to reach for you as well. But with matters as they stand, who wouldn't clutch at even a straw?"
That was the desperation that had driven Alfred all this way. From the heart of the Empire to this forgotten borderland — armed with nothing but a rumor that Iris had been spotted in the region, racing for days until he arrived here.
"We came grasping at our last hope. Her Highness has pushed herself to exhaustion again and again over the course of this long journey, so—"
"...Hold on. You're telling me the Princess is here?"
"Yes. That is correct."
"Where?"
But Alfred was already looking around the room uneasily as he answered.
"When she heard the rumor that you'd taken on a disciple, she said she wanted to see this student of yours, and — well — she slipped away."
Within the village, the relationship between Iris and Sian was common knowledge; there wasn't a soul who didn't know of it. If they had gone around asking after Iris, they would have had no trouble hearing about Sian too.
"...When exactly did the Princess leave?"
"Hmm. I'd say a good three hours have passed."
"Did they tell her where my disciple might be?"
"I heard them say he trains mostly in the mountains."
Three hours. More than enough time for the Princess to have reached the place where he was.
...What happens if the two of them meet?
Iris's mind began to churn. Having weathered years side by side with Sian, she prided herself on knowing a fair amount about the boy.
And that was exactly the problem.
The Sian she knew would never leave Her Highness the Princess in peace.
"N-no, this is no time to be sitting around."
Uncharacteristically flustered, Iris bolted from her seat. Alfred's baffled stare followed her, but she had no room in her head to spare for it.
"We leave this instant!"
"Wh-what's happened?!"
"Start running! Unless you want scars left on Her Highness's royal skin!"
How long did they run? Pouring aura into her legs, Iris scaled the mountain in a matter of moments — and what met her eyes at the summit was a scene that deviated not one inch from her worst expectations.
"Aack... aaagh... I-it hurts!"
"Yeah, well. I told you to get up."
"My b-body won't moooove... gahhAAAARGH... I-it went in! It went in, I said!"
"No it didn't. Quit the theatrics and get up, you brat."
Watching Sian poke and prod the girl's backside with the tip of his wooden sword, Iris dragged a hand down her face.