The Gun is 'Sword' (2)

The age of the sword had been a magnificent one.

From the earliest days, blade-objects of legend were forged—the lute-shaped bronze sword, Excalibur, the Five Swords Under Heaven—and the Namgung clan, a house ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of swordsmen, stood at the height of prestige.

But the sword, which had held the title of King of All Arms ever since the Bronze Age, fell from grace the moment the gun appeared.

Superior lethality. Simple operation. Long range. Convenient portability. World's greatest swordsman or not—nobody survives a bullet.

Swordsmen pivoted toward launching slashes from their blades, but in the end they were nothing more than an inferior copy of the gun. The Namgung clan spent long years researching secret jujutsu to break that deadlock.

Namgung Hanran was, at last, one of the two blades the Namgung had forged to set themselves apart from the gun. An Activation Type jujutsu that unleashed supernatural power by the wielder's will—Manbyeongssangwang, the Sword Shooter—treated guns as swords. An Innate Cursed Technique that claimed every advantage of the gun and every advantage of the blade. In other words, the obsolete sword had quietly slipped itself back into the King of All Arms that was the gun.

"That would be me. I was rather pleased until a moment ago. Now I'm in a truly foul mood... Here I come. One-Sword Style: Calamity Burn—"

Hanran racked the slide of her XD pistol, chambered the first round, and fired almost in the same breath. With a dry crack of gunfire, the bullet became a slash.

"Wh-what? That's impossible... The Namgung were supposed to be finished... Gahk—?"

Srrrng—

By the time Mo Hae-yeon, the leader of the attackers, registered what had happened, her neck was already half-carved open. A gout of blood burst from her mouth. She did manage to stitch the wound shut almost immediately with her Innate Cursed Technique, Bongduhyunrang—Hair Hangman—which let her freely control and regenerate her hair. Even so, the injury was fatal-grade.

"Big sis~~! Your little bro's comin' in~!"

Clowning around as usual, Cameleon pulled a revolver from his aloha shirt. His body—clothes, gun, and all—began blending into the surroundings. His Color-Shift Scale was a jujutsu specialized for ambush. Unless you were a genuine expert, finding a hidden Cameleon was no easy feat.

"Fire."

Namgung Hanran gave the order with a gently smiling face. As if those words were the signal, the concealed Cameleon's gun spat flame.

But the girl rolled across the floor, dropped into a prone shooting stance, and loosed two shots in rapid succession. One round struck Cameleon's trigger hand dead-on; the other punched into his gut.

"Fuck, that hurts like hell. You little bitch—!!"

The empty air flickered, and a bleeding chameleon beastman materialized. His Color-Shift Scale had come undone. He'd dropped the bit entirely, snarling in protest.

Hanran didn't miss the opening—she pulled the trigger again. Thanks to his three-hundred-and-sixty-degree rotating eyeballs he avoided a heart shot, but the bullet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠had still stabbed him. The round bored in with a tearing whistle, like the tip of a slender rapier punching through the air. Blood seeping from the puncture wound dyed his aloha shirt red.

"You understand now, I trust? If you draw a gun, you must be prepared to stake your life. A firearm is not a tool for making threats, you see."

The two of them were half-dead in an instant, and a hulking man in a padded jacket came charging out with a guttural roar. A rogue sorcerer known by the moniker Skin Walker. Hanran said, smiling faintly,

"And what manner of small fry might you be?"

He flung off the padded jacket, revealing a grotesque figure with the skin peeled from his body. It looked for all the world like an anatomical model from a science classroom.

"Grrraaaaagh—"

Skin Walker pulled a rolled-up Nephilim hide from somewhere and dragged it over himself. It was the hide of a Class II Nephilim, a hybrid of rhinoceros and gorilla traits. An Innate Cursed Technique that granted him the hide's power once it fused completely with his body, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠perhaps?

"Scissor Bullet—"

With a snip, the Nephilim hide was sliced clean in two.

"Guh. G-grraaah?"

Skin Walker shrieked, apparently having assumed no one would interrupt a transformation.

"Are you an idiot? Why on earth would I sit quietly and watch an obvious power-up?"

There was no need to waste a bullet on a fool like this. She kicked him. With a satisfying thud, Skin Walker's emaciated body went flying, a choked groan spilling from his throat.

"Big sis. Can I even breathe like this~~!??"

"Ah, fuck. I'm alive, at least. Hah. Haaah."

Still, Skin Walker's struggle hadn't been entirely useless. Mo Hae-yeon and Cameleon, having injected emergency shots, staggered to their feet, breathing hard.

"I thought turning people into pulp was my specialty, but it seems I still have a ways to go. Shall I stop holding back this time?"

Narrowing her eyes, Hanran assessed them quietly.

"An automatic pistol's capacity. Sixteen rounds at most. Cameleon, don't let her swap magazines."

"Got it, sis~~!!!"

Namgung Hanran walked toward them without even raising her gun, arms hanging loosely at her sides. The two of them each activated their jujutsu and took fighting stances. In close combat, the combination of these two Bad Friends Alliance officers was terrifying. And yet the girl's voice was astonishingly cold.

"A Namgung swordsman always carries one more blade, nestled against the heart."

Namgung Hanran placed a hand over her chest, assuming the posture of drawing something forth. A vast surge of Cursed Energy gathered in her hand.

A memory flashed through Mo Hae-yeon's mind. I'd heard it from that dead geezer Hwang Seonpung. He said his Falling Wind Cleave was a jujutsu born from the legend that a true swordsman can wield an invisible blade.

Don't tell me she's reached the Heart Sword—the realm where the heart itself is the kill?

Mo Hae-yeon swallowed hard and transformed her hair into drills. If she didn't punch through in a single blow, she was actually going to die this time.

That was the moment.

A button on Hanran's dress shirt popped. The Walther pistol buried deep in her cleavage spun once—whirrr—and landed in her hand.

"Iai Form 2: Chest Beast—!!"

Three lead rounds flashed as they caught the wavering firelight.

Drrrrrr.

The gunshots left a blade-wind in their wake, shearing the drill-heads off at the root.

"Goddammit! Heart Sword, my ass! You just stuffed a loaded gun in that vulgar chest of yours! A woman's charm is in her HAAAIR—!"

"Big sis. Complex or not, maybe cool it first......"

"Grrruuuhhhh."

As the now-bob-haired Mo Hae-yeon shrieked, Cameleon wore a look of utter disbelief. Even Skin Walker, still sprawled out flat, managed to chime in.

Watching them, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a vivid light kindled in Namgung Hanran's eyes.

The smile vanished from Hanran's face. She crossed her arms, stretched them out, then slowly raised them overhead. The Walther's muzzle rotated a full hundred and eighty degrees toward the sky, then locked in place.

Two-Sword Style.

For a single instant, every sound in the world vanished except the crack of the hammers falling.

"Why are you looking for this person?"

I let a startled look flash across my face, then asked the girl with a sharp glare.

"I- why- are you angry? Is he your friend, Oppa?"

She shrank back a little, as if intimidated by my tone. I considered playing dumb. But if she asked anyone else, they'd just go, Oh, the sword guy? and tell her immediately. Better to handle this myself.

"Yeah, he's my friend."

I couldn't exactly say it was me, so I answered reluctantly. The girl gave a small nod.

"...Ah."

"Where is he? What's his name?"

"Why would I give a stranger my friend's name?"

A perfectly reasonable point. For a moment the girl looked dazed, then slowly tilted her head.

"Then let's introduce ourselves. I'm An Jenny."

"I'm Kim Beom."

"Kim Beom Oppa. This is a bit out of nowhere, but we're friends now, right? Please tell me."

She's relentless. My shoulders sagged.

"I don't know why you're looking for him, but he's not a bad guy. He's a good person, actually."

"If he disappeared, would you be sad, Oppa?"

"I'd be... sad, I guess?"

I fumbled the end of my sentence at the sudden question. With half-lidded eyes and her mouth slightly open, the girl seemed to boot up a contemplation loading screen.

"I understand. Then I'll stop. I was sad recently too, when a friend left my side."

"That's it?"

"Yes, Oppa. Thank you. I think... this might be the first time I've met a kind friend."

She smiled faintly and bowed her head. She doesn't seem like a bad kid, at least. I still had no idea who would be looking for me, so I was reluctant to come clean. Well. If it were that guy, he'd send a secretary.

She scribbled her number onto the scrap of paper where I'd written my personal details and held it out.

"That's my number. We're friends now, after all."

"I wouldn't call us friends, but... if a job comes up, request Kim Beom. I don't need money—just put up some credits."

I scratched my head and nodded, giving in.

That was when it happened. The small tablet in An Jenny's hand chimed. I caught a glimpse of the contents.

The moment Jenny saw those four characters, her expression went terrifyingly rigid.

"Well then, I'll be going, Kim Beom Oppa."

Jenny left her farewell and turned her back. Then she started running at a speed that was startling. By the time I looked up again, the girl had already vanished from sight.

What the hell. Seriously. That completely drained me.

"...Maybe I'll buy some of the carrot cake Hanran-sajeo likes and head back."

I started walking before the aftertaste of the encounter could even settle. Utterly unaware of the chaos unfolding at the Namgung estate.