Deal (3)
Deal (3)
Among the vast parade of humanity that Sword Saint Frederick had encountered over his seventy-odd years of life, the child now standing before him was by far the strangest.
First, she shed no presence whatsoever upon entering.
He had known from the footsteps outside that there were two people. From those footsteps alone he could form a guess as to what sort of person each was, though pinpointing exactly whose footsteps they were remained a rather difficult task.
Of course, if the footsteps were ones he heard often, the matter became somewhat different. People might share a similar gait, but no two people walked exactly alike.
The footsteps behind belonged to one of the Sword Saint's very few disciples. A sorry disciple who had once come under his wing claiming she wished to learn swordsmanship, only to announce halfway through, quite on her own, that "this much should be serviceable in real combat," and then descend the mountain entirely on her own authority.
Had she completed her studies, her talent was such that she could have succeeded the title of Sword Saint one day. But that disciple's goal had never been the sword alone.
Though she was a disciple who occasionally stopped by to pay her respects, Frederick had a habit of hurling bowls, ashtrays, or jars at her face on each such occasion. Naturally, she never took a hit. Nor had he ever thrown them with the intention of hitting her.
But in that case, whose were the footsteps walking ahead of that disciple?
They were less buoyant than the disciple's. If anything, they were heavy, as though tired. Yet there was a certainty in them, a confident stride that never once faltered.
"Hmph."
Moreover, those footsteps grew even more resolute from the moment they approached Frederick's hut. There was a distinct point where they shifted, as though passing through some kind of barrier.
Frankly, he found it rather intriguing.
If they continued like this, those footsteps would clearly arrive before the disciple.
Frederick picked up the bamboo basket on the table. Empty, it was light. Even if the newcomer failed to dodge and was struck, it wouldn't cause any real injury. What's more, if she were tall enough to stand right before the door, it would be difficult for her to dodge in the first place.
Holding the basket in his hand, Frederick waited quietly—
"Hm?"
The steps halted before the door.
To put it more precisely, they halted about one step short of reaching the door.
It was as if she knew that the Sword Saint beyond the door was holding something in his hand. The footsteps stopped.
Then the door opened.
There was nothing beyond the door.
"...... Don't just stand there. Come in."
Only after the Sword Saint had waited several seconds and spoken did the visitor enter, a child still a little too young to be called a woman. A noble house might have viewed her age differently, but to Frederick, who had lived more than seventy years, she was plainly a little girl.
She was dressed in furs from head to toe, and her forehead was damp with sweat.
Had this child sensed his presence inside the hut and opened the door first?
That seemed unlikely, since she looked fairly exhausted from the journey here. Her upper body seemed to be forcibly suppressing the rise of labored breath. Though her face remained utterly expressionless.
Above all, while he could sense a "presence" from this child, he felt none of the "aura" characteristic of one who had studied the sword.
As if she possessed no talent whatsoever in that direction.
"Master, have you been well?"
His sorry disciple entered with an infuriating little smile at the corner of her lips, greeting him in an affable voice. Frederick, having lost his enthusiasm, lowered the basket he was holding.
"What business brings you all the way up here? And who is this child? Since you've not come alone, I take it you aren't here merely to chatter away, as usual."
"Well, yes, I have a favor to ask, among other things."
"......."
As she spoke, the disciple's gaze drifted toward the girl.
Oho.
Fifteen years now since he had found the ways of the world wearying and gone into seclusion.
For the first time in a great while, Frederick had the feeling he might have stumbled upon something interesting.
*
The girl's strangeness did not end there.
"So, you wish to learn something from me?"
"Yes. I wish to learn how to handle aura. I understand that through meditation one can compose the mind and correct the body's condition. I wish to be instructed in that method."
"Hm."
Frederick narrowed his eyes and regarded the girl quietly. He had half-expected her to be intimidated, but under such scrutiny the girl did not so much as bat an eye.
To Frederick's eye, it was not so much that the girl had perfectly concealed her own aura. Rather, it looked as though she could not project aura outward at all. Which is to say, she appeared to have no talent whatsoever in that area.
"You seem to lack talent, from what I can see."
Nevertheless, he could not declare it outright. Somehow, he had the feeling that this girl was different from the ordinary children scattered about everywhere.
Had that caution she displayed upon stepping through the door been merely a product of her personality?
"As far as swordsmanship goes, that may be true. But I am confident in what I already know."
"Hoh."
Yet her confidence left him with a certain strange impression. It was a composed expression—not mere bluster, but one that seemed to rest upon something she firmly believed.
"Also, I am not asking to be taught without any recompense."
"Recompense, you say."
Frederick gazed quietly at the girl before him.
An imperial princess, was it? Perhaps she meant money.
"Had I needed money—"
"It is not money."
—I would have been living in far greater wealth long before now.
The words were cut off mid-sentence.
This audacious imperial princess was apparently not speaking of money.
"It concerns a powerful opponent."
"A powerful opponent?"
"Yes. Does the Sword Saint not desire a powerful opponent against whom he can stake his life?"
"......."
It was not a wrong assertion.
His life was short in any case. If he could find an adversary against whom he might cross blades in earnest, there could be no greater boon.
However.
"...... Do you refer to the emperor?"
"No."
The Sword Saint's prediction missed the mark entirely.
"Among the emperor's children, there is one who handles the sword. I am certain the Sword Saint would be satisfied even by your standards."
The imperial princess spoke while looking Frederick straight in the eye.
"I can arrange a meeting, should you desire it."
"......."
Those were not the eyes of a liar.
Frederick shifted his gaze slightly toward Jennifer, but Jennifer only shrugged, her back against the wall, an amused smile playing at her lips.
"Hm."
Frederick emitted a thoughtful sound once more,
"Very well. I was growing bored in any case."
And so he spoke.
*
"......."
Did the imperial princess possess talent, or didn't she?
If asked, the Sword Saint would assuredly have answered, "She possesses no talent."
Yet, at the same time, something struck him as strange.
She plainly had no talent. Her ability to acquire anything new was no different from that of the countless ordinary people one might find on any street. He felt that the likelihood of her properly mastering a method of meditation in a single day's trial was vanishingly small.
But apart from that—
The imperial princess was already complete.
More accurately, she had come to meet the Sword Saint in a state just short of completion.
Like someone who had spent months doing nothing else, who had neither slept nor eaten, devoting herself solely to meditation, the princess slipped into a state of physical and mental serenity in a matter of moments, even before the Sword Saint could teach her anything.
She soothed her exhausted body so swiftly that one could scarcely believe she had been climbing a mountain only moments before, and her disordered breathing composed itself.
"......."
There was an almost numinous quality to the stillness and composure with which she continued whatever she had been doing until then, as though today were merely an extension of that same work.
And Frederick was not alone in being at a loss for words before such a sight.
...... Had she somehow pulled the future forward?
It was an absurd thought, yet Frederick thought it.
"......."
He sank briefly into thought,
"Hap!"
and then immediately brought the blade of his hand down upon the imperial princess's head.
He did not strike in earnest.
But neither was it a playful swing. Had she been someone wholly untrained, she would have taken the blow to the head and lost consciousness on the spot.
Yet the Sword Saint's hand sliced through empty air.
The imperial princess, who had been seated in the full lotus position with both hands upon her knees and her eyes closed, simply drew her body slightly backward and avoided the hand by a hair's breadth.
Even though one in meditation should be almost incapable of sensing the surrounding aura.
"Hoh."
The Sword Saint let out such a sound.
She had no talent.
Yet she was complete. Already, at this age.
Considering her age alone, she had reached this state far earlier than the Sword Saint himself had at the same point in his life.
Did that mean she was concealing her aura as well? Had she already ascended to the realm of Clear Mirror, Still Water, which even Jennifer had not attained?
If so, there would be no reason for her to climb all the way here to learn meditation.
Slowly, the imperial princess's eyes opened. The dark, dark pupils that gazed up at the Sword Saint were utterly tranquil. As though she already knew how the events ahead would unfold.
It was a sight reminiscent of a Buddhist statue he had once seen in the Eastern lands.
"You there, have you any serious intention of learning the sword?"
"I have no talent for it."
As though her business here were already concluded, the imperial princess rose and brushed herself off as she spoke.