The Sword God's Fall and the Disciple's Oath
The Sword God. The incarnation of slaughter who brought a storm of blood to Kyoto. He was born in Choshu, stronghold of the anti-shogunate forces. And now, he was dead in Kyoto.
Sorry, but our lives aren't leisurely enough to delve into the backstory of someone who's already kicked the bucket and exited stage left.
"…! Th-the Sword God."
"We got him…?"
The Choshu "listening ears" who had been scouting nearby gasped in shock.
The "listening ears." Normally, they served as the anti-shogunate faction's literal ears, gauging Kyoto's political climate. But when battles broke out, they provided direct support to allies on site. In other words, these listening ears now faced a choice between two missions: retreat immediately and report the Sword God's death to their superiors, or step in to support the fight in his stead.
Truth be told, the answer was obvious. Their faction's strongest asset, the Sword God, had been instantly killed in a single blow. What kind of support could they possibly offer? Stepping forward now would just mean volunteering to become corpses.
They moved to slip away discreetly, but…
"…? Wait. Hold position."
One of the listening ears picked up something odd.
"Ah, aaahhh. N-no, I hate it. Hate it. I don't wanna die…."
A white-haired old man huddled into a trembling ball, mumbling incoherently.
Clang, crash.
Blade fragments rained down at his feet. The listening ears watched, pieced it together, and exchanged sly glances.
"Huh. Isn't that an opening?"
The white-haired old man who killed the Sword God. For whatever reason, he looked mentally unstable. His sword was broken, leaving him defenseless. Wasn't this the perfect chance to take him out?
"No matter how skilled a hermit master is, he can't withstand a pincer attack from two men without a sword."
Choshu's "Right Ear" and "Left Ear" split left and right, stealthily closing in on Si-ho. They signaled silently—one, two.
"…Now!!"
Right Ear and Left Ear drew their blades in unison. The chilling glint of metal etched into Si-ho's pupils.
Crack.
Their blades struck true—right into the target.
"…Ganging up on a frail old man like this."
The listening ears flinched. At the precise point where their swords crossed, a boy had thrust his scabbard to block the slashes.
"Doesn't it shame you as warriors?"
The boy's bold rebuke twisted their faces into awkward grimaces. Shame them? Not in the slightest. If anything, they felt wronged. How was the monster who blew off the Sword God's head in one strike supposed to be "frail"…?
"Hokushin Ittō-ryū, Genbu-kan. Proxy instructor, Izuki Ishihara."
His voice, laced with righteous resolve, rang clearly through the air. The scabbard he'd extended shattered into pieces, revealing the blade within.
"I fight to protect the weak."
Right Ear recoiled at the name.
"Chiba… of Hokushin Ittō-ryū?"
Who among swordsmen didn't know that reputation? Overwhelmed by the weight of the name alone, Right Ear's focus wavered for a split second.
"Oops."
Too late—the blade tip plunged into his brow. Izuki passed the kneeling Right Ear in a blink and reached Left Ear.
"…F-fast?!"
Crunch.
Skull shattering, Left Ear's consciousness snuffed out. In just two breaths, they frothed at the mouth, eyes rolled back white.
Confirming they were neutralized, Izuki grabbed Si-ho's arm.
"Elder, we must flee at once!"
He didn't know the story between this old man and the assassins. But that wasn't important now. The priority was shaking off any more killers and protecting the elder and nearby civilians.
Izuki hurriedly led Si-ho away. She followed limply, like a deflated paper doll. Past the belated screams of the crowd who grasped the situation.
Out of chaotic Kyoto, to someplace untouched by human feet. Izuki ran aimlessly.
"This should be safe enough."
At some deserted hillside, Izuki caught his breath.
"Elder, are you hurt anywhere?"
He checked the old man's condition. But the breathing from under the sedge hat was unnaturally ragged.
"…Why. Why, only me. N-no, hate it. Stop now. Please, just stop. Hate it."
The delirious monologue continued, as if on the verge of suffocation. Izuki broke into a cold sweat.
Serious panic attack. Dangerous.
Quickly assessing, Izuki seated Si-ho as comfortably as possible. Then, to steady her breathing, he untied the sedge hat's cords.
It slipped off without resistance.
"……?"
Izuki's eyes widened in astonishment. Peeking from beneath the fallen hat was—not what he expected.
A young girl's face.
"No way. How…."
Snow-white hair, like fresh snowfall. Skin pale as death. A single tear track on her cheek. Stunned by the surreal sight, Izuki hesitated only a moment before steadying himself. He knelt to meet her eye level.
"Elder. No, young lady. Look into my eyes, please."
Si-ho's unfocused pupils drifted toward him. Less comprehension, more instinct.
"That's it. Breathe in deep… and out. Again. Deep in… and out. Good. Well done."
Izuki clasped her hands. He flinched at the rough scars but gripped tighter—firm yet gentle.
"You're safe here. You can relax. I'll stay right by your side. One more deep breath, yes. Perfect."
Si-ho blankly mimicked him, inhaling and exhaling. Clean air filled her lungs deep, flushing out the clotted stench of blood. Along with it came warmth from their clasped hands.
A body heat she'd long forgotten. Feared and shunned. Eerily unfamiliar.
Yet achingly longed for. The living warmth of another person enveloped her softly.
Her breathing steadied. Her frantic heart found its rhythm. Consciousness slowly returned to her dim eyes.
"…Feeling a bit better?"
Izuki cautiously checked her face. Blink. Her fluttering lashes lowered and rose.
The first thing her recovered gaze met: Izuki's eyes, close enough to share breath.
Si-ho stared blankly into those clear, pure depths. Her gaze rolled down next to his hands cradling hers like the world's most precious treasure.
"……Ack."
Hair stood on end across her body.
"E-eek?!"
She couldn't even scream properly, launching backward. Her stabilized breath and pulse skyrocketed again.
"Wh-what? Wh-wh-what's wrong?!"
Her mind a jumble, Si-ho plunged into confusion. She whipped around, scanning wildly to grasp the situation.
Wasn't she just eating in central Kyoto? Where was this? Some hillside?
Feels… familiar.
Turning, a jolt of déjà vu. There stood the abandoned house where she'd hidden all this time—crumbling in greeting.
"Y-you. How do you know ab-about this place…?"
Si-ho stammered, trembling.
"Pardon? This place…?"
Izuki blinked in confusion. He'd simply sought the most deserted spot he could find.
Coincidentally, Si-ho had chosen it for the same reason. Same intent led them both here.
"Don't you remember? After finishing your meal downtown, assassins attacked as you tried to leave."
Izuki briefly recapped. Vague memories flickered—maybe.
B-but even if so. How can I trust this guy?
Even if true, he could be an assassin from another faction. Or a criminal with ulterior motives. "I saved you, so I'm on your side"—classic gaslighting.
Si-ho eyed him suspiciously.
"Th-thanks… for saving me, anyway."
It was fact she'd been helped, after all.
…Plus the free meal.
She snatched up the fallen sedge hat and jammed it on.
"W-well, I'm busy, so I'll just…."
Gratitude was gratitude. Help received ended here. The outside world was hellish. No one could be trusted. This incident reaffirmed that painful truth. Si-ho vowed never, ever to venture out again.
Turning her back on Kyoto's lingering blood mist, she trudged toward her dark corner, as always.
"W-wait! Please, hold on!"
Just as she nearly vanished, an urgent voice halted her.
"…?"
Si-ho turned, startled, quizzical. There knelt Izuki.
"Please, take me as your disciple, Master!"
He prostrated fully, shouting.
"……??"
Si-ho reeled at the textbook dogeza.
…Disciple? Me? As master? Why?!
"I've hit a wall in my iaijutsu progress. No matter how I pondered, I couldn't break through."
Swordfights began with the draw. Even supreme technique meant nothing if you were too slow—you'd die before swinging.
Just now against the Sword God. Izuki's draw was effortlessly blocked. Had the Sword God truly meant to kill…
He'd have died without unsheathing, rooted in place.
The ultimate humiliation for a swordsman.
Izuki felt iaijutsu's vital importance anew.
"But witnessing your draw, Master, I understood. The true ideal of iaijutsu I've pursued…!"
Faster than any draw he'd seen—even the Sword God's shinsoku, divine speed. Shattered head-on. True shinsatsu, god-slaying velocity.
Anyone who'd witnessed that miracle would say the same.
"I beg you! Teach me!"