Chapter 3 - THE DISCIPLE OF THE DEMON

— I was born to meet this man.

Like many of those who gather beneath Kings, Zenjoh also thought as such when he once met the Blue King.

Habari Jin.

The leader of the superpowered-response organization Scepter 4 who protects the citizens’ peace – the Blue King. His actions were without hesitation or error and were always quick and precise. His character was noble-minded yet open-hearted. He was a man like a stroke of the sword, who could easily reach the heavens. And because of that, Zenjoh also thought that he too should be by his side as a stroke of the sword.

“I’m lucky,” he once said to Habari. “Knowing exactly what you have to do in this world is hard, but… I am just here to protect you. It’s so easy.” But,

“No, Zenjoh,” Habari had said. “What you are to protect is not me.”

“Hm? Then, what is it?” When Zenjoh asked back, Habari looked up to the summer clouds and responded.

“Our justice.”

“Hm…?” Zenjoh thought for a moment, and spoke. “It’s the same to me. My justice is, basically, you.”

“No, you’re wrong.”

“I don’t get it.”

“Don’t try to understand with your head.”

“What, are you trying to call me stupid?”

“Of course, I don’t think you’re clever.” Zenjoh was not very eloquent, and Habari was not one to use decorative words. The other troops often laughed and called their conversations, “naked Q&A.” “It’s not your head or your words. What I mean is that I believe in your strength.” Habari turned back to Zenjoh. “There’s only one thing you can do, what you should do.”

“…Basically, this.” Zenjoh tapped the scabbard of his sword attached to his waist. Habari nodded,

“One who does not fail when the time to do so comes. That’s who the man Zenjoh Goki is.”

“…I see.” Zenjoh looked at the sword on his waist, Habari’s face, and then up to the clouds in the sky. He felt as though his fate was connected to something bigger through his sword. “Well, then that’s probably right.”

Zenjoh was satisfied. Everything was simple, clear, and everything shone. And–

“–That’s right. That’s good enough.” Habari’s bright, smiling expression as he said so still remains in his memory.

With a single smile burned into Zenjoh’s heart, Habari Jin, the Blue King, disappeared from this world.

199X, July.

The Red King, Kagutsu Genji’s Sword of Damocles went out of control, and failed. Along with it an area centered around southern Kanto with a diameter of roughly a hundred kilometers was completely annihilated. Along with seven hundred thousand civilians, the Blue King and his subordinate Scepter 4 were caught in a torrent of destructive energy. The largest Damocles Down in recorded history – the Kagutsu Incident.[1]

From that day on, a scar that looked like the earth had been scooped out remained on maps of this country.

That also might be the gaping hole in Zenjoh’s chest. He lived on, having lost an arm and carrying a hollow heart.

Afterwards, in a world where both the Blue and Red Kings were lost at the same time, incidents of rampaging uniquely powered people increased. The superpowered-response organization Scepter 4 continued to exist without a center. But–

Zenjoh left Scepter 4 and retired from the world in seclusion

— “What you must protect is our justice.”.

He had no doubts about Habari Jin’s last wish. But he didn’t think finding and rounding up active superpowereds one after another was that “justice.” The justice he was looking for wasn’t in Scepter 4, and there wasn’t someone he was willing to follow either.

No longer drawn, his blade continued to rot in rust. He thought of it as himself.

And then, over ten years passed, and his doorbell rang.

He opened the door to his one-man apartment and unconsciously held his breath.

In front of him stood the late Habari, just as he remembered him.

No – it wasn’t. That man wasn’t Habari. At a closer look, it wasn’t even possible to say that they looked similar. However, they certainly had underlying similarities. The man carried a sword at the hip of his blue uniform. He did not seem a day past twenty, but there wasn’t a single hint of fear in his gaze looking up to veteran Zenjoh. It was a strange self-confidence that was more than simple fearlessness. It was though he had some sort of conviction in his destiny.

“Zenjoh Goki-san, correct?”

Zenjoh stood in a daze, and the man introduced himself.

“Hello, my name is Munakata Reisi.”

“Please… come in.”

In his ten years of isolation his dislike of people only grew worse, but that man, Munakata had a presence he couldn’t ignore. Zenjoh prepared some tea, and they sat facing each other on the tatami floor.

“My apologies for intruding so suddenly.”

“Nah…” Zenjoh raised his right hand to stop Munakata as he bowed. He had no phone or communication lines installed, and owned no sort of mobile terminals. All communication was only monitored by government liaisons. But even if a meeting was requested through a liaison, he would most likely refuse. Munakata had virtually no choice but to visit him directly in order to meet him.

“Your… What is that uniform?” Zenjoh asked.

“I’m not quite used to it yet, but,” Munakata smiled lightly, touching the collar of his blue uniform. “It’s Scepter 4’s. I’ve changed the design a bit.” Zenjoh’s expression stirred, and Munakata nodded. “I have succeeded the organization Scepter 4 – the positions and authority. First, I’ve come in greeting.”

“…Which means?”

“I am the present Blue King.”

— I knew it.

The unusual “Kings,” who held unparalleled power and commanded those with supernatural abilities. They are not chosen by elections within their organizations, nor are ordered by someone of a higher standing. It’s said that they are one day suddenly “called” by an existence that is the Slate. Much like Habari Jin had once been, Munakata Reisi was also suddenly awakened, became the Blue King, and came into control over Scepter 4.

“What about the troops?”

Scepter 4 had continued activities as a King-less Clan for these ten years, but an incident in the previous year caused activities to cease and was now disbanded.

Munakata answered Zenjoh’s question calmly, “I have chosen all the members of the new Scepter 4.”

“Ah… I see.”

It would have been a lie if he said he hadn’t thought that treatment meant his old companions were now useless. But at the same time, he thought, That might be for the better.

The duty of an unusual King is not to try to guess the feelings of his subordinates. He must himself lead and accomplish great tasks that no other could accomplish. The new Blue King will create a new organization and work as he wishes. He had no right to speak as someone who’d been removed from the scene. All he had to do now was answer Munakata, who had come to go through the proper motions with him as a person of the former organization, with the utmost courtesy.

“…I see,” Zenjoh said again, and bowed deeply. “I will be praying for the growth of the new Scepter 4.”

When he spoke, it felt as though something within him was ending. He even thought, however stupid of an image it may be, that the departed Habari Jin had taken the form of the young man in front of him to tell him, “Now rest.” But,

“Ah, I don’t need such respects. I’ve come to get you,” Munakata said, and smiled.

“…!” When Zenjoh saw that smile, his whole body tensed. He felt a shock run through his bones.

— No.

The man in front of him most certainly had something in common with Habari Jin. That was most likely the right of a King. That was no mistake. However–

–However, this man was clearly different from Habari Jin.

“Heheh, what a frightening spirit… It just makes me want to make it my own even more. The Blue King Habari Jin’s right hand man, called the strongest swordsman… Zenjoh the Demon.” Munakata looked closer at the menacing Zenjoh, but did not flinch, and instead his smile grew wider. It was a bottomless, deep smile that could see straight into the depths of another’s heart all while hiding its own true intentions.

Zenjoh’s right hand subconsciously looked for the sheath of his sword. His entire body wanted the blade that had not been worn at his side for a long time.

— ”What you must protect is our justice.”

For these ten years, those words were his belief – no, his entire existence. There was no hesitation in his feelings.

— But, this man–

Was this man named Munakata Reisi a King who would make justice in his own way? Or was he something else, someone even more mysterious?

He couldn’t tell anymore.

For the protection of Habari Jin’s, and his, justice.

“–Zenjoh-san, Zenjoh-san.”

“Mm… Ahh.”

His shoulders shook, and his eyes opened. It seemed as though he’d dozed off at his desk.

It was a bit dark around him, and the western sun filtered through the hallway-side window beyond the file lockers. He looked up to the clock on the wall, and it was over 50 minutes past his end time.

“I’m sorry for waking you. You seemed to be having a nightmare, so…”

“Ah.” He answered Kusuhara with a vague noise and rubbed the inner corner of his eye. “…I was dreaming of something from long ago.” Maybe he’d been slacking recently, but he had started napping more.

Kusuhara, without criticizing him, held out an open laptop. “Um… Can you check the daily report?”

The laptop was something they’d managed to get in negotiating with General Affairs. According to Enomoto, who was present for that, it’s “a machine that’s two or three years old, but it’s much more efficient than this one here.” And with that, the other old computer hadn’t been touched since.

Kusuhara’s daily reports were much more detailed than the ones Zenjoh had intended to write, and all cleaning and filing done during the day was recorded along with the procedure and remarks for each. It wasn’t that Zenjoh had told him to do it; not only did he find his own work to do, he also suggested some things such as, “Let’s create digital copies of all the old important documents and put them on the server.” The last line read “Zenjoh, review,” and Zenjoh would add two letters so that it would say, “Zenjoh, reviewed.” At first, he wrote “I have reviewed it. Zenjoh.” in place of a stamp, but writing just that much was rather time-consuming for him, so Kusuhara had the sense to use the method of typing just two letters.

In the beginning, Zenjoh thought Kusuhara was a childish, somewhat dumb young man, but working with him he felt, in all respects, the quick-wittedness and frankness of the youngsters nowadays. He thought he was much more thoughtful than himself.

“Good work. I don’t mind if you head on home now…” Zenjoh said formally as he handed the laptop back to Kusuhara.

But Kusuhara answered with a charming smile, “No, we’re just getting started.”

It had been over a week since the personnel reassignment. On the night of the appointment ceremony, Munakata had personally instructed Kusuhara to “accompany Zenjoh regularly, and watch his every single move.” He was to burn it all into his memory and make it his own, not only the work during the day, but everything from training at nighttime to how he acted during the day. To Zenjoh, it was “surveillance” that would be like something forced on him by the government in the era of isolation – no, it was much more uninhibited than that, but Kusuhara’s carefree smile slipped into his mind and made him unable to find his will to refuse.

Kusuhara was staring with respect and interest at Zenjoh, who was still a bit sluggish, unable to shake the lingering feeling of sleep. He was almost like a dog waiting by his master’s side, waiting for orders.

He was nothing like a master. Zenjoh looked away, embarrassed.

“…Shall we start dinner?”

“Yeah.”

As they tried out working in the kitchen, Zenjoh started to naturally work around Kusuhara. Opening bags of ingredients and wringing out cloth was hard to do with one hand. Zenjoh had gotten used to life with one arm in these past ten years, but watching Kusuhara had him realize how handicapped he was. On the other hand, it also seemed that Kusuhara was interested in the way he pushed and pulled the knife, and how he handled other cookware.

“It’s like, you know… You season the egg with snaps, and you move it like, like…”

“Like?”

“I’m sorry, I don’t really know how to say it… But it’s useful.”

As they chatted, a loud voice carried in from the window facing the field.

“Yooo!”

“We’re here for the soba!”

Hidaka, Enomoto, Fuse and Gotoh. These four former members of the fourth squad, and current members of the special corps, visited the old file room from time to time. They’d also have training rotations and times they’d have emergency dispatches, but this was their third visit since last week. Hidaka brought out a table for meetings and folding chairs from storage, and everyone brought their own utensils to eat with, so the front of the old file room was starting to look like a cafeteria.

“Kusuharaaa! Boil that baby up! I brought my own share,” he pulled out dried noodles he’d bought at the convenience store.

“Uhh, actually you kinda look pretty shameless,” Fuse laughed.

“Heheh, I brought fried fish and veggies I got at the cafeteria,” Gotoh pulled a plastic pack from a plastic bag.

“Ooh, good one, Gottie!”

“Well, if you’re gonna go that far… Why didn’t you just eat soba in the cafeteria?”

“Hey, you’re so strict, Eno!”

“I’m so sorry we’re always so noisy…” Enomoto, who kept control of the group, bowed his head to Zenjoh.

“Nah… Glad you’re lively,” Zenjoh answered.

Hidaka bringing his friends along was most likely to make sure they wouldn’t feel disconnected. Everyone was truly worried about where Kusuhara was headed.

And so Hidaka talked to Kusuhara about what was going on.

It’s said that there’s an emergency dispatch about twice a week, and they need time to rest–

“Basically, we’re short on help! You gotta hurry up and join us!” Hidaka said, splashing soba sauce everywhere.

“Well, I would really like to do that.” Kusuhara scratched his head. And then,

“Heheh, you’re being so modest… I get it, Kusuhara-kun, what’s gonna happen is the Pro’s gonna train you, then your level’s gonna shoot up, yeah?”

“A crash course!”

Gotoh and Fuse both spoke up.

“Oh man, that means he’s expecting a lot outta you!” Hidaka exclaimed excitedly.

“But…” Enomoto said, thinking, “I wonder what the conditions for success… Or I mean, more specifically, what does he have to do in order to level up?”

“Y’know…” Hidaka spoke. “Like, normally, you get full proficiency. That right, Zenjoh-san?”

“Mm…” Zenjoh let slip an indiscernible sound.

“Well, that’s…” Instead, Kusuhara answered. “Director Munakata told me that I’d pass if I beat Lieutenant Awashima in a match.”

“Wha…?”

The noisy four suddenly grew silent.

“Um, that’s a bit…”

“…Hard, don’t you think?”

Enomoto and Gotoh both said.

“Y’sure the Director isn’t bullying you?” Fuse commented.

“Um… I dunno,” Kusuhara replied ambiguously.

The table was like a light that went out, and the only sound was of Zenjoh slurping his soba.

It was true that the “Awashima wall” was thick.

Even during that week’s joint practice–

“Lieutenant! One match please!”

“Alright, come!”

When Kusuhara called out to Awashima and she answered, all the troops turned to face them. All the troops already knew about the “assignment” that Director Munakata gave to Kusuhara. In addition to the rumors that Hidaka and the others spread, Awashima had most likely been told directly by Munakata.

In the middle of the circle the troops made,

“Here I go! Yaa–!”

Whaam!

Much like the other day, Awashima’s head strike was a clear hit to Kusuhara’s forehead as he stepped forward. Though he didn’t get a concussion, he stayed at the edge of practice and rested that day.

And even during the next week’s joint practice–

“Here I go! Ya–!”

Wham!

“Owww…” Kusuhara gingerly touched his head.

“Man.”

“He’s no good.”

As the surrounding troops laughed scornfully, Awashima’s head suddenly tilted, and she looked at her bamboo sword.

“…What’s wrong, Lieutenant?” Enomoto asked.

“Well… My strike was off the mark.” She swung lightly once, twice, then tilted her head again.

And then, the week after that–

“Lieutenant!” As Kusuhara called out to her, the sound of snickers immediately surrounded him.

“Hey, don’t laugh!” Hidaka yelled, and they fell silent.

“Alright, come.” Awashima, at the ready, was neither smiling nor scowling. Much like her straight posture, her expression was unshaken and calm.

“Here I go! Ya–!”

“Hm!”

As Kusuhara stepped forward, Awashima changed her head-strike stance in a simple moment, turning over her bamboo sword, and hit him on the side.

“Gouh…!” Kusuhara, suddenly struck on the side of his stomach, crouched right then and there. Awashima looked down at him, her expression doubtful, and then turned back to Zenjoh. Silently, he gave a slight nod.

“Lieutenant, what about Kusuhara?”

When Fuse called out to her, she came back to herself. “Carry him to the corner.”

“Ma’am!”

Hidaka rushed over, leaning Kusuhara on his shoulder, and said, “Man, you’re hopeless!”

That night, when he arrived late to his night training, Zenjoh and Munakata were already in the dojo. As always, Zenjoh sat inside while Munakata sat at the window, facing away from each other, but when Kusuhara entered, the tension eased.

The reason Kusuhara was late was because he had gone to get a personal item of Munakata’s that was being kept in the old file room. It was a small but heavy cloth bag, similar to a sandbag. The contents were a custom-made, 10,000-piece jigsaw puzzle. Completed, it took up the space of two whole tatami.[1]

“I can’t really spread out large things in my office.”

And so for that reason, he left it in the old file room during the day and had Kusuhara bring it to the dojo at night. Kusuhara took out and lined up a few put-together pieces in a corner of the room, and placed the remaining separated pieces in a pile on the floor next to it. The design was “a blue sky.” Attached to the instruction booklet inside the bag was a picture of the completed picture, which was a cloudless, blue sky.

“It’s ready.”

“Thank you.”

Once the normal preparation was done, Munakata switched places with Kusuhara and continued the puzzle. First, he carefully adjusted the placement of the completed pieces, then took a handfull of pieces from the pile, picked out one and carefully observed it with narrowed eyes. Then, slowly, he placed it in one place on the floor. Sometimes, he would place a piece together with one he’d placed down earlier and they would fit together perfectly, but for the most part pieces were left placed individually on the floor. Basically… Munakata wasn’t putting them in place by trial and error, but in one go. Piece by piece — he was putting the pieces down on the floor using an invisible guideline.

Kusuhara wasn’t particularly versed in puzzles, but he thought as he watched Munakata crouched on the floor, There isn’t anyone else who does it like that.

“There’s nothing strange about this, Kusuhara-kun,” Munakata spoke, continuing to work. “If the edge of the piece is cut in a straight line, then it’s a piece on the edge of the puzzle. If there’s a part of an eye or nose on the piece, then it’s a piece that belongs on a face. Or, if there’s part of a letter on it, then it must belong on a book or sign. Besides that, there are countless other bits of information – the size of the piece itself, the shape, the cut pattern, arrangement, the ink on the front, the indentations on the back – that you can logically make up for.”

“Huh…”

“If you look at the parts, you can see the whole… That is all.”

— So basically, he already sees the completed picture from the beginning, Kusuhara thought. It most likely didn’t just apply to puzzles. The structure within Scepter 4 as well as in other societies, and what sort of actions he should take such places that had to do with him… He understood all things like that on a level beyond anyone else. It was though the entire world sat on the palm of his hand…

— He is scary.

What Kusuhara thought as “scary” wasn’t his impression towards Munakata’s sharp intellect. He had tenacity that, though he already knew the “completed image,” he didn’t lose interest in the puzzle, would lead him to spend tens of hours on a 10,000 piece puzzle with his own hands. What Kusuhara found scary was his sense of finding the fun in “knowingly acting.”

— If I made an enemy out of him…

Having his destiny decades in the future seen right though, then made off with and to be chased knowingly into the abyss of destruction… Kusuhara’s body shivered lightly as he imagined that.

“Am I that frightening?” Munakata said, without looking up.

“Hu– What!?” Suddenly called out, Kusuhara stood at attention. And, “…Yes. …A little,” he said.

“An honest one, you are.” There was slight laughter in Munakata’s voice. “To be fearful of those different from you is a normal human emotion… I’m also afraid of people like you, and like Zenjoh-san.”

“Uh…” I understand Zenjoh-san, but, “…Me too?”

“Yes. So please, scare me more.” Munakata looked up, and pointed his eyes towards the inside of the dojo.

“Huh? Oh… Yes.” Kusuhara hurriedly left Munakata’s side and took his place roughly in the middle of the two, and began his training.

Kusuhara’s training used the fencing method as a base. When he was first appointed as Zenjoh’s “disciple,” he expected to be taught his style of draw and other techniques, but he refused – “Nah… My style’s not something I learned from someone else. And it’s not something I can teach others.” It wasn’t of a “something-style” system, but apparently just his own technique, mastered. Therefore, Zenjoh’s advice to him was, “You, too, should forge your own style.”

So what Kusuhara thought was, “Let’s try the fencing method like how Zenjoh-san would do it.”

He would first recall what he observed of Zenjoh’s bearing during the day. All he could ever remember was the incredible draw with exploding power, but his regular movements were, rather, calm and slow. Like a large carnivore carrying his weight gracefully, one movement led to the next, and to the next. As he kept that in mind as he worked through the method, his movements changed from ambiguous pauses from commands to something like an aimlessly spinning dance. He thought it was something like old people practicing tai chi in a park.

He understood something while he did that.

He had conflicting impressions of Zenjoh’s “explosive draw” and “slow movements,” but they probably should be thought of as one and the same. They were movements, basically, for “a full-power attack at any moment.” In the normal fencing method, after the swing of the sword and the hold of the position, there was a space of a single breath before the next movement. An enemy attack in that space would even seal the “demon draw” of the beastly instinct in the same moment. And so, slow movements would eliminate that space.

As such, the man named Zenjoh Goki moved so that in the next moment he would be able to unleash his most powerful attack – in battle, in training, and even in daily life.

When he realized that, he felt a shiver shoot up his back.

— Zenjoh-san is incredible.

And,

— Alright, me too…

Keeping Zenjoh in mind, he adopted those movements as his own. In these past few weeks, those movements were turning into something that only belonged to him, different from both the regular fencing method and Zenjoh’s actions.

…And today, regulating his posture and breathing, he repeated his “Kusuhara-style Fencing Method” over and over. He at first felt Zenjoh’s and Munakata’s presence, but eventually even forgot about those, and went from the first form to the second, to the third – when he’d finished all five forms, and came back down, Munakata’s voice came from behind him.

“–Kusuhara-kun. How is your match with Awashima-kun going?”

“Huh?” He was suddenly pulled back into reality from a state of no-mindedness in practice.”Um… This week was no good, either.”

“I see,” Munakata said, examining the piece he had in his hand. “…Though I’ve heard you’ve gotten to quite a good place.”

“Ah… I wonder.”

“However, you lack spirit… Or rather, it seems you’ve taken comfort in this place.”

“Ah.”

“…Zenjoh-san?” When Munakata called out suddenly to him, Zenjoh’s body sitrred. “Don’t you think it’s about time to let Kusuhara-kun go?”

“Uh…” Zenjoh answered vaguely, and Munakata continued talking.

“Well then, let’s decide a deadline – one more week.”

“Uh… What?” Kusuhara responded with a cry.

“The joint training next week will be your last chance. If you don’t hit Awashima-kun with your training sword at your next faceoff, Kusuhara-kun, I will advise you quit on the grounds that you are unfit as a member of Scepter 4,” Munakata condemned, a slight smile on his face.

“Pardon my intrusion. Please put away my puzzle,” Munakata said, and left the dojo.

Kusuhara stood standing and staring, his words seemingly not reaching his ears, and he finally murmured, “One more week.”

Defeat Lieutenant Awashima in one more week.

What should he do? What could he do to beat her? Nothing came to mind. Now that he thought about it, it wasn’t that he’d done anything these past three weeks. All he did was randomly imitate Zenjoh. When Munakata had said, “You don’t have enough spirit,” it was probably true. Spending his days at Zenjoh’s side wasn’t unpleasant. He’d sort of thought that it wouldn’t be so bad if he were to continue his daily routine like this.

It was though cold water had been poured over him. Though he had been told to “defeat the Lieutenant,” he had done nothing to accomplish that. His punishment for his indolence had just been handed down to him.

“Um… What should I do…?” he asked Zenjoh nervously.

“Hm.” Zenjoh took his sword in his hand and stood up. It was already time to stop for the night. “Continue as usual.”

“Ah… okay.”

It probably meant “This has nothing to do with me,” but when Zenjoh said it, he calmed. There was no point in getting worked up about it now. All he could do now was do what he could, little by little. Kusuhara took the basic stance of the fencing method.And–

Like a looming black wall before him, Zenjoh stood in front of him.

“Continue.”

“…Yes.” Kusuhara began the method that he had arranged. The tension he felt in front of Zenjoh’s huge presence was well-sharpened in his swordsmanship.

One, two, three, four – in the breaths between the slow movements of the training sword, Zenjoh suddenly stuck his sheath in.

“!?”

For a moment, he thought he was going to disarm him, but Zenjoh’s sheath touched Kusuhara’s shoulder, without impeding his movements, and supported him. And then, his sword moved faster than normal, and the connection between movements changed a little. They were faster, more smooth…

“Huh…”

“Keep going,” Zenjoh said again, and Kusuhara nodded.

One movement, another movement. Kusuhara swung his sword, and changed his steps. Again, Zenjoh changed his own form to match Kusuhara’s movements while correcting them. There was no space for him to stop and stand or take a breath. Before he knew it, Kusuhara became drenched in sweat, and a few droplets fell to the floor.

As he continued his quick-paced training with all his might, the five styles and the 40 forms of the fencing method changed, fused, and were once again broken down.

That day’s evening training continued until sunrise, and it continued the next day, and the day after that, only broken up in between by work during the day.

That was when Hidaka and the others paid a visit to the old file room.

“Yo, we’re here for the so– Hey, where’s Kusuhara?” Hidaka looked around, and found Kusuhara asleep on the hard floor, still in his uniform. “Hey, what’re we gonna do with you?” he said, somehow happily. Then,

“If you need something from him, I’ll relay the message…” Zenjoh said.

“Nah, we just came to see him!” Hidaka gave a casual bow and turned on his heel.

“Um… Zenjoh-san, thanks for taking care of Kusuhara.”

“Yeah, thanks.”

Enomoto and Fuse both lowered their heads, and behind them,

“…I brought shrimp tempura!”

“Hey… Man, that’s not what we’re talking about at all!” Hidaka teased Gotoh.

…And then, the last night before the joint practice.

With Zenjoh’s support, Kusuhara’d gone through the fencing method countless times, and he’d sweated so much all over that his dogi practically clung to his body. But his strength and vitality had mysteriously recharged, and his senses were sharper than they had ever been before. He even felt every sign – the night wind blowing through the wheat, the single smile Munakata left after he’d come to check up on him, and even the tiniest movements Zenjoh made in front of him.

— I think I can actually get somewhere with Lieutenant Awashima this time. Just when Kusuhara thought that–

Suddenly, Zenjoh’s sheath flew, hitting Kusuhara square in the right foot with the point.

“Ow!!” He unconsciously fell on his rear, and looked up at Zenjoh as he stroked his hurt foot.“What are you doing, Zenjoh-san…!”

Zenjoh nodded slightly and said, “That’s all for today.”

The next day was Kusuhara’s Judgment Day.

“Lieutenant! One match please!” He called out to Awashima, and as always, took their places for a one-on-one match.

— My path is going to be decided with this match.

Lieutenant Awashima may or may not have known that. If she did know, then she probably wouldn’t go easy on him.

From the troops that gathered around them came the heckling voices of Hidaka and Fuse.

“–Kusuhara, go for it!”

“Hold out just a little longer this time!”

Gotoh and Enomoto exchanged looks. “Hey… Isn’t he dragging his foot?”

“Oh… You’re right.”

There was a bit of discomfort left on the foot that Zenjoh had hit. When Kusuhara asked why Zenjoh had done that this morning and the night before, all he would say was, “Good luck in your match,” and didn’t tell him the reason. At any rate, he didn’t think that his foot would be a good excuse to Munakata. All he could do was go up against Awashima with all he had.

He stepped two, three times in his spot with his foot. He should be okay… maybe.

Readied, they faced each other.

“Alright.”

Awashima’s words acted as the signal for the start of the match.

Kusuhara held his sword in front of him and observed her. The point of the bamboo sword facing him moved slightly. It was the feint to bring out his rush. He’d been fooled by it many times. He knew, but his body responded anyway. And today, too–

“Yaa!” Kusuhara burst forward with a yell. It was the same counter-attack pattern. But–

— Ow…!

When Kusuhara lunged forward with his right foot, he couldn’t endure the pain and his body fell forward.

“…!?” Awashima jumped back reflexively. But Kusuhara’s bamboo sword extended further than his usual timing and movements towards her bosom.

For a second, the tip sunk into her chest.

Dodging, she unwittingly pressed her left breast with her right hand.

The troops stirred.

“Yeeaaah! You got her tits!” Hidaka yelled, but shut his mouth when she glared at him.

“Ow, ouch…!” Unable to stand the pain in his foot, he took two, three steps, then fell to his knees. Awashima approached him.

“Stand, Kusuhara.”

“Ah… Ma’am!” Kusuhara hurriedly stood, and Awashima switched her sword to her left hand, then bowed. “Huh…?”

“I have failed,” she said, a large, yet bitter smile on her face. “That hit… was light, but most definitely connected.”

The Scepter 4 troops’ dorm bath could accommodate, at the most, around ten people. From the evening until lights out, the troops that lived in the dorms hastily bathed in rotation, by section. Zenjoh Goki would enter the empty bath once that had all finished. The space was empty, but left the faint trace of enthusiasm and clamor of a hundred troops who’d washed off the day’s sweat and dirt.

Kusuhara had accompanied him this past month, but since he’d safely completed his assignment, he would have a new position at the beginning of the week and would no longer be “out of rotation.” In the end, Kusuhara was another young man who would simply pass by Zenjoh’s side.

“…I’ll wash your back,” Kusuhara said to Zenjoh, who was washing himself with one hand.

“Ah, thanks.” Zenjoh turned his back to him, and Kusuhara began to scrub his back with a towel.

“Zenjoh-san.”

“Hm?”

“Um… Thank you for teaching me so much all this time.”

“…Well, I didn’t teach you anything,” Zenjoh answered. The only thing that resembled training had happened over the last week, and everything else was just Kusuhara swinging his sword around himself.

“…Now that you mention it, that might be true.” Zenjoh smiled wryly at Kusuhara’s honest answer. But, “Oh, no, that’s not what I meant,” he explained himself hurriedly. “I feel like Director Munakata didn’t tell me to learn from something taught by you.”

“Hm?”

“Look carefully, watch and learn… He said something like that.”

“…I see.”

“Yes, for example,” Kusuhara said, scrubbing Zenjoh’s wall-like back, “I don’t know if you’ve realized, but your back.”

“…No, I don’t know anything about my back. What is it?”

“Of course.” This time Kusuhara smiled wryly. “Your back is very muscular… Especially from your spine and to the right.”

“…Huh, I see.” That much was obvious, since he never used his left arm.

“This is basically all what you’ve built since you lost your left hand… Right?”

“…Huh.” He had thought that time had stopped moving within him these past ten years. However, it was possible that there were things that had accumulated in places that he couldn’t see, when he wasn’t noticing.

After a pause, Kusuhara spoke. “Um… When I first met you, I was a bit flustered.”

“Flustered…?”

“Up until last year, I was a part of the riot police… But because of me, one of my seniors got seriously injured and had to quit…” Kusuhara spoke slowly, choosing his words. “That was an incident involving superpowereds, so I thought this could be like, amends… I thought that there was something I could do, so I joined Scepter 4, but that wasn’t going so well…”

“And so that left you flustered…”

“Yes. I essentially thought I could take back my failure… But this past month, watching your back, I thought that, maybe, that’s not what it is.”

“Hm…?”

“Looking at your back, I’ve thought… That you can’t take back what you’ve lost, but people can grow again from there.”

“…I see. Now that you say that–”

— I feel like I can be saved.

Just as Zenjoh was about to say that, there came the clattering sound of the bath door opening.

“Pardon me.”

The one who spoke and entered was the Director, Munakata Reisi. His faintly-muscled, tall body slid through the steam like a white snake.

“…Kusuhara-kun, I heard about this afternoon.”

“Ah, yes…”

“Heheh… To think you would actually be able to strike Awashima-kun.”

“Huh… But, you said, if you don’t, you’re fired…”

Munakata answered a dumbfounded Kusuhara with a sly smile. “Zenjoh-san’s instruction was also splendid,” Munakata said, facing Zenjoh. “Extending the reach and speed of a hit by relaxing the forward foot and falling into the opponent – there is a skill like that in old-style swordsmanship.”

“I don’t know it as a skill… But I do know that’s something you can do,” Zenjoh answered.

“Huh…” Kusuhara looked at his still-bruised foot.

— If that’s true, then he should have said something to me…

By both the threat of being fired and his foot, he felt like he was being tricked by these people. However,

“No, Kusuhara-kun. Had this been explained to you beforehand, you would have been conscious of it, and Awashima-kun may have realized what you were doing. It was good that you weren’t aware of it,” Munakata said. “Yes. Unconscious response – that is your natural gift.”

“Unconscious…?”

“Breaking designated rhythm and being easily tricked by feints are all a part of that. However, if that technique can surpass the opponent’s response, then you can take what happens afterwards… In summary, it’s a talent that is fit for instantaneous offense and defense.”

— I see…

He was always aware that he was easily led on by tricks, but he had never thought of it as talent.

“Use your talent to watch my back.”

“Uh… Y-Yes!”

Kusuhara bowed deeply to Munakata, completely naked and still sitting on a bath stool.

Munakata smiled bitterly at that, then said, “Well then, starting now… To begin with, why don’t you wash off my back?”

“Eh…” Kusuhara instinctively looked at Zenjoh, and Zenjoh nodded. “Yes!” And he faced Munakata’s back.

Zenjoh washed off the bubbles of soap and submerged himself in the bathtub.

Then, he gazed towards a nervous Kusuhara who was facing Munakata’s back.

Munakata’s white, supple back was, in a sense, a blank sheet of paper. Who was this man, and what was he going to achieve? That was something he wasn’t going to worry himself about. That was something that the young troops like Kusuhara were to decide as they looked at his back.

Before he realized it, he felt as though the baggage he’d been carrying all these years had been let down from his shoulders. Or maybe Kusuhara had washed it off a few moments before.

“My, you’re smiling, Zenjoh-san,” Munakata said, without turning around.

And Zenjoh answered, “It’s a nice bath.”