Volume 5
Side Story 1
Waiting for
the Silence, Spending Time in the Snow Light 1
Translator : PolterGlast
―Creak.
A toe, extending from
a white robe, pierced the quiet hallway where everyone was asleep. The
floorboards groaned faintly in the cold winter stillness.
"...Oopsie"
Muttering at the
unexpected sound, the girl opened the dark wooden gate that led to the dawning
morning.
White breath scattered
in her vision. It was a little before dawn, as the eastern sky was still far
from turning white. The night sky, still dotted with stars, was high, and the
snow remained white and lingering all over the field of view.
The winter in Kokuten
Province was deep. Perhaps the worst of the snow was yet to come. Straightening
her shawl against the freezing cold, Rindō Saki left the house where she was
staying.
She crossed the black
stepping stones that peeked out from the snow that covered the entire
courtyard.
Without a sign of
anyone else, she walked lightly and carelessly. Saki's lips naturally curved
into a smile at the sound of the snow creaking softly.
―Clank, clank.
She passed beyond the
courtyard and through a gap in the high pile of black stones up the mountain
slope. As soon as she opened the wooden gate of the hut that stood there,
sparks and an enormous amount of heat caressed Saki's cheeks.
―Clang.
Each time the seasoned
arm struck the hammer, a spirit light danced. At the end of Saki's gaze, an old
man in white robes quietly turned his back to her, immersed in his work.
"Good morning,
old man."
"Oh, Rindo-sama.
Did you sleep well?"
"Quite. Did you
stay up all night?"
"There's no need
to worry about me. Once I start forging steel, the forging must continue until
the blade is ready to be rested.
—Besides, I was just about to have breakfast when I was
finished with this."
The old man's
shoulders shook with a chuckle at the girl's concern over the incessant sound
of the hammer.
As soon as he dipped
the blade in the cooling oil, flames erupted from the heavily swaying ripples.
Wiping his cheek with a black-stained towel, Kashin Tomotsura, the head
blacksmith, turned to face Saki.
The flames rushing
from the ripples showed no sign of ending, though intermittently.
"It will take
about half an hour for it to cool down completely.
—Just in time to talk to you, Rindō-sama."
"Yes. ...So, was
it no good, after all?"
Saki nodded solemnly
at the old blacksmith, who handed her a white package. She gently touched the
tip of her naginata (Shōjinbina), the blade that had been by her side since she
was a child, peeking out from the cloth package she had received.
"Since it's a
request from the Gioin-sama, there's no way this Kashin would refuse to do his
best.
—Excuse me."
"Ah"
Taking the blade from
Saki, who sighed, the old man slammed the tip of his hammer into it. Rough pieces
of steel crumbled from the fractured and brittle cross-section.
"The hardened
steel skin seems to be intact, but its core, the spirit steel, has completely
deteriorated.
Honestly, I'm
surprised it lasted this long."
"I was prepared
for this as the flow of spirit power had become poor.
—Can't even you, old man, reforge it?"
"Unfortunately
not,"
Though it was a
request from the Gioin family, Kashin shook his head regretfully. It wasn't a
distortion or anything like that. The vessel for the essential spirit power was
literally missing a large part.
No matter how skilled
a craftsman one is, it would be impossible to reforge it back into its original
blade from this state. Kashin Tomotsura, the head blacksmith of the Gioin
family, declared, putting his own pride on the line.
"Its heavy,
smooth, uniform texture suggests it is a sacred steel found in the southeastern
part of the country.
Judging from the
structure of the river-scooped sand iron, it must be the work of a swordsmith
who follows in the footsteps of Saburi-school."
"I heard it was
the work of Saburi Tatsuatsu.
—My ancestor fell in love with one of his unnamed
blades made in his early days and bought it."
"An unnamed
masterpiece made by a later famous swordsmith, huh?
...I see. The
precision of the steel, refined with each fold, is convincing."
The old man nodded
several times, his fingers trailing along the rough cross-section.
"Even if it's a
masterpiece, if it's damaged this much, there's nothing else to do but melt it
down.
—As I am sure you fully understand, that would no
longer be the work of Saburi Tatsuatsu, but my own creation."
No matter how famous
the sword, the structure of a spirit weapon was not so different. But the
techniques contained within were on a completely different level. From family
secrets to family traditions, each sword with a name concealed differences in
the techniques and history it contained.
"I wanted to
wield it one more time."
"Three hundred
years of the Hyakki Yagyo. A masterpiece that protected its master against an
opponent that rarely encountered in a lifetime.
I think it's a
kindness to let it rest now."
"Then, can you at
least separate the spirit steel for me?
If I reforge it with
the spirit steel I'm used to, the flow of spirit energy might be similar."
"Alright, I will
try."
Perhaps anticipating
the girl's lonely self-deprecating wish, Kashin nodded readily.
The sound of searching
the back shelf echoed behind Kashin who stood up.
"Speaking of
which, Rindō-sama, I heard you exterminated the spider apparition that attacked
Samidare Territory the other day?"
"Yes. It was a
powerful, very powerful spider apparition."
"Originally, the
contaminated area should have been abandoned, but you managed to purify and
extinguish the entire land without incident.
Since you subdued the
apparition that devoured the Ugetsu, I believe it is appropriate to entrust
this to Rindō-sama."
Finding what he was
looking for, the old man turned around holding a blade in his hand. Saki checked
the blue stripes of the blade as it was presented to her.
"What is
this?"
"It may not
compare to the work of Saburi Tatsuatsu, but it is a masterpiece that I forged.
—As a token of gratitude for protecting the country, I
would like you to wield it."
"I'll gratefully
accept it..."
Kashin Tomotsura, who
was humble towards the famous swordsmith of Shumon Province, did not look
inferior in Saki's eyes.
Saki carefully held
the blade, grateful for the old man's consideration as the head blacksmith.
♢
—After solving the apparition incident in Samidare
Territory.
It had been almost
half a month since Akira and Saki had arrived in Nanatsuo, the capital of
Kokuten Province.
The month had already
passed, and it was early December.
Having finished her
business at Kashin's house, Saki was on her way back home through the snowy
path.
Fine snow danced under
the freezing blue sky, turning into droplets as it touched her cheeks.
The girl's breath,
turned white and vaguely dyed her vision.
She walked slowly down
the gentle slope. Ahead of her gaze, the ancient townscape sunk into the mists
of dawn.
A tram slowly overtook
an old woman walking in the opposite direction.
Tink-tink. Leaving
behind the sound of the fog horn, it disappeared into the morning mist behind
Saki.
She passed through a
large road lined with earthen walls and moats, where there were no high-rise
buildings or modernistic structures. The townscape, as if left behind by
history, remained the same even after passing the central station of the
provincial capital.
In front of a quiet
residential area for the nobility stood the headquarters of the Nanatsuo
Garrison. A completely different commotion greeted her as she passed through
the open front gate.
The protectors who had
been on night duty must have returned. Saki followed the wall to the back so as
not to disturb the men passing by.
Beyond that stood the
dojo attached to the garrison. Normally, Akira would have been there sweating
out his training.
As Saki opened the
heavy, oak wooden sliding door, a mixed chorus of cheers erupted. Through the
crowd of defenders, she could see Akira's back as he stood in the center of the
dojo, holding a bamboo sword.
Saki's tiptoe, which
was about to approach him, was hesitantly stopped. The heat, almost like
excitement, and the presence of the protectors surrounding Akira.
—Is he in the middle of a match?
"Next!
Miwada!"
"Bring it
on!!"
At the referee's
urging, a large, high-spirited man stood in front of Akira. He was probably
over twenty years old, and his sturdy stature was three heads taller than
Akira's.
"Begin!"
"—Hiryaaa!"
Simultaneously with
the referee's call, the man stepped forward with a mighty roar. He swung his
wooden sword down sharply at Akira's shoulder.
The man's shout, which
was intended to crush even the wind pressure, was, however, bounced off by
Akira's shinai, which struck back as if to match it. The blow was repelled by
Akira, who looked like a small fry from the man's perspective. A sharp shock
ran through the man's side, who had forgotten even his follow-through.
"Ugh, cough,
cough."
"Hey, Miwada!
Where's your usual bragging about your sturdiness?
Don't be weak!"
The surrounding
protectors all jeered at the sight of the man vomiting on the spot.
—The man called Miwada retreated to the corner of the
dojo, looking frustrated.
"Next!" At
the urging call, another man from among the surrounding men stood in front of
Akira. As soon as the signal to start was given, a piercing shout echoed
through the dojo.
The heat around them
seemed to have no boundaries, and there was an unpleasant atmosphere in the
air.
"Oh, Rindō-sama.
You're a little late today."
"Yes, instructor.
The snow was deep yesterday, and it was quite disorienting for someone from the
south."
"I hear that
Shumon Province is full of the excitement of civilization, and the heat of
steam is high.
If you only know snow
that melts as soon as it falls, the northern climate must be a bit harsh."
"My hometown
(Nase Territory) was also close to the mountains, but not to this extent.
—So, what's with all this commotion?"
Saki, startled, turned
to the sound of a voice. The man who served as an instructor at the Kokuten
Province headquarters smiled pleasantly at her. In the line of sight of the
instructor and Saki, Akira's bamboo sword cried out sharply once more.
The number of men
squatting in the corner of the dojo was about to exceed ten. Although she
thought it was practice, there was a strong sense of incongruity.
"These
hot-blooded disciples of mine have asked Yotsurugi-dono to spar with them.
—Under the guise of sparring, it's a bit of a
break."
"It seems you're
putting in a bit too much effort for just a break."
It was no different
from a mere scuffle if they weren't considering Akira's limits.
While implicitly
pointing that out, the girl glared at the instructor sideways.
—In truth, although she pretended to question him, Saki
had pretty much guessed what was going on.
Akira. The fact that
the Yotsurugi family had taken over the position of the Ugetsu family was an
imperial decree from the Three Imperial Families, Four Sovereigns, and Eight
Families.
Originally, it was a
decision that could not be questioned, but if treated differently, it would
make the other party's gardens look greener.
One of the families
that had fallen from the Eight Families at the Kannamesai Festival, along with
the Ugetsu family, was the Sanezaki family, the sixth of the Eight Families.
Hakudō Province was in the midst of a political upheaval over the succession of
the Sanezaki family.
"Although I
hesitate to go against the imperial decree. —I would like you to forgive us for
our resentment that our military achievements have been dismissed as
nothing."
"You'll just be
laughed at if you try to seek military merit in a losing match."
"However, if we
easily agree to welcome the southern nobles into the northern Eight Families,
some would complain that the northern nobles are only concerned with spiritual
power."
The middle-aged
instructor nodded calmly at Saki's harsh remark.
The other side of the
political upheaval was the great cause of overthrowing the established order.
It was also a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for an ordinary family to rise to
a position second only to the Three Imperial Families and Four Sovereigns.
Hakudō Province was
given the opportunity for prosperity, but Kokuten Province was not even
considered for it.
Moreover, it was even
worse that the chosen family was an unknown one from Shumon Province, which had
a particularly bad relationship with them.
Perhaps it had been
smoldering like a buried fire, but it erupted when they had the opportunity to
fight against Yotsurugi Akira.
There is no open
resentment towards the Gioin family, though. —That's about it.
Seeing through the
political background, Saki looked at the protectors who were heckling.
Though one has to
admit the military achievements one has heard about, Akira's physique is
clearly that of a youngster.
But do they want to
believe that even a fluke victory after a series of battles would lead to a
reconsideration of the Eight Families?
If that were the case,
their main objective would be when they thought Akira was exhausted.
A man who had been
hiding in the crowd of protectors quietly stepped forward towards Akira.
"My name is
Rokugō Korechika, instructor of this garrison. I would like to receive your
guidance."
"I'm Yotsurugi
Akira.
—Since I'm up against an instructor, should I consider
this the last one?"
Akira, still a small
figure in the midst of growth, glanced around sarcastically.
Rokugō's height was
about the same as Miwada's earlier, only half a head shorter.
But his skill was in a
different league, and there was no gap in his imposing, well-trained
appearance.
"Ha ha. As you
can see, even if they are cheering, they have long since lost their will to
attack.
We have to admit that
you can flatten ten protectors without even breaking a sweat."
"So, shall we
stop?"
"No. It wouldn't
be good for our face if we stopped here, even though we started it."
"—I
suppose."
Upon hearing Akira's
final confirmation, Rokugō held his wooden sword at the middle stance.
Suddenly, the imposing
aura he exuded pressed down heavily, slightly crushing Akira's offensive step.
—There was no signal to start.
Phew. The moment Akira
let out a single breath, he swung his bamboo sword deep into Rokugō's chest.
A light sound of
bamboo rang out, and Akira's blade was deflected by the ridge of the wooden
sword.
Akira suppressed his
upper body, which was about to falter, with his waist, and received the blow
falling from above with his bamboo sword—.
With a dull, light
sound, Akira's bamboo sword exploded and flew apart.
Normally, the polite
thing to do would be to retreat and wait for the bamboo sword to be replaced.
However, without a word of restraint, Rokugō reversed his wooden sword in a
reverse strike.
"Zeeeeeiiiiii~!"
"—Phew"
A cross between a roar
and a breath.
Rokugō's victory,
which everyone was sure of, was blocked by the remains of the bamboo sword and
the guard that remained in Akira's palm.
Pieces of the bamboo
sword scattered on the dojo floor, and Rokugō's full-body strike went off into
empty air.
It was not an offensive
step, but a soft defensive strike delivered from a retreating step.
It was not the
Kihoin-school that Akira had shown. —It was the swordsmanship of the
Gioin-school, which is good at parrying and countering.
"Your petty
tricks are not worthy of a warrior's title!" "—I've seen
enough."
Seizing the
opportunity of the curse thrown out in frustration, Akira's fist spiraled from
a close stance.
Boom. The well-trained
internal energy traveled through the dojo floor, striking the eardrums of those
present.
—In astonishment. In front of everyone, Rokugō's body
quietly sank to the floor.
There were no words.
From that day on, Akira was accepted by the Kokuten Province protectors solely
based on his ability.
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