Ohta instantly understood Haruto’s motives.
The latter did not want an official match. He did not want it on record. All he wanted was to beat Ohta for the way he lost yesterday.
Then again, now that Ohta thought about it, it had been very embarrassing.
Haruto had slipped and got knocked out against a desk.
For a prideful child from one of the seven great clans—a samurai clan, this must have been heavenly embarrassing.
’Kids and their stupid pride.’ Ohta thought to himself. But he still took a ready stance for battle.
"Good. If you had decided to keep running around, it would have hurt my pride and I would have been forced to let you go. But this is exactly what I want."
Ohta cursed his own pride in his mind. It was true that after his death in the other world, he decided to stay away from violence. But staying away from violence did not mean that he would sit and allow himself to be bullied.
That was where he drew the line.
Whoosh...
Haruto’s ankle moved.
In Ohta’s eyes, he might as well have been dancing—cause he was.
Haruto’s right foot slid back, heel lifting slightly off the ground, weight transferring to the ball of his foot like a dancer finding his mark before the music began.
Maybe it was because of the King’s aura that Ohta used which allowed him to pressure his environment as well as himself, but as Haruto moved, he caught the motions, and could only be astounded by it.
’Shit. Is this still a kid? How can he...’
The katana dropped to Haruto’s side, edge angled outward, not raised in guard. A deliberate invitation.
It might as well been an insult dressed as elegance.
His left arm rised first — and this was not his sword arm.
It floated outward like a wing opening, and his body followed it, rotating from the hip in a slow, almost ceremonial turn.
His dark eyes never leave his opponent, Ohta.
The rotation built — unhurried, beautiful — and just as his back is nearly faced Ohta, the katana came alive.
The blade swept upward in a rising crescent from low right to high left.
Unlike the other attacks, this was not a slash. More of a petal falling in reverse — as Haruto’s wrist rotated at the apex so the edge redirected downward in the same fluid motion without pause.
Ohta was so mesmerized by such a profound technique that he had forgotten for a slight second that this was his opponent and his life was in danger.
Ohta had seen Martial techniques as performed by members of the Iga clan. But none were like this.
As a ninja clan, their techniques were more covet in operation.
But this one.
This one was different.
Ohta had years as a boss in his old world. It was easy for him to see effort and appreciate it.
And every movement that Haruto made had carried with him the blood and sweat of a hundred focused and disploned warriors—all to perfect such a near miraculous technique.
But in that same light, Ohta noticed something else.
Haruto’s body, now completed the turn, facing forward again.
"This is my family’s martial art technique. A technique within the Demon king of the sixth heaven style."
Sixth Petal Descent
As he said this, his mana around the sword reached new heights. It already enveloped the sword like a huge scabbard.
Flower petals bleeding from its edge at the formation of the technique.
And then it fell.
The first stroke.
As Haruto brought down the blade, he could not help but carry a cocky side smile.
It was not the first time he was using this technique. As one of the children of the main family, he had practiced day and night to perfect it.
He once used it in a demonstration in front of the elders, splitting apart an old era armored tank.
Even within the Nobunaga clan, rumors had it that this technique at its peak, was capable of splitting a mountain like hot knife through butter.
At first, Haruto did not plan to use it. In fact, it almost felt irresponsible to do so, especially within the school premises.
But Ohta had embarrassed him in yesterday’s battle, and his family back home had already heard of the humiliating defeat.
For samurai’s such a defeat by a table, was just the worse.
The second reason was because this would show all of them that he still got it. And those watching in secret that he was worthy.
Worthy of that place.
Yes. This was it. There was no way Ohta with his slippery moves would be able to dodge this.
He was right.
But was he?
Ohta cracked a faint side smile. "You look like a smart kid. But stupid assumptions, especially during battle, will be your unbecoming."
Ohta shifted to the left, his body turning with the flexibility of one that had not missed a day of training his body since he began walking.
Fluid.
Smooth.
Precise.
As he did, his left hand went for his back. Behind his coat was a gun.
The Beretta M92 was flipped out.
Ohta fired.
Two shots.
Boom boom.
As he did, he activated mirage steps.
Not to evade like he normally would. But to proceed forward.
Haruto’s eyes widened in shock.
But what he saw next was even more baffling.
With mirage steps, Ohta moved closing the gap between them.
The flower petals formed from his mana seemed to not have any effect on Ohta as he grabbed the stunned Haruto by the shirt and then with a flip, flung him to the wall.
Haruto curved into the wall.
Blood spitting from his mouth as a result of the shock to his internal organs.
Another shot from Ohta’s gun.
Boom.
The katana flew from Haruto’s loosened grip.
It flipped in the air, once. Twice.
Ohta reached for it and it fell into his palm gracefully.
Click...
Ohta raised the gun to Haruto’s temple.