I turned six with a wooden sword in my hands and four sisters arguing over whether my birthday gave them the right to interrupt training.
“It is a family celebration,” Hinaki said from the veranda. “Family celebrations should include everyone.”
Shihan adjusted my right foot with the end of his cane. “You are including yourself quite successfully from over there.”
Kuina leaned around Hinaki. “We could help count.”
“Kanata is already counting,” Nichika said. “You only want permission to shout.”
Kanata sat beside Mother with both hands in her lap. “Ninety-seven.”
I brought the sword down along the same line Shihan had made me repeat since sunrise.
“Ninety-eight,” Kanata said.
Shihan watched the cut, then looked at my feet. “Better. Your hands and legs finally seem aware that they belong to the same child.”
“Was that a compliment, Shihan?”
“It was an observation. Do not become greedy on your birthday.”
Father laughed softly from his place near the open doors. The scars on his face had spread during the past year, though he still carried himself with the same calm that made a room settle around him.
Mother glanced toward him. “Kuwajima-dono has already given Haruya more praise than usual. We should be careful. He may become unbearable.”
“I have four sisters,” I said as I returned to my starting position. “They would correct that quickly.”
Hinaki nodded with great confidence. “We would.”
Shihan’s rough voice carried across the garden. “A hundred cuts, boy. Finish before your family decides to train your personality instead.”
I completed the last two without answering.
Six months earlier, Shihan had finally allowed me to begin proper wooden-sword practice. Before that, he had spent half a year teaching me how to run, stand, breathe, fall safely, and move my feet without tangling them together.
At the time, I had thought he was being painfully slow.
After six months with the sword, I understood why.
Every cut began in the ground. If my foot shifted, the blade wandered. If my hips turned late, my shoulders tried to force the movement. If my grip tightened, the rest of my body followed.
Shihan had not delayed swordsmanship.
He had been building the part that came before it.
The system had recognized the skill when I completed my first week of repeated cuts.
Swordsmanship
Description: A foundational combat skill representing the user’s understanding and execution of sword handling, cutting lines, grip, posture, timing, and weapon awareness. Current level reflects basic wooden sword practice under supervision. Effectiveness is limited by age, strength, reach, instruction quality, repetition, and combat experience.
Footwork had appeared even earlier.
Footwork
Description: A movement skill representing balance, stepping, directional changes, distance management, and efficient lower-body coordination. Improves stability during training, evasion, pursuit, positioning, and weapon practice. Current level reflects supervised foundational drills. Growth is influenced by Agility, Body Control, terrain awareness, repetition, and instruction quality.
Neither skill had remained at Level 1 for long.
Shihan trained me every other day. On the days between, I studied with Father and Mother, practiced calligraphy, read Corps reports selected for my age, and learned how an heir was expected to behave when people came before him with problems.
Etiquette had been part of my life for much longer than swordsmanship. Mother had started correcting my posture and greetings as soon as I could sit through a lesson without trying to crawl away.
The system eventually named that training too.
Etiquette
Description: A social discipline skill representing manners, posture, greetings, tone, formal conduct, rank awareness, hosting behavior, and respectful interaction. Improves the user’s ability to navigate social situations without causing offense and to show consideration in culturally appropriate ways. Growth is influenced by Charisma, Wisdom, observation, practice, and sincerity.
At first, I had treated etiquette like another kind of armor. Stand correctly. Speak carefully. Never reveal too much.
Mother noticed.
“You are performing every movement correctly,” she told me one afternoon, “but you look as though you expect the tea guest to attack.”
“He might dislike the tea.”
“That is rarely fatal.”
Father had added, “Etiquette is meant to reduce distance between people, Haruya. If you use it only to hide, you have missed half of its purpose.”
I had needed time to understand that.
Over the past year, the estate had become easier to live inside.
It had always been warm. I had been the one standing stiffly in that warmth, unsure whether I had earned the right to answer it.
Now I knew the attendants by name.
Sumi preferred arranging Father’s room in the morning because she remembered every item he used. Haru always carried too many folded robes at once and refused help until someone took half without asking. Daichi, one of the older attendants, had a bad knee that bothered him in cold weather, though he tried to hide the limp around Father.
I noticed these things because I had always noticed weakness, tension, and movement.
The difference was what I did with the knowledge.
When Haru crossed the hall carrying a stack high enough to hide her face, I took the top three robes.
“Young master, I can manage.”
“I know you can. I can also carry three robes.”
She tried to remain formal, but her smile appeared anyway. “Then I suppose we are both very capable.”
Hinaki hurried over and took one from my pile. “I am capable too.”
Kuina took another. “More capable.”
Nichika reached for the last robe and said, “Now Haruya is carrying nothing.”
Kanata watched us pass. “He organized the work.”
“I was robbed by my own sisters,” I said.
Haru laughed before remembering to cover it with her sleeve.
A year earlier, an attendant laughing around me would have made me wonder what mistake I had made. Now I laughed with her.
I was still serious. I still watched exits when strangers arrived and counted footsteps in the hall at night. My first life had not loosened its grip entirely.
It no longer held all of me.
Shihan tapped my wooden sword with his cane, bringing me back to the garden.
“Your arms are finished with a hundred cuts, but your feet are not. Forward step, diagonal step, retreat. Keep the sword ready.”
I moved through the pattern.
My feet slid over packed earth. Front foot first. Back foot followed without crossing. Shift left, settle, then retreat while keeping my weight under control.
Shihan circled me, his wooden leg clicking softly.
“You have become faster,” he said. “That does not mean every movement should be fast. Speed without timing only brings mistakes sooner.”
“I understand.”
“Show me instead.”
I repeated the pattern more slowly. The next turn felt cleaner.
Kanata spoke from the veranda. “His eyebrows moved.”
“They did not,” I said.
Nichika leaned forward. “They moved a little. He liked that one.”
Mother looked between us. “I had not realized eyebrows were part of sword instruction.”
“They have been under discussion for months,” Father said. “I believe they are approaching an advanced level.”
Even Shihan smiled.
The rest of the morning passed through familiar drills: running with controlled turns, stance transitions, wooden-sword cuts, balance work, and breathing through each sequence. My daily quest completed near the end.
Self-Assigned Quest Complete: Daily Foundation
Completion Quality: Excellent
Rewards:
Strength +1
Agility +1
Endurance +1
Swordsmanship Lv. 25 → Lv. 26
Footwork Lv. 28 → Lv. 29
**Breath Control Lv. 35 → Lv.36 **
The gains no longer came as quickly as they had during the first weeks. Early levels had risen almost every time I learned something new. Now the system expected cleaner work, harder effort, and more consistent understanding.
The proof still satisfied me.
After training, Mother handed me a towel while Shihan spoke quietly with Father.
“Kuwajima-dono believes you are ready to begin practicing simple combinations,” Father told me when they finished. “No formal Thunder Breathing forms yet, but cuts joined with footwork.”
I looked toward Shihan. “When do we begin?”
“After you eat,” Mother said.
Shihan bowed his head toward her. “Ubuyashiki-sama is correct. Hunger teaches poor technique.”
Hinaki appeared beside me. “Can we watch?”
Shihan glanced at Mother before answering. “If your parents permit it and you do not distract him deliberately.”
Hinaki looked offended. “I never distract him deliberately.”
All three of my other sisters stared at her.
She corrected herself. “Not every time.”
That afternoon, Father reviewed a short report with me while Mother supervised my calligraphy. The work had given me several other skills during the year.
Calligraphy
A written discipline skill representing brush control, character formation, spacing, legibility, speed, and formal presentation. Higher levels reduce errors and improve the clarity and authority of written communication.
Arithmetic
A knowledge skill representing numerical reasoning, counting, measurement, comparison, basic calculation, and practical record keeping. Higher levels improve speed, accuracy, and the ability to recognize numerical patterns.
Administration had grown through reports, supply lists, and household schedules. Leadership had grown more slowly, usually when people were involved and numbers stopped being enough.
Father never let me forget the difference.
“A missing box of medicine is an error in a report,” he said as I examined a supply list. “What is it outside the paper?”
I followed the line with my finger. “Someone may not receive treatment.”
“And if the road was flooded?”
“Then blaming the courier would solve nothing. We would need another route or a second supply point.”
Father nodded. “Good. Administration keeps the system moving. Leadership remembers who is hurt when it fails.”
Before bed, I opened my full status.
Status
Name: Ubuyashiki Haruya
Title: Ubuyashiki Heir
Race: Human
Age: 6 Years
Level: 5
Condition: Healthy
HP: 450/450
Stats
Strength: 44
Agility: 45
Endurance: 45
Intelligence: 58
Wisdom: 53
Charisma: 28
Luck: 32
Stats Points: 25
Skills
Gamer Body: MAX
Gamer Mind: MAX
Memory Retention: MAX
Language Comprehension: MAX
Inventory: MAX
World Travel: MAX, Locked
Body Control Lv. 47
Passive: Motor Efficiency +38%
Observe Lv. 59
Passive: Information Extraction +50%
Speech Lv. 40
Passive: Verbal Clarity +31%
Reading Lv. 37
Passive: Reading Efficiency +28%
Foresight Lv. 1
Administration Lv. 21
Passive: Administrative Efficiency +12%
Leadership Lv. 18
Passive: Direction Clarity +9%
Physical Conditioning Lv. 39
Passive: Training Adaptation +30%
Fatigue Deterioration Reduced by 5%
Breath Control Lv. 36
Passive: Respiratory Efficiency +27%
Stamina Waste Reduced by 13%
Swordsmanship Lv. 26
Passive: Sword Attack Effectiveness +17%
Footwork Lv. 29
Passive: Positional Efficiency +20%
Etiquette Lv. 25
Passive: Social Execution Efficiency +16%
Calligraphy Lv. 19
Passive: Stroke Accuracy +10%
Arithmetic Lv. 20
Passive: Calculation Speed +11%
I read through it twice.
A year earlier, Strength had been twelve. My sword skills had not existed. I had needed to think about every step.
Now the movements were beginning to connect.
Other parts of my growth had slowed in different ways. Observe had reached Level 59 and refused to move further, as if I had already taken everything it could offer from my current surroundings.
I had also gained a few levels from completing enough quests, which granted me free stat points. I had not used them.
I remembered Kenji from the reincarnation office telling me that with a gamer system, it was better to save them for a rainy day and train as much as possible first. So I trained my way up to where I was right now.
I closed the status and lay down.
The wooden sword rested against the wall, far enough from the futon that Kanata could not complain.
Sleep came quickly.
Then the flowers appeared.
White petals drifted through a dark forest. Their edges caught moonlight as they turned. A woman stood among them with a sword in her hand and a butterfly-patterned haori moving around her shoulders.
Kocho Kanae.
The Flower Hashira.
I knew her from reports and from the few times she had visited the estate. She had spoken gently to my sisters and thanked every attendant who served her. Her smile in the dream was familiar, though blood ran from the corner of her mouth.
Someone laughed beyond the trees.
A man stepped into the moonlight holding golden fans. His hair was pale. His eyes held colors that did not belong in human eyes.
Kanae moved.
The forest filled with ice.
Her breath caught. One knee struck the ground. She forced herself upright, but no one came through the trees behind her.
She was alone.
The man raised one fan.
Kanae’s sword slipped in her hand.
I tried to shout her name.
No sound came.
The fan moved.
I woke sitting upright, my heart striking hard against my ribs.
For a moment, I saw only darkness and the shape of my wooden sword against the wall.
Then a window appeared.
Foresight Lv. 1 → Lv. 3
Nothing else.
No explanation. No warning.
It did not need one.
Father had told me about the Ubuyashiki family’s intuition. His own decisions sometimes came from dreams, sudden certainty, or a sense of danger he could not explain. Generations of our family had trusted those feelings when ordinary information arrived too late.
My dream had carried the same certainty.
Kanae was in danger.
I pushed aside my blanket.
Kanata stirred beside me. “Haruya? What happened?”
“I had a dream about the Corps, and I need to tell Father immediately. Wake Mother if she is not already with him.”
She heard something in my voice and stood without further questions.
We hurried into the corridor. An attendant rose from her place near the door.
“Young master, is something wrong?”
“Please tell Father that I had an urgent warning about the Flower Hashira. I need to speak with him now.”
The attendant bowed and moved ahead of us.
Father received me in a side room with Mother beside him. A lamp burned between them. Neither looked annoyed at being disturbed.
Father gestured for me to come closer. “Tell me everything you remember.”
I knelt near them and described the dream: the forest, the falling petals, Kanae’s wound, the man with golden fans and rainbow-colored eyes, and the certainty that she had been fighting alone.
Father listened without interrupting.
When I finished, he asked, “Did it feel like an ordinary nightmare?”
“No. It felt fixed, like something that had already decided to happen.”
His expression changed.
Mother placed one hand against my back.
Father looked at her, and they understood each other without speaking.
Then he turned toward the attendant waiting near the door.
“Send an immediate order to Kocho Kanae. She is to abandon her current assignment and return to headquarters. Tell every slayer in the area that no one is to engage a demon carrying golden fans alone. Send the warning to the nearest Hashira and request support.”
The attendant bowed deeply. “At once, Oyakata-sama.”
She left at a run.
Father reached out and placed his hand over mine.
“The Ubuyashiki blood does not always warn us clearly,” he said. “When it does, we listen. You were right to come immediately.”
Mother drew me closer against her side.
Outside, the first Kasugai crow cried into the night.
A second answered from the roof.
Then wings beat through the darkness, carrying the warning toward the Flower Hashira.