While tightening the tasuki around his sleeves, Ogata said, “The rumors were right. Tōyama Ren’ichirō of the Ishikawa Dojo truly is an unreasonable man.”
“Heh.” One corner of Tōyama’s mouth lifted in a cold sneer.
“Thank you for the compliment. It is precisely because I am so ‘unreasonable’ that my fellow disciples respect me.”
Ogata disliked Tōyama’s refusal to distinguish right from wrong.
Yet he had to admit that the man’s statement contained a measure of truth.
The moment a junior disciple was beaten, Tōyama stepped forward, gathered his companions, and came to avenge him.
With such a loyal and forceful man supporting them, it would have been stranger if his fellow disciples did not admire him.
“Ogata-sama!” O-Saki called anxiously.
“Are you truly going to fight this man as well?”
“I have little choice.” Ogata gave her a half-joking smile.
“O-Saki-san, can’t you see? I am in a position where I must fight. If I refuse Tōyama’s challenge, I doubt any of us will enjoy peace tonight.”
“Heh.” Tōyama seemed fond of cold laughter.
“You understand your situation.
Your good judgment has saved us considerable trouble.
“If you stubbornly refused, we would have needed to make an effort to force you.”
As he finished, Tōyama secured his sleeves.
Then he turned toward one of his junior disciples.
“Bring the swords!”
The man hurried forward and presented two bokken that had clearly been prepared in advance.
“Catch.”
Tōyama accepted both and casually tossed one toward Ogata.
“You are surprisingly considerate.” Ogata caught the bokken and swung it several times to test its balance.
“You even thought to bring wooden swords.”
Once satisfied that the weapon presented no problem, he stopped speaking.
Ogata wrapped both hands around the hilt and assumed chūdan-no-kamae.
“Ogata Issei, at your service.”
Tōyama adopted the same stance.
“Tōyama Ren’ichirō, at your service.”
Nagareya’s patrons streamed outside once again.
The opportunity to witness two samurai duels in a single evening—when even one was ordinarily rare—filled them with excitement.
O-Saki and O-Fuku realized they could no longer stop the match.
As before, they pressed their lips together and watched the increasingly tense field with anxious faces.
* * *
The instant Tōyama assumed chūdan-no-kamae, Ogata understood that he was strong.
His posture contained no wasted tension, and the point of his bokken remained steady enough to make every possible approach seem dangerous.
Not merely competent—extraordinarily strong.
The two remained motionless in chūdan for a long time.
Even after studying Tōyama throughout the standoff, Ogata could not detect a single opening.
The man resembled an immovable mountain.
That was the most honest description Ogata could find.
Confronting such a powerful opponent for the first time sharpened every one of his senses.
He fixed his gaze upon Tōyama without daring to blink more than necessary.
Should I attack first?
Ogata began planning silently.
If I do, Dragon Tail would be the best technique for probing his defense.
I still don’t know the true depth of Tōyama’s ability.
The safest choice is to test him first—
The point of a bokken abruptly expanded within Ogata’s vision.
The approaching weapon shattered his train of thought.
His pupils contracted in shock, and instinct drove him to raise his own sword.
Clack!
A heavy crack split the air.
Ogata’s hastily lifted bokken deflected Tōyama’s thrust.
So fast!
When did Tōyama begin the attack?
Ogata could swear that he had neither blinked nor relaxed his attention.
His entire body had remained taut, every scrap of concentration fixed upon his opponent.
Even so, his eyes could not follow Tōyama’s speed.
He had barely turned the thrust aside when the next attack arrived.
After his bokken was deflected, Tōyama recovered it instantly.
In the same flowing motion, he shifted into jōdan-no-kamae and brought the weapon down toward Ogata’s shoulder.
Clack!
Another dull impact sounded.
Ogata blocked again, but this defense was even narrower than the first.
This is bad!
My rhythm is completely broken.
Tōyama is leading me wherever he wishes!
I must regain my stance!
If I don’t adjust immediately, I will—
Before the word lose could fully form in his mind, Tōyama’s third attack came.
It was the same straight thrust, delivered so quickly that Ogata’s eyes could not follow it.
Tōyama’s speed was simply overwhelming.
This time, fortune did not favor him.
Thud!
Unable to intercept the attack, Ogata took the bokken’s point squarely in the chest.
Had they been using true swords, the thrust would have killed him.
He staggered several steps backward, then fell flat onto his back.
“Cough! Cough!”
Ogata clutched the place where the wooden point had struck and coughed violently.
“Ogata-sama!” O-Saki and O-Fuku cried together.
They rushed forward to examine him.
“I’m fine…” Ogata said hoarsely from the ground.
“Heh.”
Tōyama released his characteristic sneer and slowly withdrew the bokken he had thrust forward.
“Is this all a disciple of the Sakakibara Dojo can accomplish?” he asked contemptuously.
His fellow disciples immediately erupted into cooperative laughter.
Itagaki and his three companions laughed loudest of all, as though determined to dislocate their jaws.
Several spectators nearby also gave low, derisive chuckles.
Tōyama had not defeated Ogata with a single technique, but the result was scarcely different from an instant victory.
Only a few seconds passed between their weapons first touching and Ogata’s fall.
Tōyama had controlled the entire exchange from the opening thrust, never allowing Ogata enough time to restore his balance or impose a rhythm of his own.
To spectators who understood nothing of swordsmanship, losing in mere seconds appeared unbearably humiliating.
“We’re leaving!”
Satisfied that he had avenged his junior, Tōyama shouted the order proudly and turned to depart with the others.
They did not even bother retrieving the bokken they had given Ogata.
But just as the Ishikawa disciples turned away, a low voice sounded behind them.
“Wait…”
Ogata’s fingers tightened around the wooden sword.
“Who said… that you won?”
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