“Hiss… Hah…”
After several deep breaths, Ogata slowly raised his sword into jōdan-no-kamae.
Tōyama’s pupils contracted.
Jōdan?
What is Ogata planning?
Does he intend to use Waterfall against me?
Fine.
I’ll receive it head-on!
He naturally assumed that Ogata meant to use Sakakibara Ittō-ryū’s downward-cutting technique, Waterfall.
Intending to meet it directly, Tōyama lowered his own raised sword into chūdan-no-kamae.
Ogata edged toward him, while Tōyama continually measured the distance between them.
Control of distance was among the most important elements in winning a sword match.
Most men lost because they misjudged the space between themselves and their opponents—attacking while their swords could not possibly reach, or remaining complacent after entering the enemy’s range without realizing it.
A swordsman who understood maai knew not only how far his own weapon could travel, but how stance, grip, footwork, and the opponent’s build altered that distance.
A single mistaken step could turn a safe position into the place where a blow landed.
Tōyama’s confidence came from having measured Ogata’s reach throughout both matches.
Tōyama watched Ogata and counted.
Four more steps before his blade can reach me…
Three…
Two…
One more!
Whoosh!
The fierce sound of displaced air descended upon him.
Ogata’s bokken cut straight down toward his shoulder.
What?!
Tōyama’s eyes flew wide.
He had not prepared to receive Waterfall yet.
By his calculation, Ogata needed one more step before the sword could touch him.
He had never imagined Ogata could attack from a full step beyond his apparent range.
But in the next instant, it was Ogata’s turn to be astonished.
Tōyama’s sword moved so quickly that the motion blurred before his eyes.
Crack!
The heavy collision of wood exploded through the street.
At the very last moment, Tōyama raised his sword and knocked Waterfall aside.
Ogata immediately retreated several steps.
Once he regained his footing, his gaze dropped to Ogata’s sword hand.
Seeing the grip, he sneered.
“So that is how you increased your reach, Ogata.”
Ogata’s right hand was clenched around the very bottom of the hilt.
During his gradual approach, while still one step beyond the distance Tōyama considered dangerous, he had quietly slid both hands downward to the hilt’s end.
That adjustment extended his range by nearly the length of the hilt itself.
It was the reason he had been able to unleash Waterfall and reach Tōyama one step earlier than expected.
It was a simple alteration rather than a secret technique, but its timing made it dangerous.
Ogata had concealed the shift until Tōyama’s calculations were already fixed.
By changing the reach of the attack at the last possible moment, he had turned Tōyama’s careful command of distance against him.
Had Tōyama’s reactions and speed been any less exceptional, the match would already have ended in his defeat.
“I truly came close to losing,” Tōyama admitted.
“I never expected such a fierce attack from you.”
“The feeling is mutual,” Ogata replied evenly.
“I did not expect you could move that quickly.”
Neither man was calm.
Tōyama had discovered that the opponent before him was far more formidable than he had imagined.
Ogata had reached the same conclusion about Tōyama.
Ogata had already classified him as a powerful enemy who could not be taken lightly.
Now he realized that even this judgment had underestimated the man.
He had launched the surprise strike in complete confidence, convinced Tōyama could not possibly stop it.
Yet Tōyama had.
“Come.” Tōyama took several deep breaths, his gaze sharpening.
“Ogata Issei, this contest is not yet decided. Let us continue.”
“…Come, then.” Ogata loosened his wrist and returned to chūdan-no-kamae.
At that moment, a loud shout rang out from beyond the makeshift battlefield.
“Hey! All of you! What do you think you’re doing?”
The spectators to the west hurriedly parted.
Two samurai in black haori strode through the gap and onto the still-tense field.
Ogata, Tōyama, and everyone watching turned toward them.
“Dōshin…” Ogata muttered.
Dōshin were low-ranking officials responsible for police work and other everyday administrative duties.
“Private fighting between samurai is forbidden! Do none of you know that?” the leading dōshin roared.
“Dōshin-sama.” A smile gradually spread across Tōyama’s face.
“We were not fighting. We were merely amusing ourselves with a friendly match.”
As he spoke, he handed his bokken to a junior disciple and approached the two officials.
From inside his robes, he produced a small handful of copper coins and discreetly slipped them into the leading dōshin’s coat.
“Please forgive our harmless little disturbance.” This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
The dōshin glanced at the coins, then spoke in a much gentler voice.
“In the future, conduct your matches inside a dojo. Do not cause a commotion in public like this!”
“Of course. Certainly.”
After agreeing several times, Tōyama turned toward his fellow disciples.
“We’re leaving!”
Then he looked back at Ogata, his gaze heavy with meaning.
“Ogata Issei, if I remember correctly, the disciple who takes first place in the Sakakibara Dojo’s annual summer tournament must represent the school in the July Festival Tournament, correct?”
“What of it?”
“Nothing. I merely wished to confirm it. Let me give you a little news: the man representing the Ishikawa Dojo in this year’s Festival Tournament will once again be me.”
“Oh.” Ogata’s response was flat.
“And?”
“I am simply warning you in advance. We will finish today’s interrupted match at the Festival Tournament.”
Ogata gave a cold curl of his lips.
“The way you speak makes it sound as though I am certain to win our dojo tournament.”
Tōyama did not answer.
After studying Ogata for several moments, he led the Ishikawa disciples away at a brisk pace.
The two dōshin had nearly finished dispersing the crowd as well.
The spectators went reluctantly, still murmuring about the unfinished contest.
What had begun as a one-sided humiliation had become a duel neither man could settle.
O-Saki and O-Fuku remained close to Ogata, their earlier fear now mingled with relief that the officials had ended the fighting before either swordsman suffered a worse injury.
So it’s over…
Ogata thought, watching Tōyama’s retreating back diminish in the distance.
Money truly is useful.
A few coins settled the dōshin without the slightest difficulty…
Hiss.
That hurts.
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