One step forward.
One horizontal sweep.
The movements flowed together without the slightest break—and they were far faster than anything Ogata had shown before.
Mikami’s pupils tightened in shock.
He had never imagined Ogata could move so quickly.
There was no time to recover the bokken already raised above his head.
He could only watch as Ogata’s weapon cut toward his abdomen.
Mikami was taller and larger than Ogata, making his chest a difficult target.
For Ogata, the man’s abdomen offered the best line of attack.
Sakakibara Ittō-ryū—Dragon Tail.
It was the school’s horizontal-cutting technique.
Like the tail of a great dragon, Ogata’s bokken swept from left to right toward Mikami’s belly.
When the wooden blade was barely a finger’s width from its target, it stopped dead.
Ogata withdrew it with a smile, then bowed to Mikami.
“Thank you for the match, Mikami-senpai.”
Mikami finally recovered from his astonishment.
He lowered his sword and returned the bow with a helpless smile.
“I lost… I never knew you could move so quickly, Ogata-kun. It seems you have been hiding the depth of your ability all this time.”
The moment he finished speaking, the familiar system voice sounded inside Ogata’s head.
Ding!
You defeated an opponent using Sakakibara Ittō-ryū: Dragon Tail.
Personal Experience gained: 50.
Sakakibara Ittō-ryū Experience gained: 60.
Ding!
Your Experience is full.
Sakakibara Ittō-ryū increased by 1 rank.
You gained 2 Skill Points.
Remaining Skill Points: 2.
Current Personal Level: LV 8 (50/700).
Sakakibara Ittō-ryū Level: Rank 4 (20/700).
My Sakakibara Ittō-ryū ranked up!
I gained more Skill Points—and two of them this time!
Ogata could not restrain the exhilarated cry in his heart.
As expected of Mikami-senpai.
Defeating him gave me far more Experience than beating Makino or my previous opponent.
My judgment was right.
Raising the rank of a martial-arts school is much more efficient than increasing my Personal Level.
One Personal Level grants only one Skill Point, while each rank gained in a martial-arts school grants two.
When Sakakibara Ittō-ryū rose from Rank Three to Rank Four just now, I received two points at once.
It is only a shame that every martial-arts school is capped at Rank Fifteen.
Unlike my Personal Level, it cannot rise forever without limit.
* * *
Although Mikami was the strongest of the Sakakibara Dojo’s disciples, he was not invincible, nor had he gone undefeated.
His advantage was not so overwhelming that he could crush every other disciple without effort.
During their daily matches, he sometimes lost to others.
Consequently, Ogata’s victory stirred only a small wave of surprise through the dojo.
No one regarded it as impossible.
Their match was the final bout of the day.
By the time it ended, the sun had begun to set.
The Sakakibara Dojo closed at sundown.
That was its rule.
All the disciples formed ranks and bowed to their teacher, Sakakibara Hanbei.
Then they collected their swords, put on their footwear, and departed for their respective homes.
* * *
Ogata lived in a rather remote area, and none of the others shared his route.
He therefore walked home alone.
Following the country path with the help of the memories in his mind, he found his gaze repeatedly drifting toward his left hip.
More precisely, he kept looking at the long and short swords thrust through his obi.
The pair was heavy.
Their combined weight pulled noticeably at his waist.
Ogata swallowed as he stared at them.
Those are real swords…
I never imagined the day would come when I could wear genuine blades and stroll openly down the road.
Before arriving in the Edo period, Ogata had once heard someone say that nearly every man enjoyed playing with swords and blades.
He wholeheartedly agreed.
The knowledge that two real swords hung at his waist—and that they were heirlooms belonging to his family—filled him with uncontrollable excitement.
He wanted to draw them at once and examine them in detail.
But he was still outdoors.
Even in the Edo period, when the samurai stood above the other classes, drawing a sword in public for no reason was hardly appropriate.
Eager to admire them as soon as possible, Ogata quickened his pace.
His mother had died in childbirth.
His father had succumbed to illness several years ago.
As a result, Ogata now lived alone.
His home was nothing more than an old, dilapidated thatched house.
It was small, but sufficient for one person.
He slid open the door and rushed inside without even removing his waraji.
The moment he entered, he took the long and short swords from his left hip.
Each weapon had its own proper name.
The longer blade was an uchigatana.
The shorter one was a wakizashi.
The uchigatana was a samurai’s primary weapon in battle; the wakizashi served as a reserve.
Together, the pair formed his daishō.
Ogata drew the uchigatana first.
Night had already fallen, and he had not lit a lamp, leaving the interior of the house exceptionally dim.
Yet when he pulled the uchigatana from its saya, the entire room seemed to brighten.
His face appeared clearly upon the gleaming white steel.
After turning the uchigatana in his hands and admiring it from every angle, he drew the wakizashi as well.
Both weapons had been maintained with extraordinary care.
Their blades shone like snow, and their edges had been honed to keen sharpness.
They were, in the most literal sense, treasured swords handed down through his family.
The Ogata family had passed them from one generation to the next since the beginning of the Edo period, making both weapons antiques more than a century old.
After Ogata’s father died, they had come into Ogata’s possession.
Despite being called “treasured swords,” however, there was nothing truly exceptional about them.
They were ordinary samurai blades, not legendary weapons capable of slicing through iron as though it were mud.
Since Tokugawa Ieyasu established the Tokugawa shogunate, Japan had enjoyed a long period of peace.
Apart from the Battle of Sekigahara near the beginning of the era, the country had seen no large-scale wars.
Without war, samurai swords had few opportunities to be used.
That was precisely why Ogata’s two blades had survived for more than a century.
The fact that they had endured for so many generations meant that, throughout all those years, neither sword had seen much use at all.
* * *
Once he had admired the long and short blades to his satisfaction, Ogata returned both to their saya.
The instant the swords slid home—
Grrr…
His stomach gave a quiet growl.
Ogata rubbed his flat abdomen, which bore not the slightest trace of excess fat.
I was so absorbed in looking at the swords and handling them that I completely forgot I was hungry.
Time to eat.
You can join my P.
@.
T.
R.
3.
0.
N to get access to 50 additional chapters!
/Meegoatbaa Whether you join as a free or paid member, you’ll also get access to 2 extra chapters.