The Blades That Echo

Every blow I shared with my master felt like a long, untold story being lifted from my heart for the first time since I lost my parents. I felt a strange, fierce peace—one that could only be found in fighting. With every strike, goosebumps ran over me, my heart raced like I was trapped in a nightmare I loved that would make your heart race like crazy.

Even the master seemed caught in the flow. He stopped holding back, each of his strikes feeling like a mountain crashing into my body, yet at the same time, a boulder lifting from my soul. After several blows, exhaustion finally claimed me mid-fight. I wanted to keep going, to fight more, but my body refused.

Kagenken’s hands glowed with a soft blue light—he healed me with a spell similar to Jonathan’s. It felt warm and familiar, yet strange at the same time. I didn’t notice when tears began to fall, rolling down my cheeks and dropping to the ground like rain. I couldn’t explain it—maybe it was some buried feeling in my subconscious, a memory of Jonathan—but despite the sorrow, a strange happiness surged, as if a weight had been lifted from my heart and memory of Jonathan started flowing and his words like "fight to feel" started echoing in mine mind

The master looked at me, concern in his eyes. “What’s wrong, kid? Did I overdo it? Should we stop?”

I wiped my tears and answered with a flickering voice, “One… one more round.”

A genuine smile spread across his face—different smile an energetic one different from those fake one, one enough to make your soul dance in joy. We took our stances again.

“I am done holding back, kid. Now let’s see how far you can go,” he warned, a roar in his tone but still polite.

A smirk crept across my face. We rushed toward each other again. He swung his stick with fearsome force, and though I stepped back, a small wound opened on my fist. Instead of fear, excitement surged through me. This time, I dashed at him first, striking at his neck with the dull edge of my sword. He shifted his stick just enough to blunt the strike and counter with a swing toward my forehead. I ducked, spun to the left, and struck at his neck again—but my sword was repelled.

He laughed, amusement dancing in his eyes, then struck my head. It hurt, but didn’t injure me. He stepped back and explained, “This coating on my stick is called Yuta energy. It has three forms: Armor Yuta, Blast Yuta, and Reinforcement Yuta. I’m using Armor Yuta on my body, Reinforcement Yuta on my sword, and infused it with healing magic—so neither of us get injured, though you will feel the full impact.”

Most of this flew over my head, but I understood one thing: the goal was simple—strike with everything I had.

“Don’t let your guard down, even when you talk,” I shouted, dashing toward him. I struck at his knee, but my sword was repelled again. He slammed me to the ground, the impact knocking the air out of me. Pain shot through me, but I refused to give up.

Something blanked my mind—only one thought remained: land a hit. My body moved on instinct. Yuta’s third form—Reinforcement Yuta—flowed through my blade, shaping it into a dual-edged sword. I dashed at him. He aimed above my head, and time seemed to slow. I spun, lowered my stance, and poured all my force into a single strike, hitting him at the side of his stomach. This time, it pierced his Armor Yuta and opened a wound.

He fell back, eyes wide with amusement. “When… when did you learn to use Yuta?”

I blinked. “What… Yuta?”

He laughed, astonished. “Your katana—it was covered with Reinforcement Yuta and shaped like a dual-edged sword, just like those crafted by legendary masters. And you used it instinctively?”

I stared at his wound in shock. “Did… did I do that? I didn’t mean to!” I knelt, apologizing.

He barely noticed as he used healing magic, the wound closing at an astonishing speed.

“You have sharp eyes, child,” he said, smiling. “But where did you learn to use it, and why?”

“I… I didn’t realize. The world slowed down, and all I could feel was the urge to land a hit. I blanked everything else,” I admitted.

We headed back to the dojo, took a warm bath, and had lunch. While checking my belongings, I came across the blue book Jonathan had given me. I took it to Kagenken.

He was still in his yukata, cigar in mouth, when I knocked. “Come in,” he said.

I showed him the book. His eyes widened in astonishment as he snatched it from me. Sitting down, he set his cigar aside and asked in a serious tone, “Where did you get this?”