EPISODE 48: Battle and Reason

The front yard of Kizuna Dojo, once covered in white sand, had now turned into a battlefield. Ten men from Dojo Muramasa stood with arrogant postures, their katana blades radiating an aura of blood-red mana thirsty for violence.

Across from them, Zenoda simply stood at ease, his left hand resting on the sheath of his black Iaito, thumb pushing it slightly ajar.

Seeing that the lowborn youth showed not the slightest trace of fear, Shirogane Muramasa's handsome face twisted with rage.

"Heh," Shirogane scoffed contemptuously. "Attack him. Don't let him die too quickly — make him suffer."

Following their young master's order, one guard at the front line rushed forward at high speed. He swung his katana horizontally, intending to take Zenoda's head off in a single breath.

But Zenoda's reaction was beyond reason. He didn't take a defensive stance. Instead, he strolled casually out from the porch of the dojo. His steps were calm and measured, exactly like someone taking an afternoon walk through a flower garden.

A split second before the crimson blade touched his neck, Zenoda moved.

Not with the blade — he drew his Iaito halfway, then snapped the rest of the draw by slamming the pommel (Tsuka-gashira) of his sword hard and precisely into the attacking guard's solar plexus.

Bugh!

"Ukhhh..." The guard's eyes bulged instantly as all the air left his lungs, and he collapsed unconscious onto the sandy ground with a heavy thud.

Zenoda stepped over the man's body casually, then tilted his head toward the rest of his enemies.

"Alright. One down. Nine more to go, huh," Zenoda counted, his voice flat as a board.

Seeing their comrade felled in the blink of an eye, the remaining nine were stunned. But shock quickly turned to fury. Two guards charged in from the left and right simultaneously, swinging their katanas at Zenoda's head and legs to lock down his movement.

Clang! Clang!

Calmly, Zenoda raised his sword. He blocked the slash from the right with his Iaito's blade, while at the same time stopping the slash from the left by spinning his wooden sheath into its path!

Using that momentum, Zenoda spun his hips and unleashed a powerful roundhouse kick into the stomach of the man pinned by his sheath, sending him flying into the air. The next instant, he twisted his wrist and struck the flat of his sheath square into the other guard's jaw, knocking him out cold.

Seeing three of his elite men fall before they could even make the enemy break a sweat, Shirogane's ego shattered.

"What are you all waiting for, you idiots?!" Shirogane screamed hysterically, his arrogant face gone. "Attack him all at once! Kill him!"

At that absolute order, the six remaining guards charged in together from every direction, intent purely on killing.

Facing the group assault, Zenoda didn't panic. Instead, he did something no sane swordsman would do. In the middle of being surrounded by six bloodthirsty katanas, he calmly sheathed his Iaito blade with a click.

The instant his six enemies closed in on his kill zone, Zenoda shot forward, splitting through their formation with astonishingly agile, rapid footwork.

Bam! Bam!

He dropped the first two by striking his still-sheathed sword straight into the blind spot of their necks.

With four left, now growing wild as they slashed at him, Zenoda ducked under a horizontal swing. Using the back of one crouching guard as a springboard, he leapt high into the air, spinning to dodge a barrage of lethal strikes from below.

While airborne, an idea struck him. He remembered the deadly suffering he'd felt a few weeks ago.

(Guess I'll borrow Mother's killing technique for a bit), Zenoda thought with a crooked smile.

With his still-sheathed Iaito in his right hand and gripping the end of the sheath with his left, Zenoda took a diagonal stance like a diving hawk. Even without using Ursilium energy or mana, the raw power of gravity and the compression of his mortal muscles alone was enough to shatter the ground.

Zenoda plunged downward at tremendous speed.

BLLAAAAAM!

He slammed both sides of his sheathed sword down with explosive force right into the sand between the four guards surrounding him!

The shockwave from that pure physical impact sent dust and sand blasting in every direction. The result was devastating. The four armored guards were blown backward, tumbling like dry leaves, scattered across the dojo yard without managing any meaningful resistance. All of them collapsed, unconscious, with cracked bones.

The dust slowly settled. Zenoda stood upright from the shallow crater he'd just carved, then turned his gaze to the one person still standing.

"Alright. One prey left," Zenoda said, walking slowly toward the young master.

Seeing his nine elite guards flattened in under a minute by a mere commoner, Shirogane's body trembled violently. But his noble pride refused to let him flee in public, so he tightened his grip on his katana.

"Tch! Don't underestimate me, you commoner! Hiyaaaaa!" Shirogane screamed in desperation, charging at Zenoda and swinging his katana down from above.

From the porch, Valerius, arms crossed over his chest, could only sigh in pity at the stupidity of a fellow noble.

"Hahhh..." Valerius shook his head slowly. "Somehow, I can already guess exactly how this ends."

And sure enough... Valerius's guess was spot on.

Shirogane's ego-driven slash was easily stopped by Zenoda — not by blocking it, but by raising his empty wooden sheath and sliding the speeding katana's blade directly into it, catching the full force of the strike!

With his swing's momentum suddenly halted inside the wooden sheath, Shirogane lost his balance and was pulled forward.

Seizing the opening, Zenoda smoothly twisted his body and struck the blunt edge of his Iaito squarely into Shirogane's ribs.

KRAAAAK!

"Aaaargh!"

Shirogane screamed in pain, his body flung backward several meters away from Zenoda. From the force of the pull, his katana slipped from his grip and ended up in Zenoda's hand.

Casually, Zenoda tossed Shirogane's ornate katana high into the air. As it spun overhead, he sheathed his own Iaito back into its black scabbard. Then, without blinking, he reached out and caught the falling katana's hilt.

Without wasting a moment, Zenoda swung his arm and hurled the expensive katana with full force straight at Shirogane, who had just managed to crawl into a sitting position!

JLEEEB!

Shirogane's eyes went wide with horror. He stopped breathing.

His own katana had plunged deep into the sandy ground — just five millimeters from the tip of his nose, nearly splitting his face in two.

Zenoda walked closer, then crouched right in front of the young noble's face, now pale white and drenched in cold sweat.

"So... do you still want to boast about your family name and fight me?" Zenoda whispered softly, his voice cold as a blade of ice.

Shirogane and the guards who had begun regaining consciousness stood up, staggering, supporting one another. Just as they raised their weapons again from behind for one last desperate attack... they froze instantly.

Behind Zenoda, the entire Koreson team — Elara with her crystal ice staff, Valerius with his aura of flame, Karham with his massive shield, and Ziryal with her twin shadow daggers — had already lined up shoulder to shoulder in fighting stances, ready to annihilate them all should they dare step forward.

Realizing he was truly cornered, and that he'd stirred up the wrath of a group of hidden monsters, Shirogane gritted his teeth in shame.

"R-retreat! We're retreating now!" Shirogane ordered, his voice trembling. He yanked his katana out of the ground roughly. "Remember this, all of you! This isn't over between us!"

Tails between their legs, Shirogane and his gang of guards fled in a panic, hurrying away from the Kizuna Dojo yard without looking back.

Once the commotion had passed and the dust of battle settled, calm returned. Zenoda and the whole group stepped back inside the tatami room of the dojo.

In the warm room, Miyuki bowed her head, resuming the conversation that had been interrupted by their uninvited guests.

"My apologies for the earlier chaos," Miyuki said, adjusting her glasses with a tired sigh. "As you saw... the Muramasa Dojo group often comes here targeting me. But as for the exact reason they're so persistent about seizing this dojo from me... honestly, I don't know the political details."

Elara, sipping her tea, rested her chin on her finger. The teenage romantic in her suddenly stirred.

"Hmmmm..." Elara murmured. "Maybe... that arrogant Young Master Shirogane actually secretly likes you romantically, Miyuki? That's why he keeps seeking your attention by bullying you?"

Hearing that cheap romance-drama hypothesis, Miyuki scoffed and shuddered in disgust.

"Ugh, don't joke around, Princess," Miyuki rejected flatly. "Even if a poisonous man like him really did like me, I'd turn him down without a second thought. As you saw yourself just now... he's the type of coward who always abuses his noble title to oppress commoners and innocent people. I'd rather marry my wooden practice sword than a man like him."

Elara nodded in agreement. "Hmm... you're right. Arrogant men who love to oppress others really are the worst."

At the corner of the table, Danzo Uesugi, the dojo master who had just saved all their lives the previous night, could only rub his face with his hand.

"Haaaahhh..." Danzo let out a long, heavy sigh. "As your teacher, I sometimes feel like such a failure, Miyuki... having to go out and scrape together odd jobs, only to come home and see all of you constantly bullied by corrupt nobles like the Muramasa, unable to properly fight back."

Hearing her teacher's sincere regret, Miyuki's eyes widened. She leaned forward quickly, shaking her head firmly.

"Teacher! Please never say something like that!" Miyuki protested, her voice firm yet full of affection. "Teacher Danzo has never failed! You're the one who always opens his doors to poor street children, starving orphans, and maybe even a few war refugees stranded at the border."

Miyuki lowered her head, her eyes glistening slightly as she thought of his kindness. "For all of us... this dojo is the most comfortable, warmest, and safest home on the entire continent. We owe you our lives, Teacher."

Moved by his star pupil's loyalty and sincerity to the point his eyes nearly welled up, Danzo's heart softened. Without thinking, his fatherly instincts took over, and the long-haired man pulled his beloved student into a warm embrace.

Not long after, that emotional silence was broken by the sound of small footsteps running quickly down the inner hallway.

"Owhhh! Teacher's home!" shouted a squeaky adolescent voice.

Instantly, the sliding door of the room burst open. A dozen children of various ages — from about five years old up to their teens, wearing worn but neatly kept training clothes — appeared from the back chambers of the dojo. They all came rushing in, swarming around Danzo.

"Teacher's hooome! Teacher!" the children shouted joyfully.

They all piled onto their teacher's arms, legs, and back, laughing freely. Watching such a warm and genuine family scene in the middle of this harsh sword capital, Zenoda, Elara, and the rest of the Koreson group chose to step back, letting the touching moment play out.

After laughing and returning the children's hugs, Danzo finally stood and clapped his hands.

"Ahh, alright, alright! Enough hugging, you naughty kids!" Danzo chuckled, calming the commotion. He then gestured toward the Vivaldi group. "Listen, children. Today we have honored guests staying with us. Could you show them to their guest rooms in the east wing, and please show them where the hot spring bathhouse is so they can freshen up?"

The dojo children immediately lined up neatly and bowed in unison, full of enthusiasm. "YES, TEACHER! Everyone, please follow us this way!"

At once, Vivaldi, Elara, and the rest of the group smiled and began following the young students' lead toward the east wing hallway.

However, just as Zenoda rose from the tatami mat and moved to follow after Elara, Danzo's deep voice stopped him.

"Zenoda, wait."

Zenoda halted his steps. He turned and looked back with a flat expression. "Hmmmm?"

Danzo looked straight into Zenoda's eyes, then glanced toward the hallway. "May we speak alone for a moment, in private?"

Sensing her teacher's atmosphere had suddenly turned tense, the perceptive Miyuki immediately understood the situation. Without needing to be told, she bowed and excused herself, leaving Danzo and Zenoda alone in the main tatami room.

Once the sliding door was shut tight, Danzo walked toward the wooden sword altar at the back of the room. He crossed his arms over his chest, his gaze now filled with the sharp analysis of a grandmaster.

"Alright, Zenoda. I won't beat around the bush — I'll get straight to the point," Danzo said seriously. "That technique you used out in the front yard just now, against the Muramasa guards... where did you learn it?"

Zenoda furrowed his brow, confused. "Technique? Owhhh... you mean the one where I leapt through the air and slammed both ends of the sword into the ground? Well, I only modified it using the sheath and the blunt Iaito blade, actually."

Zenoda shrugged casually. "I never learned it from any book. I only saw that lethal move executed in person, twice... and the person who used that terrifying attack on me was my own mother."

Danzo's eyes widened slightly at that answer. "Owhhh... is that so? So you genuinely have no idea about the real name and history behind the swordsmanship technique you just used?"

Zenoda shook his head slowly. "No, I don't know it. I was only relying on my visual memory and copying it, because I figured the gravitational force behind that attack would be effective enough against a group of enemies."

Hearing the young man's naive admission that he had simply copied fragments of the movement with no understanding of its philosophy, Danzo let out a long, heavy sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Huhhh... Listen, young man. Even though you claim you only imitated the leftover visuals of the motion, your rhythm and stance in the air just now were nearly flawless," Danzo warned.

Zenoda narrowed his eyes. "Uhh, what do you mean?"

Danzo lowered his hand, looking at Zenoda with an expression warning of mortal danger.

"Huhhhh... Let me explain the bloody history of this continent," Danzo said, lowering his voice. "The lethal swing you used to flatten those four guards earlier... that is no ordinary technique. It is one of the most legendary Kenjutsu (sword arts) long declared lost to this civilization. That technique is secretly known by the name: Tenryū no Ken (Heavenly Dragon Slash)."

Hearing the exact same name he had seen in the illusion of a dragon at Kaigan days ago, Zenoda's heart pounded.

"Tenryū no ken...?" he repeated softly.

"Yes," Danzo confirmed with a sharp nod. "It is a supreme-tier Kenjutsu, an inherited legacy passed down through generations from a legendary first-class dojo now vanished without a trace — the Hiten Ryu Dojo."

Danzo walked toward his sword display rack. "The Tenryū no Ken's dual-strike style is the absolute final requirement to develop and inherit the honored title of 'Head Master' of the Hiten Ryu school. And there is one great secret... for fourteen generations, whoever successfully masters the Heavenly Dragon technique and becomes Head Master of Hiten Ryu is automatically required to discard their birth name and take on the title-name Miyatomo Mayushi — regardless of whether the heir is a woman or a man!"

Zenoda froze. Fragments of his mother's past began forming a horrifying, complete picture in his mind.

"However..." Danzo continued, his voice growing grim and serious. "...according to the latest rumors and whispers among the underground swordsmen, the 14th generation Miyatomo Mayushi, who served as the last Master of the Hiten Ryu Dojo... vanished mysteriously from this continent exactly twenty years ago. No one knows whether she died, was killed, or fled."

Danzo then turned around, staring intently into Zenoda's dark eyes.

"That is why, Zenoda, listen to my warning carefully, as one swordsman to another," Danzo cautioned, his tone threatening only out of concern for the young man's safety. "I sincerely hope, and I beg you... from this moment on, you must never use the Heavenly Dragon Sword technique carelessly in public, or in front of anyone who understands its history!"

"Because..." Danzo swallowed hard, "if word spreads that there's an unknown young man capable of using a Hiten Ryu technique... I fear that high-ranking nobles and intelligence agents from every corner of the capital will move to hunt you down. They are starved for power, and they desperately want to steal the secrets of the Hiten Ryu Kenjutsu, because a single slash from that technique can split an entire army formation in an instant!"

Hearing this life-or-death warning and the dark history concerning his mother (whom he now suspected was the 14th Miyatomo Mayushi who had fled to Kaigan twenty years ago), Zenoda sighed in resignation. This continent, it seemed, was far more troublesome than he'd imagined.

"Alright. I truly appreciate and thank you for this information and warning, Master Danzo," Zenoda said, bowing politely. He promised not to use the technique again unless absolutely desperate.

Danzo smiled with relief, his tension easing. "Good, I'm glad you understand. Now, you may go join your friends in the resting quarters. I still have some things to tidy up in the weapons room."

"Ehh, alright."

With that, Zenoda turned and walked out of the tatami room. Not long after he made his way down the wooden hallway toward the east wing, Miyuki — who had apparently been waiting for him — approached with a friendly smile, intending to show him around the dojo's dormitory facilities.

Meanwhile, left alone in the main altar room, Danzo Uesugi walked toward a hidden wooden cabinet concealed behind a calligraphy painting.

With slightly trembling hands, Danzo opened the cabinet and pulled out a velvet-covered wooden box. As the box's lock clicked open, inside lay a beautiful, elegant Iaito sword — its entire blade, hilt, and sheath a deep, light-absorbing black, exactly like the gift sword Zenoda carried.

Danzo gazed at the black sword in the box with a melancholic, uncertain expression.

(I wonder... will that young man really be able to wield this one day?) Danzo thought to himself, pondering the uncertain future of his students.

Elsewhere in the Capital of Nihondu...

In an exclusive hillside district reserved only for elite nobility stood the grand castle complex belonging to Dojo Muramasa. The compound was guarded by hundreds of fully armed soldiers.

Inside the castle's main hall, lined with luxurious carpet, Shirogane Muramasa — his face bruised and covered in dust from the beating Zenoda had given him — knelt before his father, Hagane Muramasa, the Grandmaster and head of the ruling clan of the district, to lodge his complaint.

"Father...!" Shirogane called out, whimpering, clutching his still-aching ribs.

Hagane Muramasa, a large man dressed in black silk robes with a murderous aura about him, was savoring his sake in his chair. He turned slowly.

"Hmmmm?"

But upon seeing his son's battered face and his badly damaged katana, Hagane's eyes narrowed sharply. Killing intent exploded from his body.

"Who..." Hagane growled, his voice heavy, "...who is the low-born bastard who dared to hurt my own flesh and blood and injure the elite students of Clan Muramasa?!"

One of the guards, his face still bruised from Zenoda's blows, mustered the courage to step forward and report while prostrating himself.

"F-forgive me, Great Lord!" the guard reported, trembling. "W-we were attacked by someone in the courtyard of Kizuna Dojo. I... I'm not sure if that young man was a new student of Master Danzo or not, but... his swordsmanship was utterly beyond reason! He's incredibly strong, my Lord!"

Upon hearing the rival dojo's name, Hagane Muramasa slammed his sake cup down onto the table hard enough to crack it.

"Heh... Danzo Uesugi," Hagane hissed, his eyes gleaming with hatred and ambition. "You... you truly never fail to disgust me, Danzo. And here I was, previously intending to make peace 'politically' — proposing to marry my son to that Miyuki, that worthless student of his — to unify the territory without bloodshed..."

Hagane rose to his feet, gazing out at his sprawling rock garden.

"...But after seeing today's provocation, I think that poor ronin truly wants to die, and has deliberately raised the flag of war against Clan Muramasa," Hagane continued, a wicked, cunning smile spreading across his face.

Having settled on his malicious intent, Hagane snapped his fingers. He summoned his secret servant from the underground chamber. The servant arrived pale-faced, carrying an iron box sealed with a high-tier magical lock.

Hagane unlocked the iron box. As the lid opened, the air in the room instantly turned toxic and rotten. Inside the box sat five small glass vials filled with a thick, glowing purple liquid.

It was pure Miasma Fluid — the demonic poison that Zenoda and Princess Elara had been searching for ever since Koreson! The Purple Snake organization had infiltrated the ranks of Nihondu's noble elite!

Hagane Muramasa picked up one vial of the Miasma, watching his own reflection in the glass of poisonous liquid with a stifled laugh.

"Just you wait, Danzo... I'll make sure you, and your entire pathetic dojo, regret ever having challenged the true ruler of this land," Hagane hissed, dripping with venom.

The storm of Purple Snake's conspiracy, the one that had destroyed the Crimson Forest in the North, had now officially landed at the very heart of the Southern Continent's sword civilization.