Chapter 196: The Blade That Severs Bonds—Hakuen Michimitsu Amenoma
At the old man's urging, Teppei slowly drew the blade—its very presence marked it as no ordinary weapon.
He had noticed this sword during the chaos of battle. Unlike the standard-issue spears and tachi the other soldiers wielded, this one bore the marks of a carefully maintained and treasured relic. Though it had clearly seen many modifications over the years, its sharpness was beyond question. Everyone on the battlefield had seen it cut down enemies with frightening ease.
And in the hands of the one-eyed veteran, it was unstoppable.
What Teppei had found curious, however, was that the old man's swordsmanship—graceful yet brutal—resembled that of the Shogunate soldiers.
"…That sword… belonged to my father."
Holding the blade, the One-Eyed Old Man's remaining eye flickered with something—regret, perhaps, or sorrow. His face, previously pale from blood loss, now seemed slightly flushed, though Teppei knew that was only a final flicker of life—a fire burning brightest before it went out.
"My family once ran a renowned sword school in Inazuma. My father even bore a Vision."
He paused, eyes drifting into the past.
"But when the Vision Hunt Decree came down, he… surrendered his own Vision voluntarily."
The old man let out a long sigh, a bitter wind from days long gone.
"My brothers and I couldn't understand. We argued. Then they left, and I… I took this blade—our family's heirloom—and left to join the Resistance, in defiance of everything my father stood for."
By now, Teppei was starting to understand.
"Do you want me to find your father?" he asked gently.
"No… He's… not who he used to be," the old man muttered, shaking his head faintly. "After surrendering his Vision, he became hollow… vacant. There's no point."
There was something else he clearly wanted to say, but chose not to. Maybe it was shame. Maybe pride.
With what little strength he had left, the One-Eyed Old Man lifted the sword toward Teppei, his arms trembling.
"This blade… is called Hakuen Michimitsu Amenoma. It's said to be so sharp, it can sever the very bonds between people. Since you're the disciple of Battousai… I believe you won't let it rust. I leave it to you. Let this be the last thing I entrust to this world."
The sword wavered in the air, the man's grip too weak to steady it.
But Teppei couldn't move.
He understood—if he accepted the sword, the old man's purpose would vanish… and so would his life.
Still, the old man glared at him with that one defiant eye, his voice rising in a hoarse shout.
"What are you waiting for?! This is a blade that's cut down even tengu!"
"..."
Teppei raised his bloodstained hands and accepted the sword. It was warm, heavier than he had imagined.
"At least… tell me your name," he said quietly, heart aching.
This man—this gruff, distant figure—had always looked out for him. Apart from Master Battousai, Teppei admired him more than anyone.
Because of his harsh demeanor and uncanny resemblance to Shogunate soldiers, others avoided him, never bothering to learn his real name.
If not for Teppei's help, that arrow wound alone would have claimed him days ago.
"…My name is Iwakura Hikaru. A failed disciple of the Iwakura Art," the man said with a faint smile.
He looked at the sword now in Teppei's hands. Even if the boy insisted Battousai never officially recognized him as a disciple, Hikaru could see the truth.
The Resistance had many fighters. But Battousai had chosen Teppei.
Now, Hikaru understood why.
And with that understanding, his heart found peace.
Beneath the tree, Iwakura Hikaru closed his eye for the final time—smiling.
So unlike the cold, stern expression he always wore in the barracks.
Only while preparing the burial did Teppei realize—this man he always called "Old Man"… probably wasn't that much older than himself.
Gripping Hakuen Michimitsu Amenoma, Teppei knelt before the grave and planted his own blade before the tomb.
"The Vision Hunt Decree, huh…"
Teppei tightened his grip on the tachi.
He turned back one last time to glance at Iwakura Hikaru's grave, then silently walked away.
Lifting his gaze to the skies above, he saw the endless gray rain falling over Yashiori Island, drenching everything without pause.
In that curtain of rain, he thought he saw it again—that familiar silhouette.
"…Himura-sensei, I want to bring an end to the Vision Hunt Decree."
. . . . . . . . . . .
Three figures walked side by side along the desolate beaches of Yashiori Island, their outlines blurring against the sheets of rain.
The one on the right towered over the others—easily over two meters tall. And yet, the falling rain never touched her.
It was as if the very elements knew who she was and parted respectfully.
The one on the left was the shortest of the three, dressed like a ninja. Her tanuki-eared hood kept most of the rain off, except for a single stubborn leaf stuck to the top.
That leaf, combined with her chubby cheeks, made her look more like a mythical tanuki than a warrior.
"How long is this rain gonna last? It's been forever," Sayu muttered, flicking water off her head.
Even with her Vision, the oppressive atmosphere of Yashiori Island was starting to wear on her spirit.
Unbeknownst to her, this rain wasn't something that would pass anytime soon.
The skies here mourned with the land itself.
Bai Luo gave her a side glance but said nothing.
He simply reached out and grabbed her by the scruff of her neck—again—lifting her gently into the protection of his Myriad Manifestation Umbrella.
Sayu didn't resist.
She just sighed. "Whatever."
She was used to this by now.
She had even figured out the optimal position to be carried in, so it wouldn't hurt her neck.
At this point, she could even sleep while being carried.
As they passed by Fort Fujitou, Bai Luo only gave the place a quick glance. He didn't stop.
Not yet.
There was still something he needed to do before returning.
They moved past the fort, down to the edge of the shoreline.
The sound of waves crashing against the beach greeted them, raw and rhythmic.
Bai Luo stopped. His eyes scanned the ruins in front of him—half-swallowed by the earth, remnants of a forgotten past.
"Hmm…"
Sayu suddenly straightened. Her lazy eyes sharpened.
She wriggled free of Bai Luo's grasp and dropped to the sand, quickly forming a hand sign.
Then she summoned her weapon.
A spiked club.
"…What the hell is that?" Bai Luo asked flatly.
Sayu threw the club over her shoulder with pride.
"This? This is the Debate Club."
It was a little smaller than standard, perfectly sized to match her tiny frame, and had an oddly adorable appearance for something so dangerous.
Cute… but deadly.
Originally, the weapon had been much larger, but thanks to her Vision, she could not only wield it with ease, she could adjust it to suit her body perfectly.
"Who gave you that… Debate Club?" Bai Luo asked, eye twitching.
Sayu puffed up her cheeks. "The Head Shrine Maiden. She said I'm too young for bloodshed, so instead of a blade, I should carry something more... diplomatic."
"…Right."
Bai Luo fell silent.
It was true. Just like his own Reverse Blade Sword, Debate Club wasn't meant to kill.
But getting hit by that thing?
Yeah… sometimes death might actually be preferable.
<+>
Tn:
Debate Club, Sayu weapon:
https://genshin-impact.fandom.com/wiki/Debate_Club
. . . . .
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