Just two short sentences hit Ikaruga like the toll of a great awakening bell.
Had years of obsession shaken her resolve? Was that it?
Had her long career as an assassin tainted the original purpose of wielding her sword? Was that it?
Had her first-ever defeat in swordsmanship shattered the confidence she'd built up over time? Was that it?
Ikaruga searched her heart, wondering if this might truly be the case. As she pondered, the sword in her hand trembled slightly.
At that moment, Dispel spoke again. "What's wrong? Feeling shaken?"
Ikaruga didn't respond, but Dispel didn't seem to care. He continued, talking to himself. "Me? I've been called a swordsmanship prodigy since I was a kid. Everyone who saw me wield a blade said I was the greatest swordsman they'd ever seen—self-taught, born to become a legend of the sword!"
His words caught Ikaruga's attention.
"But all that talk about talent? To me, it's just ordinary stuff, not even worth mentioning."
It sounded a bit boastful, but Ikaruga listened patiently, curious to hear what Dispel had to say.
"Draw, swing, sheathe—until I was twelve, I fought with just those three moves. At first, it was with a broken tree branch, then a crude wooden stick, then a sturdy iron rod, a broken sword… By the time I realized it, they were calling me the kingdom's greatest swordsman!"
"They made me sound like some kind of myth, but honestly, I didn't know a thing about 'swordsmanship.' I was just swinging whatever I had to survive!"
Ikaruga stayed silent, thinking to herself, No wonder his swordsmanship is so unique. It was forged in countless life-or-death battles.
"The more I fought, the more lost I felt," Dispel continued. "After every victory, I'd ask myself, 'Why are you swinging this blade now?' At first, it was to survive. Later, it was for the title of 'greatest swordsman.' But was that really what I wanted? It didn't feel like it."
"When I couldn't find the answer within myself, I asked others, but they couldn't answer either. So I kept searching, kept asking, all while fighting…"
At this point, Dispel's voice grew animated, his whole body seeming to glow with energy. "Then I met those high-and-mighty types who didn't even see people as human, and I started to get an idea. Maybe my sword exists for love and justice!"
Ikaruga: "…"
Did his mindset just shift a bit too fast? And 'love and justice'? What is he, a kid?
Unbeknownst to her, Dispel was indeed in the middle of his chuunibyou phase back then.
"With that idea in mind, I took those guys down, not caring about the consequences. During that time, when I had a goal to fight for, I could feel my sword growing sharper!"
"But soon, I lost that purpose too. I realized I wasn't someone who wielded a blade for protection or peace. So I came here, searching for answers."
Ikaruga thought, Hold on, you gave up on that too quickly! And where's 'here' supposed to be?
"Over here, everyone fights with magic. Pure swordsmen are rare, but this new style of combat made me feel genuinely thrilled, and my swings got faster. It was only then that I finally understood why I still wield a sword!"
Ikaruga couldn't help but ask, "Why?"
She had a feeling all his talk was building up to this.
"No grand reason," Dispel said with a grin. "I just think swordsmanship is fun."
Ikaruga fell silent again. Fun? That's why he keeps swinging his sword? What kind of nonsense is that?
"Sounds unbelievable, right? Or maybe you think it's not a good enough reason?" Dispel chuckled. "But that's really all there is to it."
"It's not about survival, not about fame, not about love and justice, or leaving a legend in swordsmanship. I keep using my sword because it's fun. That's it."
"When I realized that, I laughed at myself. But then I thought, isn't that what those guys always talk about—the 'heart of swordsmanship'?"
Ikaruga murmured, half-understanding, "The heart of swordsmanship… Is that what it is?"
Was this guy using his own story to tell her she'd lost her own reason for wielding a sword?
"I don't know for sure!" Dispel said. "But after that, I felt my skills improve noticeably. Every fight became enjoyable, like I'd let go of something, figured it out, and broken free. It felt… liberating."
Wait, did he just slip something weird into that list? Ikaruga thought, catching an odd phrase.
Oblivious to her strange look, Dispel was still caught up in his speech. "To show off—er, I mean, to respect my opponents, I started naming my sword techniques. Stuff like 'Infinite Silent Slash,' 'Sun Scar, Moon Break, Star Fall,' or 'Fire Forge, Water Chaos, Wind Soul.' But honestly, the names aren't fixed. I just shout whatever comes to mind in the heat of battle."
Ikaruga: "…"
"Your sword techniques probably aren't named randomly, right? So far, it seems like everyone except me has a specific name for each move. I don't get why they waste brainpower thinking about which move to use in a fight."
Ignoring the second half of his comment, Ikaruga replied, "Yes, each technique in the Moonless Flow has its own name. These moves were created through countless battles and mastered through sweat and effort. Remembering each name is both a tribute to those who came before and a responsibility to myself."
"Hm… makes sense," Dispel said. "So, after all that, have you found your heart of swordsmanship?"
Ikaruga closed her eyes, her aura calm and focused. "Nope! Not at all!"
Dispel: "…"
What a waste of breath!
"But…" she continued, "I'm ready to face my next defeat with no regrets!"
When she opened her eyes again, they shone with a resolute clarity, completely different from before.
Dispel nodded approvingly. "Now that's the look of a true swordsman!"
Ikaruga stepped forward, abandoning the graceful poise she'd shown earlier and shedding the pride she'd clung to until now.
Why do I wield my sword now? For my late master? For the mission of the Moonless Flow? For years of dedication? For the blade in my hand? It doesn't feel like any of those…
Seeing his opponent approach, Kira slowly sheathed his longsword, the blade scraping softly against the scabbard.
"Moonless Flow…"
I see it!
"Cherry Blossom Slash!"
In an instant, as if defying space itself, the three-meter gap between them vanished. One moment they faced each other; the next, they had swapped places.
Ikaruga stood with her back to Dispel, leaning forward in a slashing stance, her sword seeming to scatter countless cherry blossoms.
Dispel, still facing away, hadn't moved an inch, his sword fully sheathed. The clear clink of the guard meeting the scabbard marked the final step of "draw, swing, sheathe."
"One-Sword Style, Iaido, Human Execution!"
Shing!
A slash appeared across Ikaruga's body, stretching from her left shoulder to her right abdomen, over two inches deep. It tore through her chest-high kimono, leaving a cruel wound on her pale skin as blood sprayed.
"Beautiful cherry blossoms," Dispel said in praise, walking forward without looking back. The books say real men never look at the results.
"Thank you," Ikaruga managed, before collapsing with a thud. Just before losing consciousness, a memory flashed in her mind—her first day learning the sword, under a spring sky filled with dancing cherry blossoms.
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