Nozomu was dreaming. He didn't know where he was, but at least he knew it was a dream. He stood alone in pitch-black emptiness. There was no ground beneath his feet—only still water stretched out like a boundless lake. No people, no wind, no waves on the surface. Not a single sound reached his ears.
Suddenly he looked down. Something enormous loomed in the depths. A jet-black colossal body and six wings shimmering with five colors. This was Tiamat, the Dragon Slayer King.
The giant dragon stared at him. Nozomu couldn't read the emotion in its eyes. They gazed at each other in silence for a long while. Gradually the surroundings brightened. It seemed he was about to wake up.
Feeling a small wave of relief that he was still alive, he shifted his gaze back to the dragon. It continued staring, expression unreadable. Nozomu was enveloped in white light tinged with faint anxiety.
"Oh, you're awake?"
"Wah!"
An old woman's wrinkled face filled his vision. Nozomu shouted involuntarily and jumped off the futon he'd been sleeping on. The next instant, a powerful punch slammed into his face. His battered body resonated with pain from every wound; he collapsed silently, writhing.
"Ow... Master, that's cruel..."
"What's cruel is you! Someone dragged your half-dead body out of the forest and nursed you for three whole days!!"
His entire body was wrapped in bandages; the air carried the sharp scent of medicine. She had clearly treated him with great care.
"I'm sorry, Master... Thank you."
Shino puffed out her cheeks, but her eyes sparkled with obvious relief and joy. She had worried deeply. Realizing that warmed Nozomu's chest.
"Well? You stayed up three nights straight tending to me. Surely you'll explain why you collapsed covered in wounds like that?"
The atmosphere around her shifted. The presence of a master who had reached the pinnacle of skill pressed down; Nozomu's spine straightened instinctively.
"...Understood. I'll tell you everything."
In the heavy silence, he began recounting his ordeal.
Several hours later, after he finished explaining every detail, only quiet remained in the hut.
"...Come with me."
Shino spoke a single sentence, took up her sword, and stepped outside. Nozomu followed suit, grabbing his own blade.
Outside, they faced each other wordlessly and assumed stances—both in iaijutsu draw positions. Countless wounds still marred Nozomu's body; the bandages looked painfully fresh.
"—It hurts!!"
The injuries from the Tiamat fight throbbed; a groan escaped. His wrecked body ached just holding the sword steady.
In the next instant, Shino stepped in explosively. Distracted by pain, Nozomu reacted too slowly. He drew instinctively, but experience told him he was far too late.
Yet—contrary to expectation—Shino's blade clashed against his with a high-pitched ring and was repelled.
"Huh?"
A dumbfounded sound slipped out. In the past, he could never have blocked that strike.
"As I thought."
"What... what does that mean, Master?"
Shino murmured in satisfaction. Nozomu, visibly confused, asked back.
Ability suppression had always restricted his reflexes—lacking explosive muscle power and qi reserves, he couldn't handle surprise attacks with raw speed alone. That was why he drilled situational sword techniques relentlessly. But this time he'd responded with pure iaijutsu, no room for adaptation—and somehow succeeded.
Normally he would have been cut down. The reason he hadn't:
"Your physical abilities have increased."
That was why he blocked her attack.
"B-but I—"
"Indeed, ability suppression prevents your body from growing stronger. However... dragon slayers inherit a dragon's power and grow even mightier. That must be what happened to you."
"I... became a dragon slayer...?"
Nozomu spiraled deeper into confusion. Understandable—dragon slayers were legendary. The most recent lived centuries ago; none existed today.
The ultimate inheritors. Embodiments of overwhelming might. Some wielded magic beyond explanation or awakened impossible abilities. Fairy-tale existences.
"Still... the enhancement doesn't seem that dramatic."
"Eh!!!"
Shino's casual remark—almost denying legend—left Nozomu even more bewildered.
"The suppression's influence is still too strong, I suppose. By the way... during the fight with Tiamat, you seemed to break the suppression. Can you do it now?"
Her words brought back the memory. Yes—chains binding him, the sensation of ripping them apart, then boundless freedom. Like shattering steel wedges, a feeling he could go anywhere.
Nozomu visualized those chains. Suddenly they appeared, wrapped around his body.
"Ah..."
A small sound escaped.
"Looks like you can."
Shino nodded at his reaction; Nozomu nodded back.
"So... what will you do now?"
"What will I... do?"
"That power is staggeringly vast. Immense strength attracts everything—status, fame, power, envy, and more. I'll ask again plainly: what do you want from now on?"
"......"
Nozomu had no answer. He had never thought about the future—only the present. Even now, nothing was clear. He remained chained to her, to the past.
"I've thought this for a while. You have no reason left to grow stronger."
"That's not..."
He faltered, searching for escape. Shino cut through with strict eyes and tone.
"For your lover? That girl is no longer yours. Even if you wanted to support her, another man already stands at her side. There is no reason for you to become stronger.... You already know this, don't you?"
Her words mercilessly tore open his heart—forcing him to confront what he had sealed away unconsciously. Nozomu couldn't argue; he could only look down. He had known. There was no place for him beside her now. No place for him in the academy anymore.
"...Well, asking you to decide your future right now is unreasonable. For the time being, focus on healing those wounds."
"Eventually, though, a choice will be forced on you." With that final warning, Shino returned to the hut.
"Obviously you can't go back to town in that condition. Stay here tonight."
Nozomu watched her enter, then followed with unsteady steps. His expression remained clouded.
"Oh, right—I hadn't said it yet."
"???"
Shino turned back. Nozomu had no idea what she meant.
"...Welcome home. You did well."
Her face bloomed with genuine, unrestrained joy. Exhaustion was plain, yet profound relief shone through. She had worried for him, nursed him without rest. That deep affection gently thawed the frozen heart he had carried since arriving in this city. Unfamiliar warmth—true affection after so long—blurred his vision.
"I'm... home..."
His voice cracked, then dissolved into sobs that echoed through the empty forest. Beside him, Shino simply rubbed his back as he cried.
While rubbing the back of the sobbing boy before her, I continued to comfort him—like soothing a small child.
...It's understandable, perhaps. Abandoned by a lover, mocked and despised by those he once believed were friends. I know that pain all too well.
I am not originally from this country. I hail from an island nation at the eastern edge of the continent.
That land is small in territory but developed its own unique culture, along with kijutsu and jujutsu (what they call magic here).
High mountains border the sea; large armies struggle in war or demonic beast hunts. Victory demanded exceptional individual or small-group skill and adaptability. My clan stood head and shoulders above others in martial achievement. When people spoke of swordsmanship, my family was unquestionably foremost. I was born the second daughter of that house.
Born into a renowned sword family, I was forced into rigorous training from childhood. I accepted it as natural and never questioned it.
Whether due to talent or effort, I quickly distinguished myself. My skills rose sharply; my parents beamed with pride, and my much older sister rejoiced as if it were her own success.
So I immersed myself deeper in swordsmanship—obsessively.
I continued improving until no one in the family could defeat me.
To be the greatest swordmaster in the foremost sword clan meant, naturally, being the greatest in the entire country.
Disciples flocked to me; powerful figures begged me to subdue mighty demonic beasts.
Living only for the blade, I never dressed femininely, never wore makeup, never cared for romance.
My parents, exasperated, forced marriage interviews on me—but my sister alone stood by my side.
At that time my sister possessed beauty that even I, a woman, admired. Noble houses across the land vied for her hand. Yet she had someone in her heart and stubbornly refused every proposal.
One ordinary day, I met him.
He arrived at my training ground accompanied by my sister. Gentle eyes, a calm smile. Smaller build than most adult men, with an intellectual air.
He was the third son of a renowned jujutsu family. Apparently he had snuck into his father's carriage when the head visited our house—and my sister had secretly invited him inside.
I stared in disbelief as he approached with earnest eyes.
"You must be Shino-dono. I have a sincere request to make of you."
His request: teach him swordsmanship.
He had almost no magical power—considered a dropout in his prestigious jujutsu clan, with no place among them. To earn recognition, he had trained alone in martial arts and related kijutsu, but progress eluded him.
During a banquet of the country's dignitaries, he met my sister and heard of me. She couldn't refuse his plea.
I tested him out of respect for his passion—but he was hopeless.
Self-taught habits had ingrained bad form; the sword's natural sharpness was wasted. His body movement was poor—legs, hips, and arms completely disconnected.
At first I refused outright. But his persistence and my sister's sincere request wore me down. I agreed to teach him.
"That's wrong! Your grip is backward!!! If you're going to become my student, at least master the basics first!!!"
"What is that pathetic stance?! Even an old man pounding mochi has more power!!!"
"No crying, no screaming! You are nothing but my wooden dummy! I'll carve the feeling of real slashes into your body!!!"
...Looking back, I was a bit sharp-edged then. Maybe I went too far.
He could barely manage fundamentals at first, but gradually he grew stronger.
My sister was overjoyed. I kept it hidden, but I felt the same happiness.
A disciple I trained from nothing was improving. How could I not be glad?
Around then, I began thinking of him more and more.
At meals, while sleeping, in the bath, during training.
Eventually, time and place stopped mattering—I thought of him constantly. I confided in my sister.
"Everyone goes through that sometimes. Don't worry—it'll pass."
But it didn't pass. It grew stronger, uncontrollable.
One day a maid in our house noticed.
"Shino-sama... are you perhaps in love?"
Those words overturned everything I thought I knew.
"L-love?"
"Yes, love. So it is love after all, Shino-sama."
"B-but... me, in love?"
"Shino-sama, love comes to everyone. No one can stop it—not even the gods."
Listening to her, I fully realized my feelings.
Once aware, I couldn't stop noticing him.
His posture, the earnest light in his eyes during training, casual chats during breaks, even the scent of sweat on his training clothes—everything made my heart race.
Sometimes I hated myself for it and avoided him.
"Why are you avoiding me?"
He confronted me.
"...I'm not avoiding you."
"You're lying. You won't even meet my eyes like before."
"...You're imagining it."
"No. It's not imagination."
"You sound awfully confident."
"Yes. I've been watching you all this time—long before you ever noticed me. Only you."
"...What?"
His words carried deep meaning; I couldn't help asking.
"...I've admired you for so long. The greatest swordmaster in the country, yet humble and noble-hearted, with eyes as clear as your blade. I know I'm unworthy to say this... but I love you. More than anyone in this world."
It was unmistakably a confession of love.
My heart pounded so violently I thought it would burst. My face burned redder than sunset. I couldn't face him—I turned away.
"...Idiot. Liking someone like me—who can't even dress like a proper woman—"
Any normal man would prefer someone feminine like my sister.
"Perhaps. But the one I fell in love with is you. No one else.... If you'll allow it, will you walk beside me?"
"...I thought you were an idiot, but this level of idiocy... you absolute fool."
"Yes, I'm a fool. So... will you give me your answer?"
"...I accept your feelings. I'm unworthy, but... please take care of me for a long time."
In that moment, I swore to walk with him.
Our relationship spread quickly. Before long, the wedding date was set.
A union between a martial arts clan and a jujutsu clan was announced grandly; my parents rejoiced.
Only my sister seemed unwell, often confining herself to her room.
Then, on the wedding day, the incident occurred.
Before gathered relatives, a man suddenly shouted at me.
"She has already pledged her future to another, yet she shares secret trysts with a different man! This wedding is defiled!!!"
The man was one who had once proposed to my sister and, rejected, stormed our house in anger.
The ceremony erupted in chaos; everyone was stunned. I insisted it was nonsense—but he declared confidently:
"Then search her room."
In my room they found men's undergarments I had never seen.
The groom's family flew into rage. The wedding was canceled. My parents berated me.
I desperately protested my innocence, but no one listened. Even he looked at me with cold eyes.
Branded an adulteress, I was expelled from the clan and confined to my room.
About a year later, my sister visited.
"The man from that day—I sent him."
"...Eh?"
"I told him if he accused you at the ceremony, I'd consider his proposal. He jumped at the chance."
"Why... why, Sister?"
I asked in shock. She advanced with rage I had never seen—terrifying. I backed away.
"Because you stole him from me! I found him first! I watched over him far longer than you ever did!!!"
Her face was that of a demoness. She grabbed my hair and spat curses.
"I'll never forgive you!! I'll take everything from you!! Status, honor—everything!! I'll make sure you never know happiness as a human again!!!"
Strands of hair tore; pain shot through me. I begged like a child, but she didn't stop.
"Either way, you have no place in this house anymore. No one will protect you. Goodbye, Shino. Don't worry—I'll spend my life with him."
She turned on her heel and left.
I could do nothing but cry.
In the end, I fled the house. My ruined wedding became infamous nationwide; nowhere welcomed me. I wandered until I reached this place.
"You and I are surprisingly similar."
Both cast aside, both abandoned. At first I hated my past self—but now he is my irreplaceable disciple.
Before I knew it, the boy had fallen asleep—exhausted from crying, no doubt. A faint smile bloomed on his peaceful face.
"—!!"
Suddenly my vision warped; my mind fogged. Consciousness slipped.
"Yes...!"
I barely held on. My sight cleared again.
(...The intervals are getting shorter lately. It won't be long now.)
"Sleeping Sickness"
A disease that slowly erodes the spirit until death claims the body. Cause unknown, cure almost impossible. Only a handful ever recovered; the reasons unclear. The afflicted fade away as though falling into eternal sleep.
Yet no fear of death showed on Shino's face—only regret.
(I wanted to talk with you more... I only taught you the sword...)
Gazing at Nozomu sleeping against her chest, she resolved herself.
(There is one last thing I must tell you... Then... I'll give it everything I got.)