"Tsk! I'm an assassin, not a swordsman! My Quirk is specialized for assassination, not this!"
"Go 'Plus Ultra.' Overcome your limits."
"As if that's possible!"
Kaina Tsutsumi—Lady Nagant—was breaking into a cold sweat as she desperately dodged the crescent-shaped blades Michikatsu unleashed. Her Quirk, Rifle, which allowed her to transform her right arm into a weapon, was peerless for long-range eliminations and sniping. It was not meant for a frontal clash against a warrior who lived by the blade. Under the relentless pressure of Michikatsu's swordsmanship, she was being pushed to her breaking point.
"Damn it! I'm still a Hero! Don't you look down on me!"
Nagant leaped several paces back, plucked a strand of her two-toned hair to craft a bullet, loaded it into her arm, and fired.
"The trajectory... is too honest."
Snikt!
The bullet was sliced clean in half by Kyokuseibo. Nagant's eyes widened in shock. Even at this close range, the speed required to track a supersonic bullet with the naked eye and cut it down was unheard of.
"Gah! Not yet!"
She pulled more hair, loaded, and fired again in rapid succession.
"A feint...? No matter."
Slash—!
Again, Michikatsu effortlessly parried the projectile.
"Too slow."
His tone was devoid of interest, completely flat. Seeing him slice through bullets with no preparation, no tension, and no effort made Nagant swallow hard.
Lady Nagant was the greatest long-range sniper in Japan. Conversely, she was ill-suited for close-quarters combat against a specialist. Attempting to duel a master of the sword at this distance was a fool's errand—like headbutting a stone wall.
However, even if she had attempted to snipe him from a distance, it likely wouldn't have mattered.
If Nagant was the undisputed champion of the rifle, Michikatsu—Kokushibo—was (unofficially) the greatest swordsman in the country. Though he currently operated in the shadows of the underworld, the name 'Monster Swordsman' had already begun to circulate among villains. No Hero or Villain could match his prowess with a blade.
He possessed the physical stats to cut down a bullet from three kilometers away. Furthermore, with his demonic regeneration and survival instincts, a shot through the head or heart would simply heal.
Even the traditional methods of killing a Demon—decapitation with a Nichirin Sword—no longer applied to Michikatsu, and he was immune to the sun. To kill him, one would have to incinerate every single cell of his body simultaneously until nothing remained. Unless someone dropped a nuclear bomb on his head, he was virtually unkillable.
"What did the President promise you...?"
"My retirement."
"Foolish... Even if you were to kill me... do you truly believe that man would honor his word?"
"......"
Nagant fell silent at Michikatsu's words.
She knew. She knew the President was the kind of man who viewed promises as inconveniences. He treated people like tools and replaceable parts. Under the guise of national interest and peace, he was a madman who wouldn't hesitate to order the assassination of a child. He was filth that the word 'garbage' failed to describe.
He had manipulated Nagant's childhood dreams of being a Hero to turn her into his personal executioner, making her stain her hands with the blood of Heroes, Villains, and even civilians, all while he kept his own hands clean.
When Nagant began to feel the crushing weight of her conscience, he only reprimanded her and forced her to keep killing. She was exhausted.
"I don't want to do this either! I'm tired, so damn tired... I want to quit! But... I'm in too deep..."
"Why...? You have the strength to stop. Even now, it is not too late."
"Do you really think I can just stop?"
"How long... do you intend to be used... like a marionette?"
"I... I..."
Nagant was wavering.
But she felt there was no way back. Too much blood had already stained her hands. In truth, she liked Michikatsu—she even felt pity for him. At only fifteen years old, he had been coerced into becoming an operative for the Commission, carrying out the government's darkest official hits, tasks where death was a constant shadow.
Though he looked like a sturdy young man, he was still just a student—an age where he should be making friends at school. Instead, he had been forced to spend his youth covered in blood.
Because she saw herself in him, Nagant didn't want to kill him. That was why she hadn't pulled the trigger before he noticed her presence.
She had hesitated. No matter the order, she couldn't reconcile this mission with her soul. Even if the 'Trash Disposal' units operated on the principle that people are discarded once they lose their utility, this felt wrong. He was far too young, and he had accomplished countless missions for the Public Safety Commission. He had bled for them.
She couldn't accept such a cold-blooded betrayal.
"It seems you really are useless, Nagant... I made the right choice in not trusting you."
Just as Nagant wavered with her rifle aimed at Michikatsu, a voice dripped with disappointment from the shadows behind them. The President stepped into the clearing, his expression cold and rigid.
"Michikatsu!!"
...And in his grip, he held Momo Yaoyorozu—Michikatsu's most precious bond.