by Yuu Miyazaki
“Oh, we didn’t talk about anything too serious. She was just worried about me. She needs me, in case anything was to happen to her, you see. No one else understands her makeup the way I do. She’s had others do maintenance on her, but if she ever ended up getting broken, well now, there’s no one else in this world capable of fixing her.”
“What did you discuss with her?” Isabella asked dispassionately.
Ladislav shrugged his shoulders. “She asked me whether there were any others. People close to reaching the world that I began to peer into.”
“And what did you say?”
“Oh, that as far as the published papers I’ve read go—and I haven’t received any new ones for a while now, you know—there’s only two names that come to mind.”
Needless to say, Ladislav didn’t have any research facilities at his disposal, but it sounded like he was permitted to stay abreast of the work of others.
“There’s a chance that Ernesta Kühne and Hilda Jane Rowlands could make it. That’s what I told her.”
“And did the Varda-Vaos want anything else?”
“That was all. She left straight afterward. A particularly undevoted daughter, that one.” Ladislav laughed from the back of his throat, returning to his wicker chair. “I hope this old body of mine can hold out long enough to see what she’s set her mind to…”
“Claudia. We’re leaving,” Isabella announced, her voice scraped clean of all emotion, as she turned her back on the balcony and the throaty laughter of the old scientist.
CHAPTER 5
THE TOUDOU HOUSEHOLD
The head school of the Toudou style was presently based in Sendai, though the residence was located in a hilly area to the west of the city. Ayato and Kirin arrived outside the grand complex just as petals of snow began to flutter down from the clouds above.
There were several large buildings in the Sukiya-zukuri architectural style throughout the grounds, and many others that from outside looked like dojos. It would be easy to mistake it all for the palatial compound of a feudal lord from the Edo period.
“This is, how do I put it…? Impressive…” Ayato, passing under the simple yet dignified front gate as they made their way to the main residence, was struck with admiration.
While it was fair to say that his own house, being fitted with a dojo, also occupied a large area, this was on a totally different level—although, to be fair, it was presumptuous even to compare the two, seeing as the Amagiri Shinmei style wasn’t presently taking any students, while the Toudou style had more than ten thousand scattered across countless branches throughout the world.
“No… It’s too big to live comfortably in, really.” Kirin glanced down, embarrassed, only lifting her head as they approached the entrance of what looked like the main building.
She took a long, deep breath, before opening the door and calling out: “I’m home!”
“Ah, welcome back!” came a hoarse though dignified voice.
Glancing over Kirin’s shoulder, Ayato saw an old woman standing in the center of the grand entryway.
“Great-aunt, I’m sorry for not calling in so long.”
“You sure took your time. That Rikka isn’t all that far away, you know. You could pay to stop in a little more often.”
Her white hair tied up in a bun, she was a short woman, wearing what Ayato could tell at first glance was an expensive tsumugi kimono. She looked to be of advanced years, with deep wrinkles engraved into her face, but her posture was rigid and straight, like that of a tempered blade.
“And you…you would be Ayato Amagiri, I see.”
“Pleased to meet you. Thank you for letting me visit at such short notice.”
“It is short notice; there’s no arguing there, but we did invite you. I’m Yoshino Agatsuma. I may have only married into one of the branch families, but now I represent the interests of the head family.” She had a curt manner of speaking, but her lips curled up in a warm smile. “But this is no place to talk. Come in.”
Yoshino led them down a corridor so long that Ayato couldn’t even count how many rooms filled the house.
From the passageway, he could see various courtyards and gardens nestled among the buildings, each of them meticulously kept. A place the size of the Amagiri household required considerable effort to maintain, but there was no way that a family, no matter how large it might be, could take care of an estate of this size alone. Indeed, every now and then he caught sight of people sweeping the pavements or tending to the plants. Whenever they saw Yoshino or Kirin, they would stop what they were doing and bow respectfully toward them.
“They’re all students here. We’re in the middle of a big cleanup for the end of the year.”
There were several rows of what looked like student domiciles situated behind the dojos, so there were probably a considerable number of disciples who lived on the grounds.
Of course, such students would normally be entrusted to a branch dojo where they would receive initial training from more advanced disciples, but with Kirin’s performance in the Phoenix and the Gryps, the deluge of prospective applicants eager to learn the Toudou style must have been pushing them to capacity.
“That said, being the end of the year, many of them have gone back to their families. Heaven alone knows whether we’ll be able to get everything finished today…”
“Ah…!” Kirin, walking along beside him, came to a sudden stop.
Her eyes became teary, a look of joy spreading across her face.
In front of her stood a man. He looked to be in his forties, if Ayato had to guess, of slender build and tall stature, neatly dressed in a loose, casual kimono, and he had a gentle smile on his face.
“Welcome home… Although, it probably sounds strange, me saying that. I guess I’m the one’s who’s back.”
“Dad!” As if she could wait no longer, Kirin ran forward, leaping into his arms.
So this was Seijirou Toudou. From what Kirin had told him, Ayato had assumed that he would be rather strict, but the figure tenderly holding his daughter and lovingly stroking her head could hardly be further from that image.
“…We have you and your friends to thank. We’re in your debt,” Yoshino said, patting Ayato on the back.
Yoshino said little, but her affection for Kirin and Seijirou came through in her voice.
“No, Kirin did it herself.”
“Is that so? I’m glad to hear you say that, and yet… It looks like she still has some way to go.” Yoshino let out a brief sigh, her countenance and tone of voice suddenly intensifying. “Kirin! Not in front of our guest!”
“Ah… S-sorry…!” Kirin froze for a moment, her gaze darting back and forth, before letting go of her father and stepping back to a respectful distance.
Try as she might, however, she couldn’t hide the joy that had spread across her face. Nor did Yoshino reprove her for it.
What a nice family…
Ayato could practically feel the warmth radiating out from them.
Ayato and Kirin sat formally across from Yoshino and Seijirou inside a room that, at roughly thirteen feet wide, was too big for him to feel truly at ease.
“I apologize for the delay. I’m Seijirou Toudou, Kirin’s father.”
“Ayato Amagiri.”
Still kneeling, the two of them bowed to each other politely.
“My daughter has told me all about you, Mr. Amagiri. Thank you for looking after her…and me, too.” Only then did Seijirou raise his face to look directly at him.
“As I said in my letter, we all entered the Gryps hoping to have our own wishes granted, and our victory was only possible thanks to everyone’s efforts,” Ayato explained. “If you want to thank us for helping Kirin get hers, then we all need to thank her, too, for helping grant ours. We couldn’t have done it without her.”
Strictly speaking, Saya had entered the tournament for a different reason, but there was no need for him to overcomplicate things now.
“I see… You’r
e right, of course. But still, I want to express my deepest thanks,” Seijirou answered, bowing once more.
As awkward as it made him feel, if Kirin’s father wanted to thank him this much, Ayato wouldn’t try to stop him.
Seijirou remained that way for a full ten seconds before looking up.
“Well then,” Yoshino began, “let’s get down to business. I’d like to hear your answer, Kirin.”
At the sound of these words, the atmosphere suddenly turned tense.
She was no doubt referring to her suggestion that Kirin return home and take over as head of the main branch of the Toudou school.
Thanks to having met Masatsugu, Kirin seemed to have overcome her indecision, but Ayato still didn’t know what exactly she had decided.
He could feel his hands growing sweaty as he waited for her to respond.
He would respect her choice, no matter what it was, but there was no denying that he would be devastated if she decided not to come back to Asterisk.
“…I’m not ready yet,” she began, glancing toward Ayato. “I realized the other day that it’s presumptuous of someone as young as me to even worry about where to go with my swordsmanship. It’s a journey without end, and I’m still only just at the beginning of it. So I don’t think I’ll be able to guide others yet. I’d like to go back to Asterisk and learn more.”
Hearing this, Ayato felt a wave of relief wash over him.
At the very least, Kirin herself wanted to stay at Seidoukan.
“Hmm, I don’t know what to say…,” Yoshino said. “I think we would all agree that you’re the most advanced user of the Toudou style. Neither I nor Seijirou have mastered the Conjoined Cranes quite like you have… No, even looking further back, no one else has been able to reach the level of our founder quite like you have. There’s no one else more suited to the role than you.”
Kirin shook her head. “No. Maybe I’m a fast learner, but that’s all there is to it.”
“…Are you saying that all that effort you put into your learning had nothing to do with it?” Yoshino, wearing a somewhat contrived smile, looked toward her.
Faced with that sharp gaze, Kirin’s voice fell quiet. “I think people’s personalities come through in their use of the sword. So a teacher needs to be ready for that. Even if my techniques are as good as you say, that’s just raw strength… I’m not trying to be modest, but that isn’t what lies at the heart of the way of the sword.”
“Oh? Then what does?”
“…Conviction… Backed up by experience.”
“Conviction?” Yoshino repeated in a low voice.
“By continuously facing one’s sword, by cultivating one’s inner self,” Kirin answered decisively.
“I see. And you have to return to Rikka to do that?”
For the first time, a shadow of doubt fell over Kirin’s face, and she dropped her gaze. “…To be honest, I don’t know. There are things that people can learn by themselves, and yet…” She paused there, falling silent for a long, drawn-out moment, before finally continuing. “And yet, as I am now… I’ve only improved as much as I have thanks to being able to fight alongside my friends. So I’d like to stay there a little longer.” Only now did she raise her head, her gaze meeting Yoshino’s. “If the way of the sword is a journey without end, then even if it takes me more time to come back here, it shouldn’t make too much difference over the long term.”
“…”
Yoshino stared at Kirin in silence for what felt like an eternity, before finally letting out a small sigh, her expression loosening. “Over the long term… You say that so easily. I’m at an age where I can’t count on my final calling holding back till I’m ready…”
“G-Great-aunt!”
Yoshino, however, stared back at her flustered niece gently, seemingly holding back a flood of laughter. “Don’t worry about that. But if you had thought it over properly yourself, you probably wouldn’t have needed to ask others for advice.”
“—! B-but—”
“Well, I suppose we can try to make it work. Isn’t that right, Seijirou?”
“…Yes.” Seijirou, too, looked as if he were holding back a smile.
“But if that’s how it is, then I guess I can’t afford to kick the bucket for a while yet.” Yoshino tiredly rubbed her shoulders, before flashing Kirin an amused smile.
“Th-thank you, great-aunt!”
For Julis, the redevelopment area wasn’t a place of fond memories.
Whether it was the incident with Silas, or her reunion with Orphelia, this part of the city had only ever given her trouble.
She would have preferred never to have to bother with it all again. Now, however, she had found herself once again setting foot there.
“…Where exactly are you taking me, Lester?” she asked cautiously.
The sun had already set, and their surroundings were veiled in deep darkness.
There were no streetlamps in the redevelopment area. Their only sources of light were the torch that Lester held in front of him and the flame that Julis had summoned through her abilities.
“You want to know what I’ve been doing this past month, right? So shut up and follow me. I can’t tell you, so I’ll have to show you.”
This would be the perfect opportunity to set a trap, Julis thought, but at least with Lester, she could be sure that he wouldn’t succumb to such underhanded methods.
The wintry wind snipping at her body and the distinct dust-filled air of the redevelopment area both seemed to be urging to her turn around and go back, but she wasn’t about to let them get in the way of finding out how Lester had improved so dramatically in so short a time.
Lester came to a stop in front of an abandoned building at the end of the street, seemingly no different in appearance from every other structure they had passed to reach it.
“Here,” Lester said brusquely.
He made his way to the entrance, moonlight shining in through the broken roof above him, as he took something from his pocket.
“What’s that?” Julis asked.
“My pass,” Lester replied with a daring smile as he showed it to her.
It was a seal, skillfully designed though small enough to fit in the palm of one’s hand, depicting a motif in vivid green of what looked like a kingfisher.
It began to let off a faint light, when—
“Huh?!”
Brilliant lines of light suddenly shot through the air around them, rearranging before them like some kind of puzzle. When Julis’s senses returned, she was standing in the center of a spacious hall.
“What was…?”
No matter which direction she looked, there were no walls in sight, only the wooden floor continuing without end. The space was lit by countless candle-like lights floating around them, but there were no actual candles to speak of.
It was a boundless, tranquil space.
“Oh-ho! I see you’ve brought a friend with you this time, Lester!”
Julis spun around at the sound of that childish, innocent voice echoing through the room.
Behind her stood a young girl, her hair done up in a butterfly-like bun.
“Ban’yuu Tenra…!”
The girl was none other than Jie Long Seventh Institute’s top-ranked fighter and student council president, Xinglou Fan.
Julis recognized her immediately from their semifinal match at the Gryps, though she had never before spoken to her in person.
“Welcome, Glühen Rose… Although, I thought you weren’t supposed to tell anyone about this place,” she said, turning toward Lester with a dangerous glint in her eyes.
“Hmph, I didn’t tell her. She followed me here herself,” Lester began defensively, when—
“Gah?!”
Xinglou threw him across the room with the palm of her hand.
He plummeted through the air like a giant doll, landing hard on the floor before he could so much as brace himself for the impact.
“I’ll forgive you this time, but le
t that be a lesson for you. There will be no second chances.”
“Nngh…! Why you…!” Lester spat out, before losing consciousness and falling flat on his face.
“What an annoyance,” Xinglou said, turning to Julis. “I suppose he got impatient and challenged you to a duel? I did tell him that he would need another six months before he could hope to match you.”
“…Looks like I was right. You were the one behind him.”
Xinglou Fan was well-known even at Seidoukan. Everyone knew that all her eleven fellow Page Ones at Jie Long trained under her guidance.
On top of that, if her training was anything like what Julis had just witnessed, that went some way toward explaining Lester’s mental growth as well.
“Indeed. Although, he isn’t one of my disciples. I simply thought to help draw out his potential.”
“But why would Jie Long’s top fighter want to help train a Page One from Seidoukan?” Julis asked cautiously.
No matter how she tried to look at it, it didn’t make any sense, and yet there had to be some kind of reasoning behind it.
“Oh-ho-ho, it isn’t only Seidoukan,” Xinglou answered indifferently, as if she had nothing to do with it.
“Huh…?”
As Xinglou waved her hand, several large images floated up before them.
They resembled air-windows, but Xinglou carried nothing that could have switched them on, nor did there seem to be any projectors installed throughout the hall.
But more important than whatever technology or ability Xinglou had at her disposal were the various faces that she saw before her.
“Irene Urzaiz. And her sister, too…”
One of the images showed the two sisters whom Julis and Ayato had fought during the Phoenix. She had never guessed that the two of them could have become Xinglou’s playthings.
“The younger one merely came free with the sister. Incidentally, these aren’t recordings. This is them as they are right now.”
“What? Then how are you…?”
Xinglou merely responded to her question with a wordless laugh.
