“Are you really, absolutely sure about this?” the girl asked the man in front of her, her voice dripping with unease.

As they stood in the middle of the dojo, dyed a bright red by the setting sun, the grizzled, middle-aged man laughed heartily at the question asked of him for the umpteenth time.

“Hahaha! You’ve got a long way to go before you’ll need to hold back against me. Gimme all you’ve got.”

“But Dad, your body is getting weaker by the day.”

“Sounds like we’d better hurry, then; while I can still lift a sword. I need you to learn this technique.”

The man slowly raised his bamboo sword.

“I’m no Blazer, so the only way I can help you is through swordplay. This technique is the result of an entire lifetime of hard work—a trump card no one has ever seen before. I’m sure it’ll save your butt someday, Ayase, so please.”

Her father’s eyes shined brighter than the evening sun. She couldn’t refuse him when she saw that look in his eyes, when she felt that love in his heart.

“You drive a hard bargain, Dad.”

Suppressing her unease, she materialized her soul as a weapon: a scarlet katana, redder than the twilight and more vivid than blood. She gripped the handle with both hands and began to run toward her father, and just as he wished, she swung her sword.

But that was all a distant memory. She had already lost everything; she had nothing left in her hands, and nothing left for her to protect. All that remained were memories of the good old days, still burned into her mind.