Ayase greeted the morning—the day of her battle with Ikki—groggily at 9:00 a.m. After leaving him behind, she’d dozed off in her room. She was tired, not only because of the meeting with Ikki, but also because she had been preparing for the duel.

As she crawled out of bed, she noticed a letter from her roommate on the table:

“You told me yesterday not to come, so I won’t watch your match today, but come talk to me if something’s wrong. I get so worried whenever I see how gloomy you look these days.”

“I really am a good-for-nothing.”

She had betrayed her teacher and made her roommate worry.

“You’ve thrown away your honor and dragged everyone else’s through the mud in the process! Even if you take back whatever it is you’ve lost, will you be able to take pride in it?!”

Ikki’s cries still rang in Ayase’s ears. She felt awful, even before such an important battle. She needed to set herself straight. She had to fix her mood and prepare herself, so she headed to a certain place before the morning ended.

◆◆◆

Fifteen minutes after departing from the train station closest to Hagun Academy, Ayase arrived at her destination: a massive, chalk-white building that penetrated the cloudless summer sky. It was Shishido General Hospital, the closest hospital to Hagun Academy.

Ayase followed the same path she’d walked countless times as she headed through the large building to room 515, before opening the sliding door. Inside the private room was a single solitary bed, with a beautiful, middle-aged woman sitting next to it in a pipe chair. She gasped in surprise when the door opened to reveal Ayase.

“My, oh, my. Is that you, Ayase?”

“Hello, Aunt Suzuka.”

“Hi! What are you doing here at this time of day? Shouldn’t you be in class?”

“Attendance is voluntary for me today. Students are exempt from classes on days they have selection battles, so I decided to come see Dad instead.”

“Huh. That new director has some strange policies, both for battles and for roommates.” Her aunt seemed to understand when Ayase explained it was one of Kurono’s policies. As she stood up from the pipe chair and moved toward the bed, she spoke to the man lying in it. “Did you hear that? Your cute little daughter is here to see you!”

His cheekbones had receded with age. His skin was wrinkled, like a long-forgotten, cracked patch of land, and his arms were thin and brittle like twigs in the winter.

The man, as thin as a rail from losing so much weight, was Kaito Ayatsuji—Ayase’s father.

“Good morning, Dad.”

Following her aunt, Ayase spoke to Kaito, but he didn’t respond; he kept sleeping. He slept and slept, like he had for the past two years.

“I don’t want to get between you two,” Suzuka said, “so I’ll be at the coffee shop outside. How long will you be here, Ayase?”

“My match isn’t until the afternoon, so I can stay until noon.”

“Okay. I’ll be back around noon, then. Bye.”

Her aunt waved and left the hospital room. No matter what time of day, she was always so lively. If only she could share that liveliness with her brother.

No, that’s not right. Long ago, even he—

“Mm… Ah…”

Kaito’s bone-dry lips moved ever so slightly, trembling weakly.

“Dad…”

He had been that way for a long time. He spoke the same words he always did, but Ayase couldn’t hear him, as he had no voice to hear. His daughter had memorized the motions his lips took:

“I’m sorry.”

“Rgh!”

Ayase audibly ground her teeth. The only way she could withstand the shame and anger in her heart without screaming was by clenching her teeth.

Ever since that day, Kaito never stopped apologizing to her. Apologizing for being unable to protect her, unable to entrust something so special to her. He was forever lost and alone within that one rainy day.

※ ※ ※

“Remember, Ayase. No matter what happens, never forget your pride. Our swords have the power to kill men, and you Blazers have power greater than any men that came before you. If you forget your pride, all you’ll have left is destruction.

“Respect others, protect the weak, and curse the wicked. Never be a puppet to your own power. Fight others fair and square. Be a knight that neither you nor anyone else can be ashamed of.”

Ayase’s father, the Last Samurai, often repeated those words to her. It was the responsibility of the strong to obey those teachings. Kaito knew as much, so he continually drilled the samurai’s morals into his daughter’s head despite her having been born as a Blazer. He never wanted her to become addicted to power and turn into a cheap, arrogant person.

Kaito’s lessons weren’t mere lip service, either; he backed up his teachings with rigorous training. Despite his severity, however, his daughter loved his strength that was so noble. She loved to watch her father valiantly swing his sword. She loved his large, coarse hands that patted her on the head whenever she grew as a person.

In their little dojo, it was just her, Kaito, and his ten disciples. They may not have been well-off, but they shared a bond. It was a happier time.

Ayase wished those days could have gone on forever, but that desire was cruelly smashed and thrown aside. She lost everything because of the man who’d intruded on their everyday life on that rainy day two years ago.

※ ※ ※

Two months after Ayase enrolled at Hagun Academy, the rainy season began. The air was suffocatingly hot and humid, and the sky teemed with dismal rainclouds.

After class, rather than returning to her dorm, Ayase, umbrella in hand, went to visit the family dojo. She was ready to learn what they didn’t teach in school: swordplay.

Ever since her first year of middle school, Ayase had known that Kaito was suffering from an illness that couldn’t be cured even by modern medicine. At that point, he could hardly even swing a sword. The last time he’d picked up a sword was when Ayase was accepted into Hagun Academy, when he’d taught her his ultimate technique. Put simply, his body was no longer up to the task.

Yet his disciples remained at the dojo, their knowledge of the Ayatsuji Single-Blade Style intact. Though they were few, they were veterans of the style, having trained under the Last Samurai their entire lives. His best student, Sugawara, may not have been as skilled as Kaito, but he still far surpassed Ayase.

She had spent the past three weeks frequently visiting the dojo in order to learn from him. It was all she could do to get even a single day closer to mastering her father’s technique. Traveling to the dojo might as well have been part of her daily schedule.

This time, however, when she entered the open door that invited Kaito’s disciples, she was greeted by an unusual sight.

“Huh?”

Ayase ran into a tall boy with a western-style umbrella. He had dyed hair, a cigarette between his lips, and eyes as sharp as those of a hungry wolf. He wore an unbuttoned Donrou Academy uniform, a skull tattoo visible on his chest. His appearance wasn’t that of a boy in the polite world of dojos and samurai; instead, he was from somewhere brutal and fiendish.

Ayase was already scared of most men, so the intimidating boy standing before her was enough to make her back away.

“Hahah! Later.”

The boy, Kuraudo Kurashiki, laughed derisively at how pathetic she was before disappearing into the ash-gray, cloudy city.

Who was that? Why was someone so dangerous-looking coming out of my house? He was wearing Donrou’s uniform, so he must have been a Blazer. He shouldn’t have anything to do with a samurai dojo. Was he just here to ask for directions?

With those questions in her mind, Ayase walked toward her family’s dojo.

“Dammit! I won’t let that stupid kid get away with this!”

The voice of Sugawara, who could be considered one of her childhood friends, echoed from within the dojo. She hurried inside, where there was none of the usual lively swordplay.

Sugawara and six other disciples were all standing around, gritting their teeth in anger. Kaito sat cross-legged among them, wearing a troubled expression.

“What’s wrong?” Ayase asked Sugawara. “Did something happen?”

“Some weird-looking thug kid just barged in and demanded that we bet the dojo on a duel with him.”

“Did he threaten to fight you guys too?”

“Yeah, but our master is too weak to fight. Besides, the Ayatsuji Single-Blade Style doesn’t allow stupid gambles like that.”

Ayase knew that as well. The Ayatsuji style existed to protect. Kaito was always telling her that. It didn’t exist for pointless brawls or for students to boast about their strength. Under those ideals, the Ayatsuji style forbade any and all unofficial battles based on private disputes.

“Master Ayatsuji declined, of course. And then…”

“That brat insulted our master! He called him a coward, a weakling, and a failure! He even spat on his face!”

“He’s nothing but an uppity thug who thinks he can do whatever he wants just because he has magic!”

The disciples expressed their anger, one after another. They had all studied under Kaito for so long that they thought of him as a father, making it all the more appalling to see him treated so poorly.

Ayase knew how they felt. That teenager had spat on her father’s face. She could feel her body temperature rising just thinking about it.

“He tracked dirt all over the place, too. What kind of idiot comes into a dojo with his shoes on? If our master were in better condition, he’d get what was coming to him!”

“No, Nitta.” Kaito, who had remained silent, admonished his disciple with a sharp tone. “I would have refused even if I was healthy. The Ayatsuji style exists solely to protect, not to fight pointless battles. We do not live in an era where people are protected with swords, but we must never forget the spirit of this style.”

“S-Sir! I’m so sorry! I must repent!” Nitta lowered his head in honest regret.

“Good. Disciples, why are your hands idle?! As punishment, that’s another thousand practice swings!”

After Kaito reminded Nitta of their philosophy, he clapped his hands and refocused their efforts. The disciples responded unanimously with a “Yes, sir!” and returned the dojo to its usual liveliness.

“Okay, Ayase. Change into your uniform. I can’t have you being a power-drunk Blazer like him, so get ready for another day of tough training.”

“Yes, sir! Gladly!”

Relieved to see the dojo revitalized, Ayase hurried to the changing room.

On the way, she noticed an unusual scent wafting through the dojo—the scent of Kuraudo’s cigarette smoke, still lingering in the air. That scent would infect her beloved daily life like an ominous, ever-present snake that eternally bared its fangs.

Eventually, finally, the snake struck.

※ ※ ※

The next day, Ayase once again walked to the dojo through the dreary rain.

“Hellooo! Hm?”

She gave a greeting as she opened the door to the dojo, but the only one there was Kaito, sitting cross-legged on a cushion.

“Is it just you, Dad? It’s weird for everyone to show up after me.”

“You’re right. I’ve never seen them all late on the same day.” Kaito raised an eyebrow, puzzled. They usually weren’t all late at once, but they would occasionally trickle in one at a time. They assumed it was just a coincidence, so Kaito and Ayase didn’t think much of it. “Well, they’ll be around soon enough. Since we’re alone now, I can personally direct your training.”

“Thank you. Just make sure you don’t pick up a sword yourself, okay? You’re too sick.”

“You’re such a worrywart, Ayase. But fine, I’ll just watch. The rain hasn’t exactly been doing wonders for my health anyway.”

While they waited for the rest of the disciples, Ayase decided to show him her stance for the ultimate technique he’d taught her before she’d started at Hagun. She lifted her wooden sword in front of her and opened her stance slightly, then dropped her hips and relaxed her shoulders, carefully tracing Kaito’s actions one by one.

“No.” He immediately found fault with her stance. “Relax your shoulders, but keep your arms tight. Tighten up your wrists especially. Don’t strain yourself, though; keep the stance natural.”

“It’s really hard to do all of that at once.”

“If you can’t do it, you’ll never be able to use this technique. Let me show you one more time,” Kaito said, using the wall as a support to help him stand up. He reached toward a sword.

“Grr.”

“…”

“Grrrr.”

“Fine, fine. I won’t use the sword. Happy?” Unable to go against Ayase, he threw his hands up in surrender. “Lord. You’re just like your late mother. Whenever she wanted to nag at me, she’d just stare at me instead of saying anything.”

“Well, she’s the one who taught me to do it. She said that if you ever start to do something stupid, that’s all I have to do to make you stop.”

“I can’t believe both my wife and my daughter can control me like that.” Kaito sighed and moved behind Ayase. He put his arms around her and grabbed her hands, which still held her sword. “Look. Here’s how your wrists should be angled. The main point of this technique is that you don’t break your posture.”

While he explained the purpose of the technique he’d passed down to his high school-aged daughter, Kaito corrected her posture. His stiff, hard hands covered Ayase’s.

Dad’s hands are so big. His hands weren’t gentle, but she loved them for it. It’s been such a long time since he trained me one-on-one like this.

“Teehee.” Ayase couldn’t help but giggle with joy when she realized that.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing. I was just thinking of how long it’s been since we trained together like this. It just made me happy.” She leaned on Kaito’s chest and pressed her cheek against him. “I wish we could stay in this moment forever.”

Listening to her beloved father’s heartbeat thumping against her ear, Ayase spoke to nobody in particular.