“Hatsumi-san.”
“Mom, is Granny Byakuya already in the dojo?”
“Yes, she is. Kiyoshiro-san, Haseto-san, and Gonda-san are with her.”
Hatsumi immediately headed for the garden. The familiar sight of her home’s yard was now overlaid with an incredibly eerie feeling. Anyone who saw it now would assume it was haunted. Hatsumi could only hear faint cackling, but whoever was responsible for the noise wasn’t showing themselves. It was only her instincts that could tell her that an unpleasant presence was in the area.
Stranger still than all this was the fact that her mother considered everything happening perfectly natural. Any normal person, Hatsumi thought, as she often did when things like this would occur, would find her mother terrifying.
The laughing hadn’t stopped and was getting annoying, so with a concerted targeting of her inner bloodlust, Hatsumi silenced it at once.
Once inside the dojo, she saw her father, Kiyoshiro; her little brother, Haseto; and the head coach Gonda. Normally, she would at least give them a glance in greeting, but Hatsumi’s eyes were drawn to someone else.
Both the shadiest and most radiant being in the world was right there—a woman with long white hair. Her flowing locks gave off an iridescent glow, as did her eyes, giving her a bewitching charm. Her face was that of a young and beautiful maiden in her twenties, and her skin was white as fresh snow, a single crack across her face like damage in a broken mask. She wore simple white clothes, much like what the dead were made to wear.
She was seated in the very back of the dark dojo, with a single knee propped up in a casual pose. A beautiful young man stood by her side, and he—Gikou—was also possessed of that unique mix of charm and suspicion.
“Granny, sorry to keep you waiting,” Hatsumi said, bowing her head.
“I don’t mind. I came down to the world without any notice. I understand if you couldn’t be here immediately.”
A clear voice echoed from deep within the dojo as if it had come straight from the heavens, so beautiful-sounding it was eerie. Hatsumi sat on her heels in the center of the dojo and bowed once more. This was the voice of Shamon Byakuya, one of Japan’s Five Great Hidden Swords, the devilish priestess who’d created the Phantom Sword of the Kurikara Dharani.
“It has been a long time, Founder,” Hatsumi greeted her.
“Mm. Both you and Haseto have grown. Come.”
Hatsumi did as she was told and approached. Byakuya then petted her head gently.
“M-Me too?” Haseto asked.
“Indeed,” Byakuya confirmed.
“Oh man...”
Haseto also presented his head shyly to receive head pats. This happened every time they saw her, and it had become practically ritual.
“Kiyoshiro, you too,” Byakuya said.
“No, no, no, no, gimme a break, Founder,” he objected, “I’m past that age.”
“Hm? Are you not only in your forties? It’s hardly much different to me.”
“Well, yeah, I might not be much more than a brat compared to you, but in front of my children I must maintain some pride.”
“I see. Very well then,” Byakuya relented, pulling back her hand.
“So? What brings you here today?” Kiyoshiro asked. “Is there some kind of trouble brewing?”
“I just felt like it,” she answered. “Nothing more.”
Kiyoshiro’s eyes widened in astonishment. “How rare.”
“I suppose it is,” Byakuya agreed. “Whenever this mood strikes me, it means something is happening somewhere that has nothing to do with me.”
Hatsumi stiffened. Maybe, just maybe, Byakuya had sensed the fight her group was going through.
“Hatsumi, what is your rank now?” Byakuya asked, turning to her next as if to confirm her suspicions.
“Mm. I reached thirty-two half a year ago.”
“I see. It seems you’ll soon be among the shadows.”
“No, I believe things will only become harder from here.”
“Of course it will. That level is haunted by monsters. There are many like me who’ve surpassed humanity, after all.”
With that, Byakuya put on a self-deprecating smile. Her expression then changed completely to one of cold intensity.
“Hatsumi, take up your sword,” she said. “It’s time for a lesson.”
“Hwuh?!”
“Oh?”
“Now this is interesting...”
Haseto, Kiyoshiro, and Gonda all raised their voices in shock. The same went for Hatsumi, of course.
“Granny, really?!” Hatsumi exclaimed.
“You must feel uneasy with only three of the secret arts, yes?” Byakuya commented.
Currently, Hatsumi only knew the misty decapitating blow known as Hazy Cross; the Esoteric Technique, Absolute Blade; Edge, a move that the Kuchiba school called the Longsword of the Absolute Edge; and the Kuchiba school’s Enlightenment to Serenity.
“This has nothing to do with my duty as one of the Five Swords, but it’s necessary,” Byakuya said. “I shall give you a demonstration.”
With that, she urged Hatsumi out into the garden. They were followed by Hatsumi’s father, her brother, and the head coach.
Standing face-to-face with Byakuya, Hatsumi drew the odachi her father had given her, and in response Byakuya drew her own weapon. In contrast to Hatsumi’s large sword, hers was a straight sword.
Unlike its corresponding branch in the Kuchiba school, Byakuya’s style of the Phantom Sword of the Kurikara Dharani specialized in the use of straight swords. The Kuchibas used an odachi because the head of the family at the time had taken the Phantom Sword and had adapted it to his personal weapon.
Hatsumi rested the back of her blade on her right shoulder in a combat stance. In turn, Byakuya held her sword so loosely it couldn’t actually be considered a stance. The blade itself was around a hundred sixty centimeters long and about eight centimeters wide along its entire length, with a hilt modeled after a three-pronged vajra coiled by an Eastern-style dragon. It was just like the blade carried by Acala.
Despite wielding such a rustic weapon, Byakuya was perfectly at ease. It was as if she’d stood this way for decades, or even centuries. Even though Byakuya’s posture was so casual, Hatsumi couldn’t attack her. Hatsumi had experienced many battles in the other world. She was supposed to have gotten stronger. And yet, she couldn’t attack.