Suiboku’s ideal was to fight, not to kill unilaterally. He’d already sealed away the ultimate Flash Step technique No Clash of Swords, No Clash of Blades—which allowed him to complete the preparatory motion, approach, strike, and follow through all within Flash Step itself—and chose not to teach it to his disciple.
This technique was less overwhelming—or at least left room for counterplay. Or so said the strongest man in the world. In truth, if it were Saiga, he might be able to deal with it to some extent. But that was because he was Saiga; it was not something others could reasonably handle. Then again, even the current form of Flash Step was already beyond what most could deal with. If any of those who had once fought Sansui and lost learned of this, they would be dumbfounded.
If it’s already nearly unavoidable, what do you mean by making it even less avoidable?
Sansui had no room to imagine such complaints; further techniques were already assaulting him.
“Flash Step—Scattered Land.”
The moment Suiboku activated this next Flash Step technique, Sansui—who had been standing atop the cloud—found his head pressed against the cloud’s surface with his feet pointing toward the sky in the next instant. It was a technique that altered the target’s angle, not their position, making it resemble a throw more than a movement technique.
“Huh?”
A normal throwing technique would have involved the sensation of one’s posture being violently broken, but because this was a “throw” executed through instantaneous movement, that sensation did not exist at all. It wasn’t that Sansui had simply failed to notice it—it truly had disrupted his sense of balance without any preceding signal. It was an even more incomprehensible sensation than being Flash Stepped directly above a pitfall and dropped in.
“Wh-What...?”
Sansui possessed excellent balance, but precisely because of that, having it flipped a full one hundred and eighty degrees left him bewildered. He was already using a technique that lightened his body as they traveled on the cloud, so he remained floating in midair. He no longer understood which way his feet should be pointing, nor what altitude he should maintain.
“You are panicking too much. Calm yourself.”
Sansui drifted helplessly, unable to tell front from back, or up from down. If he had been an ordinary human standing on ordinary ground, he would have simply fallen headfirst, hit the earth, and from that impact regained some sense of direction. It was precisely because he was standing on a cloud—an abnormal condition—that he had fallen into such disorientation.
“M-My apologies... Thank you.”
Suiboku had grabbed Sansui’s body—which was like a floating balloon doll—and set him upright on the cloud. The words of thanks spilling from Sansui’s mouth sounded like those of a man rescued from drowning. In truth, it was Suiboku who’d caused this dilemma in the first place.
“Now then, try using Scattered Land yourself. Perform the technique on me.”
“A-Are you certain?”
“Come now, you intend to use it on people, do you not? In that case, it is only proper to test it on me.”
It felt presumptuous beyond measure, but atop this cloud, there was no one else he could use as a subject. Sansui placed a hand on Suiboku’s shoulder, preparing to perform Scattered Land. He had at least observed the steps Suiboku took before activating the technique, so he could attempt to mimic it. But to actually perform it required total, concentrated focus.
This technique... It’s on a whole different level from either Cowherd or Weaver Girl...!
Just as Suiboku had said, it was far beyond Sansui’s current capabilities. It wasn’t a matter of needing a few seconds to activate; he required several minutes merely to reach the preparation stage.
A Flash Step that changes the opponent’s angle... This is an entirely different level of difficulty from ordinary Flash Step!
A part of him wondered if this was not a technique he should be learning right now, yet at the same time, he was glad he had the chance. From the skill Perpetual Sansui had expected something extraordinary—but Scattered Land was a revelation. The idea of using Flash Step to break an opponent’s posture had never even occurred to him.
Had Suiboku not told him “There exists a technique like this” at this moment, Sansui probably would never have conceived it, even if someday he reached the stage of developing his own techniques. Suiboku had surely devised it after his own long struggle, yet his imagination and spirit of inquiry were enough to make Sansui shudder.
A man who created his own style out of fundamentals and applications...
Right now, Sansui was learning the correct answers. No—he had been doing so from the very beginning. The techniques Sansui had made his own, the teachings he had passed on to his own students—those were merely things that Suiboku had already tried and tested and pitted against other techniques to find the best, most correct methods. Sansui was once again reminded, more deeply than ever, of something he had felt many times already.
To have become this man’s disciple...really is the ultimate cheat.
Watching his disciple drift into such thoughts, Suiboku laughed from the depths of his heart.
Night arrived even atop the clouds. In fact, with the sun’s position more visible than on the ground, the change was all the more striking. The unobstructed sky gradually reddened and sank into darkness. Riding the wind as they traveled, the two decided to end their training at sunset.
“Well then, today’s training ends here. You still cannot activate Scattered Land, but we have several days before we arrive. By then, you should at least have its form.”
To an outside observer, Sansui had merely been touching Suiboku and standing still the entire time, but in truth, he had been straining himself to recreate his master’s techniques, and was now exhausted to the point of collapse. Drenched in sweat, Sansui nodded as his master urged him.
“Hmm... Heh heh.”
Suiboku looked at him and laughed joyfully.
“I have lived four thousand years, and for my final journey to be with you, to be a continuation of the five hundred years I have spent at your side...words cannot express how happy a journey this is.”
The people called Immortals were, by nature, fond of training. Whether learning from their predecessors, studying on their own, or instructing their disciples—they enjoyed all of it. But what they took the most pride in was passing down the skills they had learned or discovered to their successors, those who were like sons to them.
“I’ve made you accompany me for a very long time. But stay with me...just a little longer.”
Under the starlight, Suiboku pleaded with Sansui. Then, without another word, he lay down upon the cloud.
“Master...”
Seeing his master like that, Sansui felt it anew. He had trained for five hundred years in the forest, witnessing many deaths. Through this, he had reached the mentality of an Immortal in which death was an ordinary thing, something that was never strange to encounter at any moment.
And yet—even he felt reluctant to let go of his master sleeping on that cloud.
The days that should have continued were about to end. Soon, Suiboku would finish his training and depart from this world, never to meet him again. Even if his days in the mortal world ended, even if the time came to return to that forest, Suiboku would no longer be there waiting. There would be no one to ask How did it go? or to say Well done.
“Master...”
Once again, Sansui felt how distant this man truly was. He had already been an unparalleled genius, and on top of that, had accumulated four thousand years of training—reaching a realm even other Immortals could not attain. It was a cliché sentiment, but Sansui still wanted to learn more. He still wanted to be taught. He wanted to learn everything Suiboku held within him and make it his own. And someday, he wanted to proudly declare himself Suiboku’s successor.
But that wish would not be granted. Sansui would have to stand alone now. Just as his own students, aware of their inexperience, had nevertheless gone off to serve in the world.
Yes... What I can do is give my master peace of mind. Not cling to him but give my utmost so he may finish his training in tranquility.
He wanted to linger in emotion, to speak his heart—but he held those feelings close and lay down upon the cloud. For now, he would rest properly and prepare for tomorrow’s training. That was the best thing he could do—and he believed it would reassure Suiboku. Eventually, Sansui began to sleep, still maintaining the technique that lightened his body.
O gods... I thank you for granting me such a fine disciple.
Feeling his disciple’s conduct, Suiboku soon drifted into sleep as well.
Sansui, thank you. To be sent off by a disciple like you... Truly, I am a fortunate man.
He maintained both the technique sustaining the cloud and the one guiding the wind. It meant that he had no intention of delaying their arrival, no intention of prolonging his final hours—and showed that he believed he no longer needed to.