September 22, 188—, 6:00 a.m.
Lower Niban-chô, Kôjimachi Ward, Tokyo
Daigo was in no mood to see her.
However, there she was, waiting by the entrance of his house.
“How long have you been here?” he asked.
Chizuru smiled sadly. “You finally noticed me.”
She shielded her eyes from Daigo, who stood there in silence.
“I’m sorry. Please don’t concern yourself. About me or about the dojo.”
Two days ago, Kashiwabara Isanosuke had asked Daigo to marry Chizuru and succeed him as the head of Renbei-jyuku.
Chizuru raised her head and asked, “Were you absent from the dojo yesterday because you refused my father’s request?”
He did not answer.
“If it is, please pay no mind. My father said so… as do I…” Chizuru hesitated, trying to hold back her feelings for Daigo.
“I don’t think I will visit Renbei-jyuku again,” said Daigo quietly with steely conviction.
“Then—you are bothered by—”
“What your father asks of me is too much. I am sorry, but I am not worthy of succeeding him as the head of Renbei-jyuku.”
“Please don’t say that you’re sorry.”
Her voice was heartrending, as vivid memories began to creep up from within. When she had met Daigo three years ago, they were both fourteen years old. That same day at the dojo, he had defeated all four of the Shitennô by ippon.[1] In a revenge match a week later, they could not even touch him. Observing it all quietly from outside the dojo, Chizuru felt something more than the excitement of seeing a skilled fighter. For three years, she had lived trying to suppress those feelings every time she saw him and thought about him.
Neither Daigo nor his actions had ever conveyed any negative feeling toward her, until half a year ago.
And now, all he could say was that he was sorry. She wanted to ask if there was anything else he wanted to say to a seventeen-year-old girl.
“You began to change around springtime. Why do you turn away your eyes every time you see me? Why won’t you ask me to walk with you anymore?”
“Please forgive me.” Daigo bowed and turned to go. But he had no idea where he needed to go. He had planned only to spend the day at the park like yesterday, eat the bento his mother had prepared for him, and go home.
“Wait, please,” she called out from behind him. “Someone from another style of fencing came to the dojo and asked for a match yesterday. The four Shitennô accepted the challenge, but they all lost in one blow.”
“Oh?”
Renbei-jyuku did not prohibit matches with students from other styles of fencing. The dojo even allowed matches using wooden swords, rather than bamboo. In the past, more than a hundred fencers had brashly come to Renbei-jyuku asking for a match and gone away with broken arms and legs, mostly at the hands of the Shitennô. That someone had bested them was quite a feat.
Daigo’s racing heart slowed to a quiet and steady beat. The seventeen-year-old possessed great poise, which was a result of years of training—and of something else.
“I will write a letter of apology to sensei today and deliver it later. Please just forget about me.”
With this, he tried to excuse himself, but Chizuru shot back, “The man was—looking for you.”
Daigo turned around. “Me?”
Chizuru nodded. “He asked for you by name. Then he refused to take off his cloak inside the dojo. That made Otsuka-san so angry, he wanted to break his arm.”
Then the Shitennô had all been defeated.
Daigo remembered that his mother had told him about seeing a man just outside their house. “He had a pale face and wore a cloak— No, he was Japanese. Oasa-san and Omichi-san were there with me by the well, but I was the only one who seemed to notice him looking at us. When I stared back at him suspiciously, he left right away. Daigo, you and your father are both men of the sword. You don’t know how many enemies you have. Please, be very careful.”
Could he have been the one to beat the Shitennô? Daigo searched his memories, but he could not recall anyone who fit that description.
“He said he would come again this afternoon. My father will probably fight him if you don’t come.”
“What?”
Everyone respected Isanosuke’s skill. However, it would have taken the Isanosuke of ten years ago to hold his own against the man who had defeated the Shitennô, and the Isanosuke of twenty years ago to have a chance of defeating him.
“How does he fight?”
“It was scary. He just stood at seigan. They attacked him first but couldn’t land a single hit. Then he beat them all with a single strike.”
Daigo looked at Chizuru. “If he asks for me, you can avoid a confrontation by telling him I’m not there. Your father must not fight him.”
“My father would rather die than turn his back on an opponent.”
A shadow stole over her face.
“But he never told me to find you. Coming here was my decision.”
“I know.”
Daigo knew that this was exactly how Isanosuke would handle the situation.
Who was this man who was so formidable with the sword? What kind of skill did he have? Daigo tried to fight back his rising curiosity.
“Still, we should avoid a confrontation altogether. And so, if you will excuse me,” he said abruptly.
For several moments, Chizuru watched him walk away. People passing by stared at the forlorn figure, standing alone in the cool morning air.
After returning home, Chizuru went to Akane’s room.
Akane was still in bed, a rare thing for a girl who could usually be seen taking a cold shower in the dead of winter as part of her training or swinging a wooden sword or sweating as she practiced her defensive falls. She had been acting strangely since that night at the count’s mansion. She wore a bandage on her neck, insisting it was a bug bite, but did not put any medicine on it. Chizuru wondered if she had been poisoned.
It was also troubling to see Akane look so unnaturally thin in just a day.
As Chizuru went to close the window, Akane called out, “Sister?”
“Hm?”
“Did you go to Daigo-san’s house?”