Kenji
Yushiro and the old man locked eyes. Amusement flickered in Yushiro's gaze, while the captain's expression held something closer to curiosity. The tension between them thickened like storm clouds.
Without warning, Yushiro flicked his wrist—stones shot from his palm in a sudden burst, reigniting the battle.
The old man barely moved. He dodged some and deflected others with casual grace, his focus never breaking. Yushiro feigned a charge, then pivoted at the last second, circling instead. He stayed in constant motion—darting across the room, leaping from tables to stools, vaulting the bar, flipping midair while launching projectiles. At one point, he even kicked a stool into the air and sent it spinning toward the captain.
Show-off.
The old man sidestepped it effortlessly and used the moment to reclaim his spear. With a single, fluid motion, he spun it in his grip, knocking away more incoming stones with ease.
Taka groaned as he pushed himself up, blood dripping from his nose to the floor. He touched it, looked at his hand—stained crimson. He retrieved his katana, gripping the hilt tighter than before.
He glanced around, assessing the situation. I patted his shoulder. He looked at me. We nodded.
Yushiro, who'd kept the captain busy, landed lightly beside us.
"He's good," he said with an easy smile.
Taka scowled. "Then why wait so long to join in?"
"I didn't want to," Yushiro replied with a shrug. Still grinning.
Taka glared at him, but I stepped between them. "Focus. We need to take this old man down."
Taka exhaled sharply and nodded. "He's faster and more skilled," he muttered, wiping blood from his face.
"You scared, Blondie?" Yushiro teased, tilting his head. "Not that it matters. I don't think he's taking us seriously."
"Then let's change that," I said, grinning. "We go all out."
Hashi surged through me, a flood of raw power. My limbs ignited with energy.
Without hesitation, Taka and Yushiro launched the first attack.
We moved in sync—Taka's katana slashed in a deadly arc while Yushiro swept low for the legs. The old man ducked beneath Taka's blade, his movements impossibly smooth.
Then something changed.
A faint green glow pulsed around his hand. The Hashi. I felt it. Dense. Alive. My skin prickled from the pressure alone.
Taka and Yushiro pulled back instinctively.
I lunged forward, aiming a clean thrust at his chest.
The captain clapped the flat of my blade.
The force jolted through my arms. My sword ripped from my hands and spun across the tavern. A second later, the back of his hand cracked across my jaw—I flew into a table, splintering it beneath me.
Taka and Yushiro didn't hesitate.
"Way of Nature Technique:Mountain-Splitting Wave!"
"Way of Nature Technique:Soaring Waterfall Slash!"
Yushiro brought his katana down in a brutal overhead arc as Taka flashed in with a blinding draw-slash.
The captain's spear danced between their blades, deflecting with pinpoint precision. Trails of energy shimmered with each block. Yushiro unleashed a flurry of rapid cuts—but none broke through. With a swift counter, the old man struck again.
Taka slammed into the wall, hard.
The captain exhaled, standing tall, for the first time... mildly interested.
"I'm done playing," he muttered.
Then he vanished.
He reappeared in front of Taka a split second later.
Taka barely got his sword up before the captain's strike crashed into him, sending him through a table and chairs with a deafening crack.
I scrambled out of the wreckage and charged again, swinging wildly, trying to land even one hit.
A whisper cut the air—"Blade Rotation."
He spun on the spot. My blade was deflected instantly.
The spear lunged. Hashi erupted from its tip in a focused burst—I flew back across the tavern floor, rolling to a stop.
The captain's gaze swept the room. "Where's the third one?"
Yushiro emerged from the shadows, katana drawn.
He struck. Steel met spear in a burst of sparks.
They clashed in a whirlwind of movement—Yushiro was relentless, fast, stylish. But the captain was faster.
With a final spin, the captain pinned Yushiro's katana to the floor.
The fight was over.
Still smiling, Yushiro let go of the hilt. "Well, that was fun."
The captain looked at him, slightly surprised. Then he sighed and rested his spear on his shoulder. His posture relaxed—bored again.
He glanced around at the three of us, sprawled and groaning.
"You're nothing special," he said flatly. "But you're good enough to fight."
From the sidelines, Marko and Truth exchanged wide-eyed glances. The tavern, large enough to seat sixty, was half wrecked. Broken wood, bent chairs, spilled drinks—evidence of the storm we just endured.
Taka and I groaned as we stood.
The captain scratched the back of his head and sighed. "I'm Lucas Alexandrite. Captain of Division 4." His gaze swept across us with zero enthusiasm. "Welcome to Division 4, you brats."
I scowled. I already didn't like the guy—but I had to respect the strength.
Annette stepped forward, hands glowing with Hashi Arts. She began healing our wounds, the pain fading into a dull ache.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Lucas grab a barrel of alcohol and head upstairs.
Truth sighed. "Sorry about him."
Annette dusted her hands. "Please follow me."
We followed her up a narrow flight of stairs to the second floor. A dim hallway led us to our quarters.
The room was small and simple—two bunk beds, a single window, moonlight spilling across the floor in a soft glow.
The second my head hit the pillow, exhaustion claimed me.
Sleep took me instantly.