"Kisaragi Akira—don't you ever think about inheriting my legacy!"
Gripping his wooden sword in raw frustration, Kisaragi Akira marched forward. Only moments ago had he suddenly realized why Aizome Sōsuke had abandoned his usual low-profile attitude.
So this was what he had been waiting for.
A respectful connection between geniuses?
Tch—yeah right. That bastard was just trying to pitfall him!
Feeling all the bewildered eyes gathering around him, Aizome let out a helpless sigh. In hindsight, that flashy move he pulled earlier… might've been a bit too costly.
All this just to test Akira's real strength—he'd practically thrown himself into the fire.
But what could he do? His curiosity refused to die down.
After all, Akira was his only friend in the Spirit Arts Academy.
Akira… show me the true limit of your power.
Standing in front of Unohana Retsu, Kisaragi Akira's expression drooped miserably. In a tiny, pitiful voice, he muttered:
"Captain Unohana… that thing I said just now… it was just trash talk. I… I actually don't understand swordsmanship at all…"
Unohana gave him a soft smile. "Don't worry. True swordsmanship never lies."
The moment her words fell—
Kisaragi Akira saw Unohana shift from a one-handed grip to a two-handed stance.
The gentle aura she carried vanished instantly, replaced by a razor-sharp, bone-piercing menace.
Her warm smile slowly faded. Her eyes opened just a fraction wider. The once-gentle face became solemn, as cold and merciless as an asura. From beneath her uniform, an overwhelming killing intent flooded outward, leaking across the dojo floor.
It felt as though endless darkness spread from beneath her feet, turning the entire dojo into a hellscape. A frost so deep it could gnaw bone swallowed everything in its path. The oppressive pressure smothered the air in front of her.
The instant Kisaragi Akira made eye contact with her calm gaze, every danger sensor in his body screamed. A high-pitched buzzing tore through his nerves, threatening to snap them entirely.
In his vision, the harmless bamboo sword she held—when had it become stained with thick, coagulating blood?
Drip… drip… drip…
Unohana's lips still bore a slight smile, but none of the warmth remained.
What replaced it was pure, blazing murder.
Without hesitation—at the exact moment Akira tightened his grip on his bamboo sword—Unohana suddenly launched forward. Her foot tapped lightly on the floor, and her entire figure shot out like an arrow released from a bowstring.
The bamboo sword howled through the air.
The atmosphere groaned under the pressure, splitting as if cleaved open. Wind currents peeled apart on both sides.
She used no spiritual pressure.Nothing but pure swordsmanship and frightening combat experience.
And yet, the slash she unleashed was terrifying.
In an instant, the bamboo sword was already at arm's reach.
Akira's pupils shrank. His mind didn't even have time to think. His danger instincts erupted like a volcano, forcing him to unleash his strongest power on reflex.
Bamboo swords collided—sharp cracks echoing in rapid succession!
The two crossed past each other as Unohana halted her steps with elegant precision. Her toes rotated lightly against the wooden floor. Using the momentum of her turn, she pressed all her weight onto her bamboo sword and unleashed a downward diagonal strike.
Even then, she held back—matching her strength to Akira's current level.
Otherwise, he would have already been crushed in that very first exchange.
Yet even with her restraint, Unohana was still genuinely surprised.
This level of force didn't belong to someone at his stage. Even without spiritual pressure, his strikes carried a heaviness far beyond ordinary—
As if he were swinging not a bamboo sword, but a stone pillar.
Akira's pupils stayed contracted. After barely receiving the first strike, the second slash followed immediately, leaving no time to breathe.
The once-smooth bamboo sword now looked like a sharp iron spike aimed straight at his throat.
Akira held his breath, leaned his head back, and the bamboo sword sliced past, grazing his skin.
Only after narrowly surviving that blow did he realize—he absolutely could not treat himself like the average academy student.
Otherwise, he would die.Very quickly.
Even after only a short exchange, the spectators behind them were already slack-jawed.
With their limited understanding, they couldn't begin to process what they were witnessing.
Not long ago, Aizome Sōsuke's sword duel with Unohana had already exceeded what these elite students could comprehend.
But now—Kisaragi Akira versus Unohana Retsu?
This was on another level entirely.
Unohana had dropped all pretense of "instruction." Her bamboo sword moved with ruthless precision—one mistake, and Akira would be dead.
Aizome's eyes gleamed with rising excitement.
So this is your true ability?
Spiritual pressure, healing arts, swordsmanship, hand-to-hand combat, talismans, shallow-strike communication…
Akira… just how many secrets are you hiding?
At this moment, Aizome's curiosity reached its peak.
The sword duel continued.
Unohana offered Akira no rest. With a light step, she charged at him again.
This time, she altered her attack pattern.
As she closed the distance, her bamboo sword suddenly slowed.
The moment the first impact rang out—A rhythm spread through the dojo.
It felt like an ancient, heavy melody being performed before their eyes.Deep and resonant notes intertwined, each clash spreading a raw, vivid texture across the air.
The somber undertone carried a suffocating killing intent, drifting out like mist.
Just as Akira finally began adapting to her rhythm—
The sharp edge of her bamboo sword abruptly changed.
The melody surged upward—loud, fierce, and violently intense.
The crashing impacts transformed into a storm of relentless blows, each strike hammering the spectators' eardrums.
At this stage—
Akira felt the pressure multiply.Every time he received one of Unohana's slashes, his arms trembled and his hands numbed.
Fortunately—
The Heart of the Divine continued working faithfully.
Though he couldn't fully learn Unohana's techniques on the spot, absorbing fragments—little bits of insight—was not difficult at all.
Right now, Akira was like a shriveled sponge.
Desperately absorbing every drop of swordsmanship Unohana poured into him.
[Swordsmanship: LV32 → LV43 → LV47 → LV52 → LV56…]
His skill level skyrocketed.
And Unohana noticed.
From barely holding on—To flowing like water.
Akira's swordsmanship leapt from upper-middle tier… to top-tier mastery.
[Swordsmanship: LV60!]
In just a few minutes, he skipped several major levels—reaching a realm even seasoned officers or vice-captains struggled to attain.
When their bamboo swords crossed and locked evenly for the first time—
A faint smile curved on Unohana's lips.
In that moment, she realized—
The boy before her was a genuine, peerless swordsmanship prodigy.
And with that realization—
The once-silent heat in her heart reignited.