How did it come to this?
Inside the humble Furutsu home, three people sat around a small wooden tea table.
Budō cleared his throat softly. "So… yes. Allow me to make proper introductions."
He pointed toward his daughter, who was blushing furiously and staring intensely at the floorboards.
"This is my youngest daughter, Mikan. She's been a Martial Apprentice for about two years now… turning twenty-one next spring."
"Nice to meet ya," she mumbled in a tiny, uncharacteristically timid squeak.
"Ahem." Budō straightened his posture. "Mikan, this is Lord Hideyoshi Toyotomi. He is a noble from the Kinzoku Clan."
Hideyoshi still had the widest, most absurd smile plastered across his face. "You flatter me too much, father-in-law! The pleasure is all mine!" He reached out eagerly. "Mikan… what a magnificent name!"
She hesitated, then timidly offered just her pinky finger.
Hideyoshi immediately seized both her hands, cupping them warmly in his own. "Tell me about your martial path! And, Mikan… are you seeing anyone?"
"Uh—well, it's Mobile Pressure… and no, I don't—well, maybe? No—hehe…" she babbled nervously.
CRASH.
Everyone froze. A sharp, suffocating trace of killing intent rippled through the small room.
They turned toward the kitchen doorway.
"Oh dear," Nashi said mildly, staring down at the shattered pottery and spilled soup on the floor. "How clumsy of me. How could I have possibly dropped that?"
She was smiling, but the air around her was suddenly heavy, dark, and terrifying.
"Was it just my imagination," she continued softly, "or did I hear someone refer to you as father-in-law, dear?"
"…That's not possible, right?"
Budō was already on his feet, cold sweat pouring down his neck. "C-calm down, dear," he whispered urgently. "Let's… let's talk about this outside, alright?"
"…Fine." Nashi smiled again, bowing politely to Hideyoshi. "Apologies for my rudeness."
The wooden sliding door opened, cool air rushing into the entryway as they stepped into the yard.
"Dear, I'm telling you," Budō began rapidly, "Lord Toyotomi is a very polite young man! He's not like other nob—"
CRACK.
Budō moved instantly, a blur of motion.
Rubble and sharp gravel flew past them as he stepped in front of Nashi, shielding her completely with his body. The flying stones clattered harmlessly against his back.
"Who did that?!" Budō growled, spinning around.
His jaw dropped.
"Who is it, dear?" Nashi asked calmly behind him.
Standing in the center of the yard was their son. Merun was casually holding an unconscious young man in a noble's dougi by the collar.
Unfortunately… that unconscious man looked horribly familiar. Wasn't that the axe-wielding nobleman Mikan had sent flying into the rice fields earlier?
"…Merun," Budō said weakly.
The boy turned his head. "Ah! Father! Mother!"
He let go of the collar. The noble hit the dirt with a dull thud, his wrapped weapon thumping into the soil beside him.
Merun glanced at his parents' stunned expressions and scratched the back of his neck.
"…Oh. This?" he offered sheepishly. "I can explain!"
———
Hmm… somehow I get the feeling that goody-two-shoes noble inside is terrifyingly strong, Merun thought. Despite that goofy smile, his presence feels… familiar. Weird.
They invited me inside for tea, buuut I had better plans.
"Ugh… where am I? Why am I facing the dirt?!"
Finally. The guy was awake.
"You're awake, sleepyhead!" I said cheerfully.
He seethed, trying to move. "Get off me!"
I crossed my legs. Then my arms. "Hmmm… let me think about it…"
"What was it you wanted again?"
The guy pushed himself up off the ground—with me sitting on his back like he was a lawn chair.
He twisted violently, driving a sharp elbow toward my head.
Hmm. Alright. Dodge time.
From my seated position, I hopped straight up, let the strike breeze past, and landed back squarely on his shoulder blades with both feet.
I stood there, arms folded, Piccolo-style.
Damn. If only there were onlookers. They'd be internally screaming about aura right now.
Mental note: ask the village craftsman for a weighted white cape.
Okay, I should probably stop messing with him. He looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.
I leaped off and landed a few paces away.
Ignoring his bright red face, I asked, "So what's your name, uncle?"
"FUCKING PEASANT! We're the same age! Sixteen!" he bellowed, veins popping on his forehead.
Granted, I was technically eleven. But my Saiyan physiology had matured my body to look mid-teens—somewhere around Gohan during the Cell Games saga, except my black hair cascaded all the way down to meet my tail.
Still, it was hilarious that he was more offended by being called old than by me using him as a bench.
Honestly? For a sixteen-year-old, he looked like he'd worked ten years of customer service back on Earth.
"Alright," I said smoothly. "So what's up, uncle?"
He was huffing now, his face purpling. I stepped forward and lightly poked his forehead.
"Calm down there, old man. You're starting to look like an heirloom tomato!"
"ENOUGH!"
He exploded forward.
A flurry of fists tore through the air, each punch breaking the sound barrier with a sharp whip-crack. None of them touched me, but I could hear them whizzing past like rifle rounds.
…This guy's actually pretty solid.
"Are you trying to tickle me, uncle?"
"RAAAAAAH!"
He roared, his attacks coming faster, sharper, and heavier.
No doubt about it, he was escalating rapidly. But to my eyes?
It was like watching cars attempt to drag race in a crowded parking lot. Still ridiculously slow.
While swaying around his punches, something caught my eye in the grass nearby.
Oh. I have a great idea.
———
WHY. AREN'T. MY. STRIKES. LANDING?!
THIS PEASANT IS SLIPPERY AS AN EEL! THIS ISN'T NORMAL!
IF ONLY I HAD MY WEAPON—
My ONYX TIGER MASAKARI.
BASTARD.
HE KEEPS CALLING ME OLD.
ME?! KATSUI SHIBATA?! A NOBLE OF THE ILLUSTRIOUS SHIBATA LINE?!
TOYED WITH BY A COUNTRYSIDE PEASANT?! UNFORGIVABLE!
Should I use that technique?
…No. Not yet.
Katsui forced his breathing to steady.
There's no reason to lose control over a peasant. Father always said they know no better. The estate maids always called me 'young master,' didn't they? He's just ignorant.
Just look at that smug, punchable smile…
I'll pretend to tire out. The second he drops his guard, I end this.
Then—the brat picked something up off the ground.
With his tail.
He held it out, offering it forward.
"Here's your walking stick," the boy said pleasantly. "Isn't this yours, old man?"
My Masakari.
"BASTARD! YOU DARE DESECRATE MY PRECIOUS ONYX TIGER MASAKARI?!"
Finally.
I watched as he unwrapped the heavy weapon.
It had a long shaft of polished orange wood, inlaid with twisting gold line-work. A tassel of green horsetail hair was bound tightly beneath the massive axe head. The blade itself was pitch-black onyx—one side brutal and heavy, the other carved with delicate floral patterns.
…It was genuinely gorgeous.
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. Katsui's eyes narrowed, locked onto me with absolute focus.
For someone who had been red-faced and screaming a second ago, his energy suddenly condensed into something deadly quiet.
My tail shivered violently.
Instinctively. I leaped backward without thinking.
SLICE.
A deep, jagged trench ripped through the earth where I had stood, as wide as a grown man's torso.
My tail shivered again.
I ducked flat.
The expected blade sweep never came—he aborted the swing mid-motion and instead drove the blunt butt of the shaft straight at my chest.
I threw up my arms to guard at the last microsecond.
BOOOM.
The kinetic force skidded me backward several meters, my feet carving deep grooves into the dirt.
Holy shit. Steam rose off my forearms where the hilt had made contact.
…He's the real deal. Either my tail failed to warn me in time, or that second strike carried zero killing intent. I'd have to test that later.
"…You," Katsui growled, lowering his body into a heavy stance. "Who are you? How did you block that?"
"Well, you see," I said cheerfully, "if you put your arms up like this, you block the heavy hit!"
"Cut the foolishness!" he roared. "I am a peak Martial Apprentice! I refuse to believe a rural brat could pull that off. Which clan do you belong to?!"
I shrugged. "I dunno. Make me talk. Old man."
That was the final straw. Katsui threw his head back and laughed—a hideous sound as veins swelled along his neck and forearms.
His eyes turned bloodshot. A thick, crimson aura flared violently around his body.
…Shit. What are the odds?
So this old uncle grandpa is a Kinzoku Divine Arsenal user too.
"I see you recognize this technique," Katsui said, his voice echoing with restrained violence. He swung his axe casually, the pressure wave alone felling a line of small saplings nearby.
"First," he continued calmly, "I am going to beat you within an inch of your life. And maybe sever that filthy tail of yours."
"Nooo! Please, anything but my tail!" I clutched it dramatically.
"…Second," he said, his eyes turning arctic cold, "I will find the girl who knocked me out… and take her home with me."
"..."
What.
The fuck.
Did this fucker just say?