At the end of the day, for creatures that worship strength, words are the palest thing in the world.
Like two male lions meeting on the plains—what decides their standing is never who roars louder, or whose mane looks finer.
It's whose fangs and claws are sharper—sharp enough to tear open the other's throat.
Amou Zanzan understood that better than anyone. More than that, as a martial fanatic, she was a zealous believer in that creed.
"A wise choice."
"Your desire has reached me."
"Right now, you're still an uncut stone."
"But follow me, and one day—even the gods above will be forced to marvel at your edge."
"Now, stand."
After speaking, Haimer turned his gaze toward the glass window. His sight seemed to pass through layers of school buildings and settle on a quiet corner deep within the academy.
There—
A presence, faint to the point of near invisibility, yet keen as a needle, was probing this way.
Meanwhile, Zanzan didn't waste time on embarrassment. She rose cleanly, wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth with casual contempt.
"Next," Haimer said, "come with me to meet the others."
He didn't bother with more words. He turned and walked.
Zanzan blinked, then took two quick steps after him, her tone still dripping with unapologetic arrogance.
"Others?"
"In this academy… are there really people worthy of your attention?"
It wasn't pride for pride's sake.
It was a statement backed by reality.
After all, in the school she'd ruled for so long, the so-called Five Swords Under Heaven had all fallen beneath her.
In response—
"Who is qualified isn't for you to decide," Haimer's calm voice floated back.
"It's for me."
Zanzan immediately swallowed her doubt and followed, obedient in a way that didn't match her usual nature.
Because—
This was the judgment of a god stronger than she was.
…
The corridor of Aichi Coexistence Academy was wide and bright.
But now it lay in an unnatural hush.
The sky-crushing divine pressure from earlier had been withdrawn, yet the lingering terror still drove ordinary students to hide in their classrooms, afraid to show their faces.
In the hallway, only two figures walked—one ahead, one behind.
Their footsteps echoed sharply in the silence.
"They're here."
Haimer stopped abruptly, looking toward the corner at the far end of the corridor.
Two figures blocked the only path forward.
On the left—
A girl with short black hair, dressed in the academy's black uniform with a red collar.
What caught the eye was the white Hannya mask covering the upper half of her face.
Twisted. Grimacing. Ominous.
It hid her features completely, leaving only a pair of bottomless eyes and tightly pressed lips exposed.
Her right thumb rested against the guard of the katana at her waist.
The blade was drawn a finger's breadth—cold light glinting.
A ready stance. One breath from an instant draw.
Compared to her—
The girl half a step behind her right shoulder carried far less presence.
Short pink hair. A black baton clutched in both hands.
She wore the same uniform and even had a badge at her chest symbolizing rank, yet her darting eyes and trembling legs betrayed her unease.
Oniwa Rin.
One of the core members of the Five Swords Under Heaven who ruled this academy.
And her follower—
The Five Swords' vice-seat.
Mozunotori Nono.
Haimer recognized them with a single glance.
…
"Stop!"
"You—an unfamiliar man."
"How did you get into this academy?"
"And…"
Rin's gaze slid past Haimer, locking onto Amou Zanzan behind him.
Through the eyeholes of the mask, her pupils visibly tightened.
"Amou Zanzan…"
"You're actually following behind this man?"
"That's not like you."
Rin found it absurd.
The Empress who looked down on everyone, who had defeated every Sword in the school one after another—now walked half a step behind this man.
Rin had never seen Zanzan stand like that.
Not even in front of the principal.
"What I do has anything to do with you?" Zanzan snapped, a thin, violent edge sliding into her eyes.
"Move."
"I don't have time to play house with children."
She had just found a new target called "god," and her blood was still running hot with fanatic excitement.
Now, being questioned by a former defeated opponent only made her itch to crush them.
In front of Haimer she was docile like a cat.
That didn't mean she'd lost her claws in front of anyone else.
Her barely restrained brutality threatened to spill over again.
"House?" Rin's voice rose, clearly stung.
"That kind of phenomenon just happened. The whole academy is now at maximum alert."
"As one of the Five Swords, it's my duty to eliminate all uncertain factors."
"Amou Zanzan—whether it's you or not—you can't ignore school rules at a time like this."
Her fingers tightened slightly against the guard.
"And…"
"That man's aura is dangerous."
"I have to confirm his identity."
Rin's stare pinned Haimer in place.
That sharp instinct earned a flicker of Haimer's respect.
Animals confronted with apex predators tended to do one of two things: flee, or fight to the death.
Rin had chosen the latter.
"Investigate?" Zanzan scoffed, already stepping forward to teach the insolent fool a lesson—
But a hand cut across her path.
Haimer stopped her.
After all, he'd come to recruit.
Since they'd run into each other, he might as well try.
Rin's talent with the sword wasn't bad. She met the threshold.
But—
Rin's heart as a swordswoman was a mess.
Haimer's memory, combined with what he knew, made the reason painfully clear:
She wore the mask because her mother hated the resemblance between Rin and the father who had run away with a lover. As a child, her mother had forced her to wear the mask, and even after leaving home for school, Rin never broke the habit.
That was a problem.
Because it ran directly against the principles of the school of swordsmanship she practiced—
Kashima Shinden Jikishinkage-ryu.
That ancient tradition emphasized spiritual cultivation through tempering one's courage and heart.
Its teachings—recorded in the manual known as Ten Evils Are Not—explicitly forbade ten defects of character, such as arrogance, greed, fear, and the like.
Training required inner discipline and personal refinement, insisting that true swordsmanship could only advance alongside moral growth.
In the Edo period, practitioners sought the state of "sword and Zen as one," merging wooden-sword practice with meditative insight.
And yet—
Rin was walking the opposite direction.
She hid behind a mask, using ugliness as a false shelter.
That wasn't strength.
It was escape.
And a sword would never smile on those who ran.
-------
My : pat*eon*com/RuneA
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