Kazuha was confident that with his current skill in swordsmanship, he could hold his own against any master. Even if he could not win, relying on the power of his Anemo Vision and his exceptional speed, he could easily escape danger. He would never falter.
Except, of course, against that terrifying Raiden Shogun. Her mastery of the blade and her sheer power were on an entirely different level from ordinary martial artists. She was a god. A single strike from her could shake all of Inazuma.
When the swordsman learned that Kazuha wielded Anemo, he felt a flicker of disappointment but quickly set it aside. He drew his sword.
"Kazuha—if this were a life-or-death battle, and I was your opponent, how would you strike?"
Kazuha was taken aback. A life-or-death battle? He had not expected his friend to treat a sparring session so seriously. But as a wandering samurai, he too had honed his skills through real combat. He understood his friend's mindset.
"If it were life or death, I would let you strike first," Kazuha said seriously.
The swordsman was surprised. "Why?"
"Though we fought side by side once, I have never crossed blades with you. I don't know your swordsmanship. If you attack first, I can observe your weaknesses and then strike back swiftly and decisively."
This was Kazuha's usual fighting style. As an Anemo user, his drawing speed and striking speed were far faster than those of ordinary swordsmen. With this approach, he had achieved many victories in Inazuma.
Now, facing his friend, Kazuha's hand rested on his sword hilt, eager to begin.
The swordsman smiled. "Very well. I'll strike first. Here I come."
In an instant, he drew his sword with blinding speed. No unnecessary flourishes. He thrust straight at Kazuha's exposed face. The force was strong. The speed was fast.
An ordinary martial artist or a street thug in Inazuma City would have been hard-pressed to dodge. But Kazuha's Vision was also Anemo, and he excelled at speed. Facing this thrust, he did not panic. He did not counter immediately.
Instead, he stepped in place, drew his blade, and assumed a defensive stance.
The next moment, with a clang, the swordsman's sword met Kazuha's blade head-on. Both were pushed back several meters before stopping.
Kazuha could not help but praise, "Excellent. That thrust turned into a slash mid‑strike. Completely unexpected. A slower opponent would have fallen to that blow."
He was right. Though he had blocked it cleanly, he was still amazed by the unorthodox attack.
"Again," Kazuha said seriously.
Though he excelled at speed, against his friend he continued to adopt a defensive strategy, observing his swordsmanship to find openings.
The swordsman smiled. "Here it comes."
This time, he used a different approach. He swung from the side, chopping at Kazuha's flank. The momentum was immense.
In that moment, the sword in his hand seemed less like a sword and more like a sharp blade. The force of the swing reached Kazuha before the sword itself.
Kazuha's expression grew serious. As before, he drew his blade quickly, and with the momentum of the draw, he met the strike head-on.
With another clang, blade and sword collided. This time, neither was pushed back. They continued to attack.
The swordsman slashed horizontally, thrust straight, and struck from every angle, his speed surpassing the limits of the naked eye. Afterimages trailed in the air. Even Kazuha, who excelled at speed, struggled to keep up.
He could only follow the swordsman's rhythm, using his blade to parry and counter.
"Too slow—faster—you can still go faster."
The swordsman attacked relentlessly, urging Kazuha on. Their speed increased. Their pace quickened.
Anyone watching would have been astonished. Two young men, yet already so skilled.
Facing the swordsman's attacks, Kazuha was deeply impressed. He had known his friend was strong—slightly stronger than himself, in terms of pure martial skill. But he had not expected that his own speed, which he prided himself on, would pale in comparison. His blade could not keep up.
And what astonished him even more was that he could clearly feel his friend was not using his full strength. He was feeding Kazuha moves, helping him train.
Realizing this, Kazuha did not reject it. He followed his friend's rhythm, learning from the fight.
They fought from the cliff to the trees, from the trees to the hills. When the sparring session ended, both were drenched in sweat. They lay side by side on the grass before the cliff, gazing at the sky.
Kazuha panted. "You are better than me. If this had been a life‑or‑death battle, I would have died many times over. Thank you. I learned a great deal."
He reviewed the fight in his mind, every sword strike, every blade movement, wanting to swing faster.
The swordsman laughed. "Haha, don't exaggerate. We were evenly matched. Neither won, neither lost."
This was less a sparring session than a real battle. In the fight, the swordsman had been probing the limits of Kazuha's skill, increasing speed and intensity, pushing Kazuha to swing faster. Feeding him moves.
Of course, the swordsman had also learned much from this battle. His understanding of blade techniques had deepened. Most importantly, he had gained more experience fighting a master of the blade. And his resolve to challenge that strike grew stronger.
That strike—it might not be unreachable.