[Ding!]
[Congratulations! You've gained 0.1% Template Progress!]
[Ding!]
[Congratulations! You've acquired the skill: Swordsmanship Lv.1!]
[Ding!]
[Congratulations! You've awakened a Talent: Sword Heart!]
[Swordsmanship] — The true art of the blade: a harmony of technique, instinct, and killing intent.
[Sword Heart] — Enlightennt along the path of the sword; to understand the blade is to understand oneself.
Though it was rely 0.1%, for Yukinoshita Akira, it felt like a single drop of dew in a vast desert—reviving a long-lost sense of vitality within him.
And with that small advancent, he didn't just gain a skill.
He gained a soul.
Yukinoshita Akira was no longer the sa as before.
"Congratulations, Akira-kun. It seems your path of the sword has advanced another step," Saeko Busujima said with a gentle smile, watching as an invisible transformation unfolded before her eyes.
When Akira opened his eyes, a sharp aura—like a blade freshly drawn from its sheath—flared around him.
It was cutting, fierce, divine.
But then, in an instant, that aura vanished.
Gone, as though it had never existed.
Saeko's eyes widened.
Control like that wasn't sothing a beginner could achieve.
How could soone who had just touched enlightennt suppress such intensity so effortlessly?
Of course, if Yukinoshita Akira could hear her thoughts, he would probably just sigh.
After all, he was once a being who had stood among the Transcendents—those who walked beyond mortality itself.
Regulating his aura was as natural as breathing.
"I apologize for keeping you waiting, Busujima-san," he said calmly.
"Not at all. On the contrary, it's an honor to have witnessed your breakthrough firsthand," Saeko replied with sincerity.
Her humility ca from instinct, not courtesy. She was a true swordswoman—and for soone who lived by the sword, defeat was not humiliation, but a lesson.
Besides, ever since she was a child, she'd been told sothing by her father—as a woman born into the Busujima family, you must one day find a man who can surpass you in swordsmanship.
Only then would she find the one truly worthy of her.
anwhile, the other kendo mbers had fallen silent, heads bowed.
They all understood— their beloved captain, the goddess of the dojo, was no longer theirs to idolize.
"Can we talk privately for a mont? This place…" Akira glanced around lazily.
"Of course. If you don't mind, would you co to my room?" Saeko offered politely.
"Sure."
Akira nodded. He wasn't particularly bothered, but the stares around him made it feel as though he were so sort of caged beast on display.
Under the heavy gazes of the other club mbers, Saeko—their Buchou—walked toward her private office, followed closely by the man who had just defeated her.
With a firm slam, the door shut behind them.
Silence descended upon the dojo.
Everyone knew it, though none dared to say it aloud—
The goddess they had worshiped had just been claid by another.
And for n who could only love from afar, one instinct burned clearly within their hearts:
If you wish to conquer a strong woman—defeat her at what she's most proud of.
Inside the private room, Saeko turned toward him gracefully.
"As promised, Akira-kun—since I issued the challenge and lost, I owe you a favor. Is there anything I can do for you?"
"As the daughter of the Busujima family, I assu you have access to real katanas, correct?"
"Katana? Are you asking for a family heirloom? That's not impossible. We have quite a collection of historical blades."
"Not an heirloom. I only need one sword."
"One sword, hmm…"
"Yes. But it must be at least Sandō grade."
"Sandō…?"
As a descendant of a long line of sword masters, Saeko understood imdiately.
Sandō—the "three-body" grade—was an ancient term used for testing blades.
It referred to a sword sharp enough to cleave through three bodies in a single stroke.
In the past, the Busujima clan even kept their own tashigiri masters to test their weapons.
Even now, they still possessed a few blades of that level within their private collection.
But each one was priceless—not rely in gold, but in legacy.
"Is it too much to ask? If it's troubleso, forget it," Akira said casually.
"No. A promise is a promise. As a Busujima, I will not retract my word."
Her voice was firm, filled with the pride of her lineage. "A Sandō-grade blade will be delivered to you tomorrow morning."
"Thank you. In return, consider this as a favor owed."
"There's no need for that—"
"Please don't refuse. You and I both know what a blade of that level represents."
"...Very well," she said softly, "then I'll accept it—with gratitude."
"Good."
They exchanged faint smiles.
Though it was their first private conversation, there was already a quiet understanding between them—an unspoken mutual respect.
After a mont, Saeko began removing the protective gloves from her hands.
With elegant movents, she retrieved a tea set from the cabinet and a small pouch of fine tea leaves.
Akira watched in mild surprise as the swordswoman before him shifted into a graceful hostess, performing chado—the art of tea ceremony—with serene precision.
Even without speaking, the atmosphere softened. Her aura, which had monts ago felt sharp as a blade, now flowed as gentle as water.
"Please, Akira-kun," she said, offering him a cup.
The faint aroma of fresh tea filled the air. Akira took a slow sip.
He couldn't tell what made it special. He wasn't a tea enthusiast—his only reference ca from another woman's tea.
Akeno Hijima's brew was… far superior.
"You truly live up to your na, Busujima-san. A master of the sword, and of the tea as well," he said lightly.
"This is nothing much," she replied with a humble smile. "I imagine the tea brewed for you before must have tasted far better, right?"
"Eh? That's not what I ant—"
"I see… But that tea, the one that left such an impression… was it brewed by Yukinoshita Haruno, perhaps?"
"You an Haruno? No. She can't even brew tea."
Akira smiled faintly as he said it, his expression calm and detached.
Saeko noticed the subtle shift in his eyes—and smiled inwardly.
Though Yukinoshita Akira was technically engaged to Haruno, it was clear he didn't view her as his fiancée at all.
Which ant… there was still hope.
Yet as that faint hope began to bloom inside her, a shadow crossed her eyes.
Because Saeko Busujima, too, was human.
And no human…
—not even one as disciplined as her—
was ever truly without flaws.
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