Chapter 174: The Levels of Training
"...So you are planning to leave?"
Washizu didn’t sound angry.
On the contrary, there was a faint trace of relief in his voice.
Although Yasumoto hadn’t inherited everything from Miss Naoko, he was undeniably gifted in dicine.
Perhaps that was one of the reasons she had chosen him as her apprentice in the first place.
It would be a waste—no, a cri—to let talent like that be buried in a dying village.
"...If even I leave, then this village..."
Yasumoto didn’t finish the sentence.
But both of them understood what he ant.
In a way, Yasumoto was the final pillar propping up Higi Village.
If even he left... then that would be the true end.
"...Sigh."
Washizu simply let out a long breath.
He said no more.
It was selfish, maybe—But deep down, he still hoped Yasumoto would stay.
—
After the flyers were distributed, the village reacted in all sorts of ways.
So were joyful—especially the native Higi Villagers.
Most of them had never had much direct conflict with the Shogunate and still held onto a faint hope that the Tenryou Commission might actually have a conscience.
Others were fearful—refugees and miners from Tatarasuna, who knew the Shogunate all too well.
They had seen what "order" looked like when enforced by the blade.
To them, the Resistance—despite its chaos—was a more trustworthy evil.
And then... there were those who simply stared, expressionless.
Their eyes began to flicker with sothing strange—A glassy, vacant light.
They no longer looked at their neighbors with warmth or familiarity, only unease.
They were already too far gone.
The Tatarigami’s influence had eaten away at their hearts.
After finishing the distribution, Yasumoto rolled his cart toward the village gate.
Waiting there patiently, standing under the rain, was the girl—Or rather... the boy.
Gorou.
"Miss, co with . It’s not safe here."
Yasumoto’s voice was low as he cast a glance over his shoulder, where a few scruffy-looking refugees had started trailing behind them with shifty eyes.
Because of Miss Naoko, Yasumoto still had so influence in Higi Village.
So long as those refugees retained even a sliver of reason, they wouldn’t dare attack an innocent so close to him.
They still needed his "dicine," after all.
At this point, Gorou considered revealing his identity.
But just as he was about to open his mouth—A familiar, annoyingly cheerful voice rang out beyond the village boundary.
"Miss Hina! There you are! I was so worried!"
It was Bai Luo.
He ca rushing toward them, a bag slung over his back—the sa bag that held Gorou’s original clothes.
He looked like he’d been searching frantically, and now he was examining Gorou from head to toe, as if checking for injuries.
Gorou: "..."
His mouth opened—
Then closed.
He said nothing.
Instead, he just stood silently behind Bai Luo, expression blank like soone whose soul had quietly ascended to the heavens.
Change out of this outfit?
Dream on.
See, the thing about crossdressing...
Once you’ve done it once, it’s easier the second ti.
Then the third.
Then...
So Bai Luo’s little trick had worked perfectly.
Now ca the second phase.
Get Gorou used to the outfit.
How?
Simple.
Have him maintain the appearance in front of strangers.
Continuously.
The more he was seen as a girl, the more natural it would feel.
Eventually, he wouldn’t even flinch when addressed as "Miss."
And once Gorou could appear in front of strangers—or even acquaintances—without hesitation in his female guise, then the training could be considered partially complete.
The final sign of progress?
If, without any prompting from Bai Luo, Gorou willingly dressed himself in those clothes—
Then true success would be near.
As for total success...
Heh.
That would co later.
"You’re a friend of... Miss Hina?"
Yasumoto eyed Bai Luo’s eccentric clothing but didn’t find it unusual.
As ntioned before, the wandering swordsman aesthetic had beco sothing of a fad in Inazuma.
Even Inazuma City itself had begun selling replica garnts.
So no—nothing about Bai Luo looked out of place.
The Tenryou Commission had tried to cause trouble before, but their hands were tied.
The store in question was perfectly legal—just a clothing shop.
And selling red kimono dresses, no matter how conspicuous, wasn’t a cri.
So in the end, they had to drop it.
"Yes, our dear Miss Hina is a light novel enthusiast," Bai Luo explained cheerfully.
"She ca to Yashiori Island for... research! But the mont she went to change clothes—poof, she vanished! I was worried sick."
As he spoke, Bai Luo gave Gorou a discreet "shush" gesture.
At first, Gorou was confused.
But when he heard the next sentence, he understood Bai Luo’s real intention.
"So, what happened to this village? I rember it used to be bustling. Why is it like this now...?"
Ah, so that’s it—Himura-san was trying to gather intel.
Thinking back on it, it was Yasumoto who had cald the nearly-insane village chief.
It was Yasumoto who had delivered dicine with a handcart.
And now it was Yasumoto who remained as the only person in the village with a clear mind.
Impressive as always, Himura-san.
He instantly saw through Yasumoto’s significance.
Compared to that... His obsession with changing out of the outfit really was shortsighted.
It’s just a dress.
For the greater good... I’ll endure it.
I’m a general of Watatsumi Island, damn it.
I’ve faced storms and bloodshed—what’s a little frill and lace?
Even if I must shed my armor and don red silks, I’ll still stand tall!
Resolving himself, Gorou shifted posture and stood behind Bai Luo with a deliberately delicate, demure air—like a shy young lady.
"...?"
The move left Bai Luo montarily stunned.
What the heck?
What’s gotten into him?
When did my "training" skill level up to MAX?
It hasn’t even been that long—why’s he already skipping stages?
"Let’s head to my place first. It’s not safe to talk here."
Yasumoto’s voice dropped as his eyes flicked toward the lurking refugees in the distance, their gazes sharp and hungry.
If he didn’t get these two out of here, who knew what those half-insane villagers might do?
Several people had already gone missing under similar circumstances.
Bai Luo and Gorou exchanged a glance.
Neither protested.
They followed Yasumoto through the wet, muddied path.
Surprisingly, Yasumoto’s ho wasn’t located inside Higi Village.
What shocked Gorou even more—It was right behind the Resistance camp on the far side of the hill.
He suddenly recalled that so scouts had reported an isolated household in the area.
But after checking, they’d found only a seemingly harmless local and left him alone.
To think that "local" had been Yasumoto all along.
"Here we are," Yasumoto said, pushing the cart beneath the rain shelter.
"If you don’t mind the humble setting, please co in and have so tea."
He wiped the rain off his face and welcod them warmly.
Yasumoto’s house wasn’t large.
Like the rest of Higi Village, it was a thatched-roof cottage—Most likely built with help from villagers.
The small yard was filled with ceramic jars and bowls—likely used for drying or storing herbs.
But what drew the most attention was the pile of violet lon skins in one corner.
Drenched in the rain, they released a dark purple liquid that flowed down the drainage ditch—A strangely vivid, almost grotesque scene.
In contrast, the interior of the house was surprisingly tidy.
The roof had been reinforced with waterproof lining, and despite its modest size, the house had been divided into three rooms.
The two bedrooms were small—each barely large enough for a single bed—Yet the space felt strangely comforting.
It was clear Yasumoto had gone out of his way to keep the place neat.
Still, there were subtle traces that hinted at a woman’s presence.
A faint scent of dicine lingered in the air—So strong it nearly masked the plum blossom fragrance of Bai Luo’s Myriad Manifestation Umbrella.
. . . . .
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