Chapter 20

Harold belatedly recalled that Erika did, in fact, have an older brother. He’d forgotten because Itsuki only appeared in side content completely detached from the main plot—in the game, even his name had remained a mystery.

Thinking about it logically, however, if Erika were an only child, her marriage would signal the end of the Sumeragi bloodline. Since a family wouldn't agree to an engagement so easily under those circumstances, Harold realized that failing to account for a brother had been a serious blunder on his part.

Not that the existence of a brother was a problem in itself. What he hadn't expected was that Itsuki Sumeragi would turn out to be such a textbook case of a sister complex.

Dealing with the man—who currently wore a dark, ominous smirk—seemed like it was going to be an incredible pain.

"I’ve heard all about you. Come, let’s test your mettle."

Itsuki’s eyes were those of a predator stalking its prey. While his behavior was the definition of a misplaced grudge, and Harold wanted nothing to do with him, he forced himself to agree for the sake of gaining precious combat experience.

"Keep your hands off me, you small fry."

In his head, Harold just wanted to say, 'My shoulder hurts, so could you please let go?' He had no intention of picking a fight.

However, as long as he was cursed with this mouth, a hostile atmosphere was unavoidable. The proverb "The mouth is the source of calamity" felt like a divine revelation to him.

"So, you’re eager then. Good. Go and get ready."

While internally recoiling from Itsuki’s deepening smile, Harold followed his lead to the changing room. His current British-inspired attire was hardly suited for movement, so he changed into the provided gear: a stark white training top and deep indigo hakama, cutting a figure much like a traditional archer.

When Harold returned, Tasuku, Itsuki, and the observers in the second-floor gallery momentarily caught their breath.

A boy only 140 centimeters tall stood before them in a brand-new, spotless uniform. Yet, his movements showed no sign of a novice's hesitation. Instead, Harold radiated a razor-sharp pressure that made the skin prickle.

"Is this the 'weapon'?"

Harold grabbed a shinai from the wall, identical to the one Itsuki held.

He gave it a light experimental swing. It was so light he felt the illusion that it had no weight at all. He whipped the bamboo sword through the air, the "whish-whish" of the blade cutting through the silence.

His swordplay was sharp and fluid, enough to make the onlookers widen their eyes. Witnessing it, Itsuki let out a small breath of admiration.

He had heard the rumors, but seeing Harold’s skill in person forced him to revise his assessment; he couldn't afford to be careless. From Itsuki's perspective, Harold was a loathsome brat trying to steal his beloved sister, but he could honestly respect a ten-year-old who had forged himself into such a weapon.

At the same time, a spark of anticipation flared within him. Perhaps he could actually enjoy this.

When it came to the sword, Itsuki was a prodigy, perhaps even a genius. Consequently, even now, he could hold his own against grown men. On the flip side, the gap between him and other children his age was so vast that they couldn't even compete.

It would be a lie to say he had never felt lonely. Somewhere in his heart, he had been searching for a rival close to him in both age and skill.

And now, an opponent who might actually fit that description stood before him. If only Harold weren't Erika's fiancé, Itsuki would have welcomed him with open arms.

"It’s nothing more than a stick."

That was Harold’s only comment after testing the shinai.

It was a harsh critique, but to Harold, who had been training with a heavy steel sword, the bamboo felt practically weightless.

"Now then, are you ready?" Tasuku asked.

"Don't ask stupid questions. Just start."

Harold’s reply was so arrogant it was almost refreshing.

Deep down, he was nervous. Terrified, even. Itsuki didn't exist in the original game, but he was a human living in an RPG world where magic and monsters were the norm. Anyone considered "strong" in this world was a monster in their own right.

Under normal circumstances, a guy who had lived a soft life in modern Japan wouldn't stand a chance. However, Harold trusted this body.

While his mouth—which spewed nothing but insults and provocations—was a constant headache, this high-spec body allowed him to perform movements and techniques that would have been impossible for his former self. It was his greatest weapon.

When he closed his eyes, the image of the original Harold’s combat style surfaced vividly. He remembered the overwhelming speed and skill that had crushed him during his first playthrough.

The vessel he now inhabited was destined to reach that level. And if he could control it with his own will—

(I don't feel like I'll lose.)

A fierce light ignited in Harold’s eyes. He stared straight at Itsuki, his gaze predatory.

Sensing the shift in atmosphere, Tasuku began the final confirmation.

"The weapon is the shinai. Attacks to vital points, including the head and face, are prohibited. Magic is forbidden. There is no time limit. The match ends when one side is incapacitated or surrenders. Otherwise, treat this as a real battle. Any objections?"

"None."

"And you call that 'real battle'? How soft," Harold sneered.

"You may be dissatisfied, but I must avoid serious injury at all costs. Unless you’d prefer to wear heavy protective gear?"

"...Fine. I'll play by your rules for today."

In truth, Harold was relieved by the proposal, though he kept his face a mask of reluctant disdain. Tasuku, sensing the hidden compliance, felt a secret wave of relief.

He knew exactly how strong Itsuki was. His son’s skill was comparable to a seasoned soldier; without restrictions, he risked seriously injuring Harold. It wouldn't do to harm the heir of House Stokes—especially not when that house was currently funding them.

Itsuki understood his father’s concerns without a word being said. If he could, he would have fought with everything he had, but their positions made that impossible.

Fine, Itsuki thought. I'll cross swords with him as best I can within these limits.

Because of that thought, an unexpected offer left his lips.

"I'll give you the first move. Give me your best shot."

Itsuki didn't mean to look down on the boy. He simply wanted to see Harold’s full power, knowing he himself would have to hold back. It was an apology of sorts to a fellow warrior who clearly wanted a serious fight.

"..."

Harold didn't react to the provocation. He merely quirked a single eyebrow.

Whether that was cool indifference or a simmering, quiet anger, no one could tell.

As Tasuku and the others retreated to the wall, a broad-shouldered man took his place as referee between the two combatants. Once he confirmed they were both in their starting stances, he gave the signal.

"Both sides, ready... Begin!"

The moment the command left his lips, Harold took the initiative. That much was expected.

What was not expected was his speed.

Harold lunged with such velocity that his form seemed to blur out of existence. He closed the distance in a heartbeat.

"Wha—!?"

Itsuki wasn't the only one to gasp. Nearly everyone watching either shared his shock or stared in silence, doubting their own eyes. Even if Yuno had been there—the only person who had seen Harold’s speed before—she would have been just as stunned. In the month since she had seen him last, his movements had become even sharper, his speed significantly more refined.

Caught completely off guard, a proper response was impossible. The fact that Itsuki managed to even reflexively shift into a defensive guard was a testament to his own skill.

But that was all he could do. A sharp crack of bamboo echoed through the dojo. In the wake of the sound, a single shinai clattered to the floor.

Itsuki stood there, empty-handed.

While the gallery remained speechless, Harold slowly lowered his weapon and spat out a sneer.

"If this were a real deathmatch, you’d be dead. Be grateful I wasn't serious."

It sounded like sarcasm, but to Itsuki, it also carried a note of genuine disappointment. He clenched his right hand—which was still numb from the force of the disarm—and swallowed his regret.

"...You're right. I apologize for underestimating you."

The remorse Itsuki felt wasn't for Harold; it was for himself. He was ashamed of his own arrogance. He had told himself not to be careless, yet he had unconsciously looked down on the boy anyway.

Now, he understood why Harold was disappointed.

(He's looking for a rival he can fight at full power. Just like I was.)

Itsuki imagined if the roles were reversed. If someone had held back against him like that, he would have been furious. Perhaps Harold had poured that frustration into that single, blinding strike.

Itsuki’s kinetic vision had just barely managed to track the movement. If he wasn't mistaken, Harold had intentionally aimed for the shinai, changing his trajectory to match Itsuki’s guard perfectly just to disarm him. He could have struck the body or the hands, but he chose the weapon—an implicit demand for Itsuki to take this seriously.

In reality, Harold just didn't have the heart to actually beat down a "child." His mental age was nearly twenty; he couldn't bring himself to injure a kid, even if he was trying to overcome that hesitation.

"And now, I have a request," Itsuki said, his voice firm. "Please, give me a real fight."

"Are you an idiot? That was the point of this from the beginning."

Harold said it flatly, without a moment’s hesitation. Itsuki was momentarily taken aback by how easily the boy agreed.

Harold had a conscience, but he also knew he had to survive in a world where the strong ate the weak. If this was what it took, he wouldn't hesitate.

"...Right. Of course."

"If you’re ready, pick up your stick. I’ll wait that long."

"Thank you. But this time, I’m taking the initiative."

Itsuki scooped up his shinai, his tone turning casual and light. Harold smirked, seemingly enjoying the change.

"Hmph. Try it—if you can even keep up."

"I intend to."

It was the only respectful way to answer a man who wanted a true battle.

The tension in the room spiked higher than before. When Tasuku moved as if to interject, both boys turned their gazes toward him.

'We know.'

Their eyes said it all. They would follow the rules, but they were going to fight for real. Don't stop us.

Tasuku hesitated, then pulled back his foot. Seeing this, Itsuki gave Harold a genuine, gentle smile.

"Here I come!"

The match resumed.

Their first movements were nearly simultaneous, though Harold was still faster. However, as promised, Itsuki took the lead.

Harold’s raw speed surpassed Itsuki’s, but as long as Itsuki remained focused, he wouldn't lose track of him. During the first exchange, Itsuki had formed a hypothesis: Harold’s speed was purely linear. He suspected that Harold lacked actual combat experience.

An inexperienced fighter, no matter how fast, wouldn't be able to weave in complex feints or handle erratic movements at that velocity.

Itsuki’s intuition hit the mark. He predicted Harold’s trajectory and swung into empty space; his blade became a counter-trap for Harold, who appeared right where the strike landed.

"Tch!"

Harold blocked the strike with superhuman reflexes, but the impact forced his feet to stop.

That was all Itsuki needed. He pressed his advantage, unleashing a barrage of strikes. No matter how fast Harold was, he couldn't use his explosive dash at close range. Every time Harold tried to create distance, Itsuki stepped in to close the gap.

In a pure contest of swordsmanship, Itsuki held the edge. Harold was essentially an amateur who relied on his physical gifts. Without his speed, his movements were linear and easy to read.

Conversely, Harold’s eyes were too good. He reacted to every single feint Itsuki threw. Because he lacked the "intuition" gained from years of fighting, his body simply followed his eyes, leaving him wide open to tricks.

The tide turned. Itsuki aimed a heavy strike at Harold’s torso. Harold raised his shinai to block, but Itsuki leaned into him, forcing them into a grapple.

Harold’s movement was completely halted.

"What's wrong? You're all on the defensive now," Itsuki provoked.

"You're the one who sounds like he's about to hyperventilate!"

"We're both in the same boat then!"

In a test of strength, Itsuki’s height advantage won out. He shoved Harold back, breaking his posture. As Harold stumbled, Itsuki dropped his center of gravity.

Harold knew he couldn't dodge this. With his upper body leaning back, a proper block was impossible. At best, his shinai would be knocked away, leaving him open for the finishing blow.

(I've got you!) Itsuki thought.

Harold tried to intercept the slash with a one-handed grip on his shinai. It was a pathetic, desperate struggle—an amateur's "defense" that couldn't possibly stop a weighted strike.

Itsuki’s blade collided with the bamboo, ready to send it flying.

"Eh?"

Mid-swing, Itsuki’s voice leaked out in confusion. There was no resistance. It felt like he had swung through thin air.

The reason was simple: Harold had let go of his shinai the exact moment of impact.

A vacuum of time opened as the bamboo sword spun lazily through the air. In a fight, losing focus on your opponent for even a fraction of a second is fatal.

Shit, Itsuki thought, just as a sharp impact slammed into his right shoulder.

『Goudashou』

It was a bare-handed strike from the game, a palm thrust designed to stagger enemies. Normally, it was a utility move meant to be chained with other attacks, not a finisher.

But against a defenseless opponent, it was more than enough to send them sprawling.

"Gugh!"

Itsuki hit the floor hard. He tried to scramble back up, but he stopped when he saw Harold. The boy had caught his falling shinai out of the air and was now holding the tip against Itsuki’s throat.

"That’s enough!" the referee shouted.

Silence returned to the dojo, broken only by the ragged breathing of the two boys. One looked up; the other looked down.

In that simple, clear image of defeat, Itsuki let out a long breath. He had lost. It was frustrating—losing to someone three years younger always was—but he felt a strange sense of fulfillment. It was the feeling of finally finding something he had been searching for.

(So this is a rival. It’s not a bad feeling at all.)

In fact, he felt incredibly refreshed.

"I’m beat. Give me a hand?" Itsuki asked, reaching up.

"I don't remember hitting you hard enough to paralyze you. You're just a pampered noble who lacks stamina," Harold spat.

Despite the insults, Harold reached out and grabbed his hand. Itsuki smiled.

"I need to start over from the basics. We’re having a rematch."

"Hmph. I won't lose to you again. I'm going to pay back this 'debt' in full."

"What do you mean by that...?"

Harold was speaking as if he were the one who had lost. When Itsuki looked at him in confusion, Harold just huffed.

"I didn't realize you were such a bird-brain that you couldn't remember the rules. It was clearly stated: 'The weapon is the shinai.' Do you honestly think the palm strike I used to knock you down counts as a sword hit?"

"..."

The entire room went silent. Technically, Harold was right—it was a disqualification.

However, everyone there had seen Harold’s brilliant, split-second improvisation. No one in the room doubted that he was the true victor.

No one, except Harold himself.

"Pfft... haha!"

Harold’s logic was so straightforward, so stoic, and so incredibly pure that Itsuki couldn't help but burst into laughter.

Harold’s face twisted in renewed irritation. "What’s so funny?"

"Nothing. I just realized you really are strong."

"Is that sarcasm? I’ll rip your tongue out."

"Please, spare me the scary threats."

Itsuki found even this petty bickering delightful. He felt a gaze from the sidelines and turned to see his sister watching them with a look of pure resentment.

(Good grief, the tables have turned.)

He had been jealous of the boy taking his sister away, and now his sister was jealous of him for monopolizing Harold’s attention. Itsuki wanted to laugh again, but he held it in, knowing Harold would actually lose his temper.

Instead, a thought crossed his mind.

(Harold as a rival and a future brother-in-law... having him in the family might not be so bad after all.)

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Author's Note: I thought about splitting the Itsuki fight into two chapters, but I couldn't find a good place to break it, so I crammed it into one. Because of that, the update took a little longer, but the chapter is longer than usual, so please forgive me. Also, my combat writing is painfully bad.

In other news, I passed the first selection for the Narou-con! I'm going to keep giving it my all with my sights set on the grand prize. That said, it doesn't mean my posting speed will get any faster...