◇ ◇ ◇
After parting ways with Orun, Fuuka took the left fork in the road. She passed through the gate and stepped onto the manor grounds.
The front garden stretching out before her was almost exactly as she remembered it.
A path of neatly laid white flagstones led straight to the main building, flanked by shrubs planted in rhythmic, orderly rows. The summer sun made the vibrant green of the leaves dazzling to the eye, while seasonal flowers blooming here and there added quiet splashes of color.
In the past, she had walked this path countless times.
But those days were gone. Everything was different now.
Fuuka fixed her gaze straight ahead.
A man stood there, silent and still.
Kiryuu Tendou.
He seemed to have more white hair than before, but he still looked familiar enough to stir a sense of nostalgia. To her current self, however, he was nothing more than a wall blocking her path.
A breeze blew past—the kind of summer wind she had always loved. But now, she didn't have the luxury of enjoying it.
Fuuka stopped.
This garden was where Kiryuu had once taught her swordsmanship. In this place of lingering memories, the disciple was now preparing to draw her blade against her master.
"So, you have come this way after all."
"I’ve grown stronger, just like you taught me, Master. I have many reliable comrades now. I’m just here to do what only I can."
"So it seems. Even without crossing steel, I can clearly feel how powerful the Princess has become."
"……Are you going to step aside?"
"I am not. For this is the only role left for me."
"I see. In that case—I’ll force my way through, even if I have to break you."
Fuuka reached for the storage magic tool on her left hip, manifesting her sheathed Cursed Katana. She gripped it quietly with her left hand.
"Haha…… What a boast. Do you truly believe a slip of a girl who has held a sword for a mere decade can defeat one who has devoted over half a century to the blade?"
Kiryuu’s voice dropped, simmering with a quiet heat. The peaceful atmosphere shifted, steadily growing more menacing.
Fuuka didn't flinch.
The moment she cleared the guard, she used Shukuchi to close the distance in a single bound. She didn't hesitate; she had long since prepared herself for this clash.
However, Kiryuu didn't move an inch.
Neither in the present nor in her Future Sight did his form change. He simply stood there, staring her down.
Doubt flickered in Fuuka’s mind.
(He’s not moving? Then, I'll just—)
But if she hesitated for even a fraction of a second, she would be the one cut down. Fuuka committed to the step, shaking off her doubts, and swung her blade.
In that instant, Kiryuu moved.
Her Future Sight flashed a vision of the immediate future: a scene where Kiryuu cut her down.
The vision came too late. Fuuka’s swing was already in motion.
Kiryuu’s blade deflected her strike, knocking her trajectory aside. Then, without a moment’s hesitation, he unleashed a second strike that bore down on her.
"—!"
She managed to twist her body away, but she wasn't quite fast enough. A sharp line of heat flared across her cheek as his blade left a shallow graze.
Fuuka kicked off the ground to put distance between them.
"……Hmph. It seems I moved a fraction too soon. Had I waited just one beat longer, that would have surely finished you," Kiryuu murmured.
His voice remained calm, but his eyes were cold and analytical, gauging the situation with clinical precision.
"…………"
"I believe I taught you this once, Princess. If you rely too much on those eyes, you’ll have the rug pulled out from under you."
The next moment, she saw another future where she was cut down.
"—!?"
She reflexively leapt away, escaping Kiryuu’s reach.
But Kiryuu hadn't moved a single inch.
The tip of Fuuka's blade trembled slightly at the realization.
"Seeing too much can be quite the burden, can it not?"
His quiet words sent a chill through Fuuka’s chest.
Future Sight.
Much like Self-Healing, the ability was always active, regardless of her will. Her vision was a constant overlap of two scenes: the "present" and the "immediate future."
Usually, the future she saw became reality. But there were exceptions—specifically, when the one who knew the future, Fuuka herself, changed her actions. When she changed what she was doing, the world around her reacted accordingly, and a new future would bleed into her vision.
During last year’s martial arts tournament, Orun had exploited this trait. The moment Fuuka moved to counter him, he would shift his attack, repeating the process at high speed. As a result, she was bombarded with countless possible futures in an instant, overloading her brain. He had won by striking the moment her mind locked up under the strain.
The exchange just now followed that same logic.
Kiryuu had intended to strike. Seeing that future, Fuuka moved to evade. Reacting to her evasion, Kiryuu aborted his attack. That was why the vision and reality had failed to align.
Of course, this wasn't a feat just anyone could pull off. But the man before her was different. He surpassed her in both martial skill and tactical maneuvering. More importantly, he was the one man who knew exactly how to handle her Future Sight.
"I must say, I am impressed. You truly have become formidable. Against anyone other than me, you likely wouldn't lose. But unfortunately, as things stand, you have no chance of victory in this fight."
"The fight isn't over yet."
As Fuuka spoke, her katana began to transform. A reddish tint bled from the hilt to the tip until the entire blade was dyed a deep copper.
"……A copper-colored blade? I see. I see……"
"Here I come, Master."
"Very well. Show me everything you have, Princess."
With those words, they charged at each other once more.
◇
Sweat trailed down her cheek and stung the cut on her face. Breathing heavily, Fuuka lowered the tip of her blade.
Her clothes were torn in several places, and new shallow cuts marked her skin. She was the one on the offensive, yet she was the one being whittled away, her strikes growing progressively duller.
With every clash, it felt as though her movements were being read perfectly. Kiryuu maintained his distance with effortless grace, his posture never even breaking.
"This was the only possible conclusion."
When Kiryuu finally spoke, his voice held neither mockery nor pity. He was simply stating a fact.
"The essence of our swordsmanship is 'Counter-initiative.' Since you have no choice but to strike first to move me, it is only natural that you would be met with a counter."
Fuuka bit her lip.
"Though," Kiryuu continued, "there are a few other reasons for your defeat."
"Other... reasons?"
He paused for a beat before answering her.
"First, the fact that you are a Special Ability User. While your kind possesses unique powers that others cannot mimic, those powers are derived from mana. Because of that, you can never fully master your Ki."
Kiryuu’s voice was calm as he explained.
"Princess, you can control 99.9% of your Ki. But I? I control 100%."
A difference of a mere 0.1 percent. Yet, for two people standing at the pinnacle of martial arts, that gap was a chasm.
"And more importantly than anything else—you lack resolve."
"Resolve? If that’s what you think, then—"
"No. You lack it. And the proof is right there."
Kiryuu looked down at Fuuka’s katana.
"Your blade is copper-colored, is it not?"
"What does that... mean?" Fuuka’s eyes wavered.
"Exactly what I said. Deep down, you must have realized it. You’ve noticed the truth, but you’re pretending not to see it. That alone speaks to your lack of resolve."
For the first time, a faint shadow of sadness crossed Kiryuu’s eyes.
"Enough. You could not defeat me, Princess. This is the end."
As he finished speaking, his figure blurred.
"—!?"
Immediately, Future Sight bombarded Fuuka with a chaotic mess of possible futures. She ignored the visions and focused entirely on the blade Kiryuu held in the present, attempting to intercept him.
But Kiryuu was one step ahead.
He used the sword as a decoy, instead slamming a heavy kick into Fuuka’s midsection.
"Augh!?"
The heavy impact sent Fuuka flying through the air. She smashed through the wall of the main building's second floor, rolling across the floor amidst a shower of splintered wood and shattered glass.
Fuuka groaned, collapsing facedown, unable to move. She hadn't lost consciousness, but for now, it was all she could do to keep breathing.