Chapter 40 - Traces 2

At first, something had felt off.

CLANG-CLANG-CLANG!

The wolf-masked ninja's swordsmanship brimmed with murderous intent. It was a style meant purely for killing, without a trace of mercy.

Yet there was a distinct sword's path to it.

There were recognizable techniques, and footwork that followed them. Each movement traced a form, expressing its wielder's will.

'These movements are definitely...'

The movements spoke of deeply rooted martial learning.

This was unmistakably a sword art of the Central Plains.

From that point on, rather than actively subduing his opponent, Ash matched the ninja's exchanges to let him display his abilities.

Apparently believing he was overwhelming Ash, the ninja eagerly twisted his blade and sent it shooting forward, pressing the attack.

The more he did, the stronger that sense of wrongness grew.

The sudden changes in stance and shifts in his center of gravity. The perfectly traced thrusts and the sword's path as it cut vertically downward.

Taken individually, they were unfamiliar, but linked together, the movements were all too familiar to Ash.

'I know this swordsmanship. His next move will be... a thrust.'

Sure enough, the ninja's sword flashed toward Ash in a streak of light.

Ash knocked the attack aside with ease. As though he had expected that much to be blocked, the ninja immediately swept his sword low, seemingly aiming to sever Ash's ankle.

But Ash made no real attempt to block it.

'It's a feint.'

An exaggerated motion intended to deceive the opponent's eyes. The ninja before him was demonstrating precisely that.

When the follow-up proved to be a feint, just as he had expected, Ash finally identified the source of the unease tickling his main core.

'... Thirteen Swords of the Cloud Dragon.'

Thirteen Swords of the Cloud Dragon.

The introductory sword art taught first to every disciple of the Kunlun Sect, where he had spent his entire life.

It was no supreme art capable of shaking the world.

But the principles of transformation it contained were inexhaustible, and it greatly aided the understanding of higher divine arts and supreme techniques. For that reason, it was called the root of Kunlun's martial arts.

It possessed such profound subtleties that common street thugs could not even dream of learning it.

And yet.

Why was that revered sword art being performed by this grotesque assassin?

And with all its inherent subtleties stripped away, leaving only murderous intent?

It was a bizarre situation whose circumstances he could not begin to fathom.

As Ash gripped his blade, the first thing that came over him was a whirlpool of emotion, seething like lava.

There was joy.

He had found a trace of home in this world covered entirely in steel.

There was also anger.

That trace was steeped in the metallic stench of blood.

And there was profound bewilderment.

Why was Kunlun's sword art in the hands of an assassin like that?

Conflicting emotions swirled together, taking on a strange hue. His feelings were a confused tangle that no single word could describe.

"Your swordsmanship truly is magnificent."

That was the moment the ninja chose to speak.

His timing could hardly have been worse.

"But as you can see, it is meaningless."

Whatever amused him so much, he continued chattering with a low chuckle.

"Are you bewildered? Your sword seems to have lost some of its edge."

"... Bewildered. You are not wrong."

Ash knocked his opponent's sword aside and leaped back.

Then he continued.

"There is something I would like to ask. May I?"

"If you mean to ask about hyper-regeneration, I cannot ans—"

"No."

Ash shook his head.

"I have no interest in such paltry tricks. What interests me is your swordsmanship."

Was it because of the emotions boiling within him?

Ash normally treated everyone he met with courtesy, but not now. His teal optical sensors glowed coldly as he glared at the wolf mask.

"So answer me."

In that instant, an explosive fighting spirit surged from Ash's body. It was nothing like the presence he had displayed while exchanging blows. Its intensity seemed capable of blasting his opponent to death all on its own.

The ninja involuntarily stepped back.

But none of that mattered.

Ash spoke.

"Why is someone I have never met wielding my school's Thirteen Swords of the Cloud Dragon?"

* * *

Everyone stopped moving.

Santa and Siren, who had been pursuing their opponents, and the ninjas they were chasing. Jack and Dullahan, who had been administering first aid to the wounded Rudolph. Even Akina, cradled in Ifrit's arms.

"... Mister...?"

The sudden change in Ash's demeanor brought everyone to a halt.

The fighting spirit pouring from him was that far from ordinary.

It felt quite different from murderous intent that seemed to cut into the skin.

It was more like an immense mountain settling onto their shoulders, a pressure that constricted their entire bodies until even the slightest movement became difficult.

An unseasonable silence descended over the rest stop's backyard.

Ash was the one to break it.

"Why so silent? You had plenty to say a moment ago."

At the electronic voice, so like the growl of a wild beast, the wolf-masked ninja facing him began to tremble.

"I... do not know what you mean. What are these Thirteen Swords of the Cloud Dragon?"

Ash stared at him silently, then let out a short sigh.

"Hah."

His optical sensors shone colder still.

"Don't tell me you have been swinging it around without even knowing what it is?"

Only then did the ninja realize that the "Thirteen Swords of the Cloud Dragon" Ash spoke of was the sword art he himself had been using.

"You seem to be mistaken. This sword art has no name. I merely learned it from 'Big Brother.'"

"... You learned it from 'Big Brother'?"

A flat electronic voice issued from Ash's voice module.

"How amusing."

"What is?"

"That someone who understands neither its principles nor even its foundations has been teaching others."

"...!"

It was an unmistakable insult.

The ninja warned him in an icy voice.

"I warn you, do not insult Big Brother."

"You insulted me first. With that swordsmanship."

Ash lowered his stance, drawing his blade into a middle guard. Somehow, the posture looked remarkably similar to the one the ninja had been using moments earlier.

"I have no intention of tolerating an insult. What about you? Will you merely warn me again?"

Slowly, the wolf-masked ninja assumed his stance.

"Certainly not."

"Then come."

As though those words were a signal, the wolf-masked ninja charged. Closing the distance, he brought his sword straight down.

Ash did not block the attack.

He merely stepped to one side.

That alone was enough to leave the ninja's sword cutting empty air.

"Wrong."

His sword moved.

It followed the exact same trajectory, the exact same technique the ninja had just performed. Yet the result was entirely different.

The ninja tried to dodge the descending blade as Ash had done, but the attack had only ever been groundwork for securing position.

The sword changed course and slashed across the ninja's abdomen.

"Cloud Dragon Probes with Its Claws. A dragon roaming the skies does not extend its claws to tear its opponent apart. It does so to probe for openings and prepare its next move."

Without a word in reply, the ninja thrust his sword.

"Too hasty."

Ash flicked a foot out and struck his opponent's shin.

The blow meshed uncannily with the shift in the ninja's center of gravity as he thrust, sending him sprawling onto the ground.

"Urgh!"

But the ninja did not stay down.

He sprang to his feet, then raised his sword in alarm at the thrust that was already right before his face.

CLANG!

He succeeded in blocking the thrust that had come without warning, but he could not cancel out all its force.

It held a staggering amount of power.

Its terrifying strength sent the ninja stumbling backward.

Ash did not pursue him.

He merely spoke in his electronic voice.

"Parting the Sea of Clouds requires you to concentrate all your strength on a single point. A stable stance is therefore essential. An attack made without preparation is worse than no attack at all."

The ninja gritted his teeth.

Ash was unmistakably using the same sword art as him. Yet he could not understand it.

It was the same, but different.

Whenever he struggled to understand why, Ash invariably added an explanation. At first hearing, those words could almost sound like mockery.

And so the ninja shouted.

"Shut up!"

He charged with a roar.

Then he unleashed the swordsmanship he had learned from "Big Brother."

"Were you never taught to keep an unshakable mind, either?"

Whether Ash's muttering was a sigh or a sneer, the ninja could not tell. He kept swinging. Every time, his sword was blocked, and what looked like the very same sword's path came hurtling back at him.

True swordsmanship, carrying an entirely different intent.

Some strikes blocked his way; others confused his eyes.

Sometimes, an attack he thought he had blocked proved to be a feint, used to set up the next move.

A strike that seemed aimed high suddenly dropped low, while a seemingly defensive stroke transformed into a blindingly fast thrust.

'What... is this?'

Strikes imbued with meaning and intent formed a single flow. And what a strange flow it was.

He was clearly being driven back without respite, yet he could not grasp it. He even felt as though he were wandering through thick fog.

'This is my sword art's true form?'

Even now, the ninja's body was being mercilessly slashed and pierced. But that no longer mattered.

In a corner of his heart, until now filled with anger and bewilderment, a swordsman's pure awe and desire to test himself were stirring.

Moreover, his opponent, Ash, was using swordsmanship very similar to his own. And wasn't he even explaining it, point by point?

At some point, the ninja's movements changed.

He began taking Ash's words as instruction rather than mockery, trying little by little to put them into practice.

Of course, that did not mean Ash's sword showed him any mercy.

Even so, the wolf-masked ninja accepted the wounds and did everything he could to absorb Ash's swordsmanship.

At that change, a peculiar light gleamed in Ash's optical sensors.

'... Oh?'

The ninja's transformation was something even Ash had not anticipated. Despite the pain of being slashed and pierced all over, he was trying at all costs to watch and learn his opponent's swordsmanship.

His sword still brimmed with murderous intent.

He was still aiming for vital points, trying to take his opponent's life by any means. Yet at the same time, his sword struggled to grasp the connections between techniques and the principles behind them.

Perhaps it could be called a desperate sincerity.

At the sight, Ash unconsciously eased the strength he put into his sword.

Before he knew it, their clash had taken on the form of a sparring match.

It was truly absurd.

An impromptu sparring match with an assassin who had attacked in the middle of the night?

Ash found it ridiculous himself, but he could not stop his sword.

More precisely, he did not want to.

It had been so long.

So very long since he had last sparred like this, Kunlun sword against Kunlun sword.

The training grounds of Mount Kunlun, where the clouds settled.

He remembered those days when he would occasionally spar with his junior disciples.

Precious memories buried beneath an immense span of years.

Peaceful days whose value he had not understood then, and which would never return.

'... It was just like this back then.'

The image of his junior disciples swinging their swords desperately to defeat him—or to learn even one more thing—overlapped with the ninja before his eyes.

But that was merely an ill-timed moment of sentiment.

The clash of blades in the rest stop's backyard came to an end without warning.

"Got you! You rat bastard!"

Santa's steel fist had smashed the rat-masked ninja's shoulder. He seemed to have crushed it completely to keep it from regenerating.

It was much the same on the other side.

"Hah!"

Siren's sword pierced the rabbit-masked ninja's chest. It struck exactly where the heart lay, but perhaps because of the bizarre hyper-regeneration they had displayed so far, it did not feel as though the ninja was dead.

The battle had turned in an instant.

That brought the wolf-masked ninja back to reality.

Ash had already lowered his sword.

"Well? Do you wish to continue?"

At Ash's casually delivered electronic voice, the ninja slowly shook his head.

"... No. It seems this is as far as we go today. I cannot let my brothers and sisters die."

"You seem close. Unusual for assassins."

"We hear that often. And..."

The wolf-masked ninja slowly lowered his sword and took a capsule resembling a medicinal pill from inside his clothing.

"We are ninjas, not assassins."

He hurled it at the ground.

POOF!

Deep blue smoke spread in an instant, obscuring everyone's vision, friend and foe alike.

"Whoa!"

"Damn!"

While Santa and Siren, who had been on the verge of finishing their opponents, faltered in surprise, Ash spoke toward somewhere in the deep blue smoke.

"Come to think of it, I don't believe I caught your name."

A moment later, a faint voice came from within the smoke.

"I do not really have a name, but..."

"My brothers and sisters call me 'Zero.'"

There were no more words after that.

When the smoke finally dispersed on the night breeze, the ninjas were nowhere to be seen.