"I don't want to do that ever again... big sis Ichigo, please carry me home..."
"No."
Mikan sighed. The banquet at the Toyotomi estate had been… exhausting.
As she watched the nobles of Kinzoku mingle under the soft glow of paper lanterns, she couldn't help but compare it to the rowdy, honest parties they used to have back in Owari. There, if someone had a problem with you, they'd throw a punch or a bowl of sake.
Here, the room was eerily quiet, yet the air was thick with the stench of politics. No one was swinging blades, but it was clear to her that everyone was fighting in the shadows—sparring with subtle insults and calculated smiles.
Ugh. She'd take a bar fight over high-society maneuvering any day.
By the time they arrived at the Gifu coliseum the next morning, the energy had shifted from suffocating politeness to raw anticipation. The stadium was already packed to the rafters. Thankfully, they weren't fighting for seats this time; they were to watch in VIP alongside Master Iaiashin herself.
"Remember what I said yesterday," Budo whispered to them as they climbed toward the VIP section. "When talking to these nobles, be conservative. Don't give them a single scrap of information to chew on. They're only being quiet because they know we have the Iaiashin backing—let's take full advantage of that silence."
Mikan glanced over at Hideyoshi as they passed the competitor's entrance. His goofy, easy-going demeanor as usual had completely vanished. Since coming back to the Toyotomi estate, there stood a man who looked like a honed spear—valiant, sharp, and unwavering. She watched him shut down a group of pestering elders with a single, cool look.
It was the first time she realized he wasn't just a prodigy; he was a leader. None of the other noble heirs even came close.
They eventually met up with Inyen and Master Iaiashin. The Mistress looked radiant, immediately pulling Ichigo, Ringo, and Mikan into a surprise group hug.
"How was the stay? I missed you girls!" she chirped, looking genuinely delighted.
"Um… Master... we're not exactly that close yet for a hug," Ringo muttered, her body turning stiff as a board in the embrace. This was only the second time they've met, in fact.
Master Iaiashin completely ignored the protest, squeezing tighter.
She looked like a woman who had decided that the more "daughters" she had in her circle, the better.
Budo and Nashi laughed as they both felt safe with her; of all their experiences with nobles, it was lucky that they've found the only one who truly cared.
She felt truly different.
The hugs were finally stopped by her own daughter Inyen, who was embarrassed by her overly clingy mother.
Finally, they were ushered to their seats right as the matches began. The crowd fell into a hushed, expectant silence, broken only by the rhythmic booming of the announcer's voice.
———
The announcers yells were muted and blurry.
The stone tiles of the Gifu arena, already fractured from the day before, seemed to tremble as Sakuma stepped onto the platform. The bald, burly Martial Senior wore a mask of rigid, simmering fury.
Opposite him stood a lesser noble from a subsidiary house, braced behind a heavy kite shield reinforced with Kinzoku steel and holding a broadsword. The noble took a cautious, defensive stance, but Sakuma didn't even acknowledge him.
His eyes were fixed on the tournament bracket projected above the stands. There, a name was attached, a name Master Iaiashin said was to look out for.
She said that man was spreading rumors around the lines of "I'll teach Gifu's Martial Seniors a lesson."
This newbie named "Moretsuna".
He was thinking where this arrogant pup had shown up out of nowhere, but one thing was for sure, he wasn't the type to take such disrespect without a beating. He wanted to show that greenie that the world is much bigger than he thinks; what better way than to get demolished by the strongest Martial Senior in the clan (self-proclaimed).
"I've bled for this clan for twenty years," Sakuma rumbled, his voice like grinding tectonic plates. "And I am disrespected by a no-name shmuck?"
The gong rang.
The noble charged, shifting his weight behind his shield for a high-impact bash.
Sakuma didn't dodge. He reached back and gripped the hilt of the massive wrapped greatsword strapped to his back. As he unsheathed it, the wrappings burned away in a flash of heat. The blade was revealed: a hollow crystal with liquid flame burning inside, its razor-sharp edges glowing with a faint, deadly orange hue.
Immediately, Sakuma's Martial Heart ignited. The veins along his thick neck and arms began to glow a pulsing orange, signaling a full-body amplification of his martial body.
The noble responded in kind as his veins shone and pumped his body full of power right as he slammed his shield forward.
Sakuma met the charge with a single-handed horizontal sweep.
CLANG.
The impact was devastating. The noble's reinforced shield—meant to withstand Senior-level strikes—buckled instantly. The liquid flame inside Sakuma's sword surged toward the point of impact, the heat so intense it threatened to turn the shield's Kinzoku steel to melt.
The noble was sent skidding back twenty feet, his boots carving deep ruts into the arena floor.
"Little Cai, is this still all you amount to?" Sakuma spat.
He stepped forward, the weight of his steps cracking the tiles.
The opponent, desperate, launched a flurry of technical sword thrusts from behind the ruined shield. Sakuma didn't bother with a parry.
He swung his greatsword in a vertical overhead arc as the noble jumped to the side last second.
But he wasn't just aiming for the man; he was aiming for the ground he stood on.
"Fortress Melter!" Sakuma roared.
As the esoteric crystal blade struck, the liquid flame inside detonated upon impact. A pillar of orange energy and molten heat erupted, shattering the noble's guard and completely melting the remains of his shield into useless slag.
The noble was launched into the air, his armor and skin smoldering, and he crashed into the arena's perimeter wall, unconscious before he hit the stone.
Sakuma stood in the center of the charred crater, his breathing heavy but controlled. He didn't look at his defeated opponent. Instead, he slammed his greatsword back into its sheath and looked toward the crowd.
Somewhere out there, the arrogant newbie was watching.
And he was right.
Merun was blended right into the crowd wearing blacksmiths clothing, with this defining features well-hidden. On his eye was a sleek scouter quietly beeping.
[NOBUMORI SAKUMA - 69,000 - HIGH TIER MARTIAL SENIOR]
...I'm going to have to fight that?
Merun smiled.
Let's do it.
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A/N
Chapters are gonna be scarce for a bit.
Another trip to Japan. That place is fucking awesome.
Thanks for reading.