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After parting ways with Orun, Fuuka turned left at the fork in the path, passed through the gate, and stepped onto the grounds of the estate.
The front garden spreading out before her looked almost exactly as she remembered it. Neatly laid white stone paving stretched straight toward the main house, with low shrubs planted in orderly rows on either side. The green of the leaves, bathed in the summer sunlight, was dazzling, and the seasonal flowers blooming here and there added quiet splashes of color.
This was a place she had walked through countless times in the past. But it was no longer the same as it had been back then.
She lifted her gaze straight ahead. There stood a single man, quietly waiting.
Kiryu Tendo. His white hair had increased somewhat, yet there was still something nostalgic about him. To Fuuka now, however, he appeared like a wall blocking her path.
A breeze blew through—the summer wind she had once loved. But she had no room to savor it.
Fuuka stopped walking. This garden was where Kiryu had once taught her swordsmanship. And now, in this very place filled with those memories, the disciple was about to turn her blade against her master.
"So you have come after all," he said.
"I followed your teachings and gained strength. I have many reliable comrades now. So all I can do is what I am capable of."
"It appears so. Even without crossing blades, it is clear how much stronger the princess has become."
"…Will you step aside?"
"I will not. This is the only role left for me."
"I see. In that case—I will force my way through."
Fuuka summoned her sheathed demon blade from the storage magic tool at her left hip and quietly gripped it with her left hand.
"Haha… Why can such a young girl, who has only held a blade for a little over ten years, speak with such confidence? Do you truly believe you can defeat an old man who has devoted more than half a century to the sword?"
Kiryu's voice grew low and quietly heated. The gentle atmosphere around him gradually shifted into something sharp and dangerous.
But Fuuka did not falter. The moment she opened the guard of her sword, she closed the distance in a single burst using contracted ground movement. There was no hesitation. She had long since steeled herself for this clash.
However—Kiryu did not move at all.
Not only in the present, but even in her [Future Sight], his figure remained unchanged. He simply stood there, watching her calmly.
Doubt flickered inside Fuuka at the sight.
(…He's not moving? Then, right now—)
But even the slightest hesitation would mean being cut down. Fuuka stepped forward as if shaking off the thought and swung her blade.
In that instant, Kiryu moved.
[Future Sight] showed her the scene: the future in which Kiryu would cut her down.
But the vision had come too late. Fuuka had already begun her swing. Kiryu's blade deflected her sword path, and without hesitation, his second strike came rushing toward her.
"—!!"
She twisted her body to evade, but it was not enough. A sharp line grazed her cheek, and a burning pain raced across it along with a shallow cut.
Fuuka kicked off the ground and put distance between them once more.
"…Hmm. Even so, it seems your initial movement was quite fast. If I had waited one more beat, I would have cut you cleanly."
Kiryu murmured those words. His voice remained calm, but his eyes were coolly assessing the situation.
"..."
"I believe I taught you this long ago, Princess. If you rely too much on those eyes, you will be swept off your feet."
The next moment, yet another vision of Fuuka being cut flashed before her.
"—!?"
She instantly leaped away, escaping Kiryu's range. …But Kiryu had not taken even a single step.
The realization made the tip of Fuuka's blade tremble slightly.
"Seeing too much can be a problem in itself."
Kiryu's quiet voice made Fuuka's chest stir uneasily.
—[Future Sight].
Like [Self-Healing], it activated constantly regardless of her will. In Fuuka's vision, two scenes always overlapped: the "present" and "a little further into the future."
Normally, the future she saw would become reality. But there was an exception—when Fuuka herself, the one who knew the future, changed her actions. If she altered her behavior, the actions of those around her would shift in response, and a new future would appear in her sight.
During last year's martial arts tournament, Orun had exploited that very characteristic. He had repeatedly changed his attack pattern the instant Fuuka moved to counter, forcing her to see countless futures in a single moment. The overload on her brain had exceeded its limit, leaving her nearly unable to think. He had seized that opening and ended the match.
—The exchange just now had followed the same logic.
Kiryu had moved to cut Fuuka. She had seen that future and dodged. In reaction to her evasion, Kiryu had stopped his attack.
That was why the scene from [Future Sight] had diverged from reality.
Of course, not just anyone could pull this off. But the opponent before her was different. He surpassed her in both martial skill and tactical insight. Above all, he knew exactly how to counter [Future Sight].
"Still, I am surprised. To think you have grown this strong. Against anyone other than myself, you would rarely lose. Unfortunately, in this particular fight, you have no chance of victory as things stand."
"The outcome hasn't been decided yet."
As Fuuka spoke, a change came over the blade in her grip. A reddish hue spread from the base of the blade to its tip, until the entire sword took on the color of reddish copper.
"…A copper-red blade, is it? I see…"
"Let's go, Master."
"Yes. Show me everything you have, Princess."
With those words as their signal, the two closed the distance once more.
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Sweat trickled down her cheek and stung as it entered the wound. Breathing heavily with her shoulders rising and falling, Fuuka lowered the tip of her blade slightly. Her clothes were torn in several places, and fresh cuts marked her skin.
She was supposed to be the one attacking, yet she was steadily being worn down. With each clash, her sword strokes grew duller, as if every movement she made was being read perfectly.
Kiryu maintained his distance calmly, his stance never breaking.
"This result was only natural," he finally said. His voice carried neither mockery nor pity—it simply stated the facts.
"The essence of the swordsmanship we practice is the 'later first move.' In your current state, Princess, where you have no choice but to move first in order to drive me back, it is only logical that you would be counterattacked."
Fuuka bit her lip. But Kiryu was not finished.
"Of course, there are several other reasons for your defeat as well."
"Other… reasons…?"
When Fuuka asked, Kiryu paused for a moment before answering.
"First is the fact that you are a special ability user. Those with special abilities can wield unique powers that others cannot imitate, but because those powers derive from magical energy, you cannot fully command your own ki."
Kiryu spoke quietly.
"You are able to control ninety-nine point nine percent of your ki. However—I control one hundred percent."
A mere one-tenth of one percent difference. Yet for two people who had reached the pinnacle of martial arts, that gap was fatal.
"And more important than anything else—is that you lack resolve, Princess."
"Resolve? But I—"
"No. You do not have enough. The proof is right here…"
Kiryu's gaze dropped to Fuuka's blade.
"That blade is copper-red… is it not?"
"What do you… mean…?"
Fuuka's eyes wavered.
"It means exactly what it appears to mean. You must have realized it already. You noticed, yet you chose to look the other way. That very act reveals the lack of resolve within you."
For the first time, a faint shadow crossed Kiryu's eyes.
"…That is enough. You cannot defeat me, Princess. This is the result."
The moment he finished speaking, Kiryu's figure blurred.
"—!?"
Immediately afterward, [Future Sight] bombarded Fuuka with countless futures.
Ignoring the scenes flooding her vision, Fuuka focused on the blade currently in Kiryu's grip and attempted to intercept.
But Kiryu was one step ahead. He used his sword as a feint and drove a kick into Fuuka.
"Gah—!?"
The heavy impact struck her abdomen, sending her flying through the air. She crashed through the wall of the main house's second floor, tumbling across the floor amid shattered wood fragments and scattered shards of glass.
Groaning, Fuuka lay face-down, unable to move. Though she had not lost consciousness, simply catching her breath took everything she had.