Chapter 112: Old Man, You're the Challenger Now
"Natsuya, are you certain you do not want this old man to hold back?"
In the courtyard of Kazami Koichi's dojo, the sand was raked level. Master and
disciple stood opposite each other with wooden swords in hand. Nearby, Masachika
sat in a formal kneeling position, eager to witness the upcoming spar.
"There's no need, Kazami-sensei."
"Even if I didn't use my new style, my Thunder Breathing alone has already
reached Constant."
Kazami: "..." Can we please stop talking about that damn Thunder Breathing?
Oblivious to the Master's irritation, Natsuya continued, "The me of today is no
longer the weak swordsman you rescued."
The old man's gaze softened for a moment. The boy who had clutched his robes and
wept when his sister died had grown quite tall. It felt like only yesterday that
Natsuya was wiping his nose while swearing to slaughter every demon in existence
for revenge.
He's no longer a child who needs to stand behind someone else, the Master
thought, his heart swelling with emotion.
But—
Even if you have grown up, Natsuya, I must teach you that arrogance is a
warrior's swiftest executioner.
He acknowledged Natsuya's talent and effort, but Kazami Koichi trusted in his
own decades of Wind Breathing cultivation. He trusted his refined understanding
of Kendo and the instincts honed on the razor's edge of survival. He wouldn't be
surpassed so easily.
I'm not that old yet. I still have the duty to show you your blind spots before
you reach the summit.
Natsuya had forged his own path. This duel would likely be the final lesson
Kazami could offer him.
"Natsuya, there is an ancient saying from the Middle Kingdom."
The old man slowly assumed the fundamental starting stance of Wind Breathing. He
was as steady as a mountain.
"The tallest tree, with the most overbearing branches, is always the first to be
broken by the storm."
"A swordsman's edge should only be shown at two moments."
"The first is when the demon's head is about to fall."
"The second... is right before the blade is drawn."
"Today, let me witness with my own eyes exactly how far your cultivation has
taken you."
"Wind Breathing!" "Fourth Form: Rising Dust Storm!"
Despite his age and old injuries, Kazami's movements showed zero lag. He lunged,
initiating a sophisticated form that combined offense and defense. A violent
gale erupted from the ground, swirling sand and dust into a high-speed, rotating
wall of air.
It carried both crushing pressure and slicing force as it swept toward Natsuya.
Masachika's eyes went wide. It was the first time he had seen his Master fight
with such absolute seriousness.
Even Natsuya had to admit it: Kazami's form was textbook perfect. His timing,
his kinetic chain, and his environmental awareness were top-tier. A standard
Otsu-rank Slayer wouldn't have lasted one frame.
Unfortunately, Kazami was facing Natsuya.
Natsuya performed a perfectly natural, light step. With a movement so fluid it
looked like a short-range warp, he performed a lateral slip, exiting the core
"hitbox" of the wind-blades.
His movement was effortless. He hadn't even triggered a Breathing Style yet.
Kazami's heart skipped a beat. He had expected Natsuya to parry with Wind or his
new style. The old man instantly discarded his last shred of hesitation.
The wooden sword in his hand accelerated. His attacks became a relentless
monsoon.
Silhouette and blade merged into a blur. The clack-clack-clack of wood striking
air and parrying steel erupted in the dojo like a non-stop firecracker.
Yet, despite the increased density and aggression of the offensive, Natsuya
didn't feel any pressure. He shifted his torso, ducked a high horizontal, and
occasionally tapped Kazami's blade with his own to redirect the flow. He
dismantled the "Wind Storm" with surgical ease.
Honestly, he felt this was easier than the 3-on-1 sessions with the Tokyo Trio.
Is Kazami weak? No. Definitely not.
In his prime, Kazami had hovered near the Hashira tier. Even now, he could solo
most of the current generation with one hand.
It was just that Natsuya was currently... cracked.
Kazami realized the truth and stopped holding back entirely. He funneled every
scrap of his remaining vitality into his lungs!
"TOTAL CONCENTRATION!"
The output rivaled a real hunt. His blade speed increased, the wind-blades
became denser, and the howling of the air tearing around him became a deafening
roar.
Months ago, Natsuya would have been one-shotted. But now?
In Kazami's eyes, Natsuya's silhouette seemed to desync, creating multiple
ghostly images. The boy followed his "Hyper-Overclocked" offensive
frame-for-frame, moving with equal or even greater velocity.
Even while dodging and parrying, Natsuya had the spare processing power to
counter-tap the weak points in Kazami's kinetic chain.
Kazami recognized the style. It was the efficient, predictive "Logic" of
Igarashi Uzen.
Sweat poured down the Master's face. He could feel his stamina bar hitting the
red zone. He felt like he wasn't fighting a swordsman, but trying to slice a
beam of light or catch a wisp of smoke.
Every attempt to suppress the boy was futile.
However, instead of despair, the old man felt a surge of manic joy. He laughed,
a hearty, booming sound. His face was flushed with the heat of the fight. The
fire of a warrior, dormant for years, had been fully reignited.
He threw away his status as a teacher. In this moment, he was a martial artist
facing a superior foe.
I, Kazami Koichi... am the challenger!
"You've become terrifyingly strong, Natsuya!"
He pushed his Breathing to a realm he hadn't touched in a decade. His Power
Level fluctuated wildly, spiking past 230.
"Wind Breathing, Tenth Form: GALE OF CALAMITY'S DESCENT!" (Note: Kazami's unique
final form).
It was the culmination of his life's work. A technique he had never shown
Natsuya before—his ultimate trump card.
The old man lunged. Man and blade became a gargantuan cyclone connecting heaven
and earth. Carrying a will that promised to shred everything in its path, he
slammed into the center of Natsuya's guard!
Natsuya's eyes narrowed slightly.
Old man... you weren't lying about your prime. This strike could solo a Lower
Moon.
The boy finally made his move.
The power of his new Breathing Style—the essence of the sun, moon, and
stars—circulated through his veins.
There was no hurricane. No inferno.
The air around Natsuya simply warped. The light in the courtyard seemed to drain
toward him, enveloping his frame in a hazy, undeniable "Event Horizon" of
radiance.
[Luminary Breathing]
He took a single, simple step forward.
He swung his wooden sword vertically, meeting the world-ending cyclone head-on
with a move that looked utterly mundane.
No violent gusts. No flashy trails. Just a straight line of "Light"—a
concentrated strike that tore through the atmosphere, leaving a momentary vacuum
trail. Dark-red sparks, deep as the night sky, drifted from the edge of the
blow.
Beautiful. Lethal.
The strike, like a single plume of smoke in a vast desert, pierced the heart of
the storm.
"First Form: Solar Sunday — LONE PLUME OF DESERT SMOKE!"
SHHH-T!
It was like a hot knife through butter.
The terrifying cyclone was sheared in half, instantly collapsing into a chaotic
mess of harmless air. The shockwave sent the surrounding trees swaying
violently.
Kazami's eyes went wide.
The "Lone Plume" didn't stop. After slicing the storm, it came to a halt against
Kazami's neck, the cold wood pressing gently against his skin.
The old man stood frozen in his follow-through posture, unable to move.
Natsuya: "Ol'—I mean, Master. I guess that's game."
Kazami didn't respond immediately. He looked down at the wooden sword in his
hand, which suddenly felt as light as a feather. Then he looked up at Natsuya.
There was no sense of defeat. No frustration.
Instead, a slow, wide grin spread across his face, eventually breaking into a
roar of pure, unbridled laughter.
"HAHAHA! GOOD! EXCELLENT!"
He slapped Natsuya's shoulder with all his might, his eyes misting over with
tears of joy. He stared at the boy, his voice burning with pride.
"Natsuya... you are the disciple... that makes my entire life worth living!"
Even with Natsuya's "thick-skinned" gamer ego, being praised so directly by his
Master made him rub the back of his head in embarrassment.
"C'mon, Master. It was just a good build."
☆☆☆
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