章 14: 014 – This Is Mercy
"Live-blade training refers to sparring conducted with real swords," Aizen began, his voice calm but firm.
"In the distant past, this method was commonly used as a fair and impartial way to settle disputes or conduct duels. After all, only in the face of life and death can there be true equality."
"Though the practice has declined, it has given rise to modern variations. Now, live-blade training is used to increase focus and commitment, pushing participants to perform far beyond what ordinary training can achieve."
Even at this moment, Aizen remained the consummate teacher. His explanation was thorough, but the timing… Why is this the time for a lecture?
Listening to Aizen's calm words, Seiya could feel the sweat trickling down his back.
This isn't right…
There's no way I can match up to Aizen in a fight, not with wooden swords, and certainly not with real ones!
Seiya's heart was racing, his palms slick with sweat.
His nerves didn't escape Aizen's sharp observation.
"Are you nervous, Seiya-kun?" Aizen asked, his smile unchanging.
What do you think?!
"Good. You should be nervous," Aizen continued. "No, in fact, this is the most normal reaction."
Stopping his slow, deliberate pacing, Aizen turned to face Seiya fully.
"To feel apprehension at the sight of a sharp blade, to recoil at the thought of injury and blood—this is a natural response," Aizen said as he began to approach Seiya, his steps measured and unhurried.
"After all, few are born warriors. Most must be refined through trials, carefully selected and trained to withstand such things."
His footsteps whispered against the polished wooden floorboards of the dojo, the surface gleaming faintly in the dim light.
"And did you know, Seiya-kun? Each year, the academy loses one-sixth of its first-year students by the end of their first month.
"Not because of poor academic performance, but because they cannot bear the weight of a sword.
"They hesitate. They falter. Even the lightest blade feels like a crushing burden in their hands, and eventually, they can no longer raise it at all."
Aizen's voice was gentle, almost soothing, yet his words carried a weight that pressed down on Seiya's chest.
The distance between them grew smaller, Aizen's presence suffocating.
Is it the words… or something else?
Seiya's breath hitched as Aizen came to a stop in front of him, the sword in his hand now pointed downward, its tip hovering just above the floor.
"You see, Seiya-kun," Aizen murmured, his voice like a whispering wind.
"This is what we share—a weapon, cold and unfeeling, crafted to take life."
Lifting the sword, Aizen brought the edge close to Seiya's neck. Though it hadn't touched his skin, the sharp presence of the blade felt like a searing line against his throat.
"It is a thing of brutality, craving blood and devoid of mercy.
"And so, when wielding such a weapon, hesitation is forbidden, and compassion is a sin."
The sword inched closer, the pressure in the room becoming unbearable. Seiya's body trembled, his breath shallow and ragged.
"If you cannot overcome your fear, if you cannot fight, then what is left of you? Will you allow your life to be stolen by others, faceless and merciless?"
Aizen's voice grew softer, more intimate, as though he were confiding a secret.
"If that is the case, then perhaps it is better for me to take your life here and now, Seiya-kun.
"So remember this moment…"
The tension reached a breaking point as Aizen spoke his final words, his tone a chilling blend of cruelty and compassion.
"This is mercy."
The atmosphere shattered as an overwhelming wave of pressure surged through the room.
Seiya's body reacted instinctively. His hand, trembling yet resolute, reached for the hilt of his Asauchi.
The blade left its scabbard with a sharp, ringing sound that echoed through the dojo.
And then—
BOOM!
A deafening explosion of spiritual energy erupted, sending shockwaves through the building.
Outside, Densuke Shinden, the manager of the dojo and keeper of its records, was enjoying a rare moment of peace.
Lounging in his handmade chair, he sipped his tea, thinking to himself, Another quiet day—
His thoughts were interrupted by a thunderous blast that rattled the walls.
"WHAT IN THE…?!"
The shockwave tore through the building, splintering wooden beams and scattering debris. Shinden himself was lifted off the ground, flailing comically before crashing to the floor several meters away.
Gasping, he struggled to his feet, his mind racing.
Is it a Hollow attack? Did someone smuggle explosives into the dojo?!
Regardless of the cause, it was bad—very bad.
Scrambling to regain his composure, Shinden barked orders at the gathered students.
"Don't just stand there! Get help! Something's gone wrong in the dojo!"
Without waiting for a reply, he peered through the swirling dust and debris, trying to make sense of what had just happened.
As the dust settled, Shinden saw two figures standing within the wreckage.
The first was a man in black training attire—thin, wiry, and composed.
Blood dripped from a gaping wound that stretched from his abdomen to his shoulder, a brutal, diagonal slash that had torn through both flesh and cloth.
Yet the man stood tall, his posture unyielding, his expression unreadable.
It was Aizen.
His glasses were gone, his face streaked with blood.
And yet… he was smiling.
Even with a wound that would have incapacitated most, his calm demeanor and faint smile exuded an eerie, almost inhuman aura.
Why is he smiling?! Shinden thought, his heart pounding. What kind of monster is this?!
The second figure was a young man kneeling on the floor.
His long black hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his face as he struggled to catch his breath.
It was Seiya.
He clutched his Asauchi tightly, his knuckles white. His body trembled with exhaustion, his chest rising and falling as though he had just escaped death itself.
Though battered and weary, Seiya was alive.
Aizen knelt before him, extending a bloodstained hand.
"Congratulations, Seiya-kun," Aizen said softly, his voice filled with an unsettling warmth.
"You've earned the right to survive.
"Remember this moment—the feeling of wielding your blade in defiance. This… is the power to resist."
Seiya opened his mouth to reply but found no strength left in him. His vision blurred, and he collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Shinden stared at the scene, his jaw slack with disbelief.
The truth hit him like a sledgehammer.
The explosion wasn't caused by an outside force.
It was pure spiritual pressure—a clash of Reiatsu so intense it had warped the very air.
And in that moment, Shinden understood:
This wasn't a battle.
It was a storm.
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