บท 86: I Don’t Want to Be a Heroic Spirit [86] [30 PS]
Bonus Chapter!
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Blades rang.
Attack and defense intertwined, shifting with the rhythm.
Clang!
Kuraudo's serpent-bone greatsword sliced through the air, only to be blocked by Okita, who angled her sword to catch the bone blade's serrated edges. Sparks flew, briefly illuminating Okita's steely expression in the dim dojo.
"Come on, bring it!" Kuraudo roared, lifting his bone sword once more. He hacked relentlessly at Okita, relying on brute force over technique, his blade clashing repeatedly against hers.
After parrying three strikes, Okita steadied herself for the fourth. In a single, fluid motion, she sidestepped half a step, angling her sword downward. As Kuraudo's blade came down, she redirected the force to her side, sending the bone sword crashing into the wooden floor.
Crack!
Splinters flew as the floor shattered between them.
One shard obstructed Kuraudo's view for a split second—just long enough for Okita to strike. When he refocused, her blade was already inches from his eye.
The cold gleam of her sword flashed, and a few strands of brown hair drifted to the ground.
From the doorway, Ayase and Kuraudo's lackeys watched in silent horror.
Kuraudo felt warmth on his cheek. Touching his face, he found fresh blood trickling down his fingers.
"You've got guts!" he barked, his tone like an angry accusation, though his thrilled grin gave him away.
Okita didn't respond. She merely slipped into her Hira Seigan stance—her favored attack stance.
In truth, Okita could have ended this fight in seconds.
Over the past few years in this world, she'd sparred against her own relentless sister countless times. Though she was usually on the receiving end, Kuraudo didn't compare to her sister in the slightest.
Her sister had once said that when it came to speed and agility, there were few in this world who could match Okita.
During the selection matches for the Seven Stars Sword Art Festival at Hagun Academy, Okita had ended every fight in a flash, even outpacing a Demon-ranked swordswoman like Saikyou Nene.
Of course, this didn't mean she was on par with Saikyou. For someone of Saikyou's level, raw power was meaningless—they had ascended beyond fate, able to bend its flow with a single thought. At that level, only influence over destiny mattered.
Okita couldn't reach that stage—or perhaps she wasn't even sure she could, as an outsider to this world.
But against Kuraudo? She didn't even need to try.
Still, she chose to draw out the battle, only taking a slight edge.
She hadn't tapped into her A+-ranked agility, instead matching Kuraudo's speed as they fought.
Because…
"If I don't use swordsmanship to win, it'll feel like I 'lost' somehow."
That was what her instincts told her.
There was something she wanted to ask Kuraudo—but she wouldn't do it with words.
Between swordsmen, the sword alone could convey meaning.
Kuraudo charged forward again, the force of his bone sword cleaving the air and sending a sting across Okita's face.
His blade passed through her as if cutting water, and Kuraudo's eyes widened when he felt no resistance.
Only when "Okita" vanished like a mirage did he realize he'd struck a mere afterimage.
And the real Okita…
"Going somewhere?"
Kuraudo looked up, his predatory eyes narrowing as he spotted Okita in midair, her form light and graceful like a butterfly.
She held her sword in both hands, the worn grip fitting her palms as if molded for them.
In the next instant, she performed a seamless downward slash—simple, yet near perfect.
Kuraudo had just swung with all his strength, in the moment where old force fades and new force hasn't yet formed—a vulnerable moment.
Yet, even this strike didn't end the battle.
To his shock, Kuraudo's bone sword began to elongate, the blade twisting like a living serpent to block Okita's diagonal slash perfectly.
And not only that—the blade continued to grow, its tip transforming into a skull that snapped down at Okita from above. She had to push off the bone sword, leaping backward to evade the snarling jaws.
"You think distance will save you from Orochi Maru's fangs? How naive!"
In Kuraudo's hands, his Device was like a sentient serpent, and he wielded it like its master, gripping it by the tail.
The bone snake lashed out at Okita relentlessly, probing for any weakness. Sparks flew as blades collided over and over.
At that moment, Okita seemed trapped, as if facing a true python intent on squeezing the life out of her.
It looked dire.
No matter how fierce, a tiger trapped in a cage loses its bite.
But…
"You really think…"
Her right foot slid back, reestablishing her Hira Seigan stance.
"… this cage can hold me?"
The look on Okita's face startled Kuraudo, then he burst out in raucous laughter.
"So that's it—you're fired up too, aren't you? Good! Then come at me!"
As he swung Orochi Maru again, the serpent's bones split, branching into eight distinct heads.
This was Kuraudo's ultimate technique—
Yamata no Orochi!
Eight massive skeletal serpents coiled around Okita, sealing off every possible escape route.
In response, Okita slowly closed her eyes.
Kuraudo, from your sword, I already know your intent.
You came here to challenge the strong, which is why you sought Ayatsuji Kaitou, my Senpai's father.
Admiring the "Last Samurai," you wanted to face the ultimate move of the Ayatsuji Ittou-ryuu.
But, alas, I'm not Ayatsuji Kaitou, and I can't show you the strike you've been waiting two years for.
So instead… let me show you my own.
Okita's Noble Phantasm wasn't a tangible weapon. Rather, it was a culmination of all her experiences and skills—the ultimate blade in a single, perfect instant.
With a slight shift in her stance, Okita bent her knees and stepped forward.
"First step, swifter than sound..."
The eight serpent heads lunged with a ferocious wind, snapping down on her, but just as they closed in, Okita's figure vanished, and all eight heads missed their mark. Only her voice remained where she'd stood.
"Second step, infinite suffering..."
Kuraudo gaped, realizing Okita had completely disappeared, but a heartbeat later, the scene around him changed.
The walls, the light from the windows, the floor, the people—all color drained away.
"Third step, the absolute sword!"
Time felt suspended, sound rendered meaningless.
It was as though an eternity had passed—or perhaps only an instant.
Then, a single beam—no, three beams of light in unison—became the only vivid colors in this monochrome world.
"Mumyou, Sandanzuki!!"
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