The audience with Oyakata-sama ended in a lingering scent of medicinal herbs and wisteria. As they left the estate and bid farewell to Akira, Shota finally exploded.
"Hey! Ryousuke! What was with that attitude back there?" Shota looked back at the house, still shaken by Ryousuke's bluntness. "You were almost rude to the Master!"
Ryousuke didn't look at him. He stretched his arms toward the sky. "I just told the truth."
"Tch! Unbelievable."
They returned to Peach Mountain. Rika, who had been mid-drill in the courtyard, dropped her wooden sword and bolted toward them the moment she saw them.
"Brother!"
Shota's face lit up. He opened his arms wide, ready for a tearful reunion with his sister.
Rika blew past him without a second glance. She collided with Ryousuke instead, burying her face in his black haori.
Shota's jaw hit the floor. His expression twisted into something resembling a shocked caricature. When did he steal my spot?!
Rika looked up at Ryousuke, her eyes beaming. "Ryousuke-niisan, welcome back."
"Yeah," Ryousuke nodded, patting her head.
For the last six months, Rika had been the one bringing Ryousuke his medicine and checking on his recovery. Because the three of them always trained together, the thick-headed Shota had never noticed the shift in her attention. Now, the reality hit him like a freight train.
"Hey! You brat! I'm your brother! Your actual brother!"
"Hmph! You're way healthier than Ryousuke-niisan," Rika said, wrinkling her nose. "It's only natural you'd come back fine."
"That's it! Get back here!" Shota lunged for her.
"I hate you, Brother!" Rika squealed, using Ryousuke as a human shield, darting around him to dodge Shota's reach.
Jigoro hobbled over, watching the chaos with a weary eye. Ryousuke stepped forward and bowed.
"Gramps."
"It's good you're back," Jigoro said, clapping a hand onto Ryousuke's shoulder.
The following days settled into a routine of recovery and refining their forms. However, every time Rika brought a towel to wipe Ryousuke's sweat, Shota could be found in a dark corner, grinding his teeth. He began a one-man competition: if Ryousuke ran fifty laps, Shota ran sixty. If Ryousuke swung his sword a hundred times, Shota did two hundred.
Ryousuke, possessing the soul of a former salaryman, had zero interest in "grinding" for the sake of it. He had already done his year of hell to survive. Now that he had a moment to breathe, he was more than happy to slack off while Shota wore himself out.
He focused on the System instead. He had a year of lifespan now—surely that was enough for a major upgrade?
He checked the interface and nearly choked. Maxing out the First Form would take nearly twenty-two years. To unlock the "Godspeed" variant alone required ten years of life.
You've got to be kidding me. This System is skimming off the top!
"You junk heap! Get out here!" Ryousuke barked in his mind.
[Stop shouting, Host. It's too early for this.]
"Explain the math. Why does the First Form need an extra seven years of 'miscellaneous' points at the end?"
[You're the one who went 'all-in' the first time. It creates paperwork. The final seven years are for the Seventh Form: Honoikazuchi no Kami. You need the foundation of the First Form to be perfect to even perceive it. Maxing the First Form unlocks the path to the Seventh.]
Ryousuke's anger vanished instantly, replaced by a grin. "Oh? Is that so?"
[Yeah. Now stop bothering me.]
On the thirteenth day, a visitor arrived from the Swordsmith Village.
The man wore a Hyottoko mask with a puckered mouth and a straw hat hung with wind chimes. He was tall, and he carried a terrifying intensity.
Haganezuka Hotaru.
The moment his eyes landed on Ryousuke, steam hissed from the mouth of his mask. He blurred forward with speed that rivaled a Breathing technique, grabbing Ryousuke by the collar.
"You! It was you! How do you treat your tools?!" he roared, poking Ryousuke in the forehead so fast his finger left afterimages. "It broke! My blade broke! Do you have any idea what that feels like?!"
Ryousuke's lip twitched. He was finally getting the true "Protagonist Treatment."
Shota snickered from the sidelines until Rika rushed forward to pull the fuming swordsmith away.
"Hmph!" Haganezuka grumbled, following Jigoro into the house. He laid out two long bundles on the tatami mats.
Shota couldn't wait. He drew his blade first. The steel was heavy and cold. He took a breath, pressed his thumb against the guard, and focused. The metal shifted, turning a brilliant, pure golden yellow—the color of a lightning strike.
"Yes! Look at that color!" Haganezuka shouted, punching Jigoro in the shoulder in excitement. "It's beautiful! My blade! I made that!"
Jigoro stumbled slightly from the blow, glaring at the smith, but his eyes held a glimmer of pride. Shota had truly inherited his mantle.
"Ryousuke-niisan! Your turn! Quick, draw it!" Rika urged, her eyes wide with anticipation.
Ryousuke gripped the black hilt and slowly unsheathed the steel.
Whirrr—
A low, resonant hum vibrated through the air. Unlike Shota's sharp, clear ring, this sound was deep, like a stone dropped into a bottomless well.
There was no golden light. As the steel changed, the color deepened into a lustrous, translucent white. It wasn't the cold white of snow, but a warm, polished white like fine jade.
"White...?" Haganezuka leaned in, his voice filled with confusion. "Strange. I've never seen a white this pure. White is for Mist, but this... this feels different."
Ryousuke remained silent, running a finger along the spine of the blade. The cold steel felt like an extension of his own pulse. It wasn't the roar of thunder or the heat of fire. It was the color of a soul burned down to its essence.
"It's beautiful," Ryousuke said, shearing the air once before sheathing it. "Thank you, Haganezuka-san."
"Beautiful? You think you know beauty?!" Haganezuka lunged forward again, his mask inches from Ryousuke's face. "Listen to me, you brats! A sword is your partner! It's your second life! If you break this one—if you so much as chip the edge like you did at the Selection—I will shove both of you into the forge! Do you hear me?!"
Shota broke into a cold sweat. "Yes! Loud and clear! Never again!"
Ryousuke gave a stoic nod.
Haganezuka snorted and turned to leave. Rika scurried to Ryousuke's side. "Your blade is so pretty, Ryousuke-niisan. It looks like a jewel! Way better than Brother's gaudy gold."
"Hey! Gaudy?!" Shota squawked.
"Hmph, you heard me!" Rika stuck her tongue out.
Suddenly, a blue shadow cut through the sky. A high-pitched cry rang out.
"Caw! Yasui Ryousuke! Mizunoto rank order! A man-eating demon has appeared at Mt. Hinode, Tokyo Prefecture! Move out! Move out!"