Drip.
On the arena.
Tokugawa Haruhiko held his breath, clearly feeling the bead of sweat on his chin drip onto the back of his hand, which was tightly gripping the sword hilt.
It was sticky and bone-chillingly cold.
No matter how much he had heard through hearsay or witnessed with his own eyes, only after truly standing on the same arena as Tokugawa Ririko...
could he feel just how unfathomable and helpless the so-called "sword domain" was.
Tokugawa Haruhiko's state of mind had long since reached the "tempering" stage of unity between man and sword, and he had already made it more than halfway through. He could barely be considered above the average level among the younger generation of the three great families.
Yet precisely because of that, Tokugawa Haruhiko was just like when he faced his third sister and eldest brother: no matter what he did, he could not find any way or possibility of defeating them.
"What's wrong? Aren't you going to attack?"
From the other end of the vast arena, Ririko's casual voice drifted over. "Then you'll lose the initiative."
Tokugawa Ririko certainly knew how to make things sound nice...
Tokugawa Haruhiko abruptly raised his head and met the indifferent girl's gaze.
Under the licking embrace of the sword domain, sweat streamed down both sides of his pale face.
When all was said and done, what initiative did he have?
After several seconds of eye contact, Tokugawa Haruhiko could not withstand the pressure and looked toward Kaga Kiyomitsu in Ririko's hand.
And that katana!
If she did not have the sword she had borrowed from that pretty-boy Uesugi Tetsu, perhaps he would still have had a chance to fight.
Tokugawa Haruhiko took a shallow breath and pointed at Kaga Kiyomitsu in confusion. "Aren't you going to throw