After handing Musashi the money and feeling satisfied at the sight of her looking like a complete miser, Kiyohime sidled over again.
"Um."
"Hm? What is it, Your Highness?"
Musashi quickly put the money away, then gave this benefactor a smiling look.
"Master Swordsman, if I did not mishear earlier, Master Fujimaru Ritsuka and Lord Sakumura called you... 'Musashi,' correct?"
"Could it be that you are deliberately imitating that Miyamoto Musashi?"
"No, that's just my name."
Musashi seemed used to this sort of thing as she explained with her hands on her hips.
"Mm! Then your skills must surely be comparable to the real Master Musashi's! How inspiring!"
"Could you tell me? What kind of arduous training did you undergo to bring your swordsmanship to where it is today?"
"Ah, well..."
Musashi scratched her cheek.
"As for my training, it's not really worth using as a reference, because I was always... Um, if I had to put it briefly, I traveled from country to country for a long time, constantly honing my martial arts. Ah, but when I put it that way, it sounds rather ordinary, doesn't it?"
"Sakumura, how did you become so strong?"
Musashi suddenly looked at Sakumura.
"By killing people."
Sakumura's answer was blunt.
There was even less to learn from Sakumura's training.
From the moment he picked up a sword, he had never lacked opponents. Whether they ultimately died beneath his blade or by some other means, Sakumura had gained the corresponding experience throughout it all, even when there was no blade in his heart.
Of course—the most important thing was still diligence.
Talent might not be equal, but diligence could be.
From the time Sakumura first picked up a blade, to splitting stone, to later being able to wield his sword as he pleased, the