The violent rocking of the Peace Tour had only just begun to subside, but on its ruined observation deck, two fights to the death were reaching a fever pitch.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Stilettos and katana collided again and again at speeds the eye could barely follow, sending sparks flying.
Yor wove through the flashing blade like a ghost. Every dodge was precise to the millimeter, and every block deftly redirected the force behind the strike.
Her skill was beyond question. As the Thorn Princess, she should have had the upper hand.
But she was fighting with unusual caution.
A perfect opening appeared: Nobunaga was a tenth of a second slow to recover from his Iaido Slash, exposing his right side for the briefest instant.
Normally, Yor would have lunged without hesitation and driven a stiletto through his lung, or at least dealt him a serious wound.
But she hesitated.
If I rush in from that angle, his sword might slash my left arm. The cut would be deep, and it would definitely leave a scar. Mr. Loid will ask about it when he helps me apply medicine. What would I tell him?
That I cut myself chopping vegetables? But a wound in that spot, that deep, looks nothing like a kitchen accident!
That fraction of a second was enough. The opportunity vanished.
Nobunaga's sword was already back on guard. He turned the moment to his advantage with an upward slash, forcing Yor to retreat.
It kept happening.
Nobunaga soon noticed something was wrong. This woman's basic abilities were no weaker than his, and her bursts of speed and skill were enough to startle even him.
But she seemed afraid of getting hurt.
"Hey." After their weapons clashed again, Nobunaga hopped back half a step. Instead of pursuing her, he pointed