"He, sir," Inuyama He began slowly, his voice certain, "you must be Principal Angers's true prized disciple, aren't you? I should have realized it sooner. Faced with a situation like this at the Japan Branch, the person your teacher sent would naturally be the heir to his legacy."
Amon merely smiled indifferently. "It seems you've misunderstood something. Still, never mind. Interpret it however you like. Let's just say... that's the case."
"Then," Inuyama He's gaze sharpened, "allow this unworthy senior brother to seek instruction from my teacher's successor... Do you know how to use a sword?"
He asked bluntly, with the ritualistic air of a warrior from another age.
"Clan Head Inuyama!" Ryoma Genichiro could not help trying to dissuade him. "Now isn't the time for samurai spirit. We can't afford to lose."
Inuyama He raised a hand slightly, stopping his colleague's protest. His aged back stood perfectly straight, and his voice was calm, yet carried a resolve that allowed no argument. "Ryoma, this is my personal decision. Please give me the chance to have a fair duel with him."
He paused and turned his gaze toward Amon again. Deep within those eyes surged humiliation and unwillingness spanning decades.
"Though he isn't that man himself, if I can defeat his prized disciple, perhaps... I can wash away some of what lies in my heart."
But Amon shook his head, his manner dismissive. "A sword? I'm not very used to one. Besides... to deal with you, this... should probably be enough."
He raised his black-gloved fist and gently clenched it before his eyes.
Faced with such naked contempt, a cold gleam flashed through Inuyama He's eyes. Anger rose within him, only to be forcibly suppressed and transformed into an even colder focus.
He slowly lowered into a crouch, his left hand