Xia Xia looked at the man sprawled on the ground like a dead dog, covered in mud and blood.
"Anything else to say?"
"Nothing... please, make it quick..."
The man curled up in pain, his teeth clenched. There was not a trace of fear in his tightly shut eyes. He did not beg for mercy, but calmly faced his impending death.
"Enough. Stop acting."
Xia Xia kicked him, his expression calm.
It was not that he did not want to kill him. He simply could not.
He could not have been mistaken. After being dragged all this way like a dead dog, the man's severe wounds had not worsened. They were clearly showing signs of healing. He was merely concealing it and buying time. The ronin had figured that Xia Xia could not get his hands on a Cursed Tool anytime soon.
Had this bastard actually grasped the core of jujutsu and learned Reverse Cursed Technique on the brink of death?
Xia Xia's heart sank. He reined in his killing intent and suddenly understood a truth so simple it needed no embellishment:
This world truly was full of extraordinary people.
Heroes were as plentiful as fish crossing a river.
"You won this time. Kill me or cut me to pieces, as you please... just... don't hesitate."
Xia Xia watched the man break free of his ropes and approach him step by step. His mind was utterly clear. He counted through his memories, each drifting past like smoke, and found that he had no particular regrets.
At this point, swallowing his pride and begging to make peace would be nothing more than an ugly struggle. He would not be that cowardly.
Simple. He would just die!
"My blade does not kill the nameless."
"Tell me your name."
The ronin rose from the ground, no longer intending to play dumb. Looking at this child who seemed unmoved even by death, he fleetingly saw his former self: just as vicious, just as calm...
This age had never lacked ruthless people. But the wind over the wasteland had taught him that, beyond knives and swords, every life deserved to leave its own mark on this world.
"Xia Xia."
"And your surname?"
The ronin had drawn his sword and held it before him. His expression solemn, he stood with the blade in hand, looking every bit like an underworld judge from an illustrated tale, come to claim a life.
"Heh. You really are a nosy one. Listen carefully-Amabuki. Amabuki Xia Xia."
"Very well, Amabuki. I won't kill you today."
He sheathed his sword. In that instant, Xia Xia's shoulder-length hair fell away in a clean cut, leaving it cropped short.
Hair in place of a head. His life was spared.
Xia Xia did not ask why. He merely stared at him with lifeless eyes, without hope or pleas for mercy. Those who killed would themselves be killed. Beyond that, nothing in his life offered any explanation for the ronin's mercy.
Are you going to give me hope first, then crush it? You really are a nasty piece of work. But the weak have no right to refuse.
"Kid, forge me a sword to atone."
"In payment for the sword, I'll teach you-how to become a real human being."
A senseless demand.
A troublesome adult who insisted on meddling for no reason.
But the weak had no right to refuse.
I'd better find a chance to get a Cursed Tool and kill him. Hopefully this idiot won't regret his choice when the time comes.
To Xia Xia, pity was merely another name for arrogance. It was not worth understanding.
He would not be grateful. He merely chose to submit for now, until he had the strength to betray him.
As you could see, the person named Xia Xia was that despicable: a monster wearing human skin, an empty shell without a heart, and nothing more.
"All right."
The boy answered obediently.
Even though he did not know how to forge a sword at all.
From that day on, the ronin stayed. He moved into the shabby, dilapidated hut without asking, as though he were its rightful owner.
He washed the blood from his body and face, removed his broken armor, and rummaged through Xia Xia's home for a few short tunics washed pale and riddled with holes, then put them on.
As it turned out, he was not that old. He was only a young man a few years older than Xia Xia.
Seventeen or eighteen, plain-looking, but with bright eyes. The times had left him malnourished and lacking energy, but at least he was not as lifeless as Xia Xia.
When he took off his armor, Xia Xia thrust his short blade at him. But with his wounds healed, the ronin picked the child up like a chick and took no offense at all.
He said:
"What adult would lose his temper with a child?"
He merely made Xia Xia stand outside the door for an entire afternoon, like a father punishing a disobedient child.
The man said he wanted to set some ground rules with Xia Xia.
He could challenge him openly, but there would be no murderous stabbings in the back. With Reverse Cursed Technique and the physical capabilities of a jujutsu sorcerer, Xia Xia's underhanded little tricks were useless against him.
He would live here until Xia Xia forged a sword that satisfied him. Until then, Xia Xia had to listen to him and call him big brother.
He told Xia Xia that his name was "Isshin."
He had no surname, because his family had been destroyed. From the day he began his life in exile, he no longer had one.
He was "Isshin," but that had not been his original name either. It came from an old boatman who had taken him in-the man had also been called Isshin. After his death, the old gentleman's perfectly decent name had passed to him.
Xia Xia disliked this man. He thought the fellow was pretentious, with the arrogance of someone who lectured others without ever bearing their burdens himself. He hated having such a meddlesome man ordering him around.
If he could beat him, he would have long since...
Never mind.
Time passed neither quickly nor slowly, and half a year slipped by. Living together, they were no longer as hostile as they had been at first. Xia Xia's assassination attempts continued, but they had become part of their daily routine.
Isshin was strong, so strong it inspired despair. He said that although he was only a Grade 1 Jujutsu Sorcerer, he possessed the extraordinary skill of Domain Expansion. In this age, aside from the handful of people at the very pinnacle, there was no lesser scoundrel he could not cut down.
Xia Xia thought the bastard was bragging.
When they first met, he had clearly been lying by the roadside like a dog, nearly dead. If he had not somehow broken through and learned Reverse Cursed Technique afterward, Xia Xia would have killed him long ago.
Isshin neither agreed nor disagreed.
He said that once Xia Xia forged him a good sword, he would find that man and avenge his humiliation.
Who?
Hajime Kashimo.
Isshin had gone to challenge Hajime Kashimo.
Isshin had been certain to die, but someone else had swung his blade before him. Then the mere fallout from that man's battle with Hajime Kashimo had nearly reduced Isshin to ashes like some roadside stray.
Isshin had survived because he had not actually been the challenger. The man who had stolen his place and truly fought Hajime Kashimo had vanished in the lightning without so much as a scrap remaining.
Xia Xia said nothing.
Isshin continued, saying that Xia Xia's surname sounded distinguished and was uncommon. He remembered someone from the Amabuki family once challenging Hajime Kashimo, too. Unfortunately, the man had been cut down at his feet before even half an exchange, his head severed from his body.
That had been many years ago. The man was called "Amabuki Dōkō," and he had enjoyed some renown at the time. The old boatman had taken him to meet Hajime Kashimo and remembered him. Isshin had grown up hearing Amabuki Dōkō's story.
It was precisely because Isshin had heard that story and knew the origins of the Swordsmith Village that this inexplicable connection had stayed his hand when he looked at Xia Xia.
"Amabuki Dōkō...?"
Xia Xia said that very few people here still bore the Amabuki surname. These days, most of the Swordsmith Village's inhabitants were outsiders fleeing war and disaster, and there were all sorts of surnames.
Not everyone in the Amabuki family was a swordsmith. Their unique art of forging Cursed Tools had not been seen in a long time, and no one knew what had become of them.
But he knew this Amabuki Dōkō.
Who?
Amabuki Xia Xia's birth father had borne that very name.
Over a decade ago, the man had abandoned his wife and child to challenge Hajime Kashimo, then died worse than a stray dog.
His headless corpse was now buried on the hill a few steps from their home. Weeds covered the grave. Whenever Xia Xia had time, he went there to catch fish in the nearby mountain stream to fill his stomach.
Xia Xia said he was still young. If he did not die, he could live a long time. Sooner or later, he could outlive Hajime Kashimo.
When that day came, he would pour water over Hajime Kashimo's grave, then blow the bastard's tomb apart. Not for his father or mother, but simply because he thought Hajime Kashimo deserved to die.
With so many people in this world, why did idiots keep seeking out Hajime Kashimo to throw their lives away?
Amabuki Xia Xia did not understand.
Listening to Xia Xia, Isshin sighed:
"If that day comes, and I challenge Hajime Kashimo and lose, don't bother collecting my corpse."
"No. Your corpse would be worth a lot."
Xia Xia answered him seriously.
"Then your big brother had better not lose, or he won't even get to keep his grave."
Isshin laughed. He knew the child before him was not lying. He might genuinely commit something as vile as selling a jujutsu sorcerer's remains for money.
"Will you win?"
Xia Xia listened to him with disbelief written all over his face.
"I'll win."
"..."
After a long silence, Isshin began to lose confidence himself.
After all, this was Hajime Kashimo.
"If I lose, don't sell my corpse. If you really can do it, take my broken weapon and my body and forge them into a new sword. Then use it to kill Hajime Kashimo."
"All right."
Before you continue