Senjuro had long since landed on his backside, his mouth open wide enough to fit an apple. His little face was deathly pale, and he had even forgotten to breathe.
Shinjuro stood rooted to the spot. At some point, the sake gourd he used as a water flask had fallen from his hand and was spilling clear water with a gurgle, but he remained completely oblivious, staring fixedly at the enormous gap in the courtyard wall.
In the center of the grounds, Kyojuro still crouched with both hands over his head, as motionless as a statue. A few severed strands of golden-red hair drifted slowly down from above his head.
In that instant, he had even felt the sharp wind pressure stirred up by the blade's slash, like countless tiny knives scraping across his scalp. Had he ducked even half a beat later, he would definitely have been cleaved in two.
"Ahem..."
The first to break the silence was the culprit himself, Takanashi Rokuno.
He looked at his empty right hand, then at the ruined courtyard wall in the distance, and scratched his head in embarrassment.
"Um... I'm terribly sorry." Rokuya cleared his throat twice, trying to ease the atmosphere. "As I said earlier, switching from defense to offense could be rather dangerous. That was my first time striking at full capacity, and I really didn't manage to hold back. As for the wall... I'll pay its full replacement cost."
Only upon hearing Rokuya's voice did Kyojuro snap out of his daze. He stood on somewhat shaky legs and turned to look at the "abyss" behind him, unable to help swallowing.
Th-this was what he called "not managing to hold back"?
"Hahahahaha!"
Just then, an utterly boisterous laugh erupted through the dojo.
Shinjuro strode forward and clapped Rokuya hard on