The Noble Martial Academy wasted no time reminding its students what the Kinzoku Clan truly was.
The arena was circular and raised, its stone floor etched with faint scars from countless clashes of weapon against weapon. Apprentices ringed the perimeter, every one of them armed: short swords, spears, hooked blades, paired batons. Some stood confidently. Others gripped their weapons too tightly.
At the center of the arena stood a single man.
A Martial Squire.
He did not stretch. He did not assume a stance. His feet were shoulder-width apart, weight evenly distributed, heels grounded as if he had been placed there by the earth itself.
In his hands was a jūmonji yari, a cross-shaped spear, long-shafted, broad-headed, and fully covered.
The lacquered casing dulled its edges, bearing the Kinzoku flower at its center. A weapon meant to dominate space, made almost ceremonial.
Almost.
"Attack," the instructor said flatly from the sidelines. "Together."
Steel rang.
The apprentices surged forward, twenty-eight of them, each carrying the weapon their clan or family favored. Swords, sabers, polearms, a hooked blade. Ichigo moved with them, katana low, breath measured.
The first to reach the squire was a spear apprentice.
The squire did not step back.
He turned the yari's shaft sideways, caught the spearhead in the crook of the sheath, twisted once, and the apprentice's grip failed. The spear skidded off the arena. The boy followed a half-second later, thrown with barely any visible effort.
A sword came in from the right.
The squire lifted the yari vertically, blocking with the sheath alone. Steel rang against lacquer. He rolled his wrists, letting the impact slide, then flicked the butt of the yari forward.
It struck the swordsman in the sternum.
Not lethal. Just enough to keep him incapacitated for the session.
The apprentice staggered back three steps, lungs emptied in a sharp wheeze, and collapsed to one knee. His eyes were wide in shock at how little effort it had taken.
Ichigo closed in from the left as a hook-sword user charged from the opposite side.
She felt it then, the difference.
The squire controlled the flow of the battle with absolution.
She slashed low, aiming for the legs, knowing the sheath would make parrying awkward.
The yari dipped. The shaft met her blade, guided it downward, and then the squire stepped forward for the first time.
One step.
The space vanished.
The sheath pressed against her shoulder. It did not strike, it was simply there, and the pressure forced her off balance. Her foot slid on stone. Her guard broke.
He could have ended it.
Instead, he withdrew the yari and returned to stillness. It was just a spar.
Ichigo retreated, jaw tight, heart pounding. Not from fear, but from the humiliation of how clean it had been.
Two more apprentices rushed him.
He pivoted in place, rotating at the waist, yari horizontal. The shaft swept out, striking one across the forearms and knocking his weapon aside. It reversed direction immediately, the butt catching the second behind the knee.
Both fell down.
This went on for a few more minutes, as apprentices tried their best to outlast him instead... but it was futile.
When the last apprentice fell back, gasping or sprawled, the squire stood alone again at the center.
His dougi remained unmarked. His weapon was still sheathed.
"This," the instructor said, voice carrying, "is not just the gap between Apprentice and Squire."
He looked at them one by one. "I only used Martial Apprentice–level strength and speed toward all of you this session."
"This is the result of my blood, sweat, and tears. My Martial Art." he added, smiling for the first time.
Ichigo could hardly believe it. Was it truly just a difference in combat experience?
"It seems some of you still aren't convinced." He said.
"You don't know how many wars I've fought to temper my martial path, in order to attain the minimum qualifications to raise my realm."
As the man began to reminisce, a suffocating, terrifying aura emanated from him.
Ichigo was able to hold on due to her past experiences hunting powerful beasts which instinctively released as much killing intent that they could... but despite that, she still was frozen in place, sweat forming her temples. A few Martial Apprentices couldn't take much more and fainted.
Finally, the aura disappeared. The man looked around, "Oops," He scratched the back of his head, "Didn't mean to do that."
The gap between the strongest Martial Apprentice and Martial Squire was too large.
After all, these people not only were a peak Martial Apprentice in the past, now as Squires, they're basically superhuman, possessing a Martial Body perfectly suited for their Martial Path.
Except for the people collapsed, they all bowed before their instructor for the day.
———
As the day went on, Ichigo went to the academy's dojo hall, a building divided into multiple rooms for combat. It smelled of sweat, wood, and oil.
Here, the lessons were informal and scattered. Guest squires taught techniques and insights from their day-to-day experience, rotating every few days. Students often came by to see whether a squire shared their weapon and fighting style.
Unlike the formal arena, this space was alive. Voices overlapped. Blades flashed. Squires instructed for contribution points. Ichigo found an open room where a squire stood alone, his massive nodachi resting across his back, fully sheathed.
After a while, he gestured for the gathered students to sit. Most wielded blades of their own.
"A sword does not begin when it leaves the sheath," he said. "It begins before that."
He lifted the nodachi slightly, hands relaxed.
"In all my years as a squire, every style: defensive, evasive, aggressive, shares this truth. Your first motion decides your second. If your draw is rushed, your strike will be sloppy. If your intent is unclear, your edge will hesitate."
He demonstrated slowly.
He took a powerful step. His hips shifted just slightly, and he drew his nodachi in one smooth motion. The blade flowed into a single, clean arc. Air split with a low hiss.
The air exploded harmlessly within the room.
"The sheath is not a delay," he continued. "It is a promise. You tell your body what is coming before the blade ever appears."
Ichigo watched closely and stored it away.
She did not yet know how badly she would need it, but knowledge was knowledge.
The lesson went on.
———
The forest was much quieter than the academy.
Moist leaves clung to the ground, their weight softening footsteps but making balance treacherous. Branches crossed overhead like ribs, filtering light into broken stripes that shifted with the wind. Somewhere far off, something small scurried. Too small to matter.
Even though there were hidden dangers lurking, Ichigo felt relaxed. There was something soothing about hunting, especially now that it's not a "Hunt or Starve" situation like before. Taking hunting quests like this was somewhat of a profitable hobby.
Ichigo slowed without signaling.
Tadakatsu nearly bumped into her.
She lifted two fingers.
Stop.
They stood still, weapons half-raised. Her katana remained sheathed, thumb resting against the guard. Tadakatsu gripped his staff with both hands, eyes steady, heart calm.
She listened.
Not with her ears alone.
The forest had a rhythm. Birds settling. Insects ticking. Leaves brushing together. She had been hunting most of her life and could be considered one of the best hunters in the city.
Ichigo shifted her weight onto her heel. "Just wolves," she whispered. "Five... no, four."
"How do you—"
"Shhh."
She slid her foot sideways, testing the ground. The mud was slippery. She adjusted her angle so her next step would land on an exposed root.
"Tadakatsu," she said softly. "When they rush, don't swing first. Wait until they lunge."
"Okay."
He did not sound okay.
The brush to their left exploded.
Grey shapes burst forward. Wolves lunged.
Ichigo used Misty Step instantly. Her foot struck the root, and the sudden burst of acceleration tore up the mud. The world bent sideways for a breath, and she was no longer where the wolves expected her to be.
One snapped at empty air.
Ichigo reappeared two paces to the right, blade already clearing its sheath. Her cut was shallow but precise. Lethal. It sliced the wolf's nape, severing the spine. The animal yelped, rolled, and died, blood darkening its fur.
No wasted motion.
Another lunged.
She stepped in, katana striking downward. The blade bit cleanly into the skull. The body collapsed mid-leap, momentum carrying it past her boots.
She pivoted as a third wolf circled, hackles raised. Smart enough to hesitate.
Not smart enough to flee.
Ichigo vanished again, shorter this time. Her afterimage dissipated as she reappeared behind it. Her blade remained sheathed.
She wanted to try something.
"The sheath is a promise," huh? That squire liked to use flowery words. Did he believe them, or was he, as Merun would say, bullshitting?
She drew and cut.
The strike landed, but the angle was wrong. The wolf died, but the cut smashed and tore instead of sliced. Fur split messily. Blood spattered her sleeve.
She clicked her tongue, annoyed. Not at the kill, but at herself.
Sloppy.
Then a sharp human cry cut through the forest.
"Tadakatsu!"
She saw him just as a wolf bowled him over, both of them skidding across damp leaves. His staff smacked the wolf's head repeatedly, his metal bracers grinding against teeth as he shoved frantically, using his large body as leverage.
"Get—off—!"
Ichigo sprinted this time.
Her blade struck from the side, killing the beast instantly. She kicked the body aside and hauled Tadakatsu up by the collar before he could even process that the battle was over.
He stood there, gasping, eyes wide, staff in his hands.
"I thought—" he started.
"You froze," she said, not unkindly. "That's normal."
He swallowed. "I did hit it a lot. It was tough."
"Sure was. Good effort."
She wiped her blade clean on leaves, then finally sheathed it.
Tadakatsu watched her do it, breathing gradually evening out.
"I didn't know when to strike," he admitted, "The fear of getting bitten was messing with my head."
She looked at him, really looked this time.
"Everyone feels that way the first time fighting beasts," she said, they smiled as she remembered Merun. "Well... maybe not everyone."
He nodded, taking that in with unsettling sincerity.
"…Thank you," he said after a pause.
Ichigo sighed.
The academy forest faded from her thoughts, replaced by the dull creak of a cart wheel.
———
Earlier.
The city gates loomed ahead, guards hesitating only a moment before parting at the sight of the cart.
Six bodies lay piled in the back, arms bound tight, legs tied, mouths gagged. Whoever had done the work had not skimped on the knots.
"Did you really have to tie them in such a humiliating way?" Ichigo said sharply. "People are going to think we're weird."
Tadakatsu laughed, clearly pleased with himself. The bindings were neat, completely thorough... Disturbingly professional.
He sat at the front of the cart, reins steady in his hands, posture straight. His staff rested against his knee, held with the quiet pride of someone wearing a uniform.
Ichigo glanced back at the unconscious Oni Clan martial artists.
"…I don't want to know why you're so good at that," she muttered.
"Why not?" Tadakatsu asked.
She chose not to answer.
The administrative clerk nearly dropped his seal when the cart rolled to a stop. It had been logged as a simple village reconnaissance mission. Instead, bound Oni Clan martial artists were delivered straight to his office!
Then came the questions.
They answered without trouble, recounting everything except the presence of the martial artist who had aided them and asked to remain unseen. It didn't take long for the clerk to grasp the severity of it all. He summarized it cleanly, voice tight with disbelief.
Six apprentices subdued. Alive. No civilian casualties. Village liberation!
They were asked to wait while the matter was reported upward. Before sunset, a summon arrived.
Servants escorted them through a quiet estate of white stone and layered roofs, the kind of place where every path felt intentional. The family that owned it oversaw civil affairs for the Kinzoku Clan, and nothing about the residence felt accidental.
They were led into a reception room.
Ichigo stopped short.
The woman seated there was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen.
Black hair framed her face, smooth and unadorned, wrapped in a tight bun. A snow-white kimono draped perfectly around her form. To her right rested a katana, placed with care rather than ceremony. She sat at a simple wooden table, hands folded, posture relaxed.
Tadakatsu bowed deeply. "Master Iaiashin. It's good to see you."
Ichigo's breath caught.
Master as in "teacher" or...
A true Martial Master?
Just that morning, she had been dismantled effortlessly by a Martial Squire. Now she stood before someone two whole realms beyond that. To her, Squires were mere ants. The gap felt immeasurable.
She moved to Tadakatsu's side, posture snapping straight, hands steady only through effort, eyes lowered in practiced respect.
That was when she noticed movement beyond the room.
In the inner courtyard, a girl practiced alone.
Her black hair was tied back, sleeves rolled up. A katana moved in her hands with quiet confidence. Each draw was clean. Each resheath precise. The blade never rushed, never wavered. Her footwork flowed naturally, maneuverability prioritized, defense folded into every step without hesitation.
Ichigo watched longer than she meant to.
The girl's swordsmanship was beautiful.
Something sharp stirred in her chest, unwelcome and familiar. Her own blade shifted faintly in its sheath, as if urging her forward.
Let's fight.
hey, let's fight!!!
Ichigo forced herself to look away.
Master Iaiashin's gaze rested on her, amused, though she continued listening as Tadakatsu recounted the quest. He detailed every violation, every law the Oni Clan's martial artists had broken.
"I'm more curious about how you accomplished it," Master Iaiashin said, cutting him off gently. "You're not even a martial apprentice yet, lord Honda."
Ichigo stared at Tadakatsu.
So that was it. That was why he was still so terrible.
For the first time, Tadakatsu froze. Sweat gathered at his temple.
"Ah… yes," he said quickly. "It was all done by my newfound friend, Ichigo."
He gestured toward her.
She bowed at once.
"You seem promising," Master Iaiashin said, her voice calm and warm. "Come meet me again once you become a squire."
She continued without pause. "Defeating six martial artists in honorable combat strengthens the Kinzoku Clan's authority. You have done well. Contribution points will be granted in accordance with your achievements."
Ichigo smiled, already thinking of the items she could send back home with what she assumed was a lot of contribution points.
Then Tadakatsu spoke again.
"What of the Oni Clan?"
Master Iaiashin smiled.
"Oh, that's simple," she said.
"We're going to war."