Chapter 101: The Dishonorable Outlander
A single bolt-action rifle wasn't enough to pin down Kyojuro.
At this range, the boy's dynamic vision was sharp enough to read every
micro-twitch of the demon's finger. Almost the exact millisecond Hairo pulled
the trigger, Kyojuro snapped his head to the side, letting the bullet whistle
through his hair.
"Flame Breathing, First Form: UNKNOWING FIRE!"
His Nichirin Sword erupted into a trail of sparks, hacking into the demon's
chest. Although the strike didn't fully penetrate the writhing, sludge-like
shadow armor, it was enough to make Hairo let out a guttural roar of pain.
Obanai followed up instantly.
His waist twisted like a coiled spring. Power rose from his rock-solid stance,
traveled through his core, and was funneled entirely into the edge of his blade.
The sword traced an impossible, wicked arc—defying standard geometry—to pierce
the gap in Hairo's ribs that had been exposed by the fire.
Speed: Max. Angle: Tricky. Timing: Lethal.
It was exactly the style he had been practicing after Natsuya's "Patch."
This time, the shadow defense couldn't reposition fast enough. The Nichirin
blade sank deep into the demon's side.
The pain drove the demon into a frenzy. Within the shifting shadows of his coat,
two handguns manifested in his palms. He had more than just a couple of
"Firelocks" stored in his shadow dimension.
Left and right, the demon began spamming the triggers.
Kyojuro pivoted between deflecting bullets with his blade and sidestepping the
lines of fire, slowly closing the distance through the hail of lead. After he
managed to slice one of the handguns in half, Obanai—who had been suppressed by
the gunfire—found an opening to lunge back into the fray.
One was direct and bright; the other was silent and deceptive.
The duo's coordination wasn't perfect yet, but thanks to their recent training,
their styles complemented each other brilliantly. Combined with the fact that
Hairo's Blood Demon Art—while eerie—wasn't nearly as high-tier as the teleporter
they had fought recently...
The two boys were actually pushing a High-tier demon back, forcing him to howl
in frustration.
"DAMN YOU SLAYERS!"
In a fit of rage, Hairo tried a trick he hadn't fully mastered. He manifested
several shadow "hands" from the ground in various corners of the bridge, each
holding a firearm.
If they can parry a sword, let's see them parry three different angles of fire
simultaneously!
Three shots rang out as one. It was the maximum number of projectiles he could
coordinate from a distance.
One at Kyojuro. One at Obanai. And one... at the Slayer who was still standing
back with his arms crossed.
A wolf's ambush.
Kyojuro caught the bullet on the flat of his blade at the last second. The shot
aimed at Natsuya somehow went wide, whistling into the river for no apparent
reason.
But Obanai wasn't as lucky.
Gunsmoke filled the air. Obanai had dodged the lethal trajectory, but the bullet
and the trailing sparks had coincidentally torn through the bandages covering
his face.
The white cloth fluttered away into the rain.
Obanai Iguro's true face was exposed under the flickering moonlight and the
orange glow of Kyojuro's flames.
The air on the bridge froze.
Kyojuro looked at his friend and blurted out in shock, "Obanai... your mouth?!"
The snake-boy's face was marked by a horrific, jagged split. It extended from
the corners of his lips across his cheeks, resembling the exaggerated grin of a
circus clown or the terrifyingly wide unhinged jaw of a serpent.
A face that wasn't human.
Even in the middle of a demon hunt, Obanai's movements stopped completely. A
tidal wave of shame, self-loathing, and ancient terror swallowed him. He felt as
if he were back in that wooden cage, being groomed as a sacrifice. His blood
turned to ice.
The demon didn't know why the boy had frozen, but he wasn't about to waste the
opportunity.
"GOT YOU!"
Hairo grinned, his shadows transforming into a cluster of needle-sharp claws
aimed directly at Obanai's exposed chest!
"IGURO!"
Kyojuro tried to move, but a surge of shadow-hands rose from the floorboards to
pin his feet. The flames of his sword couldn't burn through the darkness fast
enough.
The claws were inches away from Obanai's heart.
BANG!
A gunshot.
But it didn't come from the demon. It came from the side—sharper, crisper, and
much louder.
The bullet bypassed the shadows entirely, catching Hairo exactly in the center
of his forehead with a "Wanted"-style curve!
The demon's eyes rolled back as his consciousness hit a "Hard Stun." The
shadow-claws dissolved into mist before they could touch Obanai.
Kyojuro immediately stepped in front of Obanai, holding his sword in a
protective guard.
Hairo's head regrew in a flurry of meat, and he turned to glare at Natsuya. The
Colt M1903 in Natsuya's hand was still smoking.
[American Breathing] [First Form: CURVE SHOT]
Logic: By using Breathing to hyper-boost dynamic vision and fine motor control,
the user can flick their wrist at the exact frame of the trigger-pull to
manipulate the bullet's trajectory.
Actually, Natsuya just thought it looked cool. Don't ask me about the physics.
Ask the devs.
"Swordsmen... using guns?!" Hairo's confusion turned into a primal, deep-seated
rage. Memories from his human life—being outgunned and humiliated—ignited.
"GUNS! AGAIN WITH THE GUNS! YOU TRASH WITH FIREARMS!!"
Natsuya ignored the tantrum. His breathing was unnervingly steady.
"Who made the rule that Breathing Styles only apply to cold steel?"
Natsuya looked at the "Owl Cub." "Kyojuro. Remember the 'Ultimate Secret' I told
you about?"
Natsuya slowly brought the pistol to the center of his chest, his expression
becoming incredibly solemn. Hairo recoiled, sensing a "Boss Phase" transition.
Is this swordsman about to use a Blood Demon Art equivalent?!
"By extending my consciousness into the hardware... I achieve the Final
Liberation!"
"Colt 1903..."
Before he could finish the sentence—
BANG!
Natsuya pulled the trigger while the demon was still waiting for the rest of the
chant.
Kyojuro: "?" Hairo & Obanai: THAT'S SO DISHONORABLE!!
He just shot him in the middle of a monologue?!
Natsuya didn't care. That was the essence of "American Breathing." The whole
point of a Quick-Draw was to ambush the enemy before they realized the fight had
started.
If your 'Iaijutsu' can use a sword, my 'American Iaijutsu' can use a .32 ACP.
[American Breathing, Second Form: QUICK DRAW!]
Hairo's head exploded again.
Kyojuro: "Aniki! Was that the 'Blade Liberation' you mentioned?!"
Natsuya thought for a second. "Technically, that was just the 'Shikai.' The
'Bankai' is much louder."
Kyojuro: "SUGOI!!"
Obanai looked at the dead-serious Natsuya, then at the demon struggling to
regenerate. The panic and shame from having his scars exposed began to... fade?
Is Senior... doing this on purpose to distract me?
He looked at Natsuya. Natsuya looked back.
Unlike Kyojuro's shock, Natsuya didn't have a shred of surprise on his face. He
looked at Obanai's scarred face as if he were looking at a slightly different
hair color—totally normalized.
"Don't just stand there," Natsuya urged. "Get back in there and finish him! If
you take any longer, I'm taking the XP for myself."
Obanai: "..."
He looked at the raging Hairo. Somehow, Natsuya's "Gamer Logic" was even weirder
than having a split mouth.
☆☆☆
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