Chapter 132 - Beyond the Deep Green, a Glimpse of Ash
"—So, you see, I never intended to lose in the first place."
"—Oh really? If we're just talking about that last exchange, that was a clear gambit I initiated, you know?"
"Guh… After you hyped it up like that, there's no way a ranker could back down in front of a crowd…!"
"Liar. It wasn't about the dignity of a ranker; you responded to the provocation because that's just who you are."
"Even so! You wouldn't think a Fifth Tier [Anima] would be broken by a prologue-stage Terror Armament, would you!?"
"I challenged you with full confidence that I could shatter it if we just traded blows!!"
"You damn… [Acrobat]…!!"
"Can you stop using my ranker title like it's an insult!?"
Thirty seconds after our fist bump, we had shed all reservations and were trading banter like we were old friends.
When you have two guys of a similar age who both have decent communication skills, this is probably how it goes—though, Irori doesn't know my age.
At our core, we're comrades absorbed in the same game, Arcadia, and sharing a common hobby provides a massive buff to getting along.
For players, it's not that difficult to become friends.
"Still… I was shocked when it broke that easily—uh, that thing does get fixed, right?"
My eyes shifted to the side, landing on the single katana hanging from the hip of the man walking beside me.
In response to my question, he scoffed, "What are you worried about?" As he drew the blade, the frosted steel that emerged from the deep blue scabbard was missing its upper half.
"It's like a cooldown time. It takes a while, but you don't need to worry about it."
"That's a relief."
[Anima] have no durability value. This means they are, for the most part, immune to being damaged or destroyed, but that doesn't mean they're absolutely unbreakable.
For example, if one takes an extraordinary amount of damage in a single instant.
Or, for example, if it's struck directly by an attack with a super-powerful weapon-breaking effect.
Only when subjected to that kind of extreme stress, which would almost never occur under normal circumstances, does an Anima enter a temporary broken state and go into an auto-repair mode.
And because it's such a rare occurrence, the time it takes to repair is incredibly long. When I asked, Irori told me his [Frostblade Shirosou] would take about two days to fully recover.
…I feel a little bad, but since he said so himself, I'll take him at his word and assume no apology is needed.
"—So? Just spit it out. The unique effect of that Terror Armament, it's something like a super-powerful anti-weapon property, right?"
"Like I'd tell you. What kind of idiot reveals their trump card to an opponent they plan to have a rematch with?"
Irori's guess was pretty close to the mark, but I was under no obligation to confirm it for him.
"Anyway, I was confident that if I just hit it with That, it would break… and I figured if I could shatter the Anima itself, that cheat-like barrier of yours would disappear."
And indeed, my prediction was correct.
The single blow from [An-ri Galta] magnificently shattered [Frostblade Shirosou], and with the destruction of the Anima, its unique effect, [Bushin], vanished.
With power enough to break a Fifth Tier—a high-level Anima that had evolved four times—I had cleaved the [Sword Protector] in two.
In other words, what I'm trying to say is…
"The moment I made you swing, I'd already won."
"I told you, there was no way I could back down from that!"
"And I set you up, predicting that far ahead, didn't I?"
"Damn you… [Acrobat]…!!"
"Hey, stop trying to make that an insult."
This lighthearted back-and-forth with Irori isn't so bad.
Now that we could speak freely, it seemed that even a breathtakingly handsome man was, at the end of the day, just another gamer.
◇◆◇◆◇
"—This is it."
"Whoa…"
After a few minutes of us two guys chatting idly, we emerged from the dense bamboo grove to find a magnificent gate, brimming with a traditional Japanese aesthetic.
On the other side of the wall, which seemed to enclose a decently sized area, the image that came to mind was none other than the word 'dojo.'
"Some kind of sword-fighting dojo…?"
"…………Yeah, that was the original plan."
Huh? He's being all mysterious.
"Now then—Haru, there's one thing I need to tell you."
His voice, different from the lighthearted tone he'd been using just moments before, was now laced with seriousness.
I looked at him without joking around, and saw that Irori was watching me with a sharp gaze.
"I know you're capable of changing your attitude depending on who you're talking to, so I'm sure it'll be fine, but… please, whatever you do, do not be rude."
"…Is she a strict person?"
His aura screamed I'm not kidding, and I asked, slightly intimidated. Irori shook his head. "That's not it."
"She's kinder, gentler, and purer than anyone. I don't want her to have a bad experience."
"………………I see."
My own mentality isn't so childish as to make a joke out of that. I nodded sincerely to show I understood, and he nodded back before taking a step forward.
Apparently, there was no need to knock or ring a bell. Irori placed both hands on the gate and, with a firm push… it opened to reveal a stone-paved area, similar in design to the grounds of a shrine.
I looked for the source of the light, rhythmic sound I had faintly heard even through the gate, the soft swish… swish… repeating at a steady pace—
"—…………"
Standing there in my field of vision, rendering me speechless, was a lone woman holding a bamboo broom.
Her gray hair, cut neatly at the shoulders, swayed gently in the breeze.
Her frame, which might have been even smaller and more slender than Sora's, was clad in a white kimono and indigo hakama.
Seeing her with the broom, along with her somewhat solemn atmosphere, made me think of a shrine maiden for a moment—but no. Even without a weapon in her hands, her dignified stance was unmistakably that of a 'swordsman.'
The woman was simply sweeping fallen leaves with her bamboo broom.
That was all, nothing special—and yet, there was something about her that powerfully seized my eyes, my heart, and refused to let go.
—Beautiful.
It was probably the first time in my eighteen years of life.
I couldn't even bring myself to laugh at the honest, shameless thought that had surfaced in my mind.
She must have heard the gate open. She quietly lifted her head, and our eyes met.
Her eyes were a clear gray, a perfect match for her hair.
Transfixed by a gaze that seemed to be the very embodiment of grace, I couldn't move a single finger—
"—…It has been a long time since we've had guests."
Her soft smile left me utterly captivated, as if I'd been bewitched.
"—Haru."
"Guh… ah, r-right."
A nudge to my side from Irori finally snapped me back to my senses.
I quickly rearranged my dumbfounded expression. Ignoring me, Irori, who had delivered the elbow jab, stepped forward and bowed his head respectfully.
"It has been a while, Sensei. You seem well."
"Please, don't call me Sensei, Irori-kun. It is good to see you are well, too."
The woman to whom the usually casual [Sword Protector] showed such deference smiled, seemingly pleased by his words, before—turning her gray eyes to me.
As I froze up pathetically once again, she walked over, every small gesture picturesque. She straightened her posture even more, and said,
"—It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ui."
"………………A pleasure to meet you. My name is… Haru."
It was nothing short of a miracle that I managed to return the greeting she offered with a polite bow.
The second-ranked member of the Eastern Faction—the [Sword Saint].
This was my first encounter with the woman who would later become someone truly special to me.
Looking back, it was from this very meeting—that the name of the [Acrobat] dwelling within my avatar began its ascent up a seemingly endless staircase.
This concludes the first section of Chapter Two.