After finishing his match—and under the lingering gaze of his referee fangirl—Gekkō Hoshiyomi casually stepped down from the platform.
Rather than returning to the inn immediately, he wandered through the arena, observing the battles on other stages, hoping to spot potential rivals.
Sure enough, several contestants caught his attention.
On Platform 8, the defending fighter was a master of Iaijutsu. Every opponent who stepped up was defeated in a single strike.
That one blade—the timing, precision, and power—was at least on par with Hoshiyomi's own. The only question was: did this swordsman have any follow-up techniques to back up such a stunning opening move?
Then there was another one—a beast of a man wielding a massive nodachi (greatsword). Towering nearly two meters tall, he carried a blade over five shaku long—around 150 centimeters.
Nodachi were rarely seen in the shinobi world. Too large for stealth operations or team combat, they were considered impractical—but in the right hands, they could turn a man into a one-man army.
And this man? Definitely had the right hands.
He stepped onto the platform and shattered his opponent's weapon—someone who had already defended for five consecutive matches—with a single slash.
What truly stunned Hoshiyomi, however, was that despite the nodachi's size, the man stopped his swing mid-motion—destroying the weapon without even scratching his opponent.
That level of precise control over overwhelming strength… might even surpass his own.
Several brave souls still tried to challenge him, but they were all swept clean off the platform in one blow. Eventually, no one else dared step forward. Like Hoshiyomi, the man earned his preliminary pass after standing undefeated for half an hour.
Hoshiyomi judged both of them to be formidable opponents. Even if they weren't stronger than him, they certainly weren't far off.
Watching so many skilled fighters with their own unique styles made him feel pumped up. He couldn't wait for the main tournament to begin.
After two days of focused training back at the inn, Hoshiyomi brought along a restless Lobo and arrived at the venue for the official preliminaries.
Two hundred people had advanced from the qualifiers. Now came the real deal: 1v1 battles by random draw.
Half would be eliminated here, leaving 100 to enter the next round. That group would be halved again, trimming it down to the Top 50, who would then enter the final stage of the tournament.
Hoshiyomi's first-round opponent? A complete nobody.
He didn't even draw his sword. Three moves later, the match was over.
Victory. Round two.
The afternoon brought the 100-to-50 elimination round—and by coincidence, Hoshiyomi's opponent was none other than the Iaijutsu swordsman from Platform 8.
Both stepped onto the stage.
The man placed his hand on his sword and introduced himself:
"I am Furukawa Yūichirō. May I ask your name?"
"Himura Kenshin. Please enlighten me."
With those words, silence fell over the arena.
Furukawa Yūichirō was a master of Iaijutsu, a style that emphasized reacting after the opponent made a move—countering in a blink with a blade so fast the enemy couldn't react.
It was a discipline that required nerves of steel and impeccable timing. As such, Yūichirō almost never struck first.
And Hoshiyomi, knowing how dangerous this style was, didn't rush in recklessly either. He began shifting his footwork, circling and probing for an opening.
Iaijutsu wasn't just a flashy quick-draw—it was a calculated, deadly precision strike. If timed correctly, it could instantly end a fight. You couldn't just dodge it with a backward step or raw speed.
Even Hoshiyomi's Swallow Reversal (Tsubame Gaeshi) was a derivative of this deadly technique, which spoke volumes about its danger.
If he wanted to win, he had to make Yūichirō draw first. Once the blade left its sheath, he'd have a chance to counter.
From the outside, it looked like they were randomly pacing—but in their minds, hundreds of simulated scenarios played out with every step.
Eventually, Hoshiyomi found it.
The gap.
He chose to strike—but still didn't draw Mikazuki Munechika. Instead, he charged forward with the sword still sheathed.
Yūichirō was elated.
He's finally breaking formation. If he makes a move, there'll be a gap. And that's my moment.
Muscles tensed. Veins bulged on his hand. His eyes locked onto Hoshiyomi's every twitch.
The moment that flaw appears—
I strike.
It came. Now!
With a sharp cry, Yūichirō drew his blade in a flash. The movement was so fast the blade itself couldn't be seen—only a streak of silver light.
But then…
He missed.
His blade cut through empty air.
Because Hoshiyomi had never planned to strike head-on.
In the middle of his charge, he suddenly slid into a low sweep—a classic shinobi sliding attack.
Yūichirō's full focus had been locked on Hoshiyomi's hands and blade. He never even considered the possibility of a low-angle assault.
Hoshiyomi's slide brought him under the sword's arc, completely avoiding the strike. As the momentum of the slide ended, he used one hand to push off the ground and launched himself upward like lightning.
In midair, his arms moved in unison:
One hand swung Mikazuki Munechika.
The other braced against the sheath for added force.
Ryūshōsen – Soaring Dragon Flash!
The blade rose in a sharp vertical thrust, arms outstretched in a twin-handed offering—like a skyward gift.
The hilt struck Yūichirō directly in the throat, sending him flying.
The force of the upward motion carried him into the air alongside the blade. His eyes bulged in pain, his body curling into itself, unable to stabilize midair.
His sword slipped from his fingers.
Hoshiyomi landed cleanly on the platform.
Yūichirō… crashed outside the ring, landing in a heap, clutching his throat, gagging.
And that—was Hoshiyomi holding back. If he'd gone all-out, the man's throat would have shattered.
It took a long time before Yūichirō could even breathe again. Red-eyed, snot-faced, still retching, he croaked out:
"Wh-what the hell… was that technique…?"
Hoshiyomi smiled faintly and replied:
"Hiten Mitsurugi-Ryū – Ryūshōsen."