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On the 31st of December, after a light breakfast, Inori Natsume was in quite the pickle.
“‘The year is almost over, time is running out.’, that’s what you were thinking just now.”
“Hmm?!”
Ruka had approached her as she was to leave the cafeteria, seemingly having decided to read Inori’s heart.
“Bullseye? I knew we were connected Inorin!”
“...”
Facing such an affirmation, the swordswoman’s face remained impassive.
“‘What’s with her?’, right?”
“...?!”
And yet Ruka managed to guess her thoughts.
“Right again! I’m just too good! What’s bothering you though? Need a hand?”
“...”
There was the slightest furrow in Inori’s brows. Ruka really couldn’t help putting her nose where it didn’t belong.
“‘Meddelsome… I require counsel.’ isn’t it?”
“Ngh?!”
For an instant, Inori wondered if Ruka’s presence in the Seraph Squad wasn’t for her musical ability but for her mind reading skill. Discarding this idea, she refocused on the blonde in front of her.
“I’m on a roll! What can I do for you? If it’s something to do before next year we only have the day left.”
For the first time today, Inori spoke.
“... How do you do it? With Izumi.”
Ruka stopped to think for an instant.
“Now that’s a difficult question. I doubt saying ‘I don’t think much’ would really help you… And I do have the perk of being a somewhat famous singer…
It might sound a bit uninspired, but I try to be honest, both with myself and with her.”
“...”
Their talk was interrupted by the hacker.
“Ruka, you’ll be late for practice if you don’t go now.”
“You waited for me? This feeling in my chest… What could it be? Maybe… I don’t dare to say it, but what if it was… Love? Yukkie, I think I love you, let’s get married!”
Yuki facepalmed at the overdramatic display of affection before turning, her ears a bright red.
“I told you, we’ll do it after we win against the Cancer. Now let’s go.”
Watching the pair leave, a tinge of envy traversed Inori’s mind. Dismissing it, she went back to her dorm room. There, she saw it was empty save for Hanamura.
“Inori dear, welcome back. Have you come to spend some delightful time with me?”
Expectedly, Shiki was still Shiki.
“...”
“Hmm… Your brows are a few degrees more furrowed than usual. And your right hand reached for your sword only once instead of thrice.
Your hesitation throws you in disharmony, not that I dislike it. Bringing a songbird back on the melodious path is a delectable experience in itself.”
Faced with those, quite direct, advances, Inori’s expression remained still as always.
“Enough. No need to force yourself.”
Indeed, in an attempt to help Inori shed her shame, Shiki had cranked up her flirting to eleven.
“Sigh… And here I thought I was subtle. Now, what matter of heart bothers you? Your master, I suppose.”
A slight pink dusted Inori’s cheeks. It seemed like everyone had decided to become a telepath.
In the distance, a certain Esper yelled about her character trait being stolen.
Inori hesitated for a while before deciding to bite the bullet.
“How to say it to her?”
Hearing this, Shiki smiled.
“That is not the right question, what you are asking is how to express it. There is a nuance. You can dance it, sing it, write it.
There is no obligation to say it, although if you do get together, try to say your feelings out loud from time to time.”
This was something she hadn’t thought about.
Indeed, she could convey a message through other means. She was reminded of something her master once told her.
'You were absolutely wonderful.'
...
Wrong flashback, sorry.
‘Masters of the sword communicate better with their blades than with their words.’
With a slight nod, Natsume left the room.
“It seems you found your answer. I wish you luck, Inori dear.”
Once she left her challenge letter on a diminutive swordmaster’s desk, the day passed in a blink. Before she realised it, it was already ten to midnight, a few minutes before the agreed time.
Tonight, Narby Square was lit only by the full moon, giving the snow covered scenery a mystical, almost sacred feel.
“So you’ve come, my disciple. To challenge me tonight at 23:57 exactly. I see you wish to decide our duel before the end of the year.”
Hisame appeared relaxed, as if it wasn’t a duel but a simple teaching session. Although for a genius like her, it probably was the case
“Hmm.”
“Very well, allow me to give you a few pointers.”
Hisame slowly drew her sword. The temperature dropped a few degrees and the air stilled. The faraway sounds of celebration grew faint.
It wasn’t the first time Inori faced such pressure, they sparred quite often after all, but that didn’t stop a drop of cold sweat from forming on her back.
Still, she drew her sword as well.
On instinct, Inori parried a slash aimed at her neck. It had arrived faster than she could see, yet, almost deliberately, remained slow enough for her to react.
The following strikes had her on the defensive, her honed senses barely keeping her from being cut. Each blow felt heavy, domineering, and yet still manageable. Each parry, each block pushed her to the brink, but their flow was getting smoother, as if guided by a gentle hand.
‘It is getting nowhere. I must retake the initiative.’
Inori leaped back, creating some distance. Although she could have followed, Hisame stayed in place, observing her moves.
When she saw Inori intended to be the one on the offensive this time, she left an opening on her left. An invitation or a trap? It didn’t matter, Inori would take it.
With a clean, clinical strike, she aimed to take the head of her self appointed master. And yet the blow was deflected, passing harmlessly above Hisame’s head. Not discouraged, Inori threw attack after attack. Each slash, each lunge would have taken the life of any lesser swordsman. However, Hisame was anything but ordinary. In fact, it was Inori who seemed painfully ordinary against 30-G’s swordmaster. Not one of her strikes had made Hisame move from her spot, not one attack had come close to breaking her guard.
Such is the gap between an expert and a genius.
Inori stepped back once more. If attacking and defending didn’t work, she’d have to think of another way.
“It’s already been two minutes, my disciple. If you don’t hurry, the last one will fly away in the wind.”
No time to think, she’d just have to rely on instinct and improvisation.
She took the initiative once more, but this time, instead of a honed, executioner strike that had been practiced to perfection, it was a wild, unrefined slash, emulating Sumomo’s sword. Next, came Niina’s swordsmanship, then Adelheid’s and so on. They were pale imitations of course, but they added unpredictability. Never had she attempted such a crude way of fighting, but through each attack, she absorbed the knowledge and experience of each of her fellow sword SERAPH user until, finally, she attempted to copy Yuina. She recalled the strike that took her down, that held all of her senior’s belief.
The moment their swords made contact, a burst of light erupted all around them, fireworks as beautiful as flower illuminating the scenery.
It was her one and only opportunity. Using the momentum of her blade being parried she launched a final slash, this time, she copied non other than her master’s Hitō ryū.
Obviously, the attack was easily blocked. And yet, Inori had, in a certain way, won the duel.
“This last attack, makes it more than three minutes.”
Hisame smiled.
“I know.”