"Why in the name of the heavens is that monk engaging in combat with our honored guest?" A retainer in Lord Yoshiwara's service exclaimed, his brow glistening with beads of sweat.
Lord Yoshiwara, however, remained enigmatically silent, his gaze unwavering as it remained fixed upon the Buddhist monk, who assumed a poised stance.
"That fool... he did arrive here after all..." Lord Yoshiwara muttered, his fan gripped tightly as he stood among his retinue, a quiet storm of thoughts brewing beneath his composed exterior.
The crowd, consumed by curiosity, could no longer restrain themselves. Some began to approach the unfolding battle beneath the scorching summer sun. The monk, ever vigilant, acknowledged their encroaching presence.
"It appears we've garnered quite the unwanted audience, although I doubt you comprehend my words," the monk declared, a palpable air of pride surrounding him.
The Nameless Knight, resolute and unresponsive to the monk's words, inched forward, his footsteps sinking into the pebbled ground. Taking the initiative, he wielded the sheathed blade like a training sword and closed the distance between himself and the monk.
With a sideward swing aimed at the monk's liver, the knight sought to break the impasse. However, the monk, vigilant in tracking the trajectory of attacks, deftly intercepted the strike with the tip of his staff, the resulting clash resonating like thunder.
Undeterred, the knight retracted his weapon and launched a thrust toward the monk's left shoulder. Yet again, the monk's swift defensive maneuver thwarted the attack, the staff's deflection echoing with a rhythmic cadence. A dance of offense and defense unfolded between Nameless Knight and the monk, each refusing to cede ground.
The resounding echoes of their fierce exchanges reverberated throughout the summerhouse, adding intensity to the already sweltering atmosphere. With a powerful, sweeping arc, the knight attempted to catch the monk off guard, but the monk's lightning-quick reflexes allowed him to gracefully evade the incoming strike. The swipe missed its mark, and in response, the monk swiftly countered with circular motions, seeking to bypass the knight's formidable defense.
The knight, valiantly attempting to deflect the assault, found himself unprepared for the staff's sudden circling motion. It slipped past his scabbard and struck him squarely in the chest. A tremor coursed through the knight's frame as shock and pain intermingled, forcing him to stagger backward. The battle's fervor and intensity had escalated, and the summer sun bore witness to this clash.
The knight staggered, a searing pain lancing through his chest beneath the folds of his robe. His knees wavered, nearly succumbing to the agony, but a profound reserve of willpower kept him standing. Silent anger smoldered in his eyes, burning with a fierce determination.
Amidst the encircling crowd that bore witness to the confrontation, one figure stood out in her concern: Miko.
A discerning expression etched itself upon her face as she watched the relentless combat unfold. Each resonating clash of weapons filled her with a deep sense of distress. Her anxiety reached its zenith when she saw the Nameless Knight sustain an injury, and the sight of his pained countenance sent shivers of fear coursing through her. Her valiant warrior, her protector, stood in peril.
The battle against Jorōgumo the day before had already left the Nameless Knight nursing lasting injuries. Not even a day had passed, and now he was compelled to face a formidable opponent skilled in the use of a polearm. Miko believed he needed rest; exhaustion was taking its toll on his body. Her once unwavering facade now betrayed her frantic search for anyone who could offer assistance, and her gaze settled upon one potential ally.
Her attention turned to Lord Yoshiwara, the master of this estate. If the monk was employed here, then it stood to reason that he served under Lord Yoshiwara's jurisdiction. Desperation welled up within her as she prostrated herself on the wooden floor before Lord Yoshiwara, pleading for him to intervene and halt the monk's assault. Her beautiful face was etched with concern, and her eyes pleaded for assistance.
"As much as I would like to honor your request, regrettably, there is nothing I can do in this situation," Lord Yoshiwara replied with blunt sincerity, a touch of regret tinging his words. His visage bore an apologetic expression.
Miko recoiled in shock upon hearing his response. It was not the answer she had anticipated. Rising from her kneeling position, she approached Lord Yoshiwara with a panic-stricken expression, seeking an explanation for his refusal. Her face reflected a mixture of fear and distress, her trust in Lord Yoshiwara shaken to its core.
Miko's hope that Lord Yoshiwara could aid her had crumbled into futility. Repeated rejections left her perplexed, her once-confident visage now painted with the unmistakable shadow of fear. She couldn't fathom what could terrify the lord of this estate so profoundly. After all, wasn't he the master of this domain? What could elicit such trepidation?
As the battle raged on between the two warriors, Miko's mind raced in search of a solution, her thoughts a tempest of uncertainty and desperation.
A downward swing of the staff forced the Nameless Knight to intercept it with all the strength he could muster. The sharp pain in his chest intensified with each movement, a relentless reminder of his injury. Meanwhile, the eccentric monk exhibited a growing mastery over his staff, pushing the knight to his limits and forcing him to retreat.
With a sweeping, wide-side motion of the staff, it struck the knight's external oblique muscle. A sharp, agonizing cry escaped his lips, and in his pain, he dropped the sheathed blade. The monk gazed triumphantly at the now kneeling fighter, his haughty demeanor veiled in mockery.
"Here I was, expecting a more formidable opponent. Perhaps your victory over Jorōgumo was nothing more than the work of that wretched creature," the monk taunted, his tone dripping with disdain. For a traveling monk, he assumed an air of unwarranted arrogance.
The Nameless Knight may not have comprehended the monk's words, but he keenly sensed the mockery dripping from those taunting tones. Like a rising tempest, bitter memories surged within him, threatening to engulf his very soul. For all this time, he had been holding back, but now that his opponent had proven superior, a sly smile crept across his face.
An eerie, unsettling laugh escaped him, catching the monk off guard. Nameless Knight's slow descent into madness began to overwhelm the monk's misplaced arrogance.
"Why are you laughing, huh?!" the monk growled, thrusting his staff downward with the intent of delivering a final blow to the wounded knight.
Yet, just as the staff hurtled toward its intended target, a sudden flash of a blade severed the staff in two, slicing through the monk's pride in the process.
Emerging like a towering titan, the Nameless Knight rose gradually, his eyes ablaze with fury. The monk, left with only a broken staff in his grasp, perspired profusely at the sight of the knight, who now wielded an unsheathed blade with menacing intent. The knight's stance was impeccable, a familiar pose that struck a chord with Miko the moment she laid eyes upon it.
In his straight-cut kimono, the Nameless Knight positioned one foot forward and the other behind, perfectly parallel. His grip on the tachi held it at the same level as his hips, the blade's tip directed squarely at the monk's face. His form was that of a samurai ready to unleash a devastating assault. It was a stance that bore a striking resemblance to the malevolent spirit of a fallen warrior he had faced just two days prior.
A collective gasp escaped the onlookers, including Miko, who had recognized the unmistakable fighting posture. Nameless Knight's triumphant smirk intensified, a stark contrast to the monk's growing rage. The battlefield had shifted once more, and the outcome of this confrontation was now hanging in the balance.