Yahageshii's expression was as stormy as a sky on the brink of thunder. He brushed the dust from his tattered clothes, swallowing his frustration and defeat. Without a word, he turned and left the sparring grounds.
Behind him, Harutemi called out with a mischievous grin, "Hey! Don't tell me you can't take a loss?"
Watching this, Elder Kasamaki spoke in a calm yet caring tone, "There's a hot spring behind the courtyard. It can help ease your wounds... and perhaps your pride."
Yahageshii's steps faltered briefly, but he said nothing, his back stiff with defiance as he strode away.
Noon, in the courtyard.
The golden sunlight bathed the courtyard, glinting off Elder Kasamaki's serene face. The air was rich with the fragrance of tea as he blew gently on the surface of his cup, exuding a tranquil aura that seemed untouched by the world's chaos. A soft breeze rustled the bamboo leaves, blending with the chirping of birds to create an atmosphere of peace.
"Sit," the Elder said without turning his head, sensing Yahageshii's presence behind him.
Yahageshii complied silently, lowering himself onto the seat beside the elder. Now clad in a loose kimono, he seemed calmer than before. The suggestion to visit the hot spring had clearly done him some good; though still brooding, the fiery rage in his expression had dulled to a simmer.
Without a word, the elder poured tea into a second cup and slid it toward Yahageshii.
The younger man stared at the cup, then finally broke the silence. "Old man… am I useless?"
Elder Kasamaki chuckled softly, stroking his beard. "Do you think long-range combat is unfair?"
Yahageshii hesitated, frowning. After a pause, he replied quietly, "It's their ability. I can't complain about that."
The elder smiled knowingly and asked, "Then, tell me—what is the role of a frontline fighter?"
Yahageshii responded without hesitation, "To charge ahead and clear the path for everyone else!"
Elder Kasamaki shook his head, his tone carrying a hint of reproach. "And that's precisely why you lost earlier."
The words caught Yahageshii off guard. He frowned, his confusion evident. "Why?"
Elder Kasamaki's gaze was piercing, his voice steady as he asked, "Why didn't you look for her weaknesses? Why did you brute-force through everything? Why didn't you evade?"
Yahageshii scowled, his voice tinged with defiance. "Wasting time on tricks like that is cowardly. It's better to fight head-on!"
At this, the elder set down his teacup, his expression turning grave. "If that's how you think, then even ten lives wouldn't be enough for you on the battlefield. My view of the frontline is quite different from yours."
Yahageshii's eyes narrowed with uncertainty. He waited for the elder to elaborate.
"The true role of the frontline," Elder Kasamaki began, his voice taking on a measured gravity, "is not reckless sacrifice. It is to lead with precision, to fight with both caution and courage. Charging blindly into danger is not bravery—it's foolishness. If you fall, all your comrades will see is your broken body and their mounting despair."
Yahageshii swallowed hard, clenching his fists as shame and confusion warred within him.
The elder's voice softened, but his words remained sharp. "Remember this: retreating or dodging isn't cowardly. Survival is the foundation of battle. Only by staying alive can you continue to fight and clear the way for others. True strength lies in responsibility, in knowing when to endure and when to strike."
Yahageshii remained silent, staring down at his fists as though grappling with an invisible foe. The memories of his defeat replayed in his mind—Harutemi's overwhelming control of the fight, his own helplessness.
Noticing his inner turmoil, the elder smiled faintly. "Do you feel like your fists are useless in close combat?"
Yahageshii looked up, nodding reluctantly. "Of course. Against long-range attacks, fists are nothing. A blade or a gun would be better."
Elder Kasamaki chuckled, shaking his head. "True, long-range combat has its advantages. But—" He gestured toward the far end of the courtyard, where Harutemi lay sprawled beneath the shade of a bamboo grove, her arms folded behind her head, a contented smile on her face. The elder's gaze softened with affection.
"Harutemi wasn't always strong. In the beginning, she couldn't fight at all. She hid behind barriers, surviving on defense alone."
Yahageshii frowned. "But she's strong now, isn't she?"
The elder nodded. "Yes, but not just because of hard work. She learned to adapt. Those seemingly impenetrable rocks she controlled earlier—why do you think they suddenly crumbled like paper?"
Yahageshii thought back, recalling how the once-formidable stones had inexplicably shattered. He frowned. "She weakened them on purpose?"
"Exactly," Elder Kasamaki said with approval. "She mastered the art of blending strength with softness, of feigning vulnerability to deceive her opponents. Weakness, when wielded wisely, becomes a weapon in itself."
Yahageshii's expression wavered as he considered this new perspective. "Weakening oneself to grow stronger… That sounds ridiculous."
The elder sipped his tea, his eyes gleaming with wisdom. "Not ridiculous—strategic. Avoidance and feigned weakness are not signs of cowardice. They are tools, just as much as your fists are."
Yahageshii tilted his head, skeptical. "Tools?"
"Yes," Elder Kasamaki replied. "Everyone feels fear and doubt—it's human. The key is not to suppress these emotions, but to understand and harness them. Just like in combat, brute force won't always prevail. Observing, adapting, and using your opponent's strength against them—this is the path to true power."
For a long moment, Yahageshii was silent, his fists slowly unclenching as the weight of the elder's words settled in his mind.
Elder Kasamaki rose from his seat, walking toward Harutemi. He gently draped a shawl over her, his movements as light as the breeze that rustled the bamboo.
The courtyard fell quiet, the wind dying down and the sunlight softening its touch. Yahageshii looked up at the clear blue sky, a glimmer of new resolve lighting his gaze. A storm might rage within him, but for the first time, he saw a path through it.