"Hehe… That wager sounds like I'm the one getting the better deal. But, Goku-san—grant any wish? Can you truly manage that?"
"Beat me, and we'll talk," Goku answered with a calm smile.
Asama Miya held his gaze for a long moment, then nodded. "Very well. I accept your terms."
Hikari, Hibiki, Mitsuha, and the others emerged from the inner room freshly changed. Seeing the two facing off in the courtyard, Mitsuha leaned toward Akitsu, curiosity bright in her eyes. "What are Master and the landlady doing?"
"Dueling," Akitsu said simply, without looking away.
"A duel? Now that sounds fun." Mitsuha's excitement flared. "I've always thought Master was a mystery. Finally, I get to see it for myself."
"Then be careful," Miya said softly to Goku. Her expression became calmer than ever—so calm it felt like a different person stood there now. A sheathed blade of a woman: serene surface, but beneath it raged a storm of cutting intent.
With that warning, Miya's wooden sword flashed forward like a shooting star. In the blink of an eye, it was at Goku's chest.
Goku merely angled his body aside and let the point pass, then extended a single finger and flicked the blade. The snap carried the weight of a mountain; Miya hissed and nearly lost her grip. She steadied herself with a swift retreat, eyes narrowing—then, to her own surprise, a glint of excitement danced there. "You are strong. In that case… I won't hold back."
Off to the side, Homura (Kagari) stiffened. He knew Miya's strength better than anyone. To see her wear that expression against a supposed human—how could that be? How could a mere man wield such power?
"Don't hold back," Goku said, voice mild. "Show me what No. 01 can really do."
Miya drew a long, controlled breath. Her aura leveled into a still lake. Both hands on the sword, feet planted, she became motionless—save for the killing edge quietly gathering along the wooden blade.
"Goku-san, I'll be serious now. Do be careful."
Her form blurred. In an instant, she was there; the point of the sword lanced for his heart with no telegraph at all.
To others, the thrust would have been too fast to follow. In Goku's eyes, it crawled. A dark gleam rippled in his hand; an ancient, dusky sword appeared. With the lightest lift, he nudged her line off course. Her strike sheared a stone beside him neatly in two.
Miya blinked—then smiled, almost relieved. The setup thrust she'd prepared had been turned aside as though it were nothing. Good. If she held back, she might actually hurt him. Since he could take it, she could let herself go.
With a soft cry she raised the wooden blade, and a faint radiance gathered along its edge. It became a killing sword; her strongest slash surged forth. An invisible arc roared through the air—an edge without a body. She had once carved tanks and aircraft to pieces with this technique. Its power was absolute.
Goku watched it come and gave his own blade a casual sweep. The formless crescent shattered to glittering dust.
Miya's brows knit. His effortless composure pressed down on her, and pride answered the pressure. She was the No. 01 Sekirei; she would not accept being outclassed so easily. She stepped in and unleashed a storm—strike after strike, a rain of blades threading the air toward him.
Goku did not move from where he stood. He was the ocean—deep, endless, untroubled—each subtle wave and pulse visible to the eye. No matter how her sword-rain fell, the tide did not shift.
His ancient blade turned as if guided by his hand's own thought. Every time, at the earliest possible instant, it was simply there—meeting a thrust, diverting a slash, dissolving a feint.
Miya's frown deepened. Standing as he was, his posture was riddled with "openings." She could picture seven or eight places to stab at once. But each time she tried, horror flickered through her: the "opening" closed under a feather-light motion, and the path was gone. However fast she moved, his quiet blade was already in the way.
For the first time, someone gave her the sensation of powerlessness. Against that impossible swordcraft, respect budded into genuine admiration.
But surrendering easily was not in Miya's nature. Having finally gauged Goku's depth, she cast off restraint and let the Sekirei's true might erupt.
Sword intent blasted outward, and the courtyard howled. Trees bent as though in a typhoon, leaves and dust spiraling; for a moment it seemed the wind itself would tear the place apart.
"You're strong," Miya called through the gale. "Looks like I'll need to release my power to fight you properly!" She stood in the heart of the storm, skirts and hair snapping, a war goddess of pure steel.
And then the tempest died—drawn inward, tamed. The woman who remained was not the one from seconds before.
"She's… released her true strength," Homura breathed, stunned. "A human forced Miya to go this far…?"
"The landlady is a Sekirei… and so strong!" Kunō whispered, eyes wide. "What number is she?"
"No. 01—Asama Miya," Akitsu said quietly. "Captain of the first Disciplinary Squad. The only Sekirei discovered already as an adult."
"That Sekirei?" Hikari, Hibiki, and Mitsuha stared, shocked.
"But Master is still holding his own against the legendary No. 01… He's incredible," Hikari murmured, thrilled, as Goku faced Miya's crushing aura with the same unruffled calm.
"Oh?" Goku smiled slightly. "This pressure… a few hundred units at least. As expected of No. 01. You've got some bite."
"Goku-san," Miya warned, voice grave, the hush before a flood. "When I release my power, I'm dangerous. Be careful."
"Use everything. Don't hold back at all," he replied, utterly even. "You can't hurt me."
"Then I won't be polite!"
Light burst from her; force rolled off her in waves, whipping the air. She vanished and reappeared already upon him, wooden blade singing. Sword-qi condensed, glinting bright; with a brutal, imperial momentum she hewed down at him.
Goku's eyes lit with a hint of surprise—this cut truly carried terrifying weight. Even so, he only lifted his sword in a light guard. The blow crashed home—and stopped.
Boom.
Wood struck wood, and the noise hammered the courtyard like thunder.
Despite how Goku's blade gleamed like a peerless divine weapon, it was no more than something he'd idly formed from the power of wood—a wooden sword, just like Miya's. Two simple wooden blades met—and the world shook.
Cracks spiderwebbed from beneath Goku's feet; in an instant a deep crater yawned there. The shockwave rippled outward, nearly toppling Akitsu and the others.
Fortunately, Goku had raised a barrier around the grounds. The violence never escaped the yard; the force winked out against the unseen boundary.
Miya's hips turned with a dancer's grace as she spun through the air, and the wooden sword came howling down again, a cyclone screaming at its edge.
Ching!
Goku's blade flashed once. A line of flow gleamed—and Miya's wooden sword snapped cleanly in two. The ancient blade halted one centimeter from the pale skin of her throat.
For a heartbeat, everyone simply stared. The clash had been too fierce and too fast; by the time their minds caught up, the duel was already over.
Miya's lashes lowered slightly as she looked at the black edge resting a breath from her neck. Shock and something like wonder mingled in her eyes. She hadn't expected to lose—and certainly not to a "human."
"You are… truly strong," Miya said at last, gazing at the broken halves in her hand. The admiration in her voice was sincere.
Goku smiled lightly; with a thought, the ancient sword dissolved into nothing.
"Master, you were amazing!" Hikari and Hibiki cheered, flinging themselves at him. One to the left, one to the right, they wrapped him in an exuberant hug.
Mitsuha, Akitsu, and the others hurried over as well, eyes shining with pride. It was hard to believe, but their Ashikabi had just defeated the legendary No. 01. If word got out, it would shake the entire city.
Homura could only stare, stunned. A human defeating a Sekirei—the strongest Sekirei? It defied belief.
Somewhere else, in a bright control room jammed with monitors, a busty woman in glasses watched the feed with eyes ablaze. Her grin was pure fujoshi mischief, tinged with something darker. "Heh-heh… Goku… how interesting. Even the landlady loses to him… Ahh, this racing heartbeat… my whole body feels like it's on fire… Hehe. Looks like I'd better conduct some hands-on research."
Back in Izumo Inn's wide courtyard, Homura stepped closer to Goku, disbelief still etched across his face. "Are you… truly human?"
"Do I not look it?" Goku replied mildly.
Homura slowly shook his head. "No human should be able to wield power like that."
..
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