With that thought in mind, Haimer stepped forward.
A crushing pressure surged toward her head-on.
Under Haimer's gaze, Rin felt him grow impossibly tall in an instant, like a mountain about to collapse, its shadow spilling over her until she was completely engulfed.
She felt Fear.
"Damn it!"
Rin yelled out a low shout, trying to drive away the tremor in her heart.
Clang!
Her long blade left its sheath.
There was no flashy probing, no cautious testing.
Facing an opponent strong enough to make her heart seize, she opened with a full-force killing move.
Decisive. Her combat instinct wasn't bad.
Haimer noted it silently.
The style she used was Kashima Shinden Jikishinkage-ryū.
Secret Art: Dragon Tail Return!
A wide-arcing slash.
The blade carved a curve through the air, fast, precise, ruthless, enough to cut steel.
However,
In Haimer's divine eyes, which saw through the essence of all techniques, the trajectory of that strike, the point where force was applied, even the follow-up variations, were all laid bare with perfect clarity.
"Your heart is still too chaotic," Haimer said, offering a simple appraisal.
Then he hooked a finger lightly.
Whoosh!
A sharp whistle tore through the air.
Mozunono, who had been trembling at Rin's side, suddenly felt her grip go weightless.
The white baton she had been clutching tightly seemed to come alive, wrenching itself from her hand and shooting forward.
"Huh?!"
Mozunono let out a startled cry.
Before she could even react, the baton had crossed several meters and landed neatly in Haimer's hand.
Then,
Clang!
A crisp ring of metal on metal echoed through the corridor.
That not-so-sturdy baton struck with uncanny precision against the side of Rin's blade, right at the point where the weapon's leverage was at its weakest.
Four ounces to deflect a thousand pounds.
A violent rebound raced through the hilt and surged up Rin's entire arm.
Her tiger's mouth, the web between thumb and index finger, went numb, and her grip nearly failed.
Her "certain kill" strike was dissolved with effortless ease.
The blade veered off its intended line, grazing past the edge of Haimer's clothing and slamming into the wall beside him, blasting loose a spray of stone chips.
And then,
Pa!
The tip of Haimer's baton stopped with absolute precision against Rin's mask.
Less than a centimeter away from the hannya visage.
It was nothing more than a light tap.
Yet Rin stiffened as if she'd been bound in place, frozen where she stood.
She stared blankly at the baton tip hovering before her.
Cold sweat soaked straight through her back.
Because she knew, better than anyone.
If that baton carried real force, her head would burst like an overripe melon.
Haimer looked at the rigid girl and spoke slowly.
"Your sword is bound by your heart."
"Or rather, it's bound by that mask."
Beneath the mask, Rin's pupils tightened.
"The essence of swordsmanship is purity," Haimer continued. "But when you swing your blade, you're filled with disgust toward yourself, and fear of being seen."
"Too many stray thoughts."
Tap.
Tap.
As he spoke, he used the baton to lightly knock on the ferocious hannya mask, producing a soft tap-tap sound.
"You don't understand…" Rin's voice trembled, yet she still tried to cling to her last bit of stubborn pride. "This is to…"
"To cover up your weakness?" Haimer cut her off without mercy.
Just like an ostrich burying its head in the sand, believing that if it can't see the predator, the danger no longer exists.(TL: Just a myth)
It never realizes that this self-deceiving sense of safety is poison, poison that strangles growth.
Sheltered by darkness, their soul starts to shrivels and their courage also starts to erodes.
Until, in the end, the mask is no longer camouflage. It becomes a cage that imprisons the soul, and even turns the tables, becoming part of the person's very "truth."
"Take it off," Haimer said.
"If you still admit you're a swordsman."
"Then face the thing you fear most."
The moment those words fell, the hand holding the sword began to shake violently.
Take it off?
In front of this man, no, even in front of Amou Kirukiru?
Let them see that cursed face?
The face my mother loathed, the face branded as ominous?
"N-no…"
She instinctively tried to retreat.
That fear, so raw it eclipsed even her fear of death.
But Haimer didn't give her the chance to shrink back.
"Too slow."
With a quiet sigh, Haimer applied a touch of force with the baton.
Crack!
A crisp splitting sound rang out.
The hard hannya mask that had accompanied Onigawara Rin for years instantly filled with spiderweb fractures.
Then,
Crash!
It shattered completely.
Countless white fragments burst into the air, whirling like falling petals.
Beneath the mask,
The face that had been hidden behind that ferocious demon visage was finally exposed.
There was nothing ominous.
Nothing ugly.
It was a delicate, refined face.
So pale, in fact, that her skin carried a sickly whiteness from years without sunlight.
At that moment, her eyes, no longer concealed, were filled with panic, with disarray, and with a humiliation so intense it felt like she'd been thrown naked into a crowd.
Tears even glittered at the corners, squeezed out by the sudden collapse of everything she'd been clinging to.
"Uwah…"
Rin let out a short, strangled cry and instinctively reached for her sword again.
Since the side she least wanted anyone to see had already been exposed, then,
Kill him.
Kill everyone who saw this.
Even as reason screamed warnings, even as her body trembled in fear, that emotion called "shame" surged up and drowned everything else.
However,
Haimer stepped in and seized both her hands, forcing her to lift her head and look him in the eye.
No matter how she struggled, she couldn't move him in the slightest.
"What people call the way of the sword begins with etiquette and ends with the heart," Haimer said.
"But your sword-heart is full of noise."
"Shame, anger, fear… those emotions are like dust clinging to a mirror. They keep you from seeing yourself, and they keep you from seeing your sword."
"A sword-heart like that isn't pure."
He paused, then continued.
"Still, I tore off your mask not to humiliate you, nor to judge your past."
"I did it to make you understand something."
"Humans are creatures who grow used to disguises."
"To protect themselves, they put on masks of all kinds."
"Sometimes to avoid harm, sometimes to fit in, sometimes to be accepted."
"There's nothing inherently wrong with that."
"Because in a world full of thorns, exposing your true heart often means handing the blade that can hurt you straight to someone else."
"But," Haimer said, his gaze steady, "if you wear a mask forced upon you for too long, you'll forget what the face beneath it looked like in the first place."
"So only by facing your true heart can you remain true to yourself from beginning to end."
"Think carefully."
"When you first raised a sword, was it to cut down an enemy…"
"Or was it to cut down the cowardly you from the past?"
"If you figure it out, and you no longer want to be a pitiful wretch bound by what came before, but a swordsman who truly thirsts for strength…"
"Then come find me."
"I can take you to other worlds."
"In that world, there are horizons far broader than you can imagine, and trials that can temper your dust-covered sword-heart."
When he finished, Haimer loosened his grip.
Onigawara Rin, with nothing left holding her up, collapsed as though her bones had been removed, landing hard on the floor amidst the broken mask fragments.
She gasped for air, her unmasked face a tangle of shame, anger, and bewilderment.
After that, Haimer didn't spare her another glance.
He simply turned his hand palm-up, then extended a long finger and tapped lightly at the air.
Humm!
The shattered white mask fragments scattered across the floor seemed to rewind in time.
Under the pull of divine power, the pieces lifted, spun, and reassembled.
In the space of a single blink, the intact, ferocious hannya mask floated once more above Haimer's palm.
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