"You want to take me as your master, kid?"
Isshin crossed his arms, sizing up the boy kneeling on the ground with interest, his face still wearing that seemingly carefree and cheerful smile.
After returning to the city with Chairman Yagyū Sōichirō, he had shamelessly ignored the chairman's increasingly dark, soot-like expression and insisted on staying at the Jaishin Style dojo for a sumptuous lunch before finally wandering back, satisfied.
Unexpectedly, as soon as he reached his doorstep, he found someone had been waiting for a long time.
It was the fellow who had been hiding on the hillside earlier, peeking at his sparring match with the chairman amidst the wind and snow outside the city.
The kid was quite direct; as soon as they met, he dropped to his knees with a thud and immediately requested to be taken in as a disciple.
"Yes! Please take me as your disciple, Master Isshin! Teach me martial arts!" Yamagami Motoya kowtowed again, his voice echoing from the cold stone floor.
"Tsk, tsk." Isshin shook his head and clicked his tongue. "You, kid, your eyes are like hooks, filled with all sorts of things. Your face practically has the words 'bitter hatred' written all over it. One look and I can tell you're carrying a blood feud, maybe even a 'family ruined and dead' drama. Oh boy! This kind of disciple is the most troublesome—exhausting to teach, and there's always so much baggage afterward."
His words were blunt to the point of being harsh, like a cold dagger slicing through the calm facade Yamagami Motoya was trying so hard to maintain.
Yamagami Motoya's body trembled, his head hanging even lower, his lips pressed white. The fire of hope that had just risen in his heart felt as if it had been doused with a bucket of ice water.
However, just when he thought he would be flatly rejected, Isshin's voice rang out again:
"Let me ask you, are you learning the sword for revenge?"
Yamagami Motoya snapped his head up, meeting Isshin's still-casual eyes. He answered candidly, even with a sort of desperate resolve:
"I won't lie to you, Master. I am indeed learning the sword for revenge!"
He paused for a moment, took a breath, and continued:
"But it's not just for revenge. It's also so that the tragedy that happened to me won't easily befall others. I don't want to see more people reduced to the state of having their families destroyed and having nowhere to turn for help!"
Isshin didn't speak, just quietly watched him. Yamagami Motoya stared back without flinching, though his heart hammered like a drum and his back was soaked with cold sweat.
"Tell me your story first."
Hearing this, Yamagami Motoya didn't dare delay. He quickly organized his thoughts and began to speak in as clear a voice as possible: "Master, my name is Yamagami Motoya, born in the Land of Hot Springs..."
He spoke of his former life in a hot spring inn family, the shadow of war, his father's departure, his mother's downfall, the deceptions of the Holy Spirit Church, the loss of their estate, his older brother's tragedy, and finally... his younger sister being sent to the afterlife.
'Eh?'
'Why does this story sound so familiar?'
As Isshin listened, it felt familiar, as if he had heard it in his previous life. But he didn't dwell on it, attributing it to the fact that tragedies in any world are mostly similar.
"And so, I came to the Land of Iron." Yamagami Motoya finished his narrative and lowered his head again, awaiting judgment.
"Alright." Isshin finally spoke, his tone as casual as if deciding what to eat for dinner. "Then you can follow me and learn for now. But I'll tell you the ugly truth upfront: I can teach, but how much you learn and whether you can endure the hardship depends on your own ability. If one day you feel you can't handle it, or I feel you're not cut out for it, you must leave."
Conveniently, after he was promoted to Chunin and sword master, his professional entry descriptions mentioned that "the efficiency of guiding others in terms of swordsman (ninja) talent is slightly increased."
His main body was currently busy in Konoha working on fire release ninja body techniques and preparing for the upcoming shinobi world war, so he hadn't had a chance to test this effect.
As this clone of Isshin, he had time on his hands. Taking a disciple to test the waters and see what this "slight increase" actually amounted to seemed like a good idea.
What if it could generate some entry related to education?
Although such entries couldn't directly boost his own power, they would allow him to guide his disciples with half the effort and twice the result.
In time, a group of true experts would naturally gather under his command, becoming his solid wings and foundation.
He also knew that reputation could be amplified through disciples. When a disciple became famous for exquisite swordsmanship, the world would firmly believe the master's way of the sword was even more powerful; when a disciple deterred a region with great strength, the world would likewise think the master who taught him was even more formidable.
Every achievement of his disciples, every gasp of wonder and praise they received, would be like rivers flowing into the sea, merging into a more majestic torrent of recognition that would lift him to unimaginable heights.
Just like the greatest sage and teacher of his previous life—his wisdom was indeed high and profound, but his lofty status was also inseparable from his generations of disciples.
"Greetings, Sensei!" Yamagami Motoya was overjoyed and hurried to kowtow.
"Alright, alright, stand up and talk."
"Thank you, Sensei!" Yamagami Motoya stood up as told, his face filled with irrepressible excitement and gratitude.
He suddenly remembered something and quickly turned to rummage through his ragged bag, frantically trying to find some money or something else barely presentable to offer as a formal apprenticeship gift.
"That's enough, stop rummaging." Isshin glanced at his awkward searching and spoke nonchalantly, originally intending to say, "I'm not lacking your pittance."
But his gaze happened to sweep across a rough but polished metal barrel peeking through a gap in the bundle.
He paused mid-sentence, his eyes lighting up slightly.
"Wait!" he changed his tune, pointing at the barrel. "Let me see that gun of yours."
As Isshin, a great sword master, how could he not have a gun?
(A/n: what the fuck is this logic)
'A gun!'
It was also an extension of the way of the sword, one of the "vessels" worth exploring!
'A gun?'
Yamagami Motoya was stunned, then realized his teacher was referring to his firearm.
He quickly stopped rummaging and carefully held out the firearm, which was somewhat crude in structure but had every part wiped clean, offering it respectfully while explaining somewhat nervously:
"Teacher, this... this is something I tinkered with and modified using collected parts during my spare time on duty. It's just some trivial, unworthy trickery. I will definitely practice hard from now on and focus on the way of the sword, and I won't be distracted by these things anymore..."
"Trivial trickery?" Isshin took the firearm; it felt heavy in his hand. He fiddled with it with interest, checking the barrel and the firing mechanism. Hearing this, he shook his head and interrupted him, "Motoya, this is no trivial thing."
He looked up at Yamagami Motoya, whose face still bore confusion and unease, and said seriously, "Our Ashina Style swordsmanship prides itself on continuously absorbing the strengths of a hundred schools and gathering the techniques of a thousand sects. Although it is named after the sword, our path is by no means restricted to the form of a sword."
He weighed the firearm in his hand as if considering how best to use it. "As long as it can achieve victory in battle, effectively strike down an opponent, and protect what one wishes to protect... then whether it is a long sword, a short blade, a spear, a bow and arrow, or this firearm in your hand that can spit fire and metal, or even explosive tags and cannons—all can be, and should be, weapons used by us."
"Remember, Motoya, the precepts of our Ashina Style can be summarized in four words—adapt to the situation!"
"The essence is also four words—practicality is enough! And the ultimate goal we pursue..."