84 – The fox that now tastes defeat

The air was thick with the scent of pine and damp earth as we entered the village—a small, rustic settlement nestled within the embrace of towering mountains and dense forests. The sun was setting, casting a warm golden hue over the traditional wooden houses with their thatched roofs, creating an almost serene atmosphere. But the tranquility was broken by the lively chatter coming from a nearby tavern.

Chronoa, invisible to all but me, floated by my side, her excitement barely contained. Yuki's voice was also silenced, so I couldn't hear her. My magic was sealed and although my appearance didn't change, Chronoa assured me that I would look normal in other people's eyes. Regarding the task at hand... My ancestor, Nakajima Ishin, was supposed to be here. I had imagined meeting a disciplined, noble warrior—but as we approached the tavern, the first thing I heard was a loud, boisterous laugh, followed by the sound of a body hitting the floor.

We stepped inside, and the scene that greeted us was far from what I expected. The tavern was dimly lit, filled with the smell of sake, and populated by men who looked like they'd seen better days. At the center of it all, sitting at a low wooden table with a bottle of sake in hand, was a man who could only be Ishin.

He was disheveled, with long, unkempt hair and a stubble-covered face. His kimono was loose, revealing a muscular chest, but the most striking thing was the way he swayed in his seat, clearly drunk. This… this was the legendary swordsman I had come all this way to meet?

"That's him," Chronoa whispered, her voice filled with amusement. "Your ancestor."

I stared at the man, my eyes narrowing in disbelief. "This… this is Nakajima Ishin? The founder of the Nakajima style? Are you sure we’re not in the wrong timeline?"

Chronoa giggled, still invisible to everyone else in the tavern. "Oh, this is definitely the right timeline. It seems he’s just enjoying some… downtime."

"More like down-on-his-luck time," I muttered, shaking my head.

As if on cue, Ishin noticed me staring and waved his bottle in my direction. "Oi, you there! Never seen a man drink before? Why don’t you come join me, eh? No need to be shy, miss!"

I sighed and made my way over, sitting across from him at the table. Chronoa hovered nearby, thoroughly entertained.

Ishin eyed me up and down, taking another swig of sake. "You look like you’re lost. What brings a fine lady like you to a place like this?"

I hesitated, unsure how to approach this. "I was… looking for someone. Nakajima Ishin."

He laughed, slamming the bottle on the table. "You’re lookin’ at him! What do you want with an old drunk like me?"

This was not going as planned. I could hardly believe this man was my ancestor. The great Nakajima Ishin was supposed to be a warrior of unparalleled skill, not a sake-soaked drunkard. But before I could voice my doubts, a commotion broke out at the other end of the tavern.

A group of rough-looking men, obviously drunk themselves, started picking a fight with one of the serving girls. Ishin glanced over, his eyes narrowing.

"Stay out of this," I advised, still doubting his capabilities.

But Ishin ignored me. Despite his earlier state, he suddenly moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior. Before I could react, he was on his feet, crossing the room in the blink of an eye.

"Hey, leave the girl alone," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

One of the thugs sneered, drawing a blade. "And who’s gonna make us, old man?"

I blinked, and the next thing I knew, the thug was on the ground, his blade clattering to the floor. Ishin had moved so fast that I barely could see the strike. He stood there, swaying slightly, but there was no mistaking the lethal precision in his movements.

The rest of the group backed off quickly, dragging their unconscious friend with them as they muttered curses under their breath. Ishin returned to his seat, casually picking up his bottle of sake as if nothing had happened.

I stared at him, my disbelief growing. Was this really the man I had come all this way to meet?

"So," Ishin said, taking another drink. "What’s a pretty lady like you want with me?"

I decided to just be blunt. "I’m your descendant—from the future."

He raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. "The future, huh? You must’ve been drinking more than me to come up with a story like that."

"It’s true," I insisted. "I’m here to learn from you."

He laughed again, a deep, hearty laugh that shook the table. "Well, if that’s the case, let’s see what you’ve got. Swords don’t lie, after all. If you’re really my descendant, it’ll show in your skills."

I smirked, standing up and grabbing Yuki’s hilt. "Fine by me. Let’s see if you can keep up, old man."

His eyes gleamed with a newfound interest as he stood up, drawing his own sword with a flourish. "All right then, young lady. Let’s see what the future has to offer."

Chronoa, still invisible, watched with anticipation as the two of us squared off in the middle of the tavern, ready to let our swords do the talking.

-Third person POV-

The tavern’s dim light flickered as Edelweiss and Ishin squared off, the clinking of sake bottles fading into the background. The atmosphere became tense, with all eyes on the duel that was about to unfold. Ishin stood there, seemingly unperturbed, his sword resting casually in his hand. In contrast, Edelweiss gripped Yuki tightly, her resolve hardening. She needed to prove herself, not just to him but to the legacy she represented.

Without warning, Ishin made the first move. He lunged forward with surprising speed, his blade cutting through the air with a sharp hiss. Edelweiss barely managed to parry the strike, the force of the blow sending vibrations up her arm. She staggered back, her eyes wide with shock. For a man who had been drunk just moments ago, his precision and power were astonishing.

Ishin didn’t give her a chance to recover. He launched into a series of rapid strikes, his movements fluid and relentless. “Hien-no-Kata: Taka no Tsubasa!” he called out as he executed a series of overhead slashes that mimicked the swift and unpredictable descent of a hawk. Edelweiss blocked desperately, but each strike chipped away at her defense.

She tried to counter, launching her own attack with a determined cry. “Nakajima Style: Fubuki no Mai!” Her blade danced like a winter storm, fast and cold, aiming to overwhelm him with sheer speed. But Ishin saw through it effortlessly. He stepped aside with the grace of a falling leaf, his blade slipping past her guard and tapping her shoulder lightly, just enough to remind her who was in control.

Frustration bubbled up inside Edelweiss. She pushed harder, attacking with more ferocity. But Ishin was always one step ahead. “Seiryu no Odori,” he murmured, his sword flowing like a river, twisting and turning, redirecting her attacks with minimal effort. That was a technique Edelweiss was unaware off. She had much to learn. Can the difference between them really be this big? No matter what she tried, he countered it with ease, his blade moving like a living thing, always where it needed to be.

The fight continued, but it was clear who had the upper hand. Edelweiss was panting, sweat dripping down her brow, while Ishin remained composed, his breath steady. He executed a flawless “Kaze no Ikari,” a sudden burst of speed that left Edelweiss reeling as his blade nicked her cheek, drawing a thin line of blood.

Finally, with one swift motion, Ishin disarmed her. Yuki flew from Edelweiss’s grasp, clattering to the floor. Before she could react, Ishin’s sword was at her throat, the cold steel pressing lightly against her skin. Edelweiss froze, her chest heaving with exhaustion. She had been utterly overpowered.

Ishin withdrew his blade, sheathing it with a sigh. “You must live a sheltered life back in the future,” he said, his voice calm but with an edge of disappointment. “It is true that you have the Nakajima style basics drilled into you… but that’s all. You're weak. You lack the refinement, the experience, and the heart that comes from living and dying by the sword.”

Edelweiss looked down, unable to meet his gaze. The reality of her defeat stung more than any wound.

“If my style has declined so much in the future,” Ishin continued, his tone more serious now, “perhaps it's better to not have kids at all. There’s no point in passing down a blade to someone who cannot wield it properly. You’re not worthy of the Nakajima name, not yet.”

His words cut deeper than any sword could. Edelweiss, who had always been so confident in her abilities, felt a crushing weight on her chest. She had come all this way to seek his guidance, but now, she wondered if she had the strength to carry on.

But even as she stood there, defeated and humiliated, a spark of determination flared within her. She wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. She would prove herself, no matter what it took.

“Train me,” she demanded, her voice steady despite the turmoil inside her. “Teach me what it truly means to be Nakajima.”

Ishin stared at her for a long moment before a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “We’ll see,” he said finally, turning away. “Your blade has a long way to go before it can stand beside mine. But perhaps, with time… you might just prove me wrong.”

Edelweiss watched him go, a mixture of shame and resolve swirling within her. While Chronoa patted her shoulder, she tried to bring her senses back.

"That's one fierce man indeed. It was quite entertaining to watch you two. So? What's your next move, Edel?"

"I don't... know."

Edelweiss had a long road ahead, but one thing was clear—she would not let her ancestor’s legacy end in failure.