Unchanged Samurai In Another World

Episode 18: The Samurai is Impressed

“Let’s go!”

Watching Franz run towards him despite his fear, Kurosu was reminded of his own childhood self. Though he should have been focused on the serious duel at hand, the sight of Franz’s earnest and courageous charge brought back memories of his own training days with inexplicable nostalgia.

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With his nose crushed, seven-year-old Kurosu dripped blood as he faced his father. His older brothers had already fainted and were sprawled unconscious at the edge of the dojo.

“Kurosu, why do you not attack?”

Kurosu’s father questioned him, his voice a thunderous pressure against which Kurosu could barely keep his gaze down and shiver.

“……Forgive me, my skill is still too immature; my legs won’t move forward –”

“NO!!!”

Startled by the unexpected roar, Kurosu took an involuntary step back, nearly dropping his wooden sword.

“Do not mistake the purpose of this training.”

The father pointed to the hanging scroll on the wall bearing the three characters: “Spirit, Technique, Body.”

“I have already told you—this training is not for the sake of physical strength, but to steel the spirit. You youngsters lack physical prowess, and that is natural. Technique and strength will come with growth, but the foundation that must be fortified first is the spirit and courage. The first step of a samurai is to have the heart to face adversity even when defeat is certain. Remember this truth.”

Kurosu thought he understood what his father was saying. His brothers, defeated before him, had also thrown themselves in, ready to meet their fate.

“……………………”

But his legs simply wouldn’t obey him. The pain in his nose and the vivid red blood splashing on the tatami mats weighed upon his body like a wet kimono, refusing to be shaken off.

“I have taught you this: behind us stand those whom we must protect. Our retainers decide their course by looking at our backs. If we falter, the soldiers will flee, and if the soldiers flee, the people will die. That is why a samurai cannot retreat, not even a step. You must never show a cowardly stance in front of those who look to you with hope, no matter the cost.”

Caught between the shame of his cowardice and the desire to meet his father’s expectations, tears leaked from Kurosu’s eyes.

“Become strong, Kurosu. Become a man who can proudly declare himself a true samurai.”

Through Kurosu’s soft sobs, his father replied, his voice both severe and gentle.

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Back then, to Kurosu, dueling his father was truly terrifying. No matter how he attacked, the image of being defeated remained vivid in his mind, and even standing in front of him made his knees tremble uncontrollably. It truly took immense courage to fight against a seasoned warrior.

“Gifted.”

That was Kurosu’s sincere observation after the bout with Franz. It might have been impolite to compare Franz to his younger self, but his courage certainly deserved praise.

Even in a country like Japan, where legendary heroes walk freely, those who could unflinchingly meet Kurosu’s piercing gaze while he wielded a sword were rare. Amateur swordsmen couldn’t withstand the pressure of a samurai’s intimidation and would flee in fear, and even if they did endure the pressure, few could muster the nerve to attack a well-guarded opponent.

Yet Franz, though visibly trembling with fear, launched a bold and audacious surprise attack. The unmistakable look of fear was present on his face, but he had pressed forward anyway.

By Kurosu’s evaluation, there was an enormous gap in practical combat experience between them. Franz seemed to have little to no experience in fighting against humans, evidenced by his tendency to swing his sword in wide, sweeping motions and to keep his distance. However, his movements suggested he had considerable experience fighting monsters. Regardless, it must have taken enormous determination to face Kurosu.

The rough edges of his self-taught sword technique were prominent, but his bravery and determination were worthy of praise. Kurosu genuinely thought that Franz displayed qualities far more impressive than those of mere frauds posing as swordsmen.

“……Impressive.”

In a low whisper, so low that Franz couldn’t hear, Kurosu muttered his admiration.

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“Well, then it’s the next one’s turn.”

Walking up to the three who had been watching the previous match, Kurosu continued. There was palpable anticipation as to who would step up next, but judging by their earlier display, it seemed they would not shrink from the challenge.

“Balth is really strong at coin flipping. I’ve never beaten him even once!”

“But hey, how do you plan on doing without a rear guard? You can only use shields, you know.”

“Hmm… I don’t exactly feel confident fighting without armor, but… after Franz showed us what real courage looks like, I can’t afford to back down.”

Their grim determination was endearing but, unfortunately, Mauir’s statement was spot on. The match against Franz had proven that, while a shield was an effective tool, it wouldn’t be sufficient against him when used alone.

“Balth is the wall, right? So, Mauir, Pamela, you two can join as well.”

“Three versus one?”

Pamela’s eyes widened, but to be fair, she didn’t even have what could be called a proper weapon. What did she think she could accomplish?

“Balth will focus on defense, and both of you aren’t suited for one-on-one combat against an enemy. If that’s the case, it’s much more efficient to face you all together.”

“Ah…yeah, maybe facing him alone is a bit much for us.”

“True, we’d probably just get wiped out instantly, and that wouldn’t be much of a training session.”

“If we can’t depend on Franz for direction, it all comes down to coordination among us.”

Once it was clear they understood, Kurosu moved to the starting position. To also test Mauir’s archery, he decided to place them even further away than he had with Franz.

The wooden sword matches, as it turned out, were quite interesting after all. It had been a long time since Kurosu last fought with one, but he remembered using his homemade bokken begrudgingly during impromptu matches with passing martial artists on his family’s mountain path. He had always despised the idea that practicing with wooden swords might dull one’s appreciation for handling real blades, but now… there was an artistry to this, too. “The heart of the zither and the courage of the sword” indeed had its own charm.

“Are you ready?”

“Yeah! Anytime, come at me!”

“I’ll avenge Franz!”

“We’re going to do this!”

Despite the gravity of the situation, their spirited and enthusiastic voices made Kurosu almost smile. In the past, those who stood in front of him would puff themselves up, quiver in fear, or look at him as though seeing a monster.

He could not know how he might look to them now… But as he signaled the start, Kurosu couldn’t help but wish that instead of a demon, he might appear as a friend in their eyes.

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