The Horse Mackerel Fry Of Enlightenment - Part Two

Swords were great. As long as I swung one, my mind was distracted, making it perfect for mental concentration.

When enemies appeared, I cut them down just as I pleased. Even those who tried to steal from us.

My world was either friend or foe, the sword or not.

Simple things like that were just fine.

I’m Kuuga. I serve as the infantry unit captain in the mercenary band.

My infantry unit gathered guys who couldn’t help but want to fight, fight, fight.

Swords, spears, tools. From dexterous guys to those proud of their raw power, they gathered to figure out ways to slaughter the enemy.

Charging in headfirst on the front line to beat down the enemy. Carving out a path for the guys behind us. That was our job. We took pride in it.

I didn’t use tools. I didn’t use spears either. All I used was a single two-handed sword.

Whether it was spears, bows, magic, or magic tools, it didn’t matter. I’d defeated enemies with just a single sword.

However, lately that wasn’t the case.

Rir-chan. That girl’s talent had bloomed.

Her three inventions were immediately deployed to my unit as well.

They adapted right away. “We can beat down even more enemies with these,” my subordinates said, rejoicing.

But if that was the case, wasn’t there no difference between us and an engineering unit?

We held pride in beating down enemies with our weapons. Yet a mindset began to form that if we could get by with those tools, then that was fine.

That was no good.

It was true for us fighting on the front lines. But that wasn’t all.

In a retreat, we also had to act as the rearguard—the role of holding back the enemy at the very back of the retreat line. At that time, would any tools be left?

None would be left. If things were so solid that tools remained, there wouldn’t be a need to retreat in the first place.

However, I couldn’t convince them anymore.

There were guys who understood the importance of the sword. But most relied on Rir-chan’s tools.

If there was something convenient, of course even I would use it.

However, we were the shield. It was no good if the shield relied on decorations.

I originally lived in the slums.

I survived together with Gungrave and the others in that filthy environment, supporting one another.

Back then, I always held a wooden stick or an iron bar and charged headfirst at the enemy. When fleeing, I held back the enemy at the very back too.

Must be because of that. I had considerable confidence in my sword skills.

However, I still hadn’t managed to get more wins than losses against Gungrave.

That genius easily mastered in an instant the sword techniques I spent most of my life finally acquiring.

Still, Gungrave was the captain now. We couldn’t put him on the front line.

I had to be the first to cut in and pave a glorious path for him.

Even so, my sword technique had stopped improving.

Both the speed and the weight of my sword.

This might be the limit of my talent.

However, on a certain night, I realized it.

I had to forge my own sword technique.

From the techniques I’d snatched away while attacking soldiers until now, a technique that belonged to me alone.

On a certain night when I stormed out after fighting with my subordinates.

Unable to get those idiots who endlessly relied on flame-burst stones to listen when I urged them to practice, I stormed out.

Entering the forest, when I came out to an open space, I drew my sword unconsciously.

For years I had continued practicing like this, creating my own image in front of me.

It wasn’t magic or anything like that. It was the ultimate state of my concentration, acquired precisely because I continued fighting enemies and training.

I called it shadow practice.

I exchanged several blows just like that.

…No good.

As expected, facing the ideal sword I envisioned and the goal I aimed for, I was on the verge of total defeat.

Right then, I felt someone’s presence from the forest.

“Who’s there?”

When I called out, a man stepped out from behind the shadow of a tree.

And with an awkward look on his face, too.

“S-Sorry!”

“Ah, Shuri, huh. Don’t startle me like that.”

Shuri the cook.

The oddball that Gungrave had brought into the band recently with great enthusiasm.

It was true that his recent food was delicious, and my physical condition was great too.

Still, why was this guy here?

“What’s wrong? Out here in the middle of the night.”

“Well, you know. It’s what you call a slump.”

For some reason, I could talk to this guy.

I hadn’t disclosed my worries to anyone. If I said I felt the limits of my talent, I couldn’t complain even if I was tossed out of the band.

However, right now I wanted to talk and feel relieved.

Sheathing my sword, I sat down heavily.

“A slump, is it?”

“Yeah. Rir-chan’s been workin’ hard lately, right? Makin’ incredible stuff and contributin’ to the battle. But all I can do is swing a sword skillfully.

With my talent, maybe this is my limit.“

Saying it myself made me feel miserable.

It wasn’t that I envied Rir-chan. But I was jealous.

Even though the guys in my unit were starting to lose patience with me.

“Please don’t say sad things like talent.”

“Hmm?”

For some reason, Shuri said that to me with a face like he was about to cry.

“I don’t have talent either.

Even so, I manage the techniques on hand using the vast knowledge and experience I’ve worked hard to gain.

Kuuga-san can handle a sword so beautifully. It’s not a slump—you’ve just hit a wall.“

Tears almost came out.

This guy declared my murder-born sword to be beautiful.

Even though it wasn’t beautiful, even though it was stained with blood.

No, it was a sword I kept swinging to save my companions.

Maybe I needed to realize that.

Taking pride in a sword meant to save my companions.

Maybe I should have believed in it.

I looked down so as not to show my tears and thought.

A wall, huh. Am I hitting a wall?

“A wall… huh?”

Was it the wall of talent’s limit, or a trial to grow one step larger?

“Ah, you must be hungry. Shall I make a little late-night snack?”

“Is that alright?”

“Gungrave-san won’t get angry for serving food to someone who’s working hard.”

Hearing Gungrave’s name made my heart skip a beat.

Did he notice, that Gungrave?

Was that why he stuck this guy onto me to fire me up?

…That guy, showing concern in places like this.

Regardless of my state of mind, Shuri brought over horse mackerel, oil, and something like Japanese pepper.

What was that yellow, viscous stuff?

Come to think of it, there was a time before when Shuri was frantically stirring eggs, oil, and seasonings in a bowl.

Back then, I ignored it while wondering what he was doing.

Shuri fried the Japanese pepper in oil, immediately ground it down to breadcrumbs, and tossed it in.

Filleting the horse mackerel neatly, he coated it in the Japanese pepper breadcrumbs and egg, then plunged it into the oil.

“Looks delicious.”

It gave off a good aroma.

The fragrant smell of fresh fish frying in oil was irresistible.

I originally loved fish to death.

Even so, I thought it’d be nice if it were a bit richer.

“It’s slightly spicy.”

Slightly spicy?

Did that mean a little spicy?

Then Shuri pulled out the horse mackerel, poured the yellow stuff over it, and served it to me.

Did it need the yellow stuff?

I felt like it would be fine as it was, but knowing full well how delicious his food was, I stuffed it into my mouth without hesitation.

First came a crunch.

Then came a fluffiness.

It was a mysterious texture. Even though it had a crispy bite to it, the inside was soft and fluffy, and fragrance and scent spread all throughout my mouth.

Then the flavor of the fish dominated my mouth to no end.

Light and rich. These two sensations that were supposed to be incompatible were harmonizing splendidly.

And the yellow stuff. This was irresistible.

It was sour, but not an unpleasant sourness.

It was sour and delicious, accentuating the deliciousness of the horse mackerel without getting in the way!

“Oh! Crispy and fluffy. Sweet, sour, and full of flavor!”

That’s right, the flavor profile was great too.

The scent of Japanese pepper hit my nose in the lingering aftertaste, refreshing me.

It was certainly a bit spicy, but not that kind of hotness.

It was spicy, yet not spicy.

So this was what “slightly spicy” meant.

“You’re good at filleting fish.”

While carrying the so-called deep-fried horse mackerel to my mouth, I asked casually.

There were no bones, and the appearance was neat.

“You just stroke and cut the tender parts with the knife.”

The tender parts. Stroking and cutting.

At those words, I felt divine inspiration.

That’s it, there was no need to imitate Gungrave or the big guys.

I didn’t have that much power. I had always maneuvered skillfully.

Maneuvering, seizing openings, and beating them down.

However, that alone was no good.

The “tender parts” like the gaps in armor or the gaps between defense and offense.

And the gaps in consciousness. I just had to strike those.

If I could strike there, I could cut even by stroking. There was no need to cut with brute force.

I tried asking Shuri.

What talent was supposed to be.

Then, after pausing only briefly to think, he answered.

“Well, now. Isn’t it about realizing things? Noticing the opponent’s strong points or weak points, adopting their strong points, and making them your own. It’s called Shu-Ha-Ri in martial arts overall, I hear. In ‘Shu’, you preserve the teachings; in ‘Ha’, you break the teachings to experiment; and in ‘Ri’, you detach from both preserving and breaking to create something uniquely your own.”

Shu-Ha-Ri. It was the first time I’d heard it.

That was right. I was trying to break out of my own shell.

And I found a clue.

After parting ways with Shuri, I endlessly continued my shadow practice.

Surprisingly, it went smoothly in my shadow practice.

Even though I was losing miserably until a moment ago, I came to win easily.

Of course, I had no intention of throwing away the sword of power.

I had simply acquired a new sword.

If the sword of power was called the “hard sword,” let’s call the sword of technique the “soft sword.”

I felt like I had become stronger not just one step, but dozens of steps.

In the battle after that, I demonstrated both the soft sword and hard sword in front of the guys who still relied on tools.

Before I realized it, there were no enemies around me. Everyone could only watch my strength from a distance.

We won the battle and got the money too.

Afterward, my subordinates apologized to me and asked me to teach them the sword.

Of course, I knew they were flipping their coats.

Even so, these guys were my precious subordinates too.

If my sword could “save” someone.

I became calm enough to think that was fine too.

After the founding of the Unified Empire, numerous martial arts sprang up. All were created based on military tactics cultivated on the battlefield, and all vanished.

That was because in the Unified Empire, there were only two martial arts that truly existed when it came to martial arts.

One of them was the Kuuga Style.

A martial art created by the Sword Saint Kuuga Yanagi.

It was the supreme swordsmanship the founder Kuuga attained enlightenment in right amidst the battle over salt rights.

It spread from the fact that in the battle where it was first unveiled, Kuuga defeated several hundred enemies single-handedly without even catching his breath.

There were various derivatives of the Kuuga Style.

The “Kuuga Style Hard Sword Art,” which sliced through the enemy along with their defense using brute force.

The “Kuuga Style Soft Sword Art,” which stroked and cut through the enemy’s consciousness with technique like sewing.

The “Kuuga Style Mind’s Eye Art,” which sensed the flow of the opponent and the battlefield with the heart.

The “Kuuga Style Aikido Art,” which operated on the premise of fighting armed opponents while barehanded.

There were also derivative schools for various weapons other than bows, spreading with a level of practicality incomparable to other random schools.

The Kuuga Style even existed as a mandatory subject for successive emperors of the Empire, and mastering it up to its secret ultimate techniques became an absolute prerequisite.

Furthermore, despite holding the position of Grand General of the Unified Empire, Kuuga Yanagi favored the method of defeating enemies on the front line to inspire the troops.

He had this to say:

“I thought there were only corpses behind me. But he made me realize. It wasn’t just corpses. There were thousands and tens of thousands of lives saved. That’s why I fight at the very front. To protect my best friends, I’ll jump out at the very front to become the shield and the sword.”

Believing that the lives he saved were greater in number than those he killed, he held his sword.

Even in his old age, after spreading the Kuuga Style, entrusting it to future generations, and stepping down from the position of Grand General, he boasted the title of the strongest.

It was said that after retiring, he became a kindly old man who peacefully enjoyed fishing while drinking and chatting with his childhood friend the Emperor and his companions.

At those times, he never failed to eat deep-fried horse mackerel.

It was said he never missed eating that dish, which brought a full, radiant smile to his wrinkled face.