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In truth, Ayane had misunderstood — Matsurize didn't possess extraordinary physical talent, but rather an extraordinary memory.
The reason he had been able to perform that half-set of the Wolf-Catching Fist so perfectly, even on his first attempt, was entirely because of his astonishing memory. Matsurize did have some natural ability, yes, but not nearly to the degree Ayane imagined.
Inside his mind, he was replaying every move Ayane had demonstrated just moments ago.
His gift lay in the precision of his recollection — he could, through sheer memory, construct a vivid image before him.
It was a phantom, a figure exactly identical to himself — an imagined doppelgänger that existed only in his mind.
He visualized this phantom performing the Wolf-Catching Fist, every motion subtly adjusted to suit Matsurize's own build and proportions, rather than Ayane's.
That, in fact, was what had shocked Ayane the most. The way she performed the Wolf-Catching Fist had been tailored to her own physique after years of refinement. Matsurize, on the other hand, was taller, broader, his arms and legs longer — proportions that should have required Ayane's personal correction before he could even begin learning properly.
Ayane had originally thought that, since she'd never taught this technique to anyone before, it would take Matsurize at least ten days or half a month before he could even grasp the basics. Never — not in her wildest expectations — had she imagined he'd pick it up this quickly.
To Matsurize, though, it had all felt… simple. Before him, that imagined version of himself moved with perfect form, showing him exactly how each motion should look.
All he had done was imitate it. But because the phantom mirrored him in every way, his imitation had appeared flawless — as though he had truly mastered the Wolf-Catching Fist.
In reality, he was still far from true entry-level mastery. The day he no longer needed to imagine that phantom — when he could move freely, instinctively, with the Wolf-Catching Fist flowing from his body like second nature — only then could he be said to have truly entered the art.
Yet even Ayane, with her sharp eyes, hadn't seen through the illusion. She was convinced his physical talent was monstrous, that he'd achieved instant understanding on his own.
She helped the exhausted Matsurize up from the ground and guided him to a chair in the corner of the courtyard.
He sat there, gasping for air, drenched in sweat. Ayane hurriedly brought him a glass of water, then said:
> "Koze, with one more person here, our food supplies won't last long. I need to go into the village to buy more ingredients.
If anyone comes by, tell them to wait. And if someone's here to buy kitchen knives, sell them for one thousand Berries each."
She pulled out a one-thousand-Berry bill and two five-hundred-Berry coins, showing them to Matsurize so he wouldn't make a mistake.
Then she also let him see smaller denominations — one-Berry and five-Berry coins — and even the largest, a ten-thousand-Berry note.
Matsurize nodded, signaling that he understood. "Go, and come back soon," he said simply.
He recognized the numbers and text printed on the currency by instinct, not realizing that his ability to read — his knowledge of language and even the name Matsurize — were all remnants of the original Matsurize of this world, fragments of memory that still lingered within him.
As Ayane was about to leave, Matsurize suddenly spoke:
> "Ayane… I'll be bored waiting here. I can't practice before dinner anyway.
Could you… lend me a book to read?"
Ayane blinked in surprise — Matsurize rarely spoke so much at once.
But in truth, he had his own reasons. Ever since awakening with no memories, he had noticed a faint red light within his mind — a small, glowing dot.
At first, he hadn't paid it much attention. But as his mind grew clearer, his awareness of it deepened. Something instinctive warned him not to tell Ayane — that this was something only he should know.
He had come to trust that instinct absolutely.
Perhaps, he thought, reading might help him understand what that red light was. That was why he'd asked for a book — though a hint of guilt flickered within him for keeping secrets from Ayane.
Ayane went into the main house. Inside, there was a large study connected to her parents' bedroom.
Stepping through the doorway, she first saw the bed, then a small inner door beyond it. Pushing it open, she entered a spacious study — far larger than the modest bedroom she'd just passed.
Without thinking much, she grabbed a book from one of the shelves and headed out.
She tossed the book lightly to Matsurize, then slung a large basket over her back and set off toward the village.
Ayane's appetite was already considerable — and now that Matsurize was practicing both swordsmanship and martial arts, she knew his would soon rival hers. There was no avoiding it; their household would need much more food.
Matsurize caught the book and began to read. But to call it "reading" wasn't quite right — he seemed more like he was counting the pages. His eyes moved at astonishing speed.
His memory was so powerful that his reading resembled a machine scanning data — a single glance, and an entire page was his.
In no time at all, he had finished the entire book.
He placed it down gently, leaned back in the chair, and closed his eyes, sinking into quiet thought.
He wasn't asleep — not quite. In his mind, he was replaying every line, every scene from the book.
It was a novel chronicling the life of a great swordmaster.
What fascinated Matsurize most was not the story itself, but the word swordmaster.
From it, he gathered that a swordmaster was one who could cut through steel, or unleash sword energy that flew through the air.
The book described countless duels between legendary swordmasters — and in every case, they could all project sword energy.
Yet the ability to cut through steel seemed rarer — not all who bore the title had achieved that feat.
It was not, he thought, the defining trait of a swordmaster — but something beyond, something transcendent.
The book also described the vastness of the world itself — oceans, islands, and empires he had never imagined.
Matsurize, who knew nothing of this world, found himself quietly awed.
Somewhere deep within, a flame stirred — a longing to see this grand and boundless world for himself.