Takeo exhaled slowly.
And so did the duo in front of him.
They all understood that this would be everything.
This was the end for all three of them.
Takeo stepped forward.
"Page One… Flower Reflection."
He completed the first movement, it was practically second nature to begin with this. His Tenrigan flickered as a thin pale golden crescent formed at uneven angles around his sword. The Jōnin both looked at each other and grinned before attacking simultaneously, Bunta with a descending cleave, Rui bursting in from Takeo's flank.
"Page Two… Still Water Mirror."
He completed the second movement, mirroring Bunta's rhythm. Their swords clashed. At the same time, a crescent construct flew out, carving a diagonal hole in the floor that forced Rui to pivot. Sand exploded upward to blind him.
It was no longer just Takeo laughing now, Rui and Bunta started too.
Rui slipped inside again, his fist slamming into Takeo's ribs hard enough to make him wince. Bunta's blade bit into Takeo's shoulder, making him bleed.
But Takeo's smile widened.
"Page Three… Mist Draw."
He turned through the pain. His blade flashed out of nowhere, overlapped by two nature energy crescents that flew forward. Splitting Bunta's armour and slashing open Rui's forearm.
"Page Four… Butterfly's Edge."
Takeo slowly walked between them, passing through the narrow space their attacks created. His blade scratched Rui's side while a delayed golden slash tore across Bunta's thigh.
Rui laughed louder and Bunta grinned in understanding.
"It never gets old!" Rui barked.
Takeo gave him a knowing look.
"Page Five… Shadow Invitation."
He paused, just a fraction of a second longer than he should've.
Bunta lunged to take advantage while Rui committed fully from the blind angle.
Takeo travelled the distance in an instant. Three spectral constructs of wind flew out in point blank range, shredding the air between them. Steel clashed at elbow range. Rui's punch shattered against Takeo's jaw. Bunta's saber slashed across Takeo's ribs.
Blood soaked the floor beneath them, but none of them faltered for even a second.
"Page Six… Shattered Reflection."
Takeo burst forward with a speed that none of them could've predicted. Golden crescents of wind fired out in succession, crossing angles that were considered generally safe. One ripped across Rui's chest, another split Bunta's guard, cutting deep into his side.
And they answered in kind.
Bunta unleashed his stronger Kenjutsu sequence, acknowledging Takeo as a true swordsman, his saber arced so fast that while clashing with Takeo's blade they managed to form a shimmering cage. Rui drove chakra into his fists, every strike broke his forearm more and more… but it did not matter.
He had accepted that he would die here, so he didn't care if his body would get ruined.
The battlefield was a mess.
Takeo bled from a dozen wounds.
And yet he still laughed.
He was having so much fun. Never in his life had he had so much fun.
"Page Seven… Voice of the Flower."
In the chaos, Takeo managed to deliver a single, nearly imperceptible cut.
Bunta didn't see it until blood was flowing from a line across his abdomen.
Their laughter grew in delight, Takeo's mastery enchanting them both.
"Page Eight… Falling Petals."
Takeo rushed forward and delivered descending blows, his blade would attack and then be followed with a golden crescent. Each attack overwhelmed their perception rather than their defense. Slashed layered from high to low, forcing both of his adversaries backward under a rain of steel and natural energy. The village floor split into overlapping scars.
Still, despite it all, they all pushed forward.
Because this is what they wanted.
Never in Bunta nor Rui's lives had they had so much fun. Never in their lives had they witnessed someone with so much untapped potential, the rush was unlike anything the pair had experienced up until now.
And they both knew there was no better way than to die here. They both knew that they would never face an opponent so incredible as this and they were both happy dying together fighting someone so unique. It was an exhilarating feeling neither could quite describe, but it didn't matter to them now.
"Page Nine… Empty Bloom."
Takeo drew back, he withheld from making any moves.
He offered the duo the initiative, a move neither of them had seen. The thrill of the unknown, undeniable.
Bunta roared and charged. Rui matched him stride for stride. They poured everything they had left into that final assault, no restraint, no fear, only pride at being able to force someone this powerful to his limit.
Takeo felt something settle in his chest.
He thought of Shima, his little brother.
He thought of Yukio, fighting for his life behind him.
He knew now, he knew that he had finally done his job.
He had atoned for taking his brother's life.
And for the first time, he didn't hold anything back.
"Page Ten… Mirror's End."
The final movement of the Kagamihana swordsmanship style came seamlessly from the ninth. No wasted movement, a perfect dance.
He stepped inside of Bunta's killing blow and severed clean through his neck in a single decisive stroke. In the same movement, his blade reversed and pierced through Rui's heart as a final spectral construct erupted through Rui's back, completing the cut.
Silence fell.
Bunta smiled one last time as he collapsed, proud to have died fighting someone like Takeo Natsuki.
Rui coughed out blood and laughed one last time. "Worth it."
Takeo stood between their falling bodies, his bright golden eyes flickering violently as he felt his final bit of vitality run dry. The world around Takeo seemed to slow to a crawl now, nothing going unnoticed in the silence that proceeded. The wind's shy whispers, and the slight shifting of the sand was all that could be heard now. The world seemed so wonderful right now, the moon's glow shining brighter than ever tonight, or maybe it was just now that he was noticing the beauty of it?
He turned to Yukio.
The boy lay against a wall, conscious but unable to move.
Takeo walked over to him slowly. Each step left a footprint of blood behind.
His eyes dimmed and he heard a voice from behind him.
"Big bro!" A familiar childlike voice entered his ears.
He turned to see a young boy.
A familiar young boy, he was lean, he had bruised knuckles and very determined eyes.
"…Shima?" Takeo's breath caught, something gripped his heart.
Shima smiled softly and drew his blade, the same blade that Takeo had in his hand.
"Brother," he said.
The wind picked up, Takeo subconsciously stepping forward.
"One more," Shima said, "One last dance?"
Takeo's body swayed, barely upright, his sword still in hand.
The swordsman's vision blurred as the memory of that day became vivid.
In the memory, Takeo tightened his grip.
He and Shima started off at the same time.
Their first clash of their final duel in his dojo.
Their first clash of their final dance in the present.
Sand burst beneath Takeo's dying legs while, in his memory, the carpet steamed from their footwork.
Shima stepped inside immediately, blade sliding along Takeo's edge and redirecting it with precise wrist control. Takeo pivoted, rolling his shoulder, turning what would've been a cut to the ribs into a scratch.
The rhythm was familiar.
Painfully familiar.
His vision blurred.
Sixteen year old Takeo lunged forward too hard, relying on his strength and overwhelming talent, driving Shima backward with brute force instead of sticking to the principles of the Mirror Flower.
His vision blurred.
Fourteen year old Shima absorbs the pressure, adjusting and conserving his energy.
Back in the present, Shima pressed forward again, not retreating. His footwork was tighter than Takeo remembered, every step taken without any wasted motion.
Takeo countered with a rising diagonal slash, fast and heavy. Shima slipped to the outside, blade rotating over Takeo's wrist, nearly disarming him.
The present Takeo laughed breathlessly. "You've gotten better, little brother."
That's what he wished he had said. What he still desired to say, but of course it wouldn't mean much anymore.
The past Takeo grit his teeth with hatred. "Get back, you filthy brat."
Shima smiled faintly. "I'm sorry, big bro."
Takeo's vision blurred.
He heard the voices of the Natsuki elders. This was their duel for the position of the family head. The weight of expectation was extremely heavy on both of them.
Steel collided violently.
In the past, Takeo had overpowered him early, forcing Shima to give ground.
In the present, Shima refused to yield space too easily. He angled his blade down, locked Takeo's blade and drove a knee toward his ribs.
In the middle of the village, Takeo's body jerked as if he was struck.
Blood dripped from his lips, the feeling vivid.
But in his memory, he twisted at the last second, absorbing the impact and shoving Shima back with his shoulder. They broke apart, circling.
Wind brushed the street, making Takeo's long grey hair flow.
Takeo lunged again, controlled. His cut was horizontal, low, aimed to sever balance rather than flesh. Shima met it head on, steel clashing with steel, sparks bursting.
Takeo's vision blurred.
This is where Shima had activated the flow state.
This is where Shima had started winning.
He had started reading Takeo's rhythm, cutting him where it hurt.
The memory and the present overlapped.
Shima stepped into a blind angle that Takeo recognised too late, raising his arm to finish the duel.
In the memory, he felt it. He recognized it, he felt the fear of losing.
He felt the instinct to pour his chakra into his eyes and finish it all here.
He could cheat.
He could kill him.
But he didn't.
Instead, Takeo pivoted into the strike.
He let the blade scrape across his shoulder, he remembered the pain vividly and the sensation of driving his forehead into Shima's.
The impact echoed and the brothers staggered apart.
In his memory, Takeo frowned and barked. "Come at me!"
He remembered Shima's eyes softening for a second before they hardened.
They clashed again, faster now. No restraint.
Takeo's strength overpowered Shima's despite his training. Shima's technique carved through all of the openings he was given, completely lost to the flow.
Each exchange brought another memory to Takeo's mind, childhood spars where Shima would constantly fall and rise, nights where Takeo would find Shima training alone, mornings where Shima would be knocked out on the training ground floor.
In the memory, this is where Shima had his first breakthrough.
He had slid beneath Takeo's guard, blade poised at his throat.
And in the present, he did the same.
Perfectly.
Takeo froze.
He could see it unfolding the exact same as it had that day.
Shima stepped in.
The elders gasping.
He felt the same sensation of his pride fracturing.
In the memory, this is where he had activated The Eyes of The Lord.
This was when he had murdered his brother.
The memory overlapped with the present.
He saw two versions of himself.
One activating the eyes, the other standing still.
Shima's blade hovered at his neck.
"Brother," Shima said quietly.
Takeo closed his eyes, accepting defeat.
He lowered his sword.
The world fell silent.
In the past, Takeo killed Shima.
In the present, Shima did not strike.
Instead, he stepped forward and pressed his forehead gently against Takeo's.
"You don't have to win," Shima whispered.
Takeo's breath hitched.
For a moment, they were children again, Takeo constantly arguing and Shima just smiling, happy to be there.
Then the vision of Shima blurred.
Takeo was forced back into seeing the memory. The true ending of what had happened.
Sixteen year old him, terrified of losing.
His eyes opened wide.
Nature energy condensing.
Multiple sharp golden crescents.
Shima's confused face.
The silence that ensued.
Takeo trembled.
"I… I was scared," he said, hoarse voice breaking. "I thought… I thought that if I lost… I'd become nothing."
The vision of Shima reappeared before Takeo's gaze.
He stepped back and stared Takeo directly into the eye.
"You could never be nothing."
In the present, Yukio saw Takeo lift his blade one last time, to hold it properly.
In Takeo's vision, Shima extended his hand.
Takeo hesitated only for a second before taking it.
Shima pulled him into a tight embrace.
The weight that had lived in Takeo's chest for decades cracked open. He felt the pressure leave him all at once.
Shima stepped back, smiling like he used to after losing a spar.
"You protected him," Shima said. "That's all that matters."
The memory began dissolving.
The dojo faded.
The padded floor returned to sand.
Shima's figure grew faint.
"W-wait!" Takeo tried, his voice breaking.
Shima's voice came one last time, much softer now. "I'm proud of you, big brother."
The vision vanished.
Takeo fully returned to the present.
He stood there, swaying in blood soaked sand, sword trembling in his hand. Yukio's wide eyes stared up at him.
Takeo walked closer.
Each step felt heavier than the last.
He knelt down beside Yukio and placed the sword into his student's hand, closing Yukio's fingers around the hilt with all the gentleness he could muster.
The blade felt much different now.
Takeo felt as if the blade had become a part of him and just like Shima had done, he would live through the sword.
The old swordsman smiled faintly. "I am certain that you will become stronger than me. It is just a shame I won't be able to see you at the pinnacle." He murmured.
His hand slipped away from the hilt.
His body tilted, every last drop of chakra in his body fully depleted, moving on pure instinct.
And at that moment, Takeo Natsuki died without one singular regret, standing with a bright smile on his face.