(Kuchiba Hiro spun around abruptly, his entire body tensing in an instant. Subconsciously, he clenched his fists as a layer of cold, hard black-gold luster rapidly spread from his wrists to his entire fists, glinting with a dangerous light under the dim streetlamps, ready to strike.
"Creak—"
The heavy, ancient wooden door was slowly pulled open from the inside. A figure stepped tremulously over the threshold and walked out.
It was an extremely elderly man. His scalp was smooth and bald, covered in deep wrinkles and age spots. A hideous scar slashed diagonally down from his forehead, passing over a tightly closed blind eye and extending all the way to his jaw, adding a ten-fold ferocity to his appearance. He was hunched over, so thin it seemed as if only a bag of bones remained, relying entirely on a seemingly ordinary wooden cane to support his body.
Seeing Kuchiba Hiro's state of high alert—looking ready to explode and strike at any moment—the old man waved a withered, bone-thin hand, his voice raspy and weak:
"Relax, young man... don't be afraid. I'm just an old waste with half a foot already in the grave. I can't fight anymore, and I can't stop you."
He sat down slowly, extremely slowly, on the stone steps in front of the door, as if every movement consumed an immense amount of energy. Then, he reached out a trembling hand and picked up the shochu bottle containing the ashes, bringing it to his eyes to look at the grayish-white powder inside by the faint light.
"Sigh..." He let out a long, heavy sigh. Deep sorrow flowed from his single eye, yet his tone was unexpectedly calm. "For you to bring her back... I still have to say thank you. It was thoughtful of you."
He carefully placed the urn of ashes beside him and looked up, using his remaining single eye—cloudy yet still sharp—to look at Kuchiba Hiro. "You stood on that rooftop for so long just to quietly bring her back? Looking at you... you don't seem like a pure villain."
He paused, his voice dropping a few pitches. "I am her grandfather. Can you tell this old man... what exactly happened? How did my troublesome granddaughter... pass away?"
Kuchiba Hiro looked at the frail old man before him, who seemed like he would shatter at a touch. His clenched fists slowly relaxed, and the black-gold luster faded. He remained silent for a few seconds before finally choosing to be honest, telling him everything... "She blocked me. She wanted to stop me from finding my enemy. So, I killed her."
No excuses, no embellishments; the cold facts stabbed out like a dagger.
After hearing this, the old man's shriveled lips pressed into a tight, pale line, and the scar on his face twisted. He closed his single eye in pain and took a deep breath through his nose. His chest heaved violently once, and then he slowly let out a long breath, as if trying to expel all his grief and helplessness with it.
"I see..." The old man's voice became even raspier, yet it carried a heart-palpitating calmness. "Then her... death was not unjust. Her skills were inferior, yet she insisted on sticking her neck out to block a path she shouldn't have... It was my failure to educate her. I've... caused you trouble."
Not a hint of anger could be heard in his words; instead, they carried a sense of almost cold resignation and... self-reproach.
The old man opened his eye again, but his gaze had suddenly turned icy, and the surrounding air seemed to drop several degrees. "Everything was my granddaughter's own doing. If this were twenty years ago... this old man would have personally slaughtered you, and then gone to chop that piece of trash named Yota Yukinoshita into pieces as well to be buried with her!"
His tone suddenly rose, carrying a decaying yet still terrifying murderous aura, but it quickly dropped again, filled with the desolation and helplessness of a hero at the end of his road. "A pity... I'm old, rusted, and useless. Nowadays, I struggle even to swat a buzzing fly... I can't do it."
He raised a withered hand and pointed at Kuchiba Hiro. "You... are going to continue your revenge, right?"
Kuchiba Hiro nodded, his eyes showing no emotion.
The old man said no more. He fumbled tremulously in his robes and pulled out an ancient thread-bound book with yellowed pages and heavily worn edges, tossing it casually to Kuchiba Hiro.
"Take it." The old man's tone returned to its previous flatness. "Keeping this thing is useless anyway. The Hiratsuka family... will likely end here."
Kuchiba Hiro caught the book; the paper felt tough and peculiar to the touch. Four characters were written on the cover with vigorous brushwork—'Invincible Arm'.
"Go now." The old man waved his hand, picked up the bottle of ashes again, and struggled to stand with his cane. He turned tremulously to walk back inside. "Go seek your revenge. If you can really do it... consider it a favor to this old man. Take my share as well... don't let that piece of trash who ruined my family... have an easy time."
With that, his hunched figure vanished into the darkness behind the door. The heavy wooden door closed with a "creak," separating the inside and outside into two different worlds.
Kuchiba Hiro stood in place, looking down at the ancient-smelling book 'Invincible Arm' in his hand, speechless for a long time.)
In reality, inside the Service Club.
Watching through the light screen, Hiratsuka Shizuka saw her grandfather's reaction to her "death" was actually so calm and even "reasonable." She couldn't help but click her tongue, a complex expression appearing on her face—both a realization of how well she knew her grandfather and a trace of subtle grievance.
She remembered when she went home last night, her grandfather had given her a harsh scolding right off the bat:
"Nonsense! Absolute nonsense! How many times have I told you?! The human heart is sinister, and the world is unpredictable! Don't easily involve yourself in others' karma. How can good and evil, right and wrong, be so easily distinguished? You're nearly thirty years old; haven't you even grown that much wisdom yet?!"
At that time, she had argued back defiantly, "It's an era of peace now, Grandfather! How can I just watch someone die and not help? We have to be civilized and reasonable!"
She didn't quite hear what her grandfather shouted after that; she only remembered his voice getting louder and his scolding getting fiercer, to the point where spit was nearly flying in her face.
Looking at the ancient book on the light screen, Yukinoshita Yukino asked curiously, "Shizuka-sensei, what is 'Invincible Arm'? Is it that... kind of pressure point technique you use?"
Hiratsuka Shizuka snapped out of her memories. She hesitated for a moment, feeling there was no harm in talking about these old matters. After all, nobody would necessarily want such "outdated" things even if they were given away for free.
"Mhm, something like that." She nodded and explained, "'Invincible Arm' was passed down from our ancestors. It's said that an ancestor learned it from the Central State a long time ago. It's primarily a method of exerting and channeling force. When practiced to an advanced level, one can strike a special 'energy' into an enemy's body to cause internal damage. Pressure points... that's just a clever trick I use because my mastery is too shallow to fully unleash its power."
Hearing this, a flash of determination crossed Yukino's ice-blue eyes. She suddenly steeled herself and asked, "Teacher... can I learn it?"
As soon as she said this, Hachiman Hikigaya and Yui Yuigahama beside her both looked at her in surprise.
Hiratsuka Shizuka glanced at Yukino and shook her head, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness and advice. "You could learn it; there are no restrictions on this thing. But... it's not worth it, Yukinoshita."
She sighed. "This isn't something that can be mastered quickly. It requires tempering the body, sensing internal energy, and refining your force day and night without stopping... Without over ten years of hard work, you won't even scratch the surface. Even if you master it, in this era... sigh, the input and output are completely disproportionate. Isn't there something better to do with that time and energy?"
After listening, the small flame that had just ignited in Yukino's eyes quickly died out. She sighed softly and stopped insisting. Indeed, it sounded more like an ancient craft requiring a lifetime of devotion rather than a power that could solve her current urgent needs.
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