Two men stand on the stone, grass-overgrown floor, surrounded from three sides by the bamboo forest with only a narrow path allowing for human traversal. From the West, a steep cliff drop and a slowly setting sun can be seen. The sky was almost cloudless, allowing the heavens to witness the duel.

The warriors stand on the north and south ends of the arena with no other humans present, only birds may witness their struggle with their own eyes. The first of the Ronin looks at his opponent - Aokiryū Harada. Looking at his opponent, the swordsman hoped that this might be the one who would allow him to fulfill his wish. But looking at him now he is severely disappointed, a tall, slender but seemingly weak frame and a gentle, almost womanly face did not give the impression of a powerful warrior but a spoiled brat. Aokiryū was someone who had been born with a great talent, someone like that would have been given ample resources by his clan to study the blade to utmost perfection but if his opponent's gentle, scarless body was anything to go by, the clan's resources must have been spent on silk bedsheets and comfortable robes. Just as Aokiryū Harada was studied, so too did he analyze his opponent - Ishidō Takeda. This man has previously made a name for himself by battling and killing numerous famous samurai and Ronin in one-on-one battles. But as he looks at him right now, Aokiryū is filled not with admiration but disdain. The one who stands now before him reminds him of field workers that he would often see toiling near his estate. Ishidō stood shirtless with his pants and sandals almost as dirty as his own skin. Ishidō wore his long, greasy hair in a bun so as to not obscure the fighter's vision. His sun-touched skin contrasts the snow-pale tone of Aokiryū's. The stout fighter's excessive musculature and numerous scars continued to disgust the young genius.

Suddenly, at the same time, both warriors pull their swords out of their sheets. Ishidō wields a single katana while Aokiryū holds both his katana and wakizashi simultaneously. For a split second which stretches for eternity each fighter stands, yet again measuring the other. It is now that the adrenaline hits its peak and both warriors can feel every nerve in their bodies shoot with electricity, human perception, and reaction stretched to their limits as the samurai become completely aware of every cell in their body, and their yearning for battle - yet their minds remain serene and calm. Somewhere on the edge of the arena, a single droplet of water falls from the surface of the bamboo, sound of the water hitting the ground is like a general's call for attack - the Ronin attack simultaneously. Ishidō intends to dominate his opponent with his great strength as he swigs his weapon over his head and seeks to bisect his opponent vertically. Aokiryū sidesteps the attack with minimal effort and swings one of his blades at his opponent's wrist while utilizing the other to keep Ishidō's weapon away from himself. Ishidō tries to dodge the attack but he is too slow and the blade cuts his left arm above the wrist. The warriors quickly disengage and keep each other slightly outside the other's reach. Crimson blood slowly runs down Ishidō's arm but his grip was still as strong as ever - no tendons were severed. This will become another scar for his collection. Over the course of numerous battles he had gained scores of scars, they marked his body like the stripes of a tiger, they were his pride, a show of his resilience, and a warning that a man of his caliber will not fall from a single strike. But not all of his scars were from battle, some he gained earlier - in training. 

He never had a master, so all he could do was take a wooden stick and swing it until his palms bled, arms felt like lead and legs were on fire - he trained from morning to night, sometimes he did not even remember going to sleep, sometimes he would just open his eyes and it would already be morning and he lied there in the field. Then he would just get up and keep swinging. Over time he gained a body that could kill with just a stick and that's exactly what he did - he won his first duel with a wooden stick, then he claimed his opponent's sword and just kept swinging again. Match after match, he continued winning and after each victory, he still continued training. He had no talent but he had will, and in this world not even the heavens can defy human will. 

The Samurai engage again and as their blades clash again, Ishidō performs another powerful swing, missing again, and just as Aokiryū closes the distance to use this opportunity, Ishidō stops the cogs of fate. He completely stops the heavy blade, its full momentum coming to a zero, mid-swing in less than a quarter of a second. And then with the perfect unity of all his muscles, the blade is turned and swung, traveling at blinding speed from the opponent's blind spot. Aokiryū tries to block the strike, but the strength behind it is too great and his arm is carried up and the blade cuts his cheek deeply. Blood pours out of the wound as the genius suffers a permanent disfigurement for the first time in his life. But instead of worry, joy fills his heart and a slight smile breaks on his lips. Throughout his life not much excited him. 

He had studied to be a samurai because that was expected of him, but he did not find enjoyment in the repetitive practice of techniques or the unserious practice matches. Even most fights to the death were boring, as no one had managed to make him bleed so far - but this time, it was different. Furthermore, now that he looks at his opponent again, Aokiryū realizes that his opponent cannot be underestimated and even if he looks like a brute who would be better put to work in manual labor, the strength of his mind and body should not be underestimated.

Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more.

Aokiryū relaxes his muscles, sits lower on his knees, and engages, his strikes flow like water and lose no momentum as the whirlpool of strikes threatens to swallow Ishidō who stands firmly like a wall. Stone versus water, is a match that occurs constantly in nature, one in which erosion always wins. Over time, Ishidō fails to block more and more strikes, as they pass through his guard and begin marking his skin with more and more cuts. Blood flows freely down his hands, the handle of the blade feels slippery, and keeping his eyes open starts feeling like an impossibility, no matter how many times the eyelids are forced up, they keep weighing down and the ringing in the ears feels as though an eardrum has popped. Despair slowly fills Ishidō's heart as he is reminded of the reason he took up the sword. 

There was this story his mother used to tell him, the story of "Sunshine Swordsman". He was an unparalleled swordsman, who always fought against the bandits and protected the weak, the field workers, the commoners, people like Ishidō, and his mother. He really liked the story and sometimes he would wish that "Sunshine Swordsman" would come to him and save them, from going into the fields again, from the grueling work but then some other times, he was thankful, thankful for his mother and that they could be together. But the good times did not last long, as Ishidō's mother fell ill when he was still just a teenager. He tried working in the fields alone, tried taking care of her but whenever he touched her forehead, despite his deepest prayers, it would burn even hotter than last time. Finally, one night it was he who told her the story of the "Sunshine Swordsman" before they fell asleep. Ishidō woke up in the middle of the night, his mother was burning up and did not seem to recognize him. In her last moments, she looked at Ishidō and asked - "Sunshine Swordsman?". This was the last thing she ever said to him. From then on, he was no longer Ishidō, he was now the "Sunshine Swordsman". He trained relentlessly for decades and then challenged numerous Ronin but now he was exhausted and he was looking for someone to put the legend back to rest. And as the blade cuts another groove in his skin he wonders if today he has finally managed to find that someone.

Aokiryū's beautiful swordsmanship, so smooth and fluid - the mark of a true genius. His strikes unlike Ishidō's did not require brute strength and now as Ishidō looks at his opponent's slender frame he is filled not with disappointment but the greatest form of admiration. However, the "Sunshine Swordsman" does not give up. Ishidō allows the samurai's attack to completely bypass his guard and Aokiryū's katana marks deep trenches in Ronin's flesh, however, at the same time Ishidō fights through the pain and cuts the genius' hand deeply enough to completely sever the tendons and etch the blade of his sword into Aokiryū's wrist bone. The warrior has no other choice than to let go of his wakizashi and retreat. Aokiryū looks at his ruined hand and remembers when he was first struck on his left hand. It was back when he was still training with his grandfather, back then if he ever made a mistake he would be harshly reprimanded.

A person of his caliber and talent was allowed no leeway in life. He would often look at the children of rice farmers playing with each other, with smiles on their faces with a mix of contempt and jealousy. But that was until he became friends with one of the boys. As a teenager, he was on a walk near his home when a boy approached him, and for the first time in his life, this boy of lower origin spoke to him without any formalities, no words like "my lord" were spoken. At first, Aokiryū wished to teach the boy a lesson but for some reason, he decided to entertain the boy and they quickly became friends. Aokiryū would specifically go on walks to talk with the boy. But it did not last long, the very next month the boy was beaten to death by another samurai for disrespecting him. Aokiryū did not cry, he was not even sure if he felt sad, but the next time he went training he felt like the wooden sword's strikes against his body had a slightly loader thud to them as if his body became a bit more hollow. And now, that he looks at his opponent Aokiryū feels like he can yet again see the young boy right in front of him.

Both fighters, exhausted stand in slowly growing pools of their own blood, as they steel themselves for one final showdown. They charge for one final time, and Aokiryū attempts to attack Ishidō frontally but realizes he cannot match his speed as he attempts to sidestep and slash from below, Ishidō changes the trajectory of his blade and reaches his opponent, but the strike is not deep enough as at the same time Aokiryū's blade slashes through his opponent's stomach. Suddenly all strength evaporates from Ishidō's body as he lets go of his sword. His knees buckle and he sits with his knees bent on the ground. The pulsating pain of his body mixed with exhaustion assaults his senses but he does not have the strength to even grimace. It is as though he is simply a conscious existence, with no body and only the pulsating pain as only experiences that his brain can produce. Despite that he is happy, this was his final battle, and "Sunshine Swordsman" would die a samurai. He looks up and sees Aokiryū holding a Tantō in his outstretched hand. Ishidō immediately understands the reason behind this gesture as he collects the last of his strength to grasp the handle of the blade. The view beyond the cliff is beautiful as the last rays of sunshine bathe the horizon in red.

- "Thank you" - Ishidō points the blade towards himself while Aokiryū positions himself to his side.

Ishidō pierces his stomach with the blade immediately after Aokiryū slashes his head clean off. Ishidō does not feel pain as his head is separated from his shoulders. The reflection of the sunset in his eyes is almost as beautiful as the expression of serenity on Ishidō's face.