The assailant, declaring himself as Sundae, gazed at the fighter with eyes tainted by madness.
No.
Is it okay to say he looked at him?
To say he looked would imply focus, yet it seemed he was staring at some bizarre illusion behind the fighter instead, and it wouldn’t be accurate to say he wasn’t paying attention to the fighter, as his crazed eyes followed him.
That man.
That assailant was undoubtedly insane.
“I-I don’t know someone like that.”
Despite being a warrior who mastered martial arts, the fighter felt himself involuntarily shrink back at the sight of a man who looked just like an ordinary person.
It could be perhaps that his cultivated strength was insufficient to handle the pure madness present before him.
“Don’t know?”
Madness.
Yes.
It was madness.
The man, declaring himself a journalist, clearly exhibited madness.
“Why don’t you know?”
The man’s face stiffened at the fighter’s response.
Then, he tilted his head at nearly a 90-degree angle, performing bizarre movements as if something other than a human was mimicking a person. His arms stretched back, and his hands began to curl inward. Those curled hands clung tightly to his wrists as if devoid of bones, and then they started to twist, wrapping around their own arms.
“Gah.”
How could this be possible when a human’s body isn’t made of rubber clay?
People’s arms shouldn’t twist like a deflating mat!
The fighter couldn’t suppress a scream at the sight of the bizarre scene unfolding before him.
“Why don’t you know? Aren’t you Japanese too? Aren’t you a warrior? There’s no way you shouldn’t know. You can’t possibly not know, right? Ancestor? Yes. From where I stand, it seems that warrior is either lying or, due to being stupid, forgot what he knew. Ah, if that’s the case, there’s nothing to be done. If you’ve forgotten, I can just help you remember, and if you act like you don’t know, then you must give me an answer anyway.”
The man’s waist began to twist.
His torso started to coil in a spiral, and his legs began to twist as well.
It looked as though someone had grabbed the man’s head and toes, twisting them around.
“Oh Sundae, Sundae, you’re too constrained by human laws. For beings like us who carry such a great lineage, our very existence is the law, so nothing can compel us unless it’s not self-imposed constraints or oaths. And although you swore vengeance, you did not impose any constraints, hence you may use all means. You must shed the emotions of being human and think and act like the great being you inherit from. Yes, thank you. That’s quite important advice. I too greatly resonate with my ancestor’s words.”
“Insane.”
“The world is vast with numerous possibilities. While it’s essential to choose good materials for making shoes, it’s useless to concern oneself with anything outside of quality, right? To make shoes, one should utilize the hides of dragons, worms, wolves, or even humans, as that’s the mindset a cobbler must have. Similarly, for someone seeking vengeance, all necessary actions must be taken to exact that revenge. If that means capturing someone dubious to extract information from them by force, then there’s no reason to hesitate.”
The man spoke, fluctuating his voice as he conversed with himself.
A playful yet serious tone overlapped with a manic tone as he alternated, tilting his head back and forth as if he had two personalities.
Clunk.
Eventually, the man halted his head-tilting behavior.
As his head, which had been twisting at 90 degrees, stood upright like an ordinary person, the pupils that had been unfocused now clearly aimed at the fighter.
His eyes, reflecting madness, sparkled in the light coming from somewhere, and his torn ears framed a smile shaped like a crescent moon, with his tongue flicking out to trace the edge of his mouth.
“I- I warn you. Don’t approach me. I can retaliate.”
The fighter felt threatened by the man’s appearance and took a stance.
He’d be ready to counterattack if the man lunged.
And if he did attack, he prepared to retaliate as he gathered his energy.
The atmosphere between the two was tense.
“Hah.”
The man chuckled as he extended his once-coiled arm.
Mush.
The once-coiled arm, now straightened, touched the ground.
Like dough, the arm had become thin and elongated, resembling a long piece of fabric one might wear during a performance.
Or perhaps.
“Behold, Sundae. My distant descendant. This is what long arms are like.”
It looked similar to a leather whip.
Swiish-!
With a crazed expression, the man swung his arm around.
Once an arm, the elongated leather sliced through the air with a sound akin to a woman’s scream, undulating as it approached the fighter, the tip writhing with immense speed.
Like a wave rising and crashing.
Thus, the whip twisted, flowing with waves and picking up incredible momentum at its end.
Wham-!
The whip broke through the sound barrier, marking the beginning of the battle.
*
Amidst the eerie atmosphere.
A man who had thrown himself into a patch of grass where neither streetlights nor moonlight could reach was present.
In the dark of night, insects that thrived during such hours clung to his skin, writhing against him, and while it was not a pleasant sensation to feel such crawlers on bare skin, he remained stiff as he controlled his breathing.
“Hoo, hoo….”
Was it due to strenuous exercise?
The man’s body was warm and beads of sweat flowed down his form. His heart raced, forcing rapid breaths, and he pressed his hand against his chest, trying desperately to reduce his exhalation.
Moreover, to cool his heated body, he was scooping dirt from the ground and rubbing it onto himself.
Surely it was an attempt to drop his temperature and mask his scent.
This effort by the man proved effective.
The scent of sweat mingled with the earth, and not only that, but through the act of rolling on the ground, he could quickly cool himself down.
Additionally, he succeeded in regulating his breathing, making it nearly impossible to sense his presence.
And the insects that stuck to his body….
Squish.
Became a splendid snack for the man, who had exhausted energy fleeing.
Squish, crunch.
He chewed on the insects clinging to his flesh.
It was a disgusting taste and texture akin to chewing a booger, and each time he bit down, he felt a repugnant, thick sensation that made him cringe, yet he still persisted in chewing the bugs.
Having burned a lot of calories while escaping, his body now demanded calories strongly, leading to a buildup of air within his belly, and passed air frequently traveled to his intestines.
During this process, a rumbling sound would inevitably arise, which was in stark contrast to his stealth.
Fleeing successfully, hiding well, only to be caught due to a rumble?
What kind of foolishness would that be?
Thus, the man continued eating bugs, relentlessly.
To reduce the air in his stomach at all costs.
Even if the insects were revolting and hardly calorie-rich, he stuffed his belly full of them to conceal himself completely.
‘Phew. The taste is awful…. But it’s better than just grabbing any old leaf or slathering dirt on myself….’
Once to the point where he could suppress a rumble, he slowly began to move.
With his body concealed in darkness, he started to crawl quietly along the ground, almost silent.
Lifting his body low, he crawled on all fours, sometimes pressing his body flat to the ground, resembling a snake or a lizard.
He moved up to the mountain and only stood up when he arrived at a place where not a trace of presence could be sensed.
Carefully and cautiously, he ventured deep into the mountains, ensuring not to leave traces, and finally squeezed himself into what appeared to be a dilapidated stronghold left abandoned by the military.
‘What bad luck.’
Is that what he concluded?
The man who had just been captured by Tabudai let out a small sigh, imbued with feelings of either lament or relief.
“Damn. I thought I had a good lead… What rotten luck. To be caught by that gorilla-like guy. But still, thank goodness I managed to escape somehow.”
Bad luck.
Yet at the same time, good luck.
That was the only way to describe it.
Undertaking a secret mission, provoking Japanese warriors was acceptable, yet running into a warrior who had sliced through people with bare hands was truly unfortunate.
However, luck graced him as the so-called journalist arrived, dispersing the gorilla-like man’s attention before any harm could fall upon him, and in that moment, the cold wind snapped him back to reality.
“Right, if I have bad luck, then good luck must follow.”
Moreover, as his mind cleared, his body responded in kind.
It felt as though his condition improved, urging him to escape, and he happened to catch sight of a single open window.
Additionally, all the training from before seemed to automatically take over, allowing him to move soundlessly, and once outside the dojo, he could sprint swiftly as if the wind were propelling him forward.
Luck.
Yes.
As if someone was extending a hand to help, fortune was indeed on his side.
Truly.
He was incredibly lucky.
