Chapter 20: The Instant of Confrontation

An ordinary person would surely think this old guy had lost his mind. What era was this to still be striking a pose? If he really wanted to die, there were far easier ways—throwing himself onto train tracks would be quicker. Being flattened into a meat patty by a Maybach might not even kill him instantly, and lingering in that state would be agonizing.

But Sakiko dared not underestimate Inuyama Katashi. She knew this old man was capable of it, just as she had dared to catch Mutsumi Wakaba when she jumped. While others blinded by the glare of the headlights couldn't see clearly, she saw it perfectly: Inuyama’s golden eyes, narrowed like a hawk’s, slowly opened, revealing pure murderous intent.

He was a hybrid, too!

This was the first time Sakiko had encountered a human hybrid other than herself who assumed a combat stance. It felt completely different from facing Dead Servants.

Dead Servants were mere monsters, their minds twisted, bloodthirsty and feral. They attacked without form, driven entirely by instinct. Their bodies were their weapons, evolving sharp claws, steel-like teeth, and bony spurs at their joints.

But humans were different. As a hybrid herself, Sakiko felt the change acutely: senses sharpened to a terrifying degree, immense physical prowess, and the ability to jump distances that would easily surpass any world champion. Exaggerating slightly, she wondered if she might soon be fast enough to catch bullets.

In the hands of a hybrid, a blade was never a simple tool. Moreover, Kazami Ruri had warned her that hybrids possessed extraordinary powers like Spirit Words and alchemy.

Sakiko didn't yet know when her own Spirit Word would awaken, but what about Inuyama? He was so old that even if he had started with a piece of scrap metal, he should have honed it into a razor-sharp katana by now.

At the current speed, the distance between Inuyama and the Maybach would close in mere seconds. Sakiko drew her gun decisively.

There was no room for hesitation now. She had to knock Inuyama’s blade away; she absolutely could not let him launch his strike, or the Maybach would never escape this cage.

The will to win, the unerring trajectory, the fading world—the obstacle standing in her path, everything destined to be cleared away, coalesced into a single arc in her consciousness.

Sakiko Toyokawa released the steering wheel, letting the Maybach barrel forward as she locked her sights on the target.

The dragon bone within her body responded to this battle intent, shifting silently. The weapon in her hand became an extension of herself, golden waves surging in her pupils, brilliant as a sea of stars.

Inuyama’s katana rested at his side, his body coiled like a taut bow. No one could stop him. The iai stance was set; he awaited only the release of the arrow.

He was, of course, not foolish enough to collide head-on with a steel beast. His Spirit Word was "剎那" (Shatna/Instant), which multiplied the user’s movement speed exponentially, doubling with each tier. The first tier offered a two-fold increase, the second four-fold, the third eight-fold... the seventh tier could reach 128 times speed.

With this, he was truly qualified to face firearms with a blade.

Ultimately, a bullet’s lethality relied on the penetration provided by kinetic energy; the higher the muzzle velocity, the greater the power. For someone with the power of Instant, if he was fast enough, every strike could be as lethal as a fired bullet.

In a single instant, no one could see Inuyama’s blade. It was like a flash of silver light.

In that moment of intersection, Inuyama could have shredded both front tires of the Maybach, causing the car to behave as if it had suffered a blowout shortly after starting, crashing into the rolling shutter at a manageable speed without causing major issues.

The firing pin struck the primer, the muzzle spat flame, the bullet spiraled out, and the ancient blade known as Onimaru Kunitsuna vibrated with a roar.

Three pairs of golden eyes crossed in the glare of the floodlights. Meeting in the narrow passage, Inuyama’s gaze was like that of a man-eating wolf, his brow furrowed in a deep, vertical crease.

Eyes locked! Breathing controlled! Scabbard opened! Blade drawn! Strike! Blood cleared! Sheathed!

The eighth tier of Instant! A 256-fold god-speed iai strike—there was no longer even a glimmer of the blade, only a gust of wind.

Sakiko’s golden eyes were incredibly brilliant. She looked down as if judging the world. That absolute confidence was as if she had grasped the authority of a god, believing there was nothing she could not do. The weapon in her hand would help her cut through thorns; anyone who jumped out to block her way would only become a stepping stone!

In that fleeting moment, Mutsumi Wakaba actually saw every one of Inuyama’s movements—his every feint, his every step forward. Her brain raced like an overclocked CPU, analyzing and memorizing all the information. She understood Inuyama’s actions just as a samurai understands their own blade.

The Maybach brushed past Inuyama. He remained in his pre-draw stance, the Onimaru Kunitsuna appearing as if it had never been unsheathed.

Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his arm. A deafening crash echoed from behind as the Maybach smashed through the rolling shutter, its roar piercing the long street as it sped away, sounding like the girls’ laughter, mocking his failure.

"Head of the house!" His attendants finally arrived, panting. Everything had happened too fast; from the moment Sakiko drove the Maybach out to the moment she retrieved Mutsumi and successfully escaped, it hadn't even given them enough time to run down from the third floor.

"The Toyokawa family... I fear they are rising again," Inuyama murmured, looking down at his right arm, lost in thought.

There were two tiny bullet holes in his kimono. The attendants couldn't see what was underneath the sleeve; they only felt that their master was distraught.

The PPK bullet had hit him. The nerves in the wound stung, and blood welled up. Inuyama could only let his arm hang, unable to lift it.

Yet, he clearly remembered that Sakiko had fired only once. There had been only one gunshot, and he had sliced that bullet in two.

At such high speeds, the split shell casing would retain rapidly decaying kinetic energy and fly off to either side; it should have been impossible for it to hit him.

However, it was as if they had been imbued with a command of absolute hit-probability, striking from impossible angles and directions, completely defying the laws of physics. Even after being sliced, they had still struck Inuyama with surgical precision, hitting the very nerves that controlled his muscles and instantly robbing his arm of its strength.

The Spirit Word "Instant" accelerated the user’s own physical movements. Inuyama could swing a blade with the speed of a bullet, but his consciousness couldn't keep up; everything was left to the body's instinct.

The moment he drew his sword, it was a perfect iai strike. By the time he regained his senses, the strike was already complete, and he didn't even know he had been wounded.

With his arm paralyzed, he naturally couldn't perfectly control the god-speed iai. From the feel of it, he had hit something, but not the tire—rather, the aluminum alloy just above the wheel.

A dignified branch leader of the Kassel College Japan Division, the head of the Inuyama house of the Naka-Kike, had even used his Spirit Word, yet he had been defeated by a young girl.

Was this the power of those with the blood of the Dragon Kings? He couldn't help but recall when he and his young master sparred in the dojo, facing the blinding Amaterasu. No matter how fast the blade, it was futile; how similar these two feelings of helplessness were.

But the Toyokawa family’s dragon blood should have long since dried up!

"Toyokawa... do you mean the ones who were expelled?" an attendant asked, scratching his head.

"Yes. Don't they have advertisements on TV all the time? The Toyokawa Group," Inuyama said.

"They were expelled hundreds of years ago, weren't they? After the Battle of Sekigahara, Tokugawa Ieyasu liquidated the defeated parties. Uesugi Kagekatsu lost most of his territory and was so poor he was practically pawning his pants. The Toyokawa family fled from the Uesugi house then and changed their name. It wasn't until the Meiji Restoration that they dared to return to the family's embrace. By then, their lineage was so withered that the main family didn't even want to let them back in, because they were incapable of producing the dragon blood anymore."

The attendants looked at each other. "Now, at the family shrine gatherings, the Toyokawa family only gets the last seat, and that’s only out of respect for their former status. But you say they are rising? Just because of an old, withered family that has been in decline for centuries?"

"Who can say what the future holds? The Inuyama house once had a moment where it was almost finished. No one reached out to help us; the Naka-Kike were all waiting to see us die, to become the Seven Houses. We were humble as dust then, living at the mercy of others," Inuyama sighed, gazing at the night sky. "It seems I truly am old. Perhaps I shouldn't have taken such a hard-line attitude. In that girl’s heart, I might already be labeled a mortal enemy."

"You are the head of the Inuyama house and the Japan branch leader of the college. There’s no need to be humble about something so uncertain," the attendants flattered him humbly.

"No, I have decided." Inuyama waved them off, tossing the Onimaru Kunitsuna over. An attendant caught it with both hands, cradling it. He turned and, clutching his arm, walked toward the garage.

"Drive me to the hospital. We will pay a visit to the Toyokawa family another day. Furthermore, no one is to breathe a word about what happened here tonight. Whether it's the Wakaba girl or the Toyokawa girl, in my name, tell Minami and everyone present to keep their mouths shut. No one is to cause them trouble. As compensation, I will arrange another show for Minami."

"Is it worth it?" the attendant asked, his face dark. "She didn't hand the child over to us, so why do we need to show her any charity?"

"In the end, it was our mistake. Even if she is a scoundrel, she is still Mutsumi Wakaba’s mother," Inuyama said. "That identity is very useful. It might come in handy someday. There’s no need to make the relationship too rigid."

"Hai!" the attendants bowed in unison.