An iron sword is much more threatening than a wooden sword.
This is true in the hands of ordinary people.
Let alone in the hands of a "sword master."
Miyajima Sosaku indulged in pleasure from a young age, and didn't learn much of the Miyajima family's inherited swordsmanship.
But his father was Miyajima Kiichiro after all.
He hadn't eaten pork, but he had seen pigs run.
When he was young, his father Kiichiro was still in his prime, competitive and eager to win.
He had witnessed his father's sword fights with others many times in the dojo.
He rarely lost.
Either he won decisively.
Or he turned defeat into victory.
Therefore, Miyajima Sosaku is still very afraid of his father.
In his eyes, his father was synonymous with "the strongest."
If he hadn't calculated that his father was old and frail, he wouldn't have dared to come bother his sister and niece...
But now.
The firelight reflected in Miyajima Sosaku's eyes.
He looked at the young man in front of him, wielding their family's inherited treasure, Quick Blade Ichimonji.
How should I put it?
Perhaps his father's title of "the strongest" would have to change hands now?
Wherever the sword's edge passed.
Blood splattered.
Those with good luck only had their ankles cut and could still lie on the ground wailing.
Those with bad luck had their throats directly severed, lying in the blood that caught fire, unable to make a sound.
Refining.
Fire refining.
A hell refined by fire.
Miyajima Sosaku couldn't comprehend what was happening before his eyes.
No, didn't they say it was a smokescreen…?
"Hot, so hot—"
Screams.
"It's real fire ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!"
"Why? Why?"
Some people were asking, but the current situation no longer allowed them to think for answers.
If it touched fire, it burned.
If it touched a sword, it bled.
More than thirty people, all strong adults, even if they attacked together, they were no match for this young man.
Even if they were all over him.
The young man spun and leaped, his eyes covered… effortlessly striking them down with flames or the blade.
"..."
A person stronger than his father was right in front of him.
Miyajima Sosaku despaired, and unpleasant memories surfaced in his mind.
That was over ten years ago, when Miyajima Kiichiro severely beat him after he made a mistake.
He turned to look at Snake Mound George.
Snake Mound George's eyes were also filled with fear… but he was afraid without panicking.
"Damn it."
Snake Mound George spat, then pulled out a dark object from his crotch.
Miyajima Sosaku was startled, "A gun…? Where did you get that…?"
"It's reasonable for someone in our line of work to have a gun ready, isn't it!?"
Snake Mound George aimed at Hayato, who was still fighting his subordinates.
In fact, Snake Mound George had not systematically learned how to shoot; guns, in most countries, are more of a threat than practical… America being an exception.
But he at least knew how to pull back the safety and how to pull the trigger.
There were nine bullets in the gun, and at such close range, even if he shot wildly, he could kill him!
Snake Mound George thought.
As for whether he would accidentally injure his subordinates… subordinates? Who cares about the lives of subordinates now?
"Bang"!
He tried a shot first.
Snake Mound George felt his luck should be good.
This shot might hit.
...Yes, it would indeed hit.
Snake Mound George's sense of distance was very good; the first bullet accurately aimed at the back of Hayato's head.
If it hit the back of his head, he would surely die!
But,
It was only for an instant.
So fast that Snake Mound George didn't even see what happened.
Hayato suddenly turned around.
With the edge of his katana, he crisply deflected the bullet.
"?"
Snake Mound George was startled, what in the world happened?
Hayato had the "Swordsmanship Mastery EX" skill; although he could control the sword, in more dangerous situations, it was more like Nobita when he got the famous sword Denkou, his body moving with the sword.
He sensed danger and then turned around.
After deflecting the bullet, he belatedly realized that Snake Mound George, that old man, was trying to ambush him, this seventeen-year-old comrade.
And he sighed with emotion.
Damn it, the bullet-dodging posture in "Detective Conan" is truly honest, it didn't deceive me.
Then, he drew another short sword from his waist, which should be called a "wakizashi," and threw it.
"Hundred Steps Flying Sword!"
Even with the "Swordsmanship Mastery EX" skill, the flying sword's speed was slower than a bullet.
But Snake Mound George was even slower.
By the time he snapped out of his daze, the flying sword had already pierced his thigh.
"—Hiss."
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