Chapter 357: BSUS - 360: Pardon My Clumsiness!

Tsukishima wasn’t the only one startled by Hiroe’s hidden weapon; Ginjō, who had also been forced back by the sleeve darts, was equally shocked. Would a dignified Captain really resort to such underhanded tactics?

"This is what you call swordsmanship?!" Ginjō mocked as he retreated.

"Why wouldn’t it count? There are eight thousand styles of Kendō. As long as it cuts the enemy, it’s swordsmanship!"

Hiroe didn’t see anything wrong with it. After all, the founding ancestor of Squad 11, the First Generation Kenpachi—hailed as the strongest in swordsmanship—used methods far more despicable than his.

Pushing off his right foot, Hiroe closed the distance. Ginjō reacted quickly; without any wasted movement, he swung his massive sword upward in a fluid arc, slashing at Hiroe.

However, Hiroe was even faster. Giving Ginjō absolutely no time to react, he held Kōki in a reverse grip with his left hand and lightly tapped the spine of the giant sword.

Ginjō’s arm was instantly deflected to the right. Taking advantage of the momentum, Hiroe slashed forward with his left hand, leaving a bloody trail across his opponent’s arm before slamming the hilt of his blade heavily into Ginjō’s temple.

The world spun violently. Ginjō stumbled, his vision blurring into a chaotic mess. Tsukishima’s frantic calls echoed in his ears, but they were quickly drowned out by a deafening, buzzing ring.

He could no longer maintain his composure. Or rather, when it came to Ginjō’s safety, Tsukishima could never stay calm—otherwise, he would never have done something as foolish as screaming while charging headlong at the enemy.

But to Hiroe, there wasn’t much of a difference between Tsukishima’s calculated sneak attacks and his foolish, reckless charges.

"Back!"

He swung his right arm backward. The Getsuren Reikiri in his hand flashed with a cold light, and several powerful gusts of wind abruptly coiled around the blade. They intertwined, forming a thick, invisible wall that pushed outward.

Tsukishima slashed horizontally, cleaving through the advancing wall of wind. However, the resulting turbulent currents, as if freed from their restraints, still blew him backward. By the time he stabilized himself and prepared to launch another attack, Hiroe was already making his next move.

As Hiroe turned around, he lightly tapped his long and short swords together. When he pulled them apart, a shimmering golden thread had appeared, connecting the hilts of the two blades.

With a flick of his wrist, Hiroe threw the short sword, Kōki, like a hidden projectile. Its target, naturally, was the restless Tsukishima Shūkurō behind him.

Tsukishima raised his sword to parry the incoming blade. But the thin thread attached to the short sword twitched slightly, acting like an invisible hand that gripped the weapon and thrust it at him once more.

On the other side, Ginjō had no time to catch his breath. The moment the ringing in his ears finally subsided, Hiroe’s teasing voice replaced it—a sound far more obnoxious than the noise!

Ginjō tried to swing his sword to cut down that irritating voice, but Hiroe seemed to see right through him. The slender Getsuren Reikiri slipped past the crossguard of Ginjō’s hilt. With a twist of his wrist, Hiroe forced Ginjō’s sword upright for him.

Unfortunately, Hiroe didn’t seem to understand the concept of seeing a favor through to the end. Or perhaps, lacking any masochistic tendencies, helping an opponent cut him down was simply too difficult a task.

Instead, he forcefully shoved his sword-wielding right hand forward, driving Ginjō’s massive sword back at its owner. It was a terrible disservice, forcing Ginjō to carve a long, deep gash into his own body with his own weapon.

Crimson blood sprayed outward. As if afraid of getting the foul-smelling liquid on himself, Hiroe stepped back while simultaneously giving his blade another tap, driving the giant sword even deeper into Ginjō’s upper body.

"It’s just that I am quite inept. Forget eight thousand styles; the sword techniques I know can be counted on one hand, let alone mastered. Please pardon my clumsiness."

To Ginjō, these words were nothing but pure mockery. Veins instantly bulged on his forehead, and blood continued to gush uncontrollably from his chest. He slowly began to wrest control of his giant sword back, inching it out of his own body.

Suddenly, Hiroe shifted his body to the side and swung his right hand outward. Not only did he release his hold on Ginjō, but he also helped him fulfill his wish, sending the massive sword swinging outward.

Unfortunately, it struck nothing but air...

Ginjō’s sword slammed into the ground with a resounding crash, its momentum completely spent. Just as his old strength faded and before he could muster any new power, Hiroe violently jerked his blade upward, pulling the giant sword back and slamming its hilt heavily into Ginjō’s stomach.

"Chōzuka-sama is far too modest..."

Watching safely from the sidelines, Roka stared wide-eyed. Although she didn’t understand swordsmanship, there was no way such beautiful, elegant moves could ever be considered clumsy.

Indeed, in her eyes, what Hiroe held right now wasn’t a sword at all, but a conductor’s baton. He was leaving elegant dance steps in the air, playing a magnificent symphony—a symphony of blood!

Cruel? No, this was the aesthetics of violence. Roka couldn’t help but swallow hard. To her, it didn’t even seem related to violence. Being able to bloom at Chōzuka-sama’s hands was a blessing for that foolish mortal!

In all fairness, such exquisite swordsmanship was something Tsukishima had never seen in his life. Controlling a thin thread as if it were an extension of his own arm, Hiroe kept him at bay with a short sword despite being several meters away. His strength was truly astonishing.

But at this moment, Tsukishima was completely incapable of objectively praising his opponent. The blood continuously spurting from Ginjō’s body seemed to seep into his own eyes, dyeing his entire world crimson.

Facing the incoming short sword once again, Tsukishima made the most reckless decision of his life. He shifted his body slightly, allowing the blade to pierce straight through his left shoulder.

He had actually realized early on that the weakness of such a long-range sword-control technique lay in the thin thread attached to the hilt. He had wanted to sever it from the start, but even while multitasking, Hiroe had never given him the chance.

Now, he finally had that opportunity. However, instead of cutting the thread, he grabbed it with his uninjured left hand and gave it a vicious yank.

Hiroe was thoroughly enjoying himself when he suddenly felt a slight resistance from the Getsuren Reikiri in his hand. Clamping his left hand down on the thread, he pulled back as well, instantly neutralizing Tsukishima’s force.

But at that moment, Tsukishima suddenly released his resistance. Pulled by Hiroe’s force, he launched himself forward. His left hand swiftly snatched the sword from his drooping right arm and viciously thrust it toward Hiroe’s back!

"You learn fast."

Hiroe smiled. He swung his right arm backward, hurling the blood-soaked Ginjō through the air to crash directly into the incoming Tsukishima.

The two collided and crashed heavily to the ground. Even though Tsukishima had tried his best to dissipate most of the impact, seeing fresh blood gush from Ginjō’s wounds told him that such damage was unbearable for Ginjō in his current state.

"But you’re not clear-headed enough!"

The snow-white blade grew larger and larger before his eyes. Under Tsukishima’s furious gaze, it pierced straight through Ginjō’s chest and skewered Tsukishima right behind him.

"Failing to recognize the gap between us even now—that is your foolishness."

Hiroe spoke as he hoisted the two men impaled on Getsuren Reikiri up to eye level. "This is the lesson you asked for, kid." His gaze then shifted to Ginjō, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. "Now, let’s talk about your tuition fees."