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The sword, falling in a straight line, exuded a hardened energy that sliced through the landslide in half.

Boom—!

The earth, rushing downward, erupted with a colossal sound akin to water being struck hard or a drum being hit with full force, shooting up towards the sky. The upheaved soil, under the pull of gravity, momentarily soared before crashing back down, rejoining the flowing earth.

Kazuo raised his sword again, gazing at the altered path of the landslide that had been split in half.

Boom—!

Kazuo’s sword swung down once more, the deafening roar resonating as the landslide, already splitting apart, was severed again on either side, cascading down.

“Hi-yaaaaaaaah!”

Amidst the pouring rain, Kazuo continued to swing his sword.

Up and down.

In a straight line.

He repeated the downward slashes, channeling all his energy into his strikes, moving his sword as if it were a paintbrush, drawing lines upon the air. Layer upon layer, his strokes created thick pillars of energy as he exerted his arms.

His muscles swelled to the point of bursting, and the relentless downpour vaporized upon contact with his body, dispersing as steam. With every swing, a fog began to envelop Kazuo, while the path of his sword danced through the air like light, embroidering it with brilliance.

Boom—!

Boom—!

Pow—!

As his slashes continued, the landslide oscillated, launching into the air, descending repeatedly like shells striking the surface. The soil, disturbed, lost its momentum to ravage the village, crumbling into pieces as it flowed past Kazuo.

Like the sea becoming a river.

A river splitting into streams.

Streams trickling into babbling brooks.

“Whooo—…”

Finally, the brook lost its mass and inertia, colliding with a barrier to become a stagnant pool. Kazuo exhaled deeply, perhaps finally allowing himself to breathe as he sensed the landslide losing its power. He sheathed his sword, standing tall and surveying the village he had protected.

In that moment, he looked upon the village he had safeguarded.

The landslide, which should have uprooted every wooden house and pole, merely grazed the outskirts of the village, causing only minor damage.

Debris that should have pulverized everything in its path lay scattered like trash outside the concrete structures and fields, while immense heaps of soil, halted by Kazuo’s strikes, were piled up everywhere.

Some of those piles even included wooden houses.

The landslide, which ought to have wrecked them, ended merely at the second floor of the homes.

Creeeak—

Kazuo smiled faintly at the dying whispers of raindrops that vanished into steam upon touching his skin.

“I have cleaved the landslide.”

He felt the emptiness from exhausted muscles and drained energy, as if his entire being wanted to collapse and sleep. His eyelids grew heavy, and his body felt sluggish and soaked, urging him to sit down. Additionally, with his energy depleted, he felt a deep void and a sense of powerlessness enveloping him.

Yet, Kazuo stood firm, looking upon the village.

Simply gazing at it was happiness.

This was the product of his monumental feat.

He reveled in the fact that he had prevented a natural disaster, sensing his belief of “I can cut anything” manifest vividly. He closed his eyes, feeling the insane drumbeat of his heart thump like a beautiful melody.

Even with his eyes shut, the towering dirt piles and the intact village remained vividly clear in his mind.

Perhaps this memory would stay with him for a long time.

Until the moment he laid down his sword.

Or perhaps, until his last breath.

* * *

The curse that descended upon the village was swiftly dispelled by the courageous warrior, failing to fully exert its power. The immense mass, akin to a mountain reaching out, shattered under the weight of Kazuo’s strikes, and the soil, which sought to crush homes and obliterate its people’s roots, only managed to graze the village’s outskirts.

Originally, the landslide should have surged to the shelter, upheaving roads to prevent people from returning to their homes. Had that occurred, villagers would have had no choice but to await an endless recovery in the shelter, helplessly eating and sleeping while those who could have reinvigorated the village wallowed in lethargy amidst the heavy air.

However, thanks to Kazuo’s deeds, both the shelter and most of the homes remained intact. The moment reports of safety circulated, people returned to where they belonged, relieved that their livelihoods and roots hadn’t been severed, filled with the hope of returning to normalcy.

Moreover, due to Kazuo’s remarkable achievement in halting the landslide, what could have been a simple news piece regarding a local disaster became a hot topic.

“The dragon of Satsuma cleaved the mountain!”

“Is it a person or a dragon descended upon the mortal realm? The feat of the warrior! The landslide stopped!”

“The Shiheng Style has thwarted the landslide, protecting the village!”

“A village struck by a landslide, yet smiles bloom on their faces!”

“Despite facing disaster, the villagers remain cheerful!”

As a result, funds for village recovery began to pour in, with many volunteers coming to help, and a company from Kagoshima even arrived with heavy machinery, declaring they would aid in restoring hope to the village.

People, while shoveling the amassed soil into bags and loading them onto trucks, wore smiles, and as they cleared shattered solar panels and wooden debris, their voices rang with vigor.

Because the landslide had ended.

Because there was hope.

Because even amidst disaster, tomorrow would shine brilliantly.

But…

“The landslide at Kurotsurukimine: Human error or divine retribution?”

“An in-depth report: What was the prophetic dream that foreshadowed the Kurotsurukimine landslide?”

“The curse of Ksitigarbha! Was the Kurotsurukimine landslide the work of a ghost?!”

“Intensive coverage! Tracking the curse of Ksitigarbha that triggered the landslide!”

Wherever there is a brilliant light, a deep shadow also exists.

As the incident should have concluded as a simple landslide drew attention, so too did those who sought to dig deeper into the matter arise, and ‘the curse of Ksitigarbha’ caught the eyes of the curious journalists.

They dug furiously and eventually closed in on the truth.

And thus, it became evident that the master of the Shiheng Style was deeply involved.

Strange occurrences happened at Kurotsurukimine, the master had invited experts secretly to address the issue without informing the higher-ups, and although the situation was resolved, proper follow-up actions were neglected.

All of this came to light.

“I’m sorry! I’ve committed an unforgivable sin!”

Boom!

The master, on his knees, shouted loudly before lowering his head to the ground in abject surrender.

This was the act of *dogeza*, a traditional act of apology in Japan.

He struck the ground so hard that blood flowed from his forehead, oblivious to it as he bowed his head. Lying prostrate, his lips pressed tightly, his face brimmed with humiliation, a touch of fear, and a sense of responsibility born from a resolution.

“You do know the meaning of dogeza, don’t you?”

“Yes! I do!”

“Are you okay with losing your head?”

“Yes! But the others know nothing! I acted unilaterally, so please punish only me!”

He screamed until his throat tore as he spoke to the elder, who glared at him coldly.

“Okay with losing your head, huh…”

“Only wish to be punished?”

Seeing the sight of the master on his knees, begging for death, the elder’s eyes gleamed.

[Hmm.]

[He does seem rather manly…]

[But upon reflection, it’s not quite a capital offense…]

The elders regarded the master’s pitiful yet paradoxically dignified demeanor with sympathetic gazes. They began to converse about the master telepathically, and as the discussions continued, their opinions of him grew increasingly positive.

After a brief exchange,

Kazuo approached him.

“You made a mistake. You understand that, right?”

“Yes!”

“Then take responsibility like a man.”

He helped the master to his feet and continued,

“As much as you neglected your duty, as much as you troubled others.”

He stared directly into the blood-smeared face of the master.

“Put your life on the line to make amends.”

Overcome with emotion at Kazuo’s mercy, granting him another chance, the master responded in a choked voice,

“Yes! I will put my life on the line!”

 

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