Dragon Raja 3; Chapter 211: Boy in the Thorns (14)

Dragon Raja 3

Niten Ichi-ryu was the sword school founded by the legendary Japanese swordsman Miyamoto Musashi. However, as a school, Niten Ichi-ryu never gained the same prestige as Musashi himself. After Musashi’s death, the school quickly declined, and no other notable masters emerged from it. This wasn’t due to any fault in Musashi’s teachings, but rather because the techniques of Niten Ichi-ryu required extremely high talent. Normal people couldn’t wield Musashi’s swordsmanship with ease. Some even said that Musashi had originally founded Enmyō-ryu, a more practical sword school that could be mastered through rigorous training. In his later years, he created Niten Ichi-ryu, the “sword of imagination,” which was too focused on the ultimate swordsmanship theories—techniques that surpassed the physical limits of ordinary people, rendering the style impractical.

As the dossier described, Anjou was a Menkyō Kaiden of Niten Ichi-ryu, meaning that this British-born American, with French lineage, might be one of the most powerful kendo masters in modern Japan.

“Oh, hell,” Chisei muttered softly.

There were further notes in the dossier stating that Principal Anjou had spent three years in Japan. During that time, he single-handedly established the Execution Bureau and structured the Japanese division. He loved studying hand-to-hand combat and formed a friendship with Kensei Dan’yu Iwatozai, the only living successor of Niten Ichi-ryu. At the time, the Japanese division was newly established, and most of its members were borrowed from the Yamata no Orochi. The Shinto priests served as secretaries, recording Anjou’s feats in elegant, ancient-style Japanese. “The Principal deeply loved Japanese culture, was skilled in dual swordsmanship, often defeating ten men in a few seconds… He enjoyed drinking Japanese sake, often making the izakayas serve the strongest shōchū, drinking with the entire division until dawn… During those three years, the martial arts community was in awe of his prowess, calling him ‘The Ten-Round Slayer.’”

“Oh! Hell!” Yasha exclaimed loudly. “The Principal is a Sword Saint!”

“Why are you shouting nonsense? You don’t understand what I’m saying.” Chisei frowned. “Look at his tattoos. He has tattoos of the highest rank.”

In the photo, Anjou had rolled up his sleeves, revealing his muscular forearms. His left arm was wrapped in a vibrant tiger, and his right arm in the fierce face of a Yasha demon, drawn in classic ukiyo-e style, clearly the work of a master Japanese tattoo artist.

“My dad used to say that during the post-war period, everyone was trying to win over the Americans because they were the occupying force. I guess back then, the family had just started cooperating with the Secret Party, and the Principal, being a leader of the Secret Party and a high-ranking officer in the U.S. Navy, was someone everyone wanted to curry favor with. So, they probably gifted him the highest-level tattoos, but such designs really shouldn’t be on a Principal’s back,” Yasha remarked. “It looks like during his three years in Japan, the Principal was living like a yakuza boss.”

Chisei nodded slightly. “Whether the Principal is a Sword Saint isn’t the point. The issue is that he once mixed with the Japanese underworld. He knows us just as well as he knows his own College. Japan isn’t an unfamiliar battleground for him. He must have known that the family would try to pressure him through the reception banquet, yet he still got into the car sent by the Inuyama family, and he came alone… Yasha, you’ve been a street fighter for over a decade. If you knew the banquet set for you had ill intent, but still attended it alone, why would that be?”

Yasha scratched his head, a hint of embarrassment showing: “Boss, even though I used to be a street fighter, ever since the family chose me to serve you, I’ve been a respectable figure in the underworld, no longer just a thug. And besides, Boss, as the head of the yakuza, you don’t exactly have the right to look down on a thug like me, right?”

Chisei stared blankly for a moment, then chopped his hand like a blade on Yasha’s neck: “Get the point! I’m not looking down on you. What I mean is, when you were out brawling on the streets, if you went alone to a dangerous banquet, why would you do that?”

“Well, I would’ve definitely worn a coat with steel plates sewn into the lining, and I’d have knives hidden in my sleeves and waistband. If the enemy laid a trap, I’d turn the tables and stab their boss a few times once I got inside.” Yasha spoke confidently. “That’s exactly how I handled things during my prime. If I dared to show up, it meant I was prepared and that I had the situation under control!”

“Exactly,” Chisei said in a low voice, “Anjou must have prepared himself in the same way. We’re not dealing with an American who knows nothing about Japan, but a seasoned underworld veteran. He came because he believes he’s in control.”

Inuyama threw open his kimono, revealing a deep red hilt at his waist. It was the famed blade “Onimaru Kunitsuna,” known in Japan’s history as a legendary demon-slaying sword. He gripped the hilt, and a sharp, dragon-like hum echoed through the room.

“Inuyama!” Ryoma Genichirō knew that the family wasn’t actually planning to go to war with Anjou, so he was prepared to exchange a few verbal blows. But to his shock, Inuyama, in his fury, had drawn his weapon. A real swordfight would make any reconciliation between the Yamata no Orochi and the Secret Party impossible.

“This is Inuyama territory, and I make the decisions here. Ryoma and Miyamoto, please stand by.” Inuyama said coldly. “This is not unfamiliar territory for me and the Principal, right?”

“Indeed. You must be used to getting knocked down by me, gasping for breath.” Anjou casually placed his cigar in the ashtray and flashed the folding knife on his wrist. “It wouldn’t be much fun if the weapons were uneven, would it?”

Koto approached Anjou with a black-sheathed long sword, kneeling by his side. “The famous sword ‘Ichimonji Norimune,’ Principal, please.”

Wakasa kneeled on the other side with a white-sheathed long sword. “The famous sword ‘Nagasone Kotetsu,’ Principal, please.”

“Sixty-two years have passed. Do you still remember the sword techniques you learned from Master Dan’yu?” Inuyama asked calmly.

“Not much practice in America,” Anjou responded, his hands gripping the sword hilts on either side.

The lights suddenly went out, and the gleam of Onimaru Kunitsuna flashed like a crimson arc. Inuyama had drawn his blade. His stance was that of “Iai,” also known as battōjutsu, the Japanese art of drawing and striking with incredible speed. In the instant the blade left its scabbard, it reached an invisible speed, with the opponent often realizing they were cut only after the strike. It was the ultimate sword, with no defense or blocking—only an all-out attack. Separated by a ten-meter-long table, Inuyama’s sword had already reached Anjou.

Sharp, fast, unstoppable—“Yokomen Ichi”! Not even a breeze stirred, yet the pink sakura in the vase on the table fell silently to the floor.

The instant the sword was drawn, Inuyama leaped onto the table, the blade’s trail extending rapidly. At that moment, the table, the vase, the sakura blossoms, and even the white wooden boat holding sashimi were all sliced in two! Inuyama’s strike could extend his blade’s reach by ten meters!

At the same time, Anjou kicked the long table, propelling himself backward while dislodging Inuyama’s footing on the table.

Inuyama jumped, swinging his sword in midair! The blade formed a huge arc, slicing down vertically, aiming directly at Anjou’s “suigetsu” (Note: “suigetsu” refers to a vital point in iaido, specifically the chest).