"Hyaah, hah, hah, hah!"
The first strike was Amour's. Well, that was to be expected — the difference in reach between a spear and a sword was bound to show.
Amour's combination strikes were sharp; he seemed determined not to let me close the distance, pulling the spear back faster than he thrust it, and occasionally throwing in a sideways slash feint, making it impossible for me to simply step in.
Still, I couldn't keep dodging forever. Intent on turning the tide, I aimed at the spear's tip and struck downward. I didn't expect to stop it with a single blow, but if I repeated the same move a few times, the spear's speed would inevitably lose momentum.
"Haah!"
"Now!"
Once the spear had slowed enough, I moved to step into sword range, but Amour leaped back the moment he retracted his spear, keeping me at spear's length.
"Hmmf…"
It seemed Amour's strategy was to exploit the spear's reach to the fullest — when I advanced, he retreated; when I backed off, he pressed forward. And the moment I tried to cast magic, he'd throw an even sharper strike to keep me in check.
"Not a bad strategy, but… it's too sweet."
"Hm?"
I deliberately let my guard down, then made Amour swing his spear the same way as before. After a few exchanges, the instant Amour pulled his spear back, I hurled the sword in my hand at him.
"Now *that's* what I call sweet!"
Amour swung his spear twice, and two metallic clangs rang out.
Two times.
I'd thrown only one sword, but right behind it, I'd thrown the scabbard too.
Amour had read that, and he deflected both the sword and the scabbard in rapid succession, looking a little smug that he'd outguessed me. However…
"I've got another sword."
I drew a blade from my hip and brought it down on Amour in a diagonal slash.
*Clanged!*
Amour prioritized escaping sword range over blocking with his spear, choosing to leap back instead. But —
"Gah!"
My blow landed squarely on Amour's left shoulder. He'd been certain he'd dodged it completely, and his face twisted in shock as he froze.
"Shit!"
"Ugh!"
Amour caught the full force of my horizontal slash, which I'd put everything into, and went tumbling about three meters backward. Then —
"Amour is out of bounds! Winner: Tenma!"
He'd rolled right off the edge of the arena. The fighting stage was already smaller than the ones in the Royal Capital, but it wasn't so small that three meters of rolling would put you out of bounds. The real reason was that Amour had been overly fixated on maintaining his reach advantage, and after hearing my words, he'd grown unnecessarily wary, causing him to retreat more and more in the latter half.
I'd timed my scabbard throw to coincide with that, making him back off while keeping his attention on me, and naturally, Amour had been pushed toward the edge.
"Hmm… I failed. But why did the sword stretch?"
"The sword didn't stretch — the scabbard did."
I told Amour the secret behind that blow. Normally, a sword sits in a scabbard of equal length to the blade. In other words, unless you completely draw the scabbard away from the blade, the scabbard adds to the reach.
A Japanese sword's scabbard won't fly off just from a normal swing, but if you've loosened the habaki and swing just right, the scabbard can fly off like a projectile. I'd timed the swing so the scabbard caught on the tip of the sword, then used that to strike. After that, with Amour frozen in place, I unleashed the horizontal slash. The scabbard hit didn't need to land anywhere in particular, so the fact that it hit with that much force was a pleasant surprise.
"I lost…"
I helped the dejected Amour up, and the crowd erupted in cheers — though some spectators booed as well. Apparently, the match had ended too quickly, and some suspected match-fixing. Of course, the ones spouting that nonsense were getting dirty looks from everyone around them.
"Well then, that was quite the match!"
Surprisingly, the loudest voice praising the bout came from Viscount Robo.
——————————
"So you're actually praising Tenma? That's unexpected."
"Hmph! I don't care what anyone says about that brat, but I won't tolerate Amour being mocked!"
"Oh, is that so?"
Anyone who watched that match and still found something to criticize either had their eyes on backwards or lacked the skill to understand what happened. But I suppose refusing to accept it straightforwardly amounted to the same thing.
"Well, he did decently enough, but there's no way he can beat Branca. That brat's victory high will only last until the next match."
He was making predictions about the next match while still buzzing with excitement, but did he even know about Branca's condition? I thought I'd test him.
"Then how about a wager with me? I'll bet on Tenma winning."
"Fine by me — I'll bet on Branca. And what are we wagering?"
"Hmm… let's decide that later. There's no time to think about it carefully right now."
"Fair enough. But don't you dare make that brat into Amour's groom!"
"Sure, no problem."
Hooked! Just as I'd thought — he trusted Branca, or rather, he underestimated Tenma. Despite Tenma being the champion of the Royal Capital's martial arts tournament, he probably figured Branca had only lost by a fluke.
If this kept up, it wouldn't be good for Amour or for the Southern Autonomous Region. Perhaps it was time to let him take a bitter pill or two.
Besides, I'd already obtained my ace in the hole for when he tried to argue back. Yes — a magnificent ace in the hole…
——————————
"Hana looks like she's planning something awful… Viscount Robo's death flag is up."
"Death flag?"
Amour, who was nearby, responded to my mutter. The word "flag" was used with the same meaning as in my previous life, but it wasn't widely known — it mostly appeared in stories and fiction. Amour, who rarely read, didn't seem to understand it.
Incidentally, most of these terms had spread from people like me — reincarnators. But some, like "flag" and the otaku sense of "moe," had already started being used before my death, and where they'd originally spread from was unclear. Nami Tarō was the main suspect, but he'd reincarnated well before I died, so whether he'd actually spread these terms was debatable.
"Oh, I see… Whenever Mom has that kind of calculating look on her face, Dad always ends up suffering for it."
I explained the meaning to Amour, and he nodded as though impressed. Still, Amour really seemed to hate calling Viscount Robo "Father" — he always said "that guy" or "that person" instead. Well, given Viscount Robo's personality, it wasn't hard to understand Amour's feelings, but as a fellow man, I couldn't help feeling a little sympathy.
"Looks like Branca's match is about to start."
Lost in thought, I returned to the waiting room just as Branca was taking his position at the starting line.
"Come to think of it, why does Amour call his uncle Branca by his first name?"
"Everyone was calling him Branca, so he started doing it before he even knew the word 'uncle'… apparently. One time he tried calling him 'Uncle,' but Branca looked uncomfortable about it, so he just kept calling him Branca."
That was the explanation. Maybe Branca wasn't uncomfortable so much as embarrassed, but since neither he nor anyone else said anything about it, there was no need to point it out.
While I was mulling that over, Branca's match ended without me even noticing.
According to Amour and Slarin, who'd been watching properly, Branca had charged in and finished his opponent with a right straight that sent them crumpling to the ground.
The two of them — one person and one creature — reenacted the moment for me, with Amour playing Branca and Slarin playing the opponent. But since Slarin, a creature close to spherical in shape, tried to replicate the motion of crumpling after being punched, it just looked like a ball that had been batted across the floor.
Slarin seemed quite down after hearing my reaction.
"Tenma, that's mean."
"I wasn't saying it was bad — I was just saying that even someone as versatile as Slarin has things they're not good at."
Slarin perked up a little at my attempted recovery, and started stretching out and shaking its body in the corner of the room. Maybe it was practicing acting.
"What's all the noise about?"
Branca, who'd finished his match, peeked into the waiting room from the doorway. In a formal tournament, Branca's behavior would probably have been against the rules, but since this wasn't that formal a competition, the staff didn't say anything as long as nobody made comments that suggested match-fixing.
"Mom looked calculating, that guy was a candle in the wind, and Slarin was as soft as a daikon radish."
"O-oh, I see…"
It seemed like Branca hadn't noticed that Slarin had just been insulted, but Slarin certainly had — and once again, it looked downcast.
Amour's explanation had left Branca confused, and he looked to me for clarification, but I couldn't afford to deal any more damage to the already-dejected Slarin, so I refused to explain with a wry smile. My refusal only deepened Branca's confusion, but between Slarin's hurt feelings and Branca's bewilderment, there was no contest.
"Anyway, good luck in the next match, Branca."
"Y-yeah."
I forced a handshake on the bewildered Branca, then ushered both him and Amour out of the waiting room.
Amour put up quite a fight as he was being kicked out, but Branca, sensing something, dragged him away.
After they'd left, I got roped into helping Slarin train for revenge, which meant I missed watching the other fighters' matches.
"Well, as long as Branca wins, the rest should be smooth sailing."
"Did you say something?"
Thanks to Slarin's training — or despite it — time flew by, and now I was facing Branca across the arena. It seemed the words I'd mumbled under my breath had reached Branca's ears.
I played it off as nothing and settled in to wait for the signal to begin. Branca didn't seem particularly interested either, just saying "Is that so?" and tightening his grip on the spear in his hand.
The referee looked back and forth between Branca and me, so the signal was probably imminent. I drew my sword in preparation, and also detached the scabbard from my hip — right hand holding the sword, left hand holding the scabbard, a dual-wielding stance — and stood before the starting line.
"Match — begin!"
"Ora — hah!"
The moment the match started, Branca let out a battle cry, but I hurled my sword at him before he could follow through.
The sword flew straight for the space between Branca's eyebrows, but he managed to deflect it with his spear despite his panic.
"Ora! Ora, ora, ora, ora — ora!"
I closed the distance in the opening his deflection created. My first strike hit the arm holding his spear, forcing him to drop it. Then I unleashed a rapid barrage of scabbard strikes on the now-unarmed Branca.
At first, Branca managed to find gaps in my combo to counter with punches and kicks, but as I dodged his attacks while circling around him and continued pressing forward, he was gradually overwhelmed into pure defense.
"There!"
"Gah… gaaah!"
I landed a clean thrust to Branca's chin. Seizing the chance, I moved to press the attack — when suddenly Branca let out a massive roar. I instinctively felt my life was in danger and leaped back, but Branca simply held his fighting pose, glaring at me without moving. At first I thought his legs had given out and he was waiting for me to approach, so I stayed wary. But when I looked more carefully, I realized Branca wasn't even blinking. I cautiously moved closer and poked his arm with the scabbard. Then —
"Wah!"
Suddenly, Branca's right hand shot out at incredible speed. Thinking I'd been tricked, I raised the scabbard in a defensive guard — but Branca kept his arm extended and froze in place again. When the referee came over to check, Branca was standing but unconscious. His last strike had probably been the action his body attempted before his consciousness gave out, triggered by the external impact. And so —
"Winner: Tenma!"
My victory was declared. This match would go down in legend — not for my relentless barrage, but for what came after: "Branca's Last Stand," the way he remained on his feet even after being knocked unconscious. I'd completely ended up as the villain of the story…
Branca's one-sided defeat divided the fighters and spectators into two camps. One group refused to accept the way he'd lost, suspecting some form of cheating or a backroom deal. The other accepted that Branca simply couldn't win. The ratio was roughly three to seven. The loudest voice in the first camp was Viscount Robo; the second camp's representative was Hana (along with the fierce fighters Branca had faced in the preliminaries). Viscount Robo seemed so stunned he couldn't believe Branca's loss that he'd gone into a daze, not responding to anything Hana said beside him.
"For now, let's carry Branca to the back."
While the crowd murmured and shuffled, nobody stood up to move the unconscious Branca. Reluctantly, I ended up hoisting Branca onto my back and heading for the waiting room.
Branca had been completely rigid while standing, but once I forcibly picked him up, his body went limp and he slumped against my back. Unfortunately, there was a considerable difference in our builds, so I ended up dragging his toes along the ground partway.
With his toes now scraped up, Branca was finally taken over by the staff member who arrived midway to the waiting room.
"Welcome back~"
When I returned to the waiting room, Amour had broken in. He'd even prepared rice balls and hot tea and was lounging about.
"Well, I guess it's fine since Branca's match is over now, but… aren't you being a bit too relaxed?"
"There, there… But Branca really didn't have any luck, did he?"
"Yeah, true enough."
Amour smoothly brushed off my jab. Despite his relaxed demeanor, he'd apparently been keeping a close eye on Branca the entire time. The reason I'd been able to defeat Branca so easily this time was, to put it simply, bad luck on Branca's part. The group Branca had fought through in the preliminaries had been stacked with fighters good enough to compete in the finals on sheer ability alone, and it had ultimately devolved into a free-for-all among several of them. No matter how strong Branca was, the damage from those all-out battles against the top fighters of the Southern Autonomous Region wasn't the kind that healed in a day or two. As a result, Branca had been forced into desperate situations where he had to launch surprise attacks against opponents far above his weight class.
Against a Branca in that state, the moment I landed my surprise opening strike, my victory was essentially guaranteed. Though Branca had turned out tougher and more defensively stubborn than expected, so it took more moves than I'd planned.
"If Branca had been in proper shape, we'd still be fighting out there."
That said — if I hadn't used magic, the match would have still been going. That's how strong Branca normally was.
"Well then… Tenma, congrats on the win."
"There are still two matches left, but thanks."
It was a bit premature, but since I'd already beaten Amour and Branca, all I had to do was fight normally from here, and I could win without taking any damage. Between me and the remaining fighters, and between me and Amour and Branca, there was roughly that kind of gap. Sure enough —
"Match decided. Winner: Tenma."
The semifinal ended with a counter straight to the incoming opponent's face.
"That's enough — the champion is Tenma."
The final ended with me slipping past my opponent's spear and delivering a horizontal bisecting slash. Both the final and semifinal were over so quickly that the spectators booed my opponents — though they didn't boo me much.
Well, one reason might have been that the more experienced observers had already concluded that this tournament was really decided in the preliminaries.
After that, the award ceremony was held at the arena, I received the 100,000 gold championship prize from Hana, and the tournament came to a close. The only thing that nagged at me was that Viscount Robo never showed his face throughout.
—————————— That evening, at the viscount's mansion ——————————
"All right, everyone's gathered."
Normally, we should have been celebrating the tournament's conclusion and Tenma's victory, but preparing a banquet would take time, and a family meeting took priority, so we pushed the celebration back.
Those present at the family meeting were:
Me
, Robo, Amour, Sana, and Branca — five in total.
Amour and Branca didn't seem to understand what the meeting was about, but Robo and Sana had apparently figured it out — it was about the wager made during the tournament. The proof was that Robo had been making excuses to slip away from this room for a while now, and Sana was keeping him in place, skillfully using Branca to hold him down.
"So what is this meeting about?"
Amour — who presumably wanted to go see Tenma — fired off the question, clearly impatient. Perfect timing. I told him it was about future plans, and mentioned the wager I'd made during the tournament.
"So you're saying you won the bet against Elder Brother, and it'll lead to the future of the viscount's household?" Branca asked.
"That's right. He bet on Branca winning, and I bet on Tenma winning. And as a result, I won the wager. We hadn't decided on stakes, but one of the conditions was 'not making Tenma Amour's groom.'"
Hearing this, Amour was visibly crestfallen, but Branca seemed to have caught on to something.
"W-well, I lost, so that's that. But Hana — what do you intend to have us do instead of a marriage between Amour and Tenma?" Robo said.
"Brother-in-law, my sister only said she wouldn't make Tenma Amour's groom. She never said she wouldn't have them marry."
Sana's remark left Robo looking dumbfounded. Branca, meanwhile, wore an expression that said "I knew it" — he'd apparently figured out what I was scheming.
"As the prize for this wager, I'm going to have Amour sent along with Tenma."
"Huh?"
"I haven't discussed this with Tenma, but I've already gotten Merlin's approval, so there shouldn't be any real issue."
"Yes!"
Robo still didn't understand, but the moment Amour heard Merlin's approval had been secured, he clenched his fist in excitement.
"Wait — you're not making Amour into a groom!"
"I'm not making him a groom — I'm sending him to gain experience. 'Send a beloved child out to see the world,' as they say. And if, along the way, he and Tenma happen to fall in love, well… that can't be helped."
"What about our heir?!"
"Our family was originally granted only a hereditary honorary title, so it's fine as long as someone else capable succeeds. In fact, the honorary title was something Father received, and you merely inherited it."
"Even so, the title should still go to blood…"
"That's not an issue either."
To silence Robo's constant objections, I decided to play one of my trump cards.
"Sana!"
"Yes. Actually… we're expecting a child."
"You're kidding?!"
My first trump card was Sana and Branca's baby. Branca hadn't been informed about this either, so he was just as stunned as Robo — no, so shocked he'd frozen solid. And understandably so: they'd been married for over a decade with no sign of pregnancy, and both had more or less given up. It had caused Sana considerable distress on several occasions, but what had kept them together as a married couple was Branca's total devotion to her. Amour's closeness to them had helped too — after all, Amour had been closer to Branca than to his own father, and might even have been closer to Sana than to Hana.
"Sana, is that true?" Robo asked.
"Yes. It's right here."
Sana guided Branca's hand to her belly. The bump wasn't particularly noticeable yet, but in another month, it would be unmistakable.
"I'm not certain, but I think it's a boy," Sana said.
"I see…"
Sana's intuition in these matters was remarkably accurate. After all, when Amour had been in Hana's belly, he'd kicked so wildly that everyone said it was a boy — and Sana alone had correctly predicted a girl. Since then, she'd guessed the sex of unborn children in expecting mothers countless times, with an accuracy rate above ninety percent.
"That takes care of the succession problem. I feel sorry for the nephew who'll be born, but there are still those who insist a man must inherit, and since Amour lacks the qualities to be head of household, we'll just have to do our best… Oh, and I should also mention — I've been appointed as viscount."
"What?!"
This was the moment I'd been waiting for — I played my second trump card, the one I'd kept secret from everyone. The news had come in a letter from the Queen. When I'd received correspondence from Tenma, there'd been a letter addressed to me as well — probably because they wanted to put a leash on me, making it harder for me to meddle in Tenma's marriage arrangements. But I had no intention of insisting on a formal marriage for Amour. At the very least, even without marriage, as long as Amour was at Tenma's side, that would be enough. So I'd judged this offer to be more beneficial than not, and I fully intended to accept. I'd already drafted my reply. All that remained was to have it delivered through Tenma.
"So in other words, Mom is now officially the head of the Southern Region," Amour said.
At his words, Robo seemed to finally grasp the implications of his new position. Until now, the nominal head had been him, which had let him do whatever he pleased. But now that my title outranked his, he would need my approval going forward. Having the final say was a huge advantage. And so —
"My decision regarding Amour comes from the new head of the viscount's household. I will not accept objections."
"NOOOOOO!"
The guttural scream of Robo, consumed by despair, echoed not only through the mansion but out into the surrounding area — and thanks to that, word of Amour's impending departure from the Southern Autonomous Region and Sana's pregnancy spread to all of Nanao in no time at all.