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Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Scrapped Princess's Casket | Part 7/10
Pacifica ran to Shannon.
"What the hell's with that guy . . . and that corpse too?"
"I don't really understand it either, but . . . he's crazy! It sounds like his daughter died from some kind of disease, but even though she's like that, it's like he thinks his daughter's alive . . ."
" . . . so that's how it is."
You could see it in his eyes. Convict was not sane. Shannon did not know whether it was temporary insanity or chronic psychosis, but Convict probably wasn't able to think straight anymore.
And though it was really only on an intuitive level, Shannon also understood what had caused it.
A genuine, decaying corpse. In order to protect that, in order to prevent anyone from getting near, Convict stood with his sword at the ready.
He had wanted to protect her.
He had probably been willing to do anything to protect his beloved daughter. He had given absolutely everything he had, trying to save her.
But it had all been in vain. His daughter had died.
He had literally dedicated himself body and soul, without any regrets, and in that one moment, fate had denied him everything he had. But he could not admit that. He could not accept it.
And so . . . it had broken him.
He had immersed himself in a dream. A dream in which his daughter was not dead, a dream in which he still had hope, a sweet dream in which he could go on playing the role of a father, protecting his daughter.
". . . poor bastard, though maybe I'm in no position to say that," Shannon muttered dolefully, pushing Pacifica's shoulder with his right hand. "Go. Find yourself a good hiding place and stay there till the fighting's over."
"Wha--!"
"There's only two of them. Raquel's handling the other one, so I don't think you need to worry about him. Well, it's not like you've ever had a problem being too careful, but still."
"That's not the problem--!"
"It's hard fighting with you here. Dealing with this old guy while protecting you is a lot to handle, even for me."
". . ."
Of course, Shannon kept his eyes on Convict as he spoke, but he could tell that Pacifica's breath had caught in her throat.
"Go."
"I know, but . . . I know, but . . ."
"I'm not gonna die," Shannona said in a brusque tone. "I've got big ambitions, you know--getting myself a pretty wife, building a cute little tidy-looking white house, making it into a simple but warm home."
". . . I don't really think you can call those 'ambitions.'"
"Haha. We're gonna adopt a big, white dog."
"Like I said, you're being small-minded . . ."
"As for kids, I want to have ten."
". . . now that's ambitious."
For one reason or another, Pacifica nodded her agreement.
". . . whatever, just get out of here!"
"O . . . okay."
Keeping a close eye on Convict's every move--maybe it was because he had grown disheartened after coming face to face with Shannon's taijutsu1, but in any case, Convict was gazing steadily back and making no obvious movements--Shannon sensed Pacifica's withdrawal.
". . . now then." Shannon brought his katana back up. "Now that that load's off my back, I can come at you seriously."
As though in reply, the Banesword sprang to life.
Shannon plunged straight ahead.
The Banesword was instantly pulled back, then struck at Shannon from the side. Leaping toward the Banesword, Shannon swung his katana.
An ear-splitting metallic clash.
At its point of contact with the katana, the Banesword warped and circled around. Just as it had done a little while ago.
Got it!
His katana still wreathed in the Banesword's grasp, Shannon came to halt.
"Unh--!"
Convict seemed to realize Shannon's intentions, but it was too late.
This Banesword was terrifying precisely because it was endlessly capable of changing its form, which meant that even if it were blocked, it would automatically flow into a different strike. By learning its exact length and getting the very end of it to twine around his katana, Shannon had lost the use of his own weapon, but the threat of the Banesword was neutralized as well.
Dashing forward, Shannon drove the point of his katana into the floor.
This way, Convict could not easily pull his weapon back.
After that, one solid punch would suffice.
Shannon brought his wrists together. His leather gloves had a bit of a trick to them--a strong tap to the wrists would cause small blades designed for close combat to pop out.
Clenching his fists, Shannon--
Convict laughed.
With a calm swing of his left hand, yet another Banesword came shooting out of his sleeve.
"!"
Seized by a chill, Shannon tried to jump back, but he could not overcome the momentum of his sprint. He somehow managed avoid a direct blow by striking the new Banesword with his short blades, but it still ended up wrapped around Shannon's arm all the way to his shoulder.
". . . !"
"First . . . I'll take an arm," Convict announced.
In order to assure freedom of movement, Shannon's armor covered very little of his arms and shoulders. Even if his arm were not lopped clean off, after being repeatedly sliced up by the numerous blades, it was likely that it would not be able to be stitched back together, and he would probably lose it to necrosis. No, before it came to that, whether through severe blood loss, or possibly a heart attack due to the pain . . . either way, death would be a certainty.
"Ambidexterity . . . is a fundamental . . . technique for assassination. You've . . . got skill . . . but you lack . . . experience."
"I'm deeply grateful for your kind instruction."
While he feigned ignorance, Shannon's right hand--which he had slipped to his waist the moment the Banesword had twined around his arm--found its target. Slipping that small metal ring over his index finger, he gave it a sharp tug.
That tug traveled along the steel wire that was connected to the metal ring.
His right spaulder sprang up, and the barrel of the small cylinder that had been fitted there pointed directly at Convict.
". . . ?!"
Convict immediately tried to pull his sword back, but Shannon took a step toward him. The resulting slack kept the Banesword from moving, and at the same time, a metallic crack sounded as a dart flew out and pierced Convict's shoulder.
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) "体術," literally, "body techniques." Refers to Japanese martial arts techniques involving body movements. Back
[Disclaimer]
Scrapped Princess | Prelude of the Stray Cat Princess | The Scrapped Princess's Casket | Part 7/10
Pacifica ran to Shannon.
"What the hell's with that guy . . . and that corpse too?"
"I don't really understand it either, but . . . he's crazy! It sounds like his daughter died from some kind of disease, but even though she's like that, it's like he thinks his daughter's alive . . ."
" . . . so that's how it is."
You could see it in his eyes. Convict was not sane. Shannon did not know whether it was temporary insanity or chronic psychosis, but Convict probably wasn't able to think straight anymore.
And though it was really only on an intuitive level, Shannon also understood what had caused it.
A genuine, decaying corpse. In order to protect that, in order to prevent anyone from getting near, Convict stood with his sword at the ready.
He had wanted to protect her.
He had probably been willing to do anything to protect his beloved daughter. He had given absolutely everything he had, trying to save her.
But it had all been in vain. His daughter had died.
He had literally dedicated himself body and soul, without any regrets, and in that one moment, fate had denied him everything he had. But he could not admit that. He could not accept it.
And so . . . it had broken him.
He had immersed himself in a dream. A dream in which his daughter was not dead, a dream in which he still had hope, a sweet dream in which he could go on playing the role of a father, protecting his daughter.
". . . poor bastard, though maybe I'm in no position to say that," Shannon muttered dolefully, pushing Pacifica's shoulder with his right hand. "Go. Find yourself a good hiding place and stay there till the fighting's over."
"Wha--!"
"There's only two of them. Raquel's handling the other one, so I don't think you need to worry about him. Well, it's not like you've ever had a problem being too careful, but still."
"That's not the problem--!"
"It's hard fighting with you here. Dealing with this old guy while protecting you is a lot to handle, even for me."
". . ."
Of course, Shannon kept his eyes on Convict as he spoke, but he could tell that Pacifica's breath had caught in her throat.
"Go."
"I know, but . . . I know, but . . ."
"I'm not gonna die," Shannona said in a brusque tone. "I've got big ambitions, you know--getting myself a pretty wife, building a cute little tidy-looking white house, making it into a simple but warm home."
". . . I don't really think you can call those 'ambitions.'"
"Haha. We're gonna adopt a big, white dog."
"Like I said, you're being small-minded . . ."
"As for kids, I want to have ten."
". . . now that's ambitious."
For one reason or another, Pacifica nodded her agreement.
". . . whatever, just get out of here!"
"O . . . okay."
Keeping a close eye on Convict's every move--maybe it was because he had grown disheartened after coming face to face with Shannon's taijutsu1, but in any case, Convict was gazing steadily back and making no obvious movements--Shannon sensed Pacifica's withdrawal.
". . . now then." Shannon brought his katana back up. "Now that that load's off my back, I can come at you seriously."
As though in reply, the Banesword sprang to life.
Shannon plunged straight ahead.
The Banesword was instantly pulled back, then struck at Shannon from the side. Leaping toward the Banesword, Shannon swung his katana.
An ear-splitting metallic clash.
At its point of contact with the katana, the Banesword warped and circled around. Just as it had done a little while ago.
Got it!
His katana still wreathed in the Banesword's grasp, Shannon came to halt.
"Unh--!"
Convict seemed to realize Shannon's intentions, but it was too late.
This Banesword was terrifying precisely because it was endlessly capable of changing its form, which meant that even if it were blocked, it would automatically flow into a different strike. By learning its exact length and getting the very end of it to twine around his katana, Shannon had lost the use of his own weapon, but the threat of the Banesword was neutralized as well.
Dashing forward, Shannon drove the point of his katana into the floor.
This way, Convict could not easily pull his weapon back.
After that, one solid punch would suffice.
Shannon brought his wrists together. His leather gloves had a bit of a trick to them--a strong tap to the wrists would cause small blades designed for close combat to pop out.
Clenching his fists, Shannon--
Convict laughed.
With a calm swing of his left hand, yet another Banesword came shooting out of his sleeve.
"!"
Seized by a chill, Shannon tried to jump back, but he could not overcome the momentum of his sprint. He somehow managed avoid a direct blow by striking the new Banesword with his short blades, but it still ended up wrapped around Shannon's arm all the way to his shoulder.
". . . !"
"First . . . I'll take an arm," Convict announced.
In order to assure freedom of movement, Shannon's armor covered very little of his arms and shoulders. Even if his arm were not lopped clean off, after being repeatedly sliced up by the numerous blades, it was likely that it would not be able to be stitched back together, and he would probably lose it to necrosis. No, before it came to that, whether through severe blood loss, or possibly a heart attack due to the pain . . . either way, death would be a certainty.
"Ambidexterity . . . is a fundamental . . . technique for assassination. You've . . . got skill . . . but you lack . . . experience."
"I'm deeply grateful for your kind instruction."
While he feigned ignorance, Shannon's right hand--which he had slipped to his waist the moment the Banesword had twined around his arm--found its target. Slipping that small metal ring over his index finger, he gave it a sharp tug.
That tug traveled along the steel wire that was connected to the metal ring.
His right spaulder sprang up, and the barrel of the small cylinder that had been fitted there pointed directly at Convict.
". . . ?!"
Convict immediately tried to pull his sword back, but Shannon took a step toward him. The resulting slack kept the Banesword from moving, and at the same time, a metallic crack sounded as a dart flew out and pierced Convict's shoulder.
[Next] [Previous]
Notes:
1) "体術," literally, "body techniques." Refers to Japanese martial arts techniques involving body movements. Back
