Love You Eighth Night: 04 [Lightblade] ★★ (80) (Patreon)

*Eighth Night: 04 [Lightblade] ★★*

A shiver ran through him, the hairs on his entire body standing on end as [Lightblade] looked at her.

[Scar]'s appearance was completely different from what he had imagined. He had arbitrarily assumed she would be a tall, muscular sportsman, or a large, brawling delinquent... but the reality was the exact opposite.

She was quite short. If she weren't wearing a sailor uniform, one might mistake her for an elementary school student.

A single three-strand braid, glasses, a longish skirt. Rather than being in a place of slaughter like this, the sight of her reading quietly in a library would be far more fitting. She had such a meek appearance.

And yet, that girl was on the roof, glaring this way with a kitchen knife and a box cutter in her hands.

There was no mistake, there could be no mistake. She was [Scar]. A breath of admiration, "Ooh," escaped [Lightblade]'s lips.

That small girl, who looked so powerless, so far removed from conflict! With no special ability, she had defeated the powerful enemies who stood in her way and survived.

"Amazing."

Pondering this, tears even welled up in the corners of [Lightblade]'s eyes.

"I'm coming now."

And so, with a joyful expression, he opened the window, climbed over the frame... and landed on the same roof as [Scar].

◆

The footing was extremely poor. The slightest lapse in concentration would make one's feet slip, causing a fall.

That was likely why [Scar] had chosen to wait here, to compensate for the difference in abilities and physical performance. Was it to catch him off guard and push him off? Or was it to kill his footwork?

And if [Lightblade] hadn't appeared on this roof, she would have undoubtedly waited until he starved and collapsed.

That resolve and tenacity seemed to radiate from her, even from this distance.

(So this is her battlefield.)

But [Lightblade] had no intention of spurning her welcome in the first place.

(She's going to meet me with her full strength... I'm so happy.)

Slowly, slowly, [Lightblade] closed the distance, careful not to let his feet slip.

When he got reasonably close, he noticed that [Scar]'s tights were cast aside at her feet.

(I see. To make it easier to move on this footing, she went barefoot. I understand now. By layering these small considerations and ingenious ideas, she compensates for her disadvantages.)

He thought he should have done the same... but he couldn't very well take off his shoes and socks leisurely in front of the enemy now. Keeping his light blade pointed at [Scar], he drew closer, narrowing his stride to be more careful.

(But no matter how much she tries to seal my movement, I have a weapon that can burn through anything. As long as I have this pointed at her, she won't be able to move so easily.)

And [Lightblade] could just use the difference in reach to gradually, little by little, literally chip away at his opponent.

(This environment, where it's difficult to move, is a double-edged sword, [Scar]!)

Finally, the distance between them closed to about three or four meters. Just as they reached the range where a single step could decide the outcome.

[Scar] raised the kitchen knife she held in her right hand and pointed it at [Lightblade].

(How will you come at me, [Scar]!? Are you going to throw it!?)

However, she simply threw the weapon away to her left.

"Huh!?"

It was a completely absurd, unexpected action. [Lightblade]'s gaze was involuntarily drawn to the silver blade as it fell in an arc.

But in that instant, [Scar]'s right arm suddenly whipped forward.

Fwoosh.

A large amount of fine powder was thrown at [Lightblade]. It hit his face, his mouth, and even his eyes.

Blinded, [Lightblade] faltered and lost his posture.

"Ugh!?"

It was a deception.

Using the motion of throwing the kitchen knife as a preliminary movement, [Scar] had thrown the contents of a disposable heat pack—fine iron powder—which she had hidden in her palm inside a piece of torn non-woven fabric, with a flick of her wrist.

Then, the girl quickly stepped forward, closing the distance in an instant, and thrust the box cutter in her left hand towards [Lightblade]'s right eyeball!

In a natural reflex as a living creature, [Lightblade] leaned his upper body back, but it wasn't fast enough.

The tip of the blade was just about to reach his eye.

Vwonn.

A flash of light ran, and [Scar]'s left arm was floating in the air.

As if swatting it away with his hand, the boy had instinctively swung his light blade. The single flash from left to right had burned off the girl's left arm.

(That was close!)

But just as he thought he had overcome the crisis, he felt something being pressed strongly against his body.

"What the—?"

He lowered his gaze and saw the small girl. She was embracing him, her forehead pressed against his chest.

"Uooooohhh!"

[Scar]'s roar. And in that moment, [Lightblade] understood.

The discarded kitchen knife, the blinding powder, and the left arm she had thrust out as if to have it cut... they were all just set-ups for this. Yes. Everything was a decoy for her to leap into [Lightblade]'s guard with all her might.

And if it were just a matter of being pushed away... there was a difference in their builds and weight. Perhaps the boy could have stood his ground and endured it.

But [Scar] had never been thinking of something like that from the start. Of pushing him away.

Her resolve was not so half-hearted.

"Oooohh!"

Wrapping her right arm around his waist, and entangling her own leg with his to break his stance... [Scar] pushed [Lightblade] down, and they fell from the roof together.

◆

"...Cough! G-hack!"

In the boy's revived consciousness and vision, the one-armed girl was staggering to her feet... but she fell to her knees with a groan of agony.

[Lightblade] tried to follow her example and get up, but his body wouldn't move.

"Huh...?"

His hands, his feet, not even his neck. His eyes and mouth seemed to move, just barely, but that was it.

Was it a bone? The flesh? A muscle? Where had he been injured?

(No, that's not it.)

Something much more important, something decisive, must have been broken. That's what [Lightblade] understood.

As he came to that realization, the memory of what had just happened finally returned... and he grasped that he had fallen from the third-story roof and been slammed back-first onto the concrete.

([Scar]... seems to be able to move.)

Perhaps by using [Lightblade] as a cushion, the damage to her body was somewhat less severe than his.

However, her condition was still apparently serious; in the corner of his vision, she was dragging herself along, desperately trying to pick up [Lightblade]'s "hilt."

He could guess what she intended to do with it.

"...Hey, [Scar]. Won't you tell me?" [Lightblade] asked, forcing out his voice.

"...What is it?" [Scar] answered, between pained breaths.

"What are you fighting for? Is it the will to survive? A desire for success in the future? A wish for victory?"

The one-armed girl, who had finally managed to stand up, listened in silence.

"Tell me, [Scar]. Tell me what you're fighting for. And what I am dying for, for you. I want you to tell me. Please."

Hearing [Lightblade]'s earnest plea, she averted her face, closed her eyes, and seemed to hesitate.

But after a while, she turned back to him and said one word.

"Love."

She uttered it curtly, but as if savoring the word.

Hearing that, [Lightblade] opened his eyes wide for a moment... but soon he closed his eyelids as if he had understood completely, and muttered in a voice that seemed to sink in deep.

"Ahh... I see... Love, is it."

And then, as if he could no longer hold it back, he began to laugh.

"Hahaha... hahahahaha!"

"What is it? You think it's funny?"

"Hahaha... No, that's not it. It's not like that. I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry. I'm just happy, that's all. I see, love. So it's love."

Laughter rose again.

...But who could stop this?

[Lightblade]. No, Kitamura Romeo's life had, in this very moment, been fulfilled.

[Scar] watched him in silence for a little while... then, as if remembering, she gripped the "hilt," extended the light sword, and weakly raised it.

Until the final moment the blade swung down, the boy's heart was enveloped in happiness.

Letting out a joyous laugh, he thought.

...Ah, that's right. Of course.

If it's for love, it can't be helped!