That night, without seeing any dreams,

By the time I woke up, the night had already deepened.

“Ah— I overslept—!”

Springing up from the futon with a sudden motion—

At that moment, a single piece of paper fluttered down onto the tatami floor.

Still feeling a bit frantic, I snatched it up, and under the dim blue of the night, the moonlight revealed the words written there.

‘Take your time and rest well.’

It was Ziel’s handwriting, already so familiar after these past weeks.

Ah, that’s right…

I recall what happened before I slept.

In the end, after all that,

The four of us decided we should get some rest, as we were already exhausted.

Just before parting ways in front of our adjacent rooms,

Ziel handed me this note.

“If you wake up and see this, you won’t have to worry about ‘Maybe I overslept’ or anything like that. Even if you wake up groggy and forget everything for a moment.”

In the end, despite my carelessness, I still jumped up in a panic.

But upon seeing the note, I felt a little calmer.

I realized that, for once, it was okay for me to rest.

For the first time in a long while, Klaha thought so— honestly.

Spring insects chirped beyond the shoji doors.

Even though not a single mountain flower had yet bloomed this spring, the voices of the living still echoed gently in the night.

Klaha listened, entranced for a while—

And then suddenly noticed the hunger in her stomach.

“…Oh. I haven’t eaten since yesterday…”

After returning at dawn, she hadn't had the energy to eat anything.

And she had slept without waking even once since then.

She pondered for a moment.

If she got up to get food, would she be disturbing someone?

“…………Okay.”

Nodding once, she made up her mind.

She decided to go get something to eat.

The night air was a bit chilly. She pulled on an extra layer and quietly slid open the shoji door, stepping into the hallway, careful not to wake anyone.

“Ah—”

Then, she noticed.

From the room next door—

A soft orange glow seeped out from Ziel’s room.

Klaha hesitated for a moment.

But surely… Ziel was the kind of person who, even if he got up on his own, might not know where the food was and end up eating nothing at all.

That was her excuse.

And so, she gathered her courage and knocked lightly.

“Yes, come in.”

“Excuse me.”

“Oh,”

Sliding the door open slightly, Klaha saw Ziel sitting cross-legged at his desk, turning toward her.

His large shadow was cast against the sliding doors by the warm glow of the lamp, and he smiled.

“You’re up. You slept well.”

She almost instinctively responded with an apology.

But she swallowed it down.

“…Yes. Thanks to you.”

“Glad to hear it. How’s your condition?”

“I feel completely fine.”

“Really?”

“………I think so.”

Ziel had asked it playfully, just a little.

But Klaha thought—

In the past, even if she weren’t feeling well, she probably wouldn’t have admitted it.

“It’s just that the exhaustion from running out of mana is harder to sense than physical fatigue… At least from what I can feel, I think I’m fine.”

“I see. Thanks for being honest.”

She responded with a “Yes.”

Ziel, smiling brightly, accepted her words.

Still feeling a little drowsy, Klaha found herself staring at his face absentmindedly…

And then, as she continued watching his prolonged smile—

She suddenly realized something.

He was hesitating—

Hesitating whether or not to ask why she had come.

“Ah, um!”

“Oh?”

“I was hungry, so… I thought I’d go get something to eat. I wondered if you’d like to join me, Ziel-san.”

Her tongue got tangled, making her sound almost childlike.

‘Add this to the list of things I did wrong’— that phrase popped into her head.

But Ziel, as always, didn’t seem to notice.

“You invited me? Thanks. Mind if I tag along?”

“Of course.”

Then Klaha noticed something.

The word ‘thank you’—

She was strangely used to hearing it by now.

Back when she was in —

Back when almost everyone in the party had changed, and they tried to push her out so she wouldn’t be a burden—

Back then, she never heard that phrase.

She wondered—

Who had she been hearing it from?

“Give me a sec. I just need to tidy this up first.”

“Okay… Ah, this stationery…”

“Oh, that? That’s for Eunice.”

“Shall I deliver it tomorrow?”

“…It’s a really personal letter, so I always feel bad about it.”

“But thanks,”

Ziel said anyway.

“Alright, all set.”

“Okay. Let’s go.”

They stepped out of the room and slid the door shut.

Walking side by side under the moonlight, past the edge of the garden—

Slowly, unhurriedly.

The sound of insects chirping, the murmur of the pond’s surface, the faint tremor of garden stones shifting slightly—

Other than that, the night was quiet.

“…There are two kinds of sword techniques.”

Ziel suddenly whispered into the night.

“Huh—?”

“Ah, sorry. That was out of nowhere… It’s about swordsmanship. Do you have time for this?”

“Y-yes! I do.”

“Thanks. In my school of swordsmanship, there are only two techniques with names. The Unfinished Sword and the Secret Sword.”

“The Unfinished Sword and the Secret Sword…”

Klaha recalled the names.

The Unfinished Sword 〈Bursting Thunder〉. The Secret Sword 〈Moonlit Dream〉.

Both were techniques Ziel had demonstrated in battle—

"Eh?"

“You just don’t have the sense for it. You have physical ability, sure, but even your swordsmanship—well, it was something you forced yourself to train in, and your master molded it into something usable.”

If he were to face someone like Chikano, he wouldn’t even come close—

Ziel stated it as if it were simply a fact. Not modesty, not humility. Just reality.

That’s why it was so surprising.

“I always assumed you were, you know… some kind of sword genius…”

“I mean, I’m not completely hopeless, but I’m far from that. If anything, the fact that I don’t rely on talent might make it easier for me to teach… or at least, I hope so.”

“Right.”

Klaha nodded earnestly. After all, when Ziel taught, there was almost nothing left vague or unclear. As a student, that made learning far easier.

“Thanks. Anyway, back to the topic at hand… Our style places a lot of emphasis on the fact that each person has different aptitudes.”

“Aptitudes…?”

“What someone is good at, what they struggle with, what comes naturally, what’s harder to train… And personality too. All of that together, we call aptitude.”

For example—

Ziel made a gesture as if gripping a sword.

“My master’s ‘Heavensfall’—well, you’ve seen it. It combines sheer strength and weight to bring down the blade in one overwhelming strike. There’s a bit more technique to it, but to put it simply, it’s a crushing move. Ultimately, for him, that technique is the strongest.”

“So that’s his most refined, most versatile technique?”

“Oh? You remembered.”

Ziel blinked in surprise.

Klaha nodded. Of course she remembered. It was the very first thing Ziel had explained to her—back in the carriage, on their way to the highest-difficulty labyrinth.

“On the other hand, my ‘Moonlit Dream’—how does it look to you?”

“…Like a high-speed sword technique.”

“Close… Actually, that’s probably right. It’s a counterattack technique.”

Counterattack?

The word didn’t quite click for Klaha. Whenever Ziel used his secret sword art, it always seemed like the match was over before the opponent could even do anything.

“I’m catching the moment when they start their move. I have good eyes—well, maybe I don’t sound very convincing, but I really do. Before I was cursed, they were even better. There’s still some of that left, so I use it to read the start of an attack, the moment my opponent begins to move.”

“The start of a technique… That’s when an opponent is most open, right?”

“Exactly. That’s where I can react best. And then I drive in with my full physical ability.”

So that’s his secret technique.

Understanding, Klaha nodded.

“A technique that brings out what someone is best at…”

“Yeah. That’s why we call it a secret sword art. You understand what’s hidden inside yourself, refine it, and turn it into a technique.”

Understanding what’s hidden within oneself.

Klaha thought about that.

It was, perhaps—

‘To recognize myself more.’

And that was connected to what Ziel had said.

“Once you discover your own secret sword, you achieve mastery. So my ultimate goal as your instructor is to guide you to that point.”

“…Right.”

Could she do it?

A deep uncertainty, one she couldn’t hide from herself, welled up.

Because surely, that was the thing she was worst at.

Until Ziel had pointed it out, she had never even tried to acknowledge her strengths. She had always assumed she was far worse at it than others.

And now, hearing the expectation in his voice—

The fear of failing to meet it crept in.

“Anyway, that’s not actually what I wanted to talk about.”

“Eh?”

His tone was a little hesitant.

“If that’s what a secret sword is, then the question becomes—what is an unfinished sword?”

Then—

Ziel suddenly stopped walking.

He looked straight at her.

“It’s the technique a master gives their disciple at the very beginning.”

“The beginning…?”

“Yeah.”

Ziel nodded.

“From the moment they take on a disciple, a master begins observing. What kind of aptitude they have, what kind of technique would be useful, what kind of personality they have, how they want to fight. They consider all of that carefully. And as both a weapon until the secret sword is mastered, and as a stepping stone to reach that mastery, they give them one technique.”

The unfinished sword.

As Klaha repeated it in her mind, Ziel nodded as if he could hear her.

“I was uncertain, but I’ve made my decision today.”

Then—

“Klaha’s unfinished sword—‘Tailwind.’”

His expression was serious.

“To be honest, I still don’t know how to navigate my relationship with you.”

“—!”

His words shook her.

But Ziel’s voice remained gentle.

“But…”

He continued.

“That’s only natural, isn’t it? I kept trying to fit our relationship into a framework—master and disciple, gratitude and debt, education and influence. But in doing so, I never truly talked to you. It’s presumptuous to say I understand you, but… I was so caught up in logic that I didn’t even try to see you as a person.”

“That… is…”

But maybe—

Klaha thought.

Wasn’t she the same?

The black shadow in her nightmares—it didn’t take Ziel’s shape.

The real Ziel had already told her he forgave her. And yet, she still projected that shadow—her own guilt—onto his face.

So maybe—

“…I think I was the same way.”

Ziel looked a little surprised.

Then, as if understanding, he murmured, “I didn’t even know that.”

“Logic is important, but ignoring reality for the sake of logic isn’t right either. And logic itself isn’t that rigid—it should be broader. So, well… I haven’t found a perfect answer yet. I’ll probably keep making mistakes, and maybe cause trouble, but—”

He hesitated.

Even so—

“I want to listen to you. And if I can, I want to give you something in return. Just like you’ve helped me so much.”

“Get ready.”

Ziel drew a sword from his waist and handed it to her.

She took it.

Then, in a quiet but earnest voice—

“You have broad aptitude in swordsmanship, magic, and holy magic.”

“You measure distance well. You handle weapons skillfully. You instinctively seek an advantageous position. But because you lack raw physical power, you tend to be overpowered.”

“You’re patient—to a worrying degree.”

“You seem reserved, but you’re actually incredibly stubborn.”

“You’re fearless, always stepping forward. You’ll find yourself in countless dangers.”

“You walk the line between reckless and selfless—but you have the courage to save others.”

“That’s why—”

He smiled softly.

“I think this technique will help you.”

The moonlight fluttered in the wind, brushing their cheeks.

Ziel’s voice, calm and steady, continued.

And then—

The sound of a blade cutting through the wind echoed through the spring night.