The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master

Whirrl.

The airplane door descended with a curvature resembling that of a wing. Whoosh! A gust of sea air aggressively blew my bangs upward.

‘Huff.’

At the very moment I stepped onto Japanese soil, my honest impression could be summed up in two words.

It’s hot. Insanely hot.

‘…Is this real?’

The sweltering heat was so intense that every orifice—mouth, nose, everything—felt clogged, making it nearly impossible to breathe. Japanese summer couldn’t be compared to Korean summer.

If in Korea the heat boils you to death, here it not only boils you—it fries you.

‘What kind of violent heat is this?’

The moisture-saturated air condensed the instant it touched my nostrils. And to make matters worse, since we were here as state guests, we disembarked directly onto the tarmac, which only intensified the sensation. The scorching asphalt radiated so much heat it felt like we were being cooked alive.

“Not even a proper step onto firm ground.”

“Yeah, suffocating.”

I wiped the sweat from my chin with the back of my hand. Ryozo handed me an immaculately clean handkerchief. Though it felt like sacrilege to use it, I didn’t turn it down.

She merely shrugged, as if it was nothing.

“Summer here is always like this.”

“And with this heat, the typical dish being raw fish… that takes some guts.”

“It’s an island surrounded by ocean. Fish is the only thing that’s plentiful.”

“…So cynical about Japan.”

“I’m Korean now.”

Ryozo lowered her gaze toward the stairs. Below, politicians and military personnel waited in formation with floral wreaths in hand.

“Attention!”

“Salute!”

“At ease!”

The voices rang out tense. The unbearable heat grew even more suffocating.

A red carpet stretched to the airport entrance. Lined on both sides, people stood rigidly at attention. More than touching, it was worrying—someone might collapse.

‘With this kind of heat…’

Was this some new form of torture?

The stares, intense, remained fixed on us.

“Let’s go.”

“Yes.”

Ryozo took the first step. I followed, descending each stair with the sense that the pressure was heavier than the heat itself.

***

After the fervent welcome, we climbed into the limousine. The petals from the flower lei around my neck were falling apart, staining the seats.

Ryozo took off her floral crown and asked me,

“How long do you plan on keeping that on?”

“I thought it would be rude to take it off right away.”

“We’re state guests. Don’t show a submissive stance.”

“Got it.”

“And especially not with the Saki family. If they see weakness, it’ll be a problem.”

“But they’re your family. I doubt they’d go that far.”

She cut me off immediately.

“Those people were born and raised locked inside the Saki family. They barely know what affection or family bonds are.”

“Lady Hina doesn’t seem to have a bad personality.”

Snap.

“My sister has a good personality and is pretty too?”

Oops, I stepped in it.

“I didn’t mean it like that…”

“I know.”

Ryozo pouted, then adjusted the air conditioning toward me.

“Hina is the exception. The rest, think of them as mini Kojimas. And there are plenty.”

“Yikes…”

That sounded terrible.

Of course, her father was intense. I’d already confessed to Ryozo that, as a person, he didn’t exactly sit well with me.

‘So there are a bunch of them just as messed up…’

And not just a few.

The funeral would be tomorrow. Tonight, we were to spend the night in that den. Just thinking about it made me want to go home already.

“Still, most of the Saki family are acceptable.”

A risky term. I didn’t correct her.

Ryozo stared out the window at the passing Japanese scenery, as if recalling her childhood.

“They all have a certain talent. It’s in the blood.”

“Right, if the old man saw a child underperforming, he’d have crushed them mercilessly.”

“Exactly. And the one who suffered most under that pressure was me.”

I didn’t know what to say. I stayed silent. She didn’t seem to expect comfort.

“But there was one person.”

She kept looking outside.

“One person who suffered as much as I did.”

“The Prime Minister?”

“My sister just took care of him. She’s a victim in a different way. Dad never had high expectations for her. If he knew she’s now Prime Minister, he’d slam the coffin door shut.”

Which meant—

“So there’s another talent, like you, in the Saki family?”

“…”

After a silence, she murmured,

“Not as much as me, but above average.”

Her voice, which until now had been cold, suddenly grew warm. It was rare to hear her speak affectionately about anyone from the Saki family.

Who could it be?

She noticed my curiosity. She gave me a quick glance before clarifying.

“It wasn’t affection. We were just in the same situation. More like a bond between the miserable. I don’t know what became of that person now.”

“I see.”

I didn’t press further.

From her words, I gathered they had shared similar pain. But while she had found refuge in me and my friends and had grown warmer, perhaps that other person hadn’t.

If Ryozo had grown up entirely in the shadow of the Saki family, she’d be completely different. In her teens, she was cold, nihilistic, emotionless. Only after enrolling in Joaquin Academy and meeting us did she learn what feelings were.

‘If there were a world where Ryozo had been raised strictly by her father’s will…’

Her current character would be unrecognizable. Environment shapes you. I knew that well myself—after years in the service, I’d become a walking temper bomb.

And “that person” who remained in the Saki house all their life might have lost every trace of who they once were.

Kyoto’s landscape appeared aged, marked by time. It must have looked like what Ryozo remembered.

So when she looked out the window, it felt like she was seeing both the present and the past.

Clack.

I clasped her clenched fist with mine. She released her cheek to rest it against mine.

And then.

Rumble, rumble.

The car shook violently and stopped. The leaves of my flower lei disintegrated until only the stem was left. I could finally take it off.

Honk!

A horn blared through the avenue. It was a sudden earthquake. Ryozo remained unfazed.

The driver, flustered, apologized in Japanese:

“Sorry. There was a sudden earthquake…”

“Why apologize for a natural disaster? It’s fine.”

Ryozo replied in fluent Japanese. I, who had only heard her mutter short phrases before, was surprised.

And how did I understand? Easy—anyone who played games like Miracle Blessing M ended up absorbing Japanese whether they wanted to or not.

‘Existential depression, here we go.’

Learning a language like that.

In any case, neither she nor the driver seemed alarmed. In this country, tremors were part of daily life.

We waited until it stopped. After the honking and the sirens, traffic resumed its flow.

‘Could this be some kind of omen?’

On the day we were going to visit the Sakis, the earth shook. And we’d be staying two days. The feeling was clear—it wouldn’t be easy.

‘I just want to get back safe and sound…’

Did I just trigger a flag?

‘Hmm, whatever.’

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling the firm pressure of Ryozo’s hand entwined with mine.

***

When we were almost there, I behaved like a rookie tourist. I even went as far as sticking my head out the window.

“Wow…”

The exclamation escaped me.

Could that even be called a “house”?

Old Korean palaces usually made an impression by occupying vast land, overwhelming the visitor with their breadth.

In contrast, Japanese architecture, though smaller in surface area, crushed with its height.

At Joaquin Academy, I was used to tall buildings, but never had I seen an oriental building of such scale.

I had to tilt my head back almost to the point of snapping my neck. The sharp tower stretched toward the sun, endless. It easily had thirty floors.

Along the sides of the gigantic wooden structure flowed a water channel. It was the famous moat, designed to isolate the fortress from invaders.

‘And to have this at home…’

I stared at the bridge crossing the moat. I hadn’t even stepped inside, and already the airtight nature of the Saki family was suffocating.

“Don’t get nervous. It’s just a place where people live.”

Ryozo applied lip balm as she said it.

“I’m not nervous.”

“Yeah, sure.”

When she put away the balm, the car door opened. It wasn’t automatic—it was the servants waiting for us.

All dressed in traditional Japanese clothing, lined up in formation.

“Welcome, miss. Welcome, Heavenly Sword.”

“Welcome back, miss.”

Ryozo scanned them with her gaze. None dared meet her eyes.

‘I’ve seen many nobles…’

But never such a rigid hierarchical system. Even the gloomy atmosphere of the imperial family seemed cozy in comparison.

Ryozo’s face was unreadable. At last, her glossy lips parted.

“It’s been a while, all of you.”

Flat, almost authoritarian in tone.

The servants hesitated and glanced at each other before bowing even lower, as if sealing a silent pact.

“…Yes. It has been a while, miss.”

“Can you show us the way?”

“Of course.”

A woman led us inside. That’s when I saw—they were all biting their lower lips.

‘What is this atmosphere…?’

A strange discomfort made my steps heavier. The tatami floor creaked with an unsettling groan.

I preferred not to cause a scene as a guest, but if necessary, I’d have to release a bit of killing intent.

From the corner of my eye, Ryozo signaled me. And in a whisper only I could hear, she said,

“I’ll explain when we’re alone.”

***

“…Please wait a moment.”

The servant left us in a large room and hurried off.

The floor was also tatami. There were no furnishings, just empty space.

‘What a waste of space.’

I thought to myself.

Ryozo, on the other hand, looked at the walls as if remembering her childhood.

They were covered in murals that recounted, with Japanese brushstrokes, the chronicle of the Saki family.

‘Nothing has changed here.’

The bitter taste of a buried childhood returned to her mouth. She closed her eyes, resisting the urge to devour sweets, and sank into memories.

It was her return after many years. And the first impression—even she was surprised.

‘The servants…’

It was absurd to even think about.

A bitter smile escaped her.

‘Whoever planned this…’

If before the servants were biting their lips, now she was.

Half-opening her eyes, she murmured,

“Those servants from earlier—they’re all my blood.”

“…What?”

“It wasn’t like this before. Even though Saki treated the family as tools, he never had the hobby of humiliating them like this.”

“Then someone else is managing them.”

…The current head was Saki Hina. But she didn’t seem like the type.

Ryozo broke the silence with an uneasy voice.

“My sister almost always lives at the official residence of the Prime Minister. In practice, she only holds the title of head of the family, but someone else manages everything. She hasn’t set foot in the house for over a year.”

As she explained, she couldn’t hide her unease.

Crrrrrk.

One of the murals in front of us opened like a secret door.

Creak.

A leg stepped out of the darkness, revealing an ominous presence.

“It’s been a while, Ryozo.”

It was a tall, handsome young man, with a charming smile that could disarm anyone.

“So? Did you like my gift?”

“So it was you.”

Saki Haruto.

The one who once shared with Ryozo the miserable condition of being inside the ruthless Saki family, and who was once her only confidant.

“Hahaha. Calling your brother ‘you’? You haven’t changed.”

“Is this your revenge? Using the family as slaves?”

“Revenge? I simply assigned each person the role suited to their abilities.”

Haruto smiled with a carefree air.

‘You’ve changed.’

But in the opposite direction of mine.

Ryozo drew a line through the image of Haruto still lingering in her memory. She wouldn’t be trapped by nostalgia. She had a firm pillar at her side—me.

“I see.”

“…Hahaha. What’s wrong, Ryozo? Why so suddenly…?”

“I’m no longer Saki Ryozo.”

Her eyes sharpened.

“From now on, call me Shin Go-eun.”