Reincarnation Sword God

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Chapter 15: The True Martial Home

“Alcohol.”

That was Miyamoto Musashi’s first memory.

Swoosh!

An incredible downpour was cascading through the forest. It was a day far too rainy to be hiking, yet the father and son were at a shrine on top of the mountain.

A ceremony to offer alcohol as a tribute to suppress the malicious spirit—this was the ceremony once held at the Akushin tree in the Izumo region. Why he was there, he couldn’t tell. Miyamoto Musashi tightly wrapped thick ropes made of straw around the tree and placed offerings. Beneath the tree, he positioned a small bottle filled with sacred sake.

“Gulp….”

Strangely enough, behind that cursed tree was a small shrine inscribed with the words “Kenmu Shinsen.” At barely eight years old, Miyamoto Musashi had followed his father there, bringing the ‘offering’ he had personally put in the small bottle. He didn’t remember much about his father’s face, but he recalled his father saying to him then:

“It’s time for God to reward me. Wait.”

Reward?

Little Musashi couldn’t understand what that meant, yet his father muttered as if he were chewing it over.

“Benno-suke… those eyes….”

“…….”

“Do you still think my swordplay is trivial?”

Swoosh!

The rain continued to pour. Silence fell.

Miyamoto Musashi’s childhood name was Benno-suke. He stared blankly at his father and retorted.

“Munisai, what’s a reward?”

He had no intention of discussing swordplay. Although his family had been renowned sword masters since his grandfather Hirata Shogen, his father Shinmen Munisai didn’t possess much martial talent. Talking about swordsmanship would only make Munisai angry.

The reason he didn’t use honorifics with his father wasn’t just that.

Seeing Benno-suke not using honorifics towards him made Munisai frown slightly and then say:

“…God’s swordsmanship.”

What?

He questioned his own ears. He couldn’t wrap his head around what his father was saying. He thought he had understood his father to some extent until that moment when confusion washed over him completely. As Benno-suke stood there, dazed, his father Shinmen Munisai lit incense and placed three sticks in the burner, continuing to speak.

“This shrine performs the rites for Yamata no Orochi. How many shrines did we pass after coming from Harima to this Izumo?”

“Two.”

“One was for Susanoo, and the other for Kagutsuchi. All necessary steps. Today, I finally achieve my goal.”

“…….?”

“I offered the tributes as outlined in the ancient texts. And today is the final offering.”

Offering.

As Benno-suke contemplated that word, he slowly opened his mouth.

“So you took a human life?”

“Indeed. That small bottle must contain fresh blood. Only then will the deity take joy in the offerings presented to the shrine.”

What Benno-suke witnessed was his father Shinmen Munisai attacking the nearby villagers before ascending to the shrine, beheading them and collecting their blood into the small bottle. Benno-suke silently observed, yet he understood that this wasn’t normal behavior.

It was probably what they called human sacrifice.

Regardless, it was still a lot. He had not just killed one but at least over ten people, gathering different types of blood. Remembering that process, he recalled something he’d learned before.

“Yamata no Orochi isn’t a deity but a monster.”

“That’s not a real monster. It’s more a phenomenon of water control. Once, this world was submerged in a great ancient flood, and the deity suppressed that flood.”

“……”

Not very reminiscent of a warrior.

Benno-suke thought to himself.

His father, lacking martial talent, had been obsessed for a long time with finding ways to become stronger. Selling off their family estate, gathering fate-killing techniques and artifacts from the Yin-Yang masters, or even wandering in search of dark mythic legends—it was behavior unbecoming of a warrior in this warring states period, and he even seemed to lose sight of what he wanted.

What had finally become clear was that his father desired “God’s swordsmanship.” As Benno-suke remained silent, Shinmen Munisai spoke with a slightly excited tone.

“Fools might not understand, but gods do exist in this world. And I have received revelations from them twice. By gaining their favor through these two tributes, this time, surely… they will bestow upon me God’s swordsmanship.”

“How strong will I become if I learn God’s swordsmanship?”

“You’ll be strong enough to cut down the Sword Saint Kamizumi Nobutsuna with a single strike.”

“Heh.”

Benno-suke merely shrugged. At such a young age, stories about God’s swordsmanship and sword saints didn’t resonate with him at all. What was he supposed to do with that? However, Shinmen Munisai’s eyes suddenly sharpened, glinting with a brutal light.

“Do you think you’re a genius, devoid of any worries?”

“Huh?”

“I thought I’d be thrilled if my son was a genius. But it turns out I need to be strong for everything to be satisfying. Your indifferent attitude and that arrogant gaze irritate me.”

“……”

What was he supposed to do about it?

Benno-suke felt utterly bored and pitiful. At the age of seven, only three months after starting training, he had already dodged all of his father’s strikes and taken down Shinmen Munisai’s swordplay. He had already surpassed his father, a grown man.

His unconventional talent filled Shinmen Munisai with a fierce sense of inferiority, which transformed into sharp disdain every time he looked at his son. Having been looked down upon his entire life for lacking martial talent, he struggled with that inferiority complex.

At first, Benno-suke was at a loss about how to deal with it, but he soon decided to ignore his weak father. That’s why he didn’t even bother using honorifics.

Rustle…!!

It was then that suddenly, from the cursed tree, a liquid that looked alarmingly like blood began gushing forth, staining the trunk red. It was so forceful; you’d believe it was a stream. Both father and son watched in wide-eyed horror as something twisted began to emerge slowly from the shrine’s entrance.

Creeping

Creeping…

“What is that?”

Is that the monster I’d only heard about?

“So grotesque….”

As Benno-suke held his sword defensively, it slithered like a parasite, leaving a thick slime behind. Instead of eyes, hand-like appendages grotesquely jutted out from its deformed body. The horrifying figure looked like it could drain one’s mental strength just by staring at it, yet Shinmen Munisai seemed almost ecstatic.

“Ha, haha! The Apostle of the Old Gods!! Give me the Lunar Kill Technique!!”

He yelled with bloodshot eyes.

“The ultimate technique created from the grievances of over a hundred martial talents, the technique for slaying a deity!!”

“……”

Benno-suke felt a wave of discomfort wash over him.

‘How is that even possible?’

How could the technique to kill a god be bestowed by a god?

It was then that the twisting creature emerged from the shrine, abruptly opening its mouth and spewing slime forward.

Splat!

Benno-suke dodged quickly out of instinct, but Shinmen Munisai, still bewildered, was hit directly by the slime. Moments later, his body began to swell slightly, and white spores began to sprout all over him.

Squishy squish!

“Heh… ahhh….”

Shinmen Munisai’s flesh was being drawn in, and the spores thrived, blooming into over ten mushroom caps as big as heads atop his body. Shinmen Munisai staggered, despite having his eyes devoured, and he was no longer alive. Watching that horrific sight unfold, Benno-suke rolled away without a second thought and slipped through a hidden path.

Crash!

I must survive.

I need to run from that monster.

There’s no way I’d be able to handle something like that with sword skills.

“Gah! Gah!”

He desperately wielded his way through the trees. After running for a while, he realized nothing was following him, so he ducked into a cave to catch his breath.

“……”

Father is dead.

Though he was a pitiful man filled with insecurities, he was still his blood, so Benno-suke felt a void inside. The sadness was surprisingly little, but he couldn’t shake off the dull ache. As he blankly leaned against his sword, a voice suddenly echoed.

“I could sense the seal of the demon was broken, so I came to see what was going on.”

A strange voice.

Benno-suke slowly lifted his eyes to see the cave’s entrance where a beautiful child with silver hair stood. With a transcendent appearance that was androgynous, the boy looked at Benno-suke with pearl-like eyes and said:

“Child, did you unseal Yamata no Orochi?”

“…No, my father did.”

The child nodded thoughtfully before mumbling to himself.

“Hmm, is that so? Luckily, only the first seal was undone, so it seems the weakened Apostle of the Amatsukami is summoned. If so, it can be quickly contained… How exactly did your father know that method?”

“From an ancient book….”

After Benno-suke explained the situation, the child frowned.

“Those heretics always leave trouble in the world. …But now that a blood offering has been made, it seems the Apostle is quite strong, so maybe I should summon a few more Yin-Yang masters.”

“……”

“Child, I am Abe no Seimei, a Yin-Yang master. It is dangerous here, so come with me.”

Though the boy in the Yin-Yang attire appeared to be the same age, Benno-suke did not feel any discomfort from his condescension. Somehow, he sensed that boy was not as he appeared, and even felt an unknown pressure. Yet, Benno-suke merely gazed at Abe no Seimei’s outstretched hand, hesitating before he spoke.

“Why didn’t the gods bestow the Lunar Kill Technique…?”

“That doesn’t exist. I don’t know which ancient book your father read, but at least I’ve never heard of such a being. What is certain is that what was sealed in that shrine is Yamata no Orochi, the representative of the Amatsukami, and by unsealing that shrine, a wicked being has been summoned into this world.”

“…….”

“Your father may have been fooled by the false notion of the mythical Lunar Kill Technique.”

Fooled…

‘Damn it….’

At that moment, he felt a surge of something rising within him.

Though his father was a terrible man, he couldn’t accept that there was a being who led to his father’s demise. He slowly rose and spoke.

“There is.”

“What?”

Benno-suke turned to walk away from Abe no Seimei, descending the mountain.

“The Lunar Kill Technique exists.”

Abe no Seimei didn’t stop him.

“What a strange child.”

He simply shrugged and headed off to re-seal the ancient god’s Apostle released from the shrine.

That was their first meeting.

Benno-suke decided to head to Miyamoto Village. His father had originally planned to go there after this Izumo affair wrapped up. Plus, his monk uncle was nearby, and perhaps he could offer some assistance as well.

He walked for a long time and arrived at Miyamoto Village in Harima when he turned nine.

A while later, he abandoned the name Shinmen and began using Miyamoto. Prompted by his uncle, he eventually discarded his childhood name and adopted the name Musashi. While he was also called Takezo, he preferred being called Musashi.

“Do you plan to become a warrior?”

Half a year had passed since he started staying at his uncle’s house, and one day, while Musashi was swinging a wooden sword, his uncle suddenly asked.

Musashi slowly wiped the sweat from his brow and replied.

“I’m already a warrior.”

“Then why are you wielding a sword?”

“Because I can.”

“What do you mean by that?”

Boom!

He swung the sword with a cold expression and said.

“I can feel I’m getting stronger….”

There was no formal teacher. The only one who briefly taught him sword basics was his father, Shinmen Munisai. His monk uncle couldn’t help Musashi on the path of the sword, so he practiced alone. However, even so, Musashi could sense it.

He could see it.

He could feel it.

He was constantly presented with ways to become even stronger. Each fiber of his body stood tall, showing him his own shortcomings, and all he had to do was strengthen them. He hadn’t learned a single sword style or basic technique, yet he instinctively knew where to swing.

That’s right.

It’s this easy.

I don’t need a teacher!

Crack!

“Ugh….”

Then, when Musashi turned thirteen, he fought against a wandering warrior named Arima Kihē and defeated him in just a second. As he pierced Kihē’s throat, Musashi felt an ephemeral energy manifesting clearly at the tip of his blade.

This energy is convenient.

Arima Kihē was too weak to judge his capabilities. Musashi could already wield sword energy, so Kihē’s barely first-rate skills were insufficient.

‘He was not someone worth enlightening.’

Though he wasn’t aware of it at the time, he stood on the verge of grasping the Sword Flame.

Musashi made a determination.

If I leap into a bigger world, I’ll grow stronger quicker.

‘Let’s go to the battlefield.’

Miyamoto Musashi.

He, during the summer of his fifteenth year,

Unthinkingly joined in the legendary battle of Sekigahara that divided Dongyoung in two.

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