Tsubame Gaeshi

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Fantasy  |  House: Booksie Classic
Kind of a ripoff of some of the Noble Phantasms from Fate/Stay Night. Ignoring that, I think it is quite good. Then again, I wrote it so I would.

Submitted: November 25, 2011

A A A | A A A

Submitted: November 25, 2011




“Hey monk, that’s my seat.” The Japanese man hesitated for a second, and then moved over. “I’ve changed my mind. That’s my seat.” Realising he had no choice, the monk rose. Turning, he saw the perpetrator to be a short stocky samurai. “Aren’t you going to apologize for wasting my time?”


“No, properly. On your knees.” The monk stiffened. Rage flashed momentarily through his eyes.

“I will not bow to a lesser man.”

“Oh?” the samurai sauntered forwards, drawing his katana slightly. The monk did not move. The samurai drew his sword completely. Its long blade gleamed on the sunlight. “Guess I’ll just have to teach you a lesson in respect!” The blade sang as it glided through the air...




CLANG!!! Something had stopped the blade in mid-swing. The samurai, Kawakami Ichiro stared in awe. The monk was gone. In his place stood a tall imposing man in a grey tunic, glaring down at him through eyes so brown they seemed almost black. He was holding a sword that was fully five feet long in one hand. As he stared, Ichiro realized that his face was pained. Reaching up, he found that both cheeks were deeply scarred, yet the man had only swung his sword once.

“Wh-who are you?” he whispered.

“I am Nakashima Ryoichi.” The man replied. Turning on his heel, the man strode away. As he exited the way-stop, the sun glimmered on the sword, and it seemed to fade from his hand. Kawakami Ichiro curled up on the floor and cried.


Some section of it that I haven't written yet...



“Here he is, my lord,” announced the ronin, as he shoved Ryoichi to the ground. Ryoichi caught himself, tensing his knees just before they hit the ground. He did not kneel, merely crouched.

“I was told you had a magnificent sword. Where is it, scum?” The daimyo leaned in close. Ryoichi could smell the sake on his breath.

“Let me up and I’ll show you.” The daimyo laughed.

“What a delightful idea! Yes guard, let him up.” He was hauled to his feet and untied. “Come then, fool! Show me this delightful sword of yours.” Ryoichi took a deep breath. The ki ran through him, as he pictured the sword he wanted – a five foot long blade of polished steel, a hilt carved from the wood of a sakura tree and wrapped with purple silk. He raised it, and then brought it at the daimyo’s head, feeling the instance of the blade change into three instances...






...And the swallow return was blocked. The blade disintegrated, its structural integrity shattered by the shield thrown up by the daimyo. “What a great try!” he laughed. Ryoichi summoned another sword, two swords in fact, the ki energy already in them. They came to his hands as he named them...




...And he launched a blistering attack against the smug daimyo.




The Chinese blades shattered. Ryoichi stumbled back. He only knew one thing that could break that shield, but he only just had enough energy for such an exertion. He opted safe launching a weakened version of an attack on the daimyo, reserving his energy...






The blades broke each and every one of them. Only one course of action remained. The daimyo was beginning to look weak, his face pale and drawn. Ryoichi summoned the last of his ki. It burned through him trying to escape...


ENUMA ELISH!!!!!!!!!!!!


...And the daimyo was broken. The entire wall of the castle disintegrated from the force of the anti-world attack, along with all the men inside. Ryoichi collapsed, vision fading as he saw the world turn blinding white... then slowly fade to black.


Some other bit that I haven't written yet (again)



Ryoishi looked around, assessing the situation. Seventeen men, at least one of which was a Servant, all of which had unique blades. He felt himself copying the swords, and realised that he had an advantage over them: he had more blades. He just needed to summon them all...


“I am the Bone of my Sword.”


He hadn’t realised he was speaking, but the ki was flowing more powerfully than ever before...


“Steel is my Body, and Fire is my Blood.


I have created over a Thousand Blades,

Unknown to Death;

Nor Known to Life.


The reality marble in his inro began to vibrate rapidly, clattering against the walls of the wooden box as the men began to charge...


“Suffered Pain to create Many Weapons

Yet, those hands will never hold anything.


The first prickling of fear came now; he was worried that he would never make it. But he saw his hope, and grasped at it like a drowning man will clutch at a piece of driftwood...


“So, as I Pray,


Unlimited Blade Works!!!


Fire spread from his feet, bright yet heatless, passing his attackers, enclosing them in a ring of flames;


And it was gone.







A cold wind blew across the wasteland. The crimson sun glinted on the mountain snow caps, and high in the clear sky two closed eyes hung, unattached to any face. The hard, cold ground was decorated with myriad weapons, impaled in the dust. The seventeen men had stopped, shocked. All except one. The Servant charged, raising his katana. As he reached Ryoichi, who had snatched up a rapier (which fitted him perfectly, and he had fought with it against his favourite attack: Tsubame Gaeshi, the swallow return. He knew how to use it) he prepared himself...



The bandage around the Servants right arm split, revealing the rest of the abnormally long limb. As it swung back, it flashed him a look at a beating heart clasped in its scarlet fingers. Ryoichi felt sick. It was his heart. As the large hand closed on it, Ryoichi acted. He leapt up, feeling the air part around the blade of his sword, reaching out with whatever ki he had left...


“Invisible Air!!!”


He felt the energy he put into the spell multiply thousandfold, forming a second, more powerful blade over his own and masking the sword. As it struck the hand, the power of it scarred the demon limb deeply as well as severing the power it had over him. Landing, Ryoichi stumbled back. The Servant screamed and fell to one knee. The rapier broke so as the maimed Servant charged he reached out and did something he had never done before...


“I call to thee, from the depths of a forgotten World;


The mighty blade, never broken, merely lost;


I call thee by thine Name:




The golden crossguard, the ruby in the pommel, the ancient yet still sharp blade of steel, and the whole inlaid with blue enamel. These elements were thrown into Ryoichi’s visualisation of the sword in the stone. And it came. It appeared in his hands, pure and undamaged, so with it in hand he reached up and slashed, parrying the attack from the katana. Returning in kind, he found himself caught and thrown backwards. Pain racked his abdomen as he convulsed, blood dribbling out of his mouth. The sword clattered to the ground out of his reach. As the Servant reached him, it planted its foot onto his stomach and applied pressure. The pain that came then was worse than any he had suffered at the hands of his mentor. Tears flooded his face and his screams echoed across the desert.


And the great eyes opened.


The Servant stepped back as the golden light from the eyes shone onto Ryoichi’s body. Unbidden, and gasping with pain, he spat out the words:


“My Body is Made of Swords!”


And the blades around him faded as his realm, the reflection of his soul, began to repair his body. Slowly, he stood up. The muscle fibres in his abdomen occasionally pierced his skin as blades repaired his body. The Servant fell away, startled. This mortal man was rising, even though by all rights he should be dead. Caliburn faded.


“Hassan-i-Sabah. You fight well, old man.” Ryoichi said. All traces of pain had gone from his voice, and he showed no outward signs of injury.

The True Assassin Servant bowed his head for a moment, before raising it and throwing his three Dark daggers at the man in front of him.


“Rho Aias!!!”


The daggers were blocked by the legendary seven – layered shield.

“You cannot defeat me, Old Man of the Mountain, but let us see if I can defeat you.” The five foot long sword forged itself in his hand, and he raised it, putting all the ki generated by the Reality Marble into the strike............



“Tsubame Gaeshi!!!!!!”


The world warped back into normality around them, but in the final burst of power the single instance of the blade became twenty-six in number, cutting True Assassin into the same number of pieces. The reality marble reverted to its natural state inside Ryoichi’s inro. The other sixteen men were left unconscious on the ground. Nakashima Ryoichi, the ninja of the One-Thousand-Blade Clan, the slayer of Servants, the mortal man, turned homewards and began his long, lonely journey back. He still had scores to settle...

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