Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

After lunch, Kiryu Kazuma began assembling the sword stand that Kiryu Chiyoko had just finished cleaning.

The Kiryu family dojo had been built to traditional standards, with space reserved for displaying swords, and even hooks on the wall for a kakejiku (hanging scroll).

Kazuma set the sword stand in place, carefully laid the sword upon it, then stepped back to admire the effect.

Sure enough, the empty wall behind the sword felt... lacking. Something was missing.

"I don't know all the fancy rules," Fujii Mikako said, tilting her head, "but... doesn't this look a little plain?"

Nanjo added, "You're missing a kakejiku. There should be a scroll behind the sword that reflects the owner's aspirations or tastes."

Kazuma clapped his hands. "Aspirations! That's it!"

He strode out of the dojo, leaving the three girls standing there in confusion.

Moments later, he returned holding a poster of the current idol sensation, Matsu Seiko.

Though her name differed by one character from the national idol Kazuma remembered from his previous life, the moment he saw her, he knew—this was clearly this timeline's version of the real deal.

Minor variations between worlds were perfectly normal.

Kazuma proudly hung the Matsu Seiko poster behind the sword stand. Stepping back to admire the result, he nodded. "Mm. Not bad!"

Turning around to gauge the girls' reactions, he was met with three odd looks.

"Bro... are you serious?" Chiyoko asked, deadpan.

"Of course I am! You're supposed to display something that represents the sword owner's aspirations, right? Wanting to marry Matsu Seiko—surely that's an admirable goal!"

Chiyoko sighed, clearly exasperated. A glance at Nanjo and Mikako revealed Mikako already twirling her hair, clearly contemplating whether to perm it into Matsu Seiko's signature curls.

Nanjo remained serene, smiling. "Seiko-san is adorable. Her songs are lovely. I secretly listen to them."

"Secretly?" Kazuma instantly picked up on the key word.

"Mm. My father... well, he says it's decadent music."

"What do you usually listen to?" Mikako asked, curious.

"Bach," Nanjo replied offhandedly.

With a dramatic flop, Mikako dropped onto the dojo floor, sprawling out in a star shape. "I give up! I can't win in this game! Just run me over, oh wheel of history!"

"I think Mikako-senpai is very cute as she is," Chiyoko said sweetly. "Right, Bro?"

Kazuma wasn't sure why Chiyoko was suddenly siding with Mikako—but one glance at her expression and he understood.

She was thinking: Tuition.

"Uh... well, sure. The refined fragrance of plum blossoms is wonderful, but the bright cheer of a neighbor's sunflower has its own charm. Right?" Kazuma offered diplomatically.

Nanjo maintained her calm, pleasant smile.

Sensing the conversation heading somewhere dangerous—he could practically hear Toward the Distant Sadness (Makoto Itō Execution Theme) playing in his mind—Kazuma quickly changed the subject.

"So Nanjo-san, since you listen to Bach, do you play piano?"

"Yes, I do," she replied with a nod.

Perfect, Kazuma thought. She can buff me later.

"Do you play shamisen, by any chance?" he asked hopefully.

He remembered seeing buffs triggered by shamisen music on Uesugi Souichirō.

"Ah... my father says that's an art for geisha, so he wouldn't let me learn it."

Kazuma scratched his head. A piano was a bit unwieldy—if she could play shamisen, she could just follow him around during fights, strumming to buff him. Much more convenient.

Thinking back on the buff he'd seen on Uesugi Souichirō, Kazuma asked, "How about tea ceremony? Do you know that?"

Nanjo shook her head. "I've studied it, but... I'm far from proficient."

"I see..." Kazuma clicked his tongue.

Apparently, buffs wouldn't be so easy to gather.

The real problem was he didn't know how skilled someone had to be to provide a buff. Would just anyone who could play piano or shamisen suffice, or did they need to be an accomplished performer?

His gut told him it wouldn't be that simple. You couldn't just grab some random hobbyist and expect a buff.

In any case, it was too soon to worry about buffs. First, he needed to focus on getting into university, joining the Metropolitan Police Department, and building up money and influence. Then he could take his time gathering buffs later.

With that, Kazuma decided to set those plans aside and begin the afternoon's training. The girls' tuition was practically secured now—he owed them a proper lesson.

He turned, about to strike an instructor's pose, when the doorbell rang again from the entryway.

Seriously? How many visitors are we going to get today?

Since arriving in this world, Kazuma's house had rarely seen guests. But today? This was already the fourth round.

Grabbing his wooden sword, he swaggered toward the entryway.

But before he could reach it, the visitors had already entered the courtyard, standing beneath the cherry tree.

Kazuma frowned at the group of obvious delinquents who had barged in uninvited.

Seeing the situation, Chiyoko quietly grabbed the sword from in front of the Matsu Seiko poster, clutching it as she moved behind Kazuma, ready to pass it to him at a moment's notice.

The delinquents, seeing her approach with the sword, looked visibly panicked.

The leader quickly shouted, "W-wait! We're not here to cause trouble!"

With a loud thunk, he dropped to his knees and pulled out a thick yellow envelope, holding it over his head. "Please take us as your disciples, Sensei!"

Kazuma let out a small "Oh," quickly piecing it together. He didn't remember these guys specifically, but logically it wasn't hard to deduce—they must've been present that night and witnessed his solo beatdown of the yakuza firsthand.

He had been considering recruiting some of the delinquents from that night, but hadn't expected them to come knocking on their own.

Kazuma wanted to laugh, but forced himself to stay serious.

The girls were watching—he couldn't just accept them casually. He needed to maintain some dignity.

In this world, doing things with style and ceremony often made you stronger. Who knew? Maybe it'd even trigger a buff.

As he pondered the proper way to respond, Kazuma stepped forward and took the yellow envelope.

Opening it, he found a wad of cash in various denominations.

In an instant, he understood.

This money was probably extorted from other students.

Any thought of stylishly recruiting them vanished.

Kazuma tossed the envelope back onto the floor. "You punks think I'd accept money extorted from others? Look at yourselves—what a disgrace! If you lot start hanging around my dojo, my reputation will be ruined! Get out!"

"B-but Sensei—!"

"Who the hell is your Sensei?" Kazuma roared, kicking the kneeling delinquent square in the face. "Get lost! And don't make me draw my blade!"

Chiyoko rushed up, "Bro, your sword."

She subtly pushed the blade forward, making it easier to draw.

Even that slight motion produced a crisp shing from the scabbard.

"Ikeda Shigeru, run!" another delinquent shouted from further back. They scrambled forward, grabbing their fallen friend and dragging him toward the courtyard gate.

Kazuma picked up the yellow envelope and strode after them. "Take your filthy money with you! Return it to whoever you extorted it from! And don't let me catch you here again—or I'll cripple you myself and hand you over to juvenile detention center!"

Without a backward glance, the delinquents bolted. One of them doubled back briefly to snatch up the thrown envelope, then sprinted after the others.

In moments, they were gone.

Meanwhile...

Ikeda Shigeru and his gang ran a good distance before finally stopping to catch their breath.

Miura clapped Shigeru on the shoulder. "C'mon, Amou. Who cares about kendo? We're still the toughest guys in all of Kitakatsushi. No one dares mess with us. Isn't it better to use that cash for smokes and booze?"

"Tch. Acting all righteous... he's yakuza himself," Asano grumbled, combing his mussed pompadour. "They're way worse than us. If anyone's going to hell, it'll be them first."

"Hey, did you see those girls with him?" Irie leered. "Big ones, huh? Hehehe—ow! Amou, what was that for?"

Without a word, Ikeda Shigeru snatched the envelope from Miura and started striding away.

"Hey, where're you going? Out clubbing? That money could buy us a whole night's fun!" Miura called, chasing after him—only for Shigeru to dodge his reach.

Frowning, Miura asked, "Wait... you're not serious, are you?"

"I'm returning this money to its rightful owners," Ikeda Shigeru said firmly.

"What?! Are you crazy? Just 'cause he lectured you, now you're trying to turn over a new leaf?"

Shigeru said nothing, striding purposefully ahead.

There was no hesitation in his heart.

Before that night, he'd thought all the heroes on TV were fake. Whether it was Mito Kōmon or Kamen Rider, it was all just fantasy.

But that night... in the darkness, he had seen a Hero.

Heroes did exist!

Sure, this one didn't have a transformation device or a motorcycle, but like Kamen Rider, he had stormed the villains' lair alone, standing against an overwhelming tide of evil.

Ikeda Shigeru could still clearly recall the moment the lightning flashed—illuminating that gleaming blade in the dark.

That clear, unwavering silhouette... it was like a guiding white moonlight.

From that moment on, the rotten world he'd known seemed just a little less hopeless.

Because now, he knew—Heroes were real.

And Ikeda Shigeru wanted to follow that white moonlight.

He didn't want to be a grunt for some evil organization.

He wanted to be a Hero.

(End of Chapter)