Kazuma's Jōdan Twin Strike looked fairly ordinary.
He wasn't well-versed in Rishin-ryū, so he had no idea why this was the style's starter move.
The two slashes were blindingly fast, meant to catch the opponent off guard—most people would block the first strike, but likely wouldn't be ready for the second.
Jōdan strikes often looked foolish to the untrained eye.
And frankly, they were kind of foolish: the attack path was simple and wide open, and it left you unable to defend.
However, when perfected, Jōdan attacks could be devastating, because the stance was one of the best for generating power.
Styles like Jigen-ryū specialized in Jōdan attacks. Top Jigen-ryū masters could even cleave through their opponent's sword—though such feats were rare nowadays, thanks to modern metallurgy making blades much harder to break.
Even so, a skilled Jigen-ryū practitioner could easily cut through weapons like bamboo spears.
In short, raw power could overwhelm any fancy technique. If your downward strike was strong enough, it could break through everything.
Of course, Kazuma hadn't studied Jigen-ryū. If he had, he'd probably be able to pull off that kind of downward slash.
For now, he only had his Jōdan Twin Strike.
A simple technique—but with his system enhancement, its speed was extraordinary. As someone who had practiced kendo even before transmigrating, Kazuma knew that if he were facing this technique himself, his best bet would be to dumbly hold his sword up and block.
Trying to parry and counter—say, deflecting and following up with a leg sweep—would be risky.
Modern kendo forbade using legs, but they had trained in HEMA, which didn't have such restrictions. And Shintō-ryū, being a practical traditional style, did include foot techniques.
In any case, after dodging his sister's initial attack, Kazuma chose this twin strike for his counter.
What he didn't expect was for Chiyoko to block both strikes in succession, and then charge in before he could recover.
Real combat wasn't like playing a fighting game online. Once you struck, you had to recover your blade to deliver another proper hit. If you didn't reset, any follow-up lacked power. A real sword's edge might still leave a wound, but a bamboo sword without proper recovery was ineffective.
Chiyoko charged straight in, aiming the sakigawa of her bamboo sword at Kazuma's men.
Kazuma instantly raised his arms, using his guard to deflect her strike.
That's what the guard was for.
Some Japanese swords didn't have guards, for concealment reasons—but in a real fight, such blades had significant disadvantages compared to standard katana.
As Kazuma deflected, he stepped forward.
With their swords locked, he couldn't aim a thrust at her. So he stepped in, planning to use a lower-body technique.
His instinct from HEMA kicked in: trap the opponent's weapon and then strike with the legs.
He forgot for a moment that you couldn't kick in kendo.
But Chiyoko swiftly retreated, keeping him from closing the distance.
In close quarters, size and weight gave an advantage.
One advanced, the other retreated. Step by step, they moved ten paces or so toward the edge of the dojo.
Kazuma could feel the pressure on his bamboo sword increasing.
Suddenly, Chiyoko shouted, "Men!"
Kazuma flinched, and in that instant, his blade was forced upward—Chiyoko had stopped retreating and used his forward momentum to push his sword high.
Then she twisted her wrists. Japanese swords had long hilts meant for two-handed grip, allowing many techniques that relied purely on wrist movement.
They weren't powerful, but they were quick and fluid.
Kazuma didn't hesitate—he immediately backed off.
The opening was too large. There was no way to recover his sword in time to block, nor could he twist his wrists like Chiyoko—his hands were raised too high for that.
He had no choice but to retreat.
Chiyoko's horizontal slash swept past, just inches from Kazuma's face.
Kazuma kept backing up, step after step, but Chiyoko didn't pursue. She reset her stance on the spot.
Her gaze was sharp enough to kill.
Kazuma took a deep breath.
She's good.
To an outsider, their exchange would have seemed plain. If a fight scene in Drunken Master rated a ten, their sibling sparring just now was maybe a two.
Real kendo looked like that to most people.
But Kazuma had trained properly under Shintō-ryū master Hasegawa Masato. He wasn't an outsider.
Chiyoko's response had been excellent.
In a real sword fight, he would have danced with death just now.
By system numbers, Kazuma should be stronger. But after that exchange, he wasn't so sure anymore.
At this moment, the words floating above Chiyoko's head—Lone Determination—were burning brightly.
That buff… was really effective.
Then Chiyoko spoke. "Bro, you really don't remember this move, do you? When Dad taught us this back then, you could never get it right. I pretended to struggle with it too, just to practice with you..."
As she said this, memories resurfaced in Kazuma's mind.
This Rishin-ryū technique—rushing forward, lifting the opponent's sword, then following with a horizontal cut—had been something the original Kazuma practiced countless times but never mastered.
Back then, Chiyoko had always been his practice partner. She'd even cried in frustration when she couldn't get it right.
At least, that was how the original Kazuma remembered it.
Chiyoko continued, "I saw how hard you were trying, so I pretended to cry and forced Dad to call for a break."
Kazuma finally understood.
"Those memories are irreplaceable treasures to me," Chiyoko said, her eyes beginning to glisten.
"Ah—hey, don't cry…"
But before Kazuma could finish, Chiyoko charged.
It was the Gatotsu—the very move Kazuma had taught her.
Though slower than his system-boosted version, it was still fast.
Kazuma sidestepped, stepped in, and aimed for her head.
But in a flash, Chiyoko blocked his strike. The transition was so quick that even Kazuma, with his training, couldn't catch all the details.
But it's not over yet!
Kazuma twisted his wrists, circling his blade. The move would force her sword down and then target her right hand.
But Chiyoko suddenly released her right hand, and with her left hand gripping the base of her sword, thrust it forward.
This was one of many Japanese sword techniques—suddenly extending the reach.
The sakigawa struck Kazuma squarely in the chest.
It wasn't light.
If it had been a real blade, his lungs would've been pierced.
At the same time, Kazuma's sword had struck Chiyoko's left hand, leaving a vivid red mark.
Ordinarily, that should have made her drop her sword. But Chiyoko didn't let go.
Despite her pained grimace, she held on tight.
Kazuma could feel her determination, plain as day.
He said nothing, just stepped back and reset his stance.
Chiyoko did the same.
"When the Sumitomo Construction men first came, I thought for sure you'd refuse them outright," Chiyoko said again. "But you didn't. And when you saw the number they punched into the calculator, you smiled. Your expression became so… unfamiliar."
Of course it did, Kazuma thought. Because I'm literally a stranger to you now.
Naturally, he didn't say that aloud.
"These past few days, I've realized—I'm alone. No one's standing with me anymore," Chiyoko went on. As she spoke, the Lone Determination words above her burned even fiercer.
"That dead chicken was disgusting. The yakuza are terrifying. And my only ally has drifted away. But I won't back down."
At last, her tears fell. Her emotions surged.
Kazuma could now see red ki flaring from her body—like she was a Super Saiyan, wrapped in transparent red flames.
"Kendo is all I have! Kendo let me escape from bullies! Kendo gave me friends! Kendo makes me feel like Dad is still with me! No one can take kendo from me! No one!"
With a shout, she charged again.
Kazuma blocked her strike, but her explosive strength began to overpower him—even though he was older and larger.
He had to grip his sword with all his might. There was no room to counter—if he tried, his sword might be knocked away.
Fortunately, he'd set his stance properly. Though her force pressed his blade toward his body, it still guarded him.
Chiyoko's slender form leaned in close—face-to-face.
"I'm stronger than you!" she shouted. "I'm the shihan-dai of this dojo!"
Kazuma felt even her aura was overpowering him.
But his mind remained calm.
Despite her strength and spirit, she had one fatal flaw.
Her weight hadn't changed.
In pure strength contests, body weight mattered.
That was true for both combat sports and kendo.
Even modern kendo, which emphasized technique, separated men and women.
For the first time this match, Kazuma let out a roar.
He surged forward, forcing Chiyoko to stumble back.
Blatant use of body weight—it was simple bullying.
Once she lost balance, Kazuma seized the moment to pull back slightly. With swords pressed together, you couldn't swing.
Then came a basic downward strike—not a twin strike, just a plain, powerful overhead slash.
No fancy moves. Just raw force.
And the opening looked nearly identical to the twin strike.
Gotcha!
Kazuma could feel this one would land!
But Chiyoko didn't try to block. She retreated to safety.
Smart, Kazuma thought, silently praising her.
Her stance had crumbled. Blocking would likely have failed—she could've taken a hit to the arm.
This was no light flourish. An overhead slash started from the shoulders, using full-body strength.
A hit would've knocked the sword from her hands for sure.
The two reset their stances, circling back to their original positions.
Chiyoko glared at him. "Bro, this isn't Rishin-ryū at all. I was already suspicious when I saw your thrust yesterday. When did you learn Shintō-ryū? How could a public school like Kitakatsushi afford a menkyo kaiden Shintō-ryū coach?"
Obviously, they can't, Kazuma thought. Daimon Gorō seems more like a self-taught expert.
But that wasn't easy to explain.
And truth be told, Kazuma was getting a little angry.
When he was in pain, he tended to get angry.
Before transmigrating, there was a period when he had toothaches and became so irritable that he nearly lost his job at a trading company.
The jab to his chest just now was throbbing with pain—he probably had a big bruise under his shirt.
That pain was making him pretty mad.
And Chiyoko's words had sparked a lot of thoughts he wanted to get off his chest.
Their "passionate clash" had also dredged up more of the original Kazuma's memories.
The original Kiryu Kazuma had known for a long time that Chiyoko was stronger.
That's why he had trained even harder.
Because his sister—already shihan-dai—had silently ceded the dojo to him, the original Kazuma wanted to become worthy of that gesture.
He'd wanted to make the dojo flourish.
But he lacked the talent.
The original Kazuma's frustration and anxiety now flooded into Wang Jian's modern mind.
Strangely, he understood perfectly.
Because he came from an era filled with pressure and anxiety.
He wanted to sell the dojo to seize this rare upward phase in Japanese society—something he had failed to achieve in his own life before transmigrating.
If he missed this chance, Japan would soon enter the stagnant Heisei era. Society would ossify.
"You say kendo is all you have? That's laughable." The current Kazuma finally spoke. "You're blind to your true wealth, shouting nonsense here!"
"Look at yourself—your skin is smooth, not a wrinkle in sight! You have the most precious thing of all—time! Potential!
"This country is on the rise! You should be riding the wave of a new era—not wallowing in self-pity!"
Chiyoko's brows shot up, but Kazuma didn't give her a chance to speak.
"Yes, I'm using Shintō-ryū. So what? I practiced Rishin-ryū for years and still couldn't beat you! You think I didn't notice?
"Watching my stronger little sister, unable to inherit the dojo, having to pretend to be weak and smile while handing me the title of shihan-dai—you think that didn't hurt?"
"So I trained Shintō-ryū—because it suits me better, because it's stronger! Does lineage matter if it works? Weren't the great masters of history known for borrowing from many styles?"
Kazuma wasn't sure if his surging emotions were giving him a buff. He didn't care. He just needed to vent.
"You keep shouting about not selling the dojo, but have you offered any solution to our financial troubles? No!
"You tell me to recruit students—but we don't even have a menkyo kaiden master! Technically, we shouldn't even be allowed to run a dojo! It's only because the modern kendo association no longer enforces those rules!"
Chiyoko finally squeezed out a rebuttal. "We could ask other Rishin-ryū masters for a menkyo kaiden…"
"And how long would that take? What if someone gets sick before then? Who's paying for the treatment?"
"I…"
"Sure, part-time wages are good now. But if I take a job, I'd have to quit the kendo club. So to protect your kendo, I should give up mine and work instead?"
Chiyoko opened her mouth several times, but couldn't speak—like a fish gasping on land.
Kazuma watched as the words above her head dimmed, the fiery effect fading.
Then, right before his eyes, the words changed.
The color shifted from blazing red to deep blue—the same negative status he'd seen on those thugs earlier.
And the text changed to Worldly Turmoil.
Focusing on it, Kazuma saw the description: Fallen into self-doubt under questioning from her brother.
I see… to grow stronger, one must have the resolve to stake everything. To let go of attachments.
Kiryu Chiyoko still lacked that purity.
Kazuma took a deep breath.
Well then, Chiyoko—let me show you just how serious I am about selling this dojo, embracing the new era, and rising to success!
(End of Chapter)