"Focus!" Daimon Gorō sounded genuinely angry—probably thinking Kazuma had been goofing off with that self-introduction earlier.
Left with no choice, Kazuma gave up on putting on a show and prepared to face Daimon Gorō using pure kendo technique.
Thankfully, this time there was no life on the line.
But precisely because his life wasn't at stake, it was hard to summon the same heightened mental state he'd had when fighting Nishiyama Heita.
His best hope was that once he started getting hit, the pain would spark enough anger to boost his performance.
If Daimon were a bad teacher, Kazuma could have tried recalling his worst offenses to stir up some fury—but from what he'd observed these past few days, Daimon Gorō was actually a pretty decent instructor.
So in the end, it would have to be pure swordsmanship this time.
A good chance, too, to see just how big the gap was between level 6 and level 8.
Naturally, to gauge that gap properly, Kazuma had to go all out.
He shifted into a Gatotsu stance.
Daimon Gorō also readied himself, fully alert.
In the next instant, Kazuma lunged.
The moment he moved, he realized something was off—the force of his thrust was too strong.
Daimon reacted quickly, stepping back—but Gatotsu could cover quite a long distance. Even Daimon's retreat couldn't quite match Kazuma's momentum.
Before he knew it, the sakigawa of Kazuma's bamboo sword struck Daimon's chest protector dead center.
Years of kendo practice had ingrained muscle memory into Kazuma. The moment the strike landed, he instinctively shouted: "Dō!"
Men for head strikes, Dō for body strikes—that was the call.
But before his voice had fully rung out, an even louder sound drowned him out—crack! The bamboo sword snapped in half right down the middle.
Bamboo swords were meant for slashing. Thrusting attacks like this risked snapping the center cord.
In fact, this was a safety feature—once broken, the force of the thrust would dissipate.
Similar to how fencing uses flexible blades for protection.
But in all his years of kendo, this was the first time Kazuma had ever seen a thrust actually break a bamboo sword.
Daimon had stepped back too. If he hadn't, the impact would have been even stronger.
Whoa... Chiyoko must have maintained this bamboo sword after my fight with Nishiyama yesterday.
She's very meticulous, so the sword should've been in top condition. How did it break this easily?
Daimon snapped, "Idiot! Don't use combat kendo here! If you pull that move at the district prelims, the referee will disqualify you on the spot!"
The word combat sparked a thought in Kazuma's mind.
That's right—I've got level 5 in combat level now.
Could that be why my strikes are hitting harder?
It seemed plausible.
He'd spent years reaching level 6 in Shintō-ryū. The original owner of this body had only gotten to level 3 in Rishin-ryū after all that time.
But a straight jump to level 5 in combat kendo? Numerically, that looked like it covered all of Kazuma's hard-earned progress.
Yet he hadn't noticed much difference when doing air swings yesterday and today—his swing speed and power hadn't seemed dramatically stronger.
Maybe the boost applies more to actual techniques?
Determined to test it, Kazuma spoke to Daimon, who was still lecturing him. "Sensei, I'm really sorry! I won't do it again. May I swap out for another bamboo sword?"
Daimon nodded. "Go ahead. There should be some spares in the club stock..."
Before he could finish, Fujii Mikako called out, "Use mine!"
She ran over, thrust her bamboo sword into Kazuma's hands, and whispered in his ear, standing on tiptoe, "This one's been lovingly maintained by me every day. It'll feel great!"
Kazuma glanced at the sword—and to his surprise, noticed something was... different about it.
He closed his eyes, counted to two, and opened them again. Yes, the saturation of the bamboo seemed subtly different from the others. Almost as if it had a filter over it.
Could careful maintenance actually enchant a bamboo sword?
But then again, maybe it was just Mikako's words messing with his perception—the "filter" was so faint it might be an illusion.
Either way, it was time to test whether other techniques would benefit from his combat level boost.
Kazuma raised the bamboo sword high overhead, adopting a bold Jōdan stance.
Seeing this, Daimon muttered, "Rishin-ryū practitioners don't typically favor upper-stance attacks..."
Kazuma didn't answer. He stepped forward and unleashed a Jōdan Twin Strike!
Two crisp impacts echoed through the dojo.
Feeling the feedback through the bamboo sword, Kazuma confirmed: Twin Strike is definitely hitting harder now.
Excellent! As long as I keep pounding on yakuza, my combat ability will keep improving!
Kazuma couldn't help but think—no wonder the founder of Shintō-ryū, Tsukahara Bokuden, had traveled around seeking duels. Historical records said he'd survived nineteen life-and-death sword duels against elite swordsmen.
If each duel leveled him up by five, Bokuden-sensei's combat level would've hit 95, easy. Factor in all the other fights, and he'd be well past 100.
No wonder he could probably shatter an opponent's sword with a casual swing.
In that moment, Kazuma seriously considered getting a mask and going around picking fights with yakuza to grind his combat level.
But reason won out in the end.
It was one thing to fight when the yakuza came after him. Actively seeking trouble? If he lost, it'd be disastrous.
Then Kazuma noticed something odd. I've been spacing out for a good thirty seconds—why hasn't Sensei reacted?
Turning his attention to Daimon, he realized the teacher was visibly stunned.
In fact, Daimon Gorō practically had the word shocked floating above his head.
Huh?
**
Daimon Gorō was, indeed, in shock.
Though not formally affiliated with any particular style, he was an avid kendo enthusiast. He often visited Tokyo's major dojos to observe matches between various schools.
Just now, those two strikes from Kiryu Kazuma... Though his form wasn't quite Jigen-ryū, and lacked its distinctive shouts, the power felt unmistakably similar.
A Rishin-ryū swordsman displaying the spirit of Jigen-ryū?
No, wait—the techniques he's been using haven't resembled Rishin-ryū at all.
Daimon was now certain: something had fundamentally changed in Kiryu Kazuma.
There was a saying: "Judge a man anew after three days." But Daimon had never expected to witness such a transformation in real life.
Previously, though Kazuma came from a dojo family, his skills had been middling. Whether he'd make the main team depended on his performance during tryouts.
But now...
Daimon studied the boy before him.
Without a doubt, Kazuma was radiating the aura of a true swordsman.
In kendo matches, that aura mattered. The strong exuded an undeniable presence.
Back when Daimon was a third-year in high school, he had fallen at the national tournament.
His opponent had been the child of a police officer—a master of Jigen-ryū.
When that opponent raised his bamboo sword overhead, Daimon had felt an overwhelming pressure.
The more one trained in martial arts, the more one sensed the reality of aura, intuition, and the unity of mind and technique.
That was a realm Daimon still hadn't reached.
But Kazuma had now stepped across that threshold.
He was no longer just an ordinary high school kendo student.
Watching Kazuma, Daimon was flooded with memories of his own final summer in high school.
That year, their kendo club had scraped together money from the town to rent a bus and travel from Yamanashi Prefecture to Tokyo.
Before they set out, the club captain had led them all in a rousing cheer: "This is our Koshien!"
It felt like yesterday.
But it was already long past.
Daimon could still see it clearly: that Jigen-ryū master standing at the center of the dojo, an insurmountable peak.
With ease, he had crushed the dreams of those boys from the Yamanashi countryside—leaving that summer forever marked by tears and regret.
To this day, Daimon still remembered his name:
Kinitani Genshin.
Back then, Daimon and his teammates had vowed to one day defeat him.
But that day had never come. Daimon had never again faced Kinitani Genshin in a match.
And most of his old comrades had long since drifted away from the kendo world.
Daimon sighed.
So many nostalgic memories, all at once...
Gripping his bamboo sword tightly, he straightened his expression and met Kazuma's gaze.
If I lose to a student, my standing as club advisor will take a hit, sure.
But so what?
Let me witness what you can do now that you've crossed into the realm of the strong, Kazuma!
He took his stance and declared:
"Head coach of Kitakatsushi High School Kendo Club—"
"Daimon Gorō—"
"Enters the field!"
(End of Chapter)