One month had passed.
Every single day had been dedicated to practice.
Morning to evening, I focused on honing my voice, matching piano notes to the lyrics I slowly carved into reality. And at night—I trained my body. Fists against the heavy bag, footwork drills in the narrow space of my room. Sweat and soreness became constant companions.
It was starting to pay off.
Status:
Main Class: (B) Singer – Mastery (37%)
Subclass: (C) Pianist – Mastery (35%)
Other Classes:
(B) Martial Artist – Mastery (31%)
(B) Violinist – Mastery (93%)
Singer rose quickly thanks to relentless vocal training. Pianist wasn't far behind. I noticed that the lower-tier classes seemed easier to level, but even Martial Artist grew steadily.
"Eishi!"
I startled slightly, pulled from my inner monologue.
"Yes, Sensei!"
Yoshida-sensei gave me a glare and waved me over. "Quit zoning out. You're up. Time to spar."
I adjusted my grip on the bamboo sword. Right—Kendo class. For this month, we were cycled through non-core classes to help first-years explore new interests. Kendo had been surprisingly fun, even if the uniform made my shoulders itch.
The class stood around the wooden floor, forming a circle. Our teacher, a retired national-level kendo practitioner, wanted us to end the term with live sparring.
My opponent stepped forward.
Kiba Yuuto.
I gave him a half-smile. "Hey, Kiba. Gotta admit—I didn't expect to spar you today. Go easy on me, will you?"
He returned the smile. "Sure."
'Arrogant much' but i continue to smile, let wipe the smile off your face, i thought
Our classmates buzzed with excitement.
"Do your best, Kiba! Kyaa! Beat him up!"
"Eh? Why not support Eishi too? He's pretty handsome—"
"No way. He's friends with Hyoudou. He's gotta be a pervert too."
I twitched.
"Fucking Issei," I muttered. "Now even I won't get a girlfriend. You've ruined me."
Kiba smiled politely, resting his shinai across his shoulder."Shall we?"
Time to get serious.
[Main Class Equipped: Martial Artist – Mastery (31%)]
The moment I switched classes, something shifted.
The wooden sword in my grip no longer felt like a prop—it felt right. Natural. Like it had always belonged in my hands.
And then the memories came.Not mine, but etched deep into the system.
A snowy courtyard. A woman in a black kimono."A sword without emotion will never falter," she whispered.The scent of winter. The weight of silence.It wasn't nostalgia—it was muscle memory.
My gaze steadied. Breath calmed. The world slowed.
Kiba noticed.He tilted his head, interest flickering in his eyes. "Hoo… looks like I can't go easy now, can I?"
"Begin!"
Yoshida-sensei's voice cracked through the stillness.
Kiba shot forward—clean, fast, refined. His shinai carved through the air with the elegance of a practiced warrior. Not just power, but discipline.
But I didn't flinch.
With a calm exhale, I slid my back foot and sank into stance.
Fourth Form – Flowing Shadow Counter.
My body moved before my thoughts could catch up—his blade swept just past my shoulder, grazing empty air.
Gasps rippled through the onlookers.
"He dodged!""Did he just counter Kiba?"
Kiba pulled back with a grin."Interesting."
He came again—faster, sharper.
Low strike. Diagonal. Sweep.I parried once, twice, retreating like water down a slope. My movements were fluid, reactive, guided not by plan but instinct—the system training my body through each mastered motion.
Then I advanced.
"Too slow," I murmured.
I stepped in, blade slipping past his guard and striking toward his chest.
THWACK!
The impact echoed—but Kiba stood firm. He'd blocked just in time. The force of my strike barely nudged him.
He's stronger than I thought.
Kiba looked at me with that same calm, polite smile—but his eyes gleamed with excitement. Not a trace of fatigue.
"Too slow, huh?" he said, his tone light. "Then… what about this?"
His stance shifted.
Suddenly, Kiba vanished from my line of sight.
No—he moved. Fast.
My instincts screamed. I raised my sword just in time to parry a low cut aimed at my ribs. The vibration shot through my arms. Before I could breathe, he was already pivoting, feinting high
I followed the motion then he swept low again, this time aiming for my ankle. I jumped back, barely avoiding the strike.
The surrounding students gasped.
"Kiba's serious now…!""Is Eishi okay!?"
I couldn't respond. My breathing was getting heavier. Every move drained my stamina faster than I expected.
Even with Martial Artist (31%), I was still limited by my physical endurance. I need to finish this fast.
Kiba didn't wait. Another flurry—left, right, right again—a double feint followed by a spinning slash. I read his rhythm and dodged cleanly, but my arms were starting to go numb from absorbing his attacks
He moved.
Left!
I raised my blade——but nothing came.
A feint?!
I pivoted right—only to meet a low, arcing strike. I shifted fast, barely avoiding the hit.
"This is intense!""Are they really first-years?"
Around us, the dojo erupted with excitement.
Kiba and I circled again, neither making a move.
I could read him now—his tells, his steps. He was fast, sure. But I could keep up.
Barely.
My breath started to shorten.My arms were slowing.Damn… stamina.
Kiba's eyes narrowed. He saw it.Another strike—this time direct.
I parried—but my form faltered.
He saw it—the opening.A clean vertical slash, right down the center.
Or so he thought.
As his bokken came down, I twisted my body, ducking low. The wooden sword sliced through empty air, just inches from my head.
My momentum carried me forward beneath his guard. In a single fluid motion, I stepped in—my feet sure, my breath steady—and launched upward.
Thrust.
My shinai drove forward, aiming straight for his chest.
A perfect strike!
Got him—!
But Kiba smiled.
His blade lowered, slipping under mine—CLACK!—and smacked the base of my shinai, disarming me with a clean disarm.
I barely had time to react.
His shinai came down, aimed for my neck.
Reflex.Clarity.I surged forward, broke his angle, slipped under the swing—
And grabbed his wrist.
He froze. Eyes wide.
"Jiu-jitsu?!"
Before he could pull back, I pivoted and threw him over my shoulder in one clean motion.
THUMP!
He hit the floor with a grunt.
"FOUL!" Yoshida-sensei barked."No grapples allowed! Match to Kiba!"
Kiba sat up beside me, brushing sweat from his brow, his chest rising just as fast as mine. He gave a breathy chuckle.
"I didn't expect that ending."
I groaned, raising an arm to shield my eyes from the ceiling lights.
"Yeah, well… sorry about that. I reacted on instinct."
He blinked, then smiled softly. "On instinct, huh…" he muttered.
Then, a beat later, he turned to me with genuine admiration.
"Still… that was one hell of a fight, Eishi."
I tilted my head toward him, too tired to sit up.
"What was that?"
He just smiled.
And then someone yelled again—
"He beat Kiba?!"
A ripple of disbelief passed through the students. Some looked stunned. Others looked… impressed. One guy gave a low whistle. A girl near the wall blushed and clutched her notebook.
I let out a soft laugh. Me? Beat Kiba?Not exactly. But,
It was fun.Yeah—it was fun.It had been a long time since I felt that rush… that thrill in my chest.
Then a voice rang out from the crowd.
"How?!"
Another followed—shocked and excited."Did you see that counter?!"
The girls who had been cheering for Kiba stood frozen. One clutched her chest like her heart had skipped a beat.
"Okay but… he looked really cool just now…" one whispered.
"I don't think he's a pervert at all! I've never seen him hang out with the other two… only Hyoudou-kun."
"They're childhood friends, right? That doesn't mean he's like Hyoudou."
"Now that you mention it…"
One of the girls near the back leaned in, whispering loud enough for everyone to hear.
"Eishi's kind of… hot when he's serious."
A ripple of giggles followed.
Kiba stepped forward, resting his shinai on his shoulder."That was amazing, Eishi-kun. I underestimated you."
I blinked, my breath still ragged, sweat clinging to my brow."Ah… thank you," I muttered.
I didn't win.But somehow… it still felt like a victory.
The cheers. The reactions. The way they looked at me—it was different.Maybe I even managed to clear my name a little.
Then a system ping echoed in his mind:
Martial Artist Mastery Up!
→ Mastery (37%)
The small notification brought with it a familiar warmth through his limbs. Slightly better reflexes. Slightly sharper movement. Seem like this spar give me quite a lot of mastery point.
He bowed respectfully to Kiba.
The class began to murmur around them, this time not with gossip—but with curiosity and admiration.
Even the sensei raised a brow approvingly. "Good form, Seishirou. Where did you train?"
"…Here and there," Eishi said vaguely, rubbing his neck.
He walked back to the bench, the eyes of the class still following him.
Some whispered. Some smiled.