WebNovels

Chapter 7 - Martial Arts

I walked down the staircase, slipped on my white shoes, and stepped out the front door. Waiting for me outside was Kagetsu, dressed in a skin-tight black shirt that highlighted his lean, muscular frame and white shorts. He was so bored of waiting that he had sunk into his phone, doom-scrolling until I finally stepped out.

I scratched the back of my head and forced an awkward smile. "Sorry for making you wait," I said.

His face twisted into an exaggerated look of annoyance. "Don't worry, it's fine," he said… sarcastically.

One eyebrow shot up. "Really?" I asked, not quite believing him.

His patience snapped. "No! You idiot! You had me standing here for thirty minutes!" he yelled.

I grinned, mocking him just a little. "It's fine, man. Ever heard the saying, 'Being impatient can ruin things that patience would have fixed'?" I teased.

He stared at me, expressionless, a clear aura of annoyance radiating off him.

We pushed through the gate and onto the quiet streets. I finally asked, "So… why did you call me out here?"

"There's a place we gotta go to," he said, keeping his usual air of mystery.

I stretched, curiosity piqued. "Where's that?"

He flashed a smirk that didn't give anything away. "You'll see."

As we walked, the streets felt strangely familiar, every turn and corner etched into my memory even though I had never been here before. I glanced at him and thought, So this is Zane's best friend… Hitoshi Kagetsu.

Eventually, we arrived in front of a building. Through the large windows, a few adults trained on mats, in a ring, and around punching bags. Outside, flyers were taped haphazardly to the glass. One read:

"Many types of martial arts are taught here!"

I turned to him, skeptical. "This is what you wanted to show me?"

He beamed like a child. "Yep. We're both gonna train in a martial art, so we have a fighting chance at getting into Tsubasa Academy," he said confidently.

I raised an eyebrow. "The most prestigious hero academy in Japan, right?"

"Exactly," he replied with a small smirk.

We stepped inside. A male receptionist sat behind a wooden desk, a computer in front of him. He was tall, broad, and looked like someone who could wrestle a bear—and probably win. But his voice was gentle, soft, almost like a teddy bear.

"How can I help you today?" he asked.

"We'd like to sign up for martial arts classes," Kagetsu answered, his grin brightening.

"What martial art are you interested in?" the receptionist asked as he typed into his computer.

I tapped my chin like a detective deep in thought. "Which ones are best for offense?"

The receptionist typed for a moment. "The best for offense would be Muay Thai, Boxing, and Sambo."

Kagetsu leaned in toward me. "Which one do you want to choose?"

After a few seconds of silent deliberation, I muttered, "Hmm… Muay Thai or Boxing?"

"Let's do Muay Thai," Kagetsu decided, pointing toward the receptionist.

"Good choice, you two," the receptionist said, looking up. "Can I get your full names for registration?"

"I'm Hitoshi Kagetsu," he said proudly.

"My name's Kabuchi Zane," I added, a little too quickly.

"And how long do you plan to train?" the receptionist asked.

"Seven weeks," Kagetsu answered confidently.

I frowned. "Wait… isn't the entrance exam in two months? Why only seven weeks?"

Kagetsu gave me a knowing look. "You'll also need to train your ability," he explained.

Right… people here have abilities, I thought, remembering Zane's memories. In this world, abilities manifest around age six. Fascinating…

It's so weird. Zane's dream of becoming a hero… it's almost like it's mine now. His emotions… mixing with mine. We're becoming one, I reflected internally.

The receptionist cleared his throat. "That will be 16,000 yen each, please."

I gulped nervously, pulling the cash from Zane's wallet. After paying, only a few bills remained.

"Please wait on that bench," the receptionist directed us toward the back of the gym. "A coach will be assigned to you. He specializes in the martial art you picked."

"16,000 yen… we better become killing machines after this," I said with mock sarcasm.

Kagetsu slapped my shoulder, his confident smirk returning. "Trust the process," he said simply.

After a few minutes, a muscular man with wavy gray hair and a full beard approached. He looked no older than thirty, but carried an aura of wisdom and authority.

"Are you Zane and Kagetsu?" he asked.

"We are," we said in unison, exchanging glances.

"You can call me Coach Kimpe," he said, pointing to himself with both thumbs. "Welcome."

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