As if Sensei could read my mind, he moved closer, with Kawasaki following just behind him.
"Tsurumi-kun, when you first came here, you mentioned that you were interested because I was the one running this place, didn't you?"
Kawasaki, for her part, kept her usual calm expression, simply listening without intervening.
I nodded, remembering it clearly.
"But as you already know, I won't be here for several months. And as for the new instructor who'll be coming…" Sensei paused briefly. "I don't think you'll be able to learn much from him."
It all started as a whim—my desire to learn karate in greater depth. But after seeing that I couldn't defeat someone like Sensei, even in his slightly rusted state, my motivation began to waver.
"Sensei, if I wanted to reach the level you had when you won the nationals… how long would it take, hypothetically?"
"Hm." He brought a hand to his chin, considering it. "Perhaps three or four years."
"I guess karate just isn't for me…"
If his answer had been a few months, I might have seriously considered it. But this was far longer than I'd expected. The gap between us suddenly felt painfully clear.
"You already have a solid foundation when you fight. Your reflexes and reaction speed are good," Sensei said with a sigh. "But by fighting in a way that doesn't suit you, you're severely limiting yourself. If we fought under the condition that the first to be taken down loses, I have no doubt you'd defeat me without much trouble."
I wanted to tell him he was overestimating me. Still, if grapples and holds were allowed, taking a simple kick to my side would be enough. I'd just grab his leg, throw myself forward, use my foot to unbalance him, and push his head down with one hand.
Of course, none of that fits within karate. Using it here wouldn't make much sense.
Over the years, I've focused more on how to bring an opponent down. In a real fight, I highly doubt anyone politely explains the rules beforehand. The one who wins is simply the one still standing.
A fight doesn't need to look impressive. Sometimes it ends in just a few seconds, with only two or three precise strikes—especially when there's a clear difference in level.
When that gap exists, you can even afford to toy with your opponent.
"You're right. Besides, from the beginning, I wanted to focus on learning karate, and I've really enjoyed these past few months."
Everything has an end. I suppose I'll have to find another hobby for my afternoons.
Maybe I'll become a writer… though I'd probably be the type who takes too many breaks.
"You're young," Sensei said with a smile. "You should use this time to go out with friends and enjoy yourself—of course, without neglecting your training."
It's true. People our age, especially now that we're in high school, tend to prefer spending their free time with friends.
"Don't worry. I make sure to train every morning—it's more of a habit at this point."
We shook hands, both smiling after the exchange.
Once our conversation ended, Sensei shifted his gaze.
"Kawasaki-san, what do you plan to do?" he asked, turning to her.
I doubted she had come along just to listen to this—at least, not for that alone.
"What do you mean, Sensei?" Kawasaki raised an eyebrow, uncertainty flickering across her face as she became the focus of the conversation.
"Both of you have entered high school; your youth is just beginning," he continued. "You probably want to spend your afternoons with friends, join clubs, or focus more seriously on your studies."
Now that he mentioned it, I realized I'd overlooked that. Some students aim for near-perfect grades to get into top universities or earn scholarships, dedicating nearly all their free time to studying once they get home
Kawasaki looked like she wanted to say something, but the words refused to come out.
"Just like with Tsurumi-kun, I don't think the new instructor has much to teach you either. In fact…" Sensei scratched the back of his head. "I don't think I do either."
It's often said that a student surpasses their master the moment they're able to defeat them.
"I don't think…"
"Kawasaki-san," Sensei interrupted gently, "do you know why, despite defeating me, you've never been able to beat Tsurumi-kun?"
"Because Tsurumi is more skilled."
She said it without hesitation—it was something she genuinely believed.
"That's incorrect. From the very beginning, when it comes to karate, you've been more skilled than Tsurumi-kun."
Hearing someone say another person is better than you is uncomfortable… but it's also true. If I were to face the same Kawasaki who defeated Sensei, I don't think I'd win.
"But…"
"I suppose you don't understand, so I'll explain." Sensei fixed her with a steady gaze. "From the moment you lost to Tsurumi-kun for the first time, you interpreted it as him being superior to you. You convinced yourself of that. And because of that belief, every time you face him, you end up limiting yourself."
It's not easy to grasp, especially since people tend to forget that the mind plays a crucial role in a fight.
Which means it's time for everyone's favorite segment.
Welcome to a brief explanation by Raiden-sensei, where I'll quickly and concisely explain how mentality works in these situations.
When a fighter faces an opponent they believe to be superior, a significant mental restriction often kicks in. By fixating on the idea that the other person is better, they unconsciously hold themselves back. This sense of inferiority eats away at confidence, dulls reactions, and disrupts technique. Instead of fighting freely, they hesitate, make mistakes, and perform far below their actual capability.
In short, an inferiority complex doesn't just affect how you see your opponent—it drags your entire performance down with it.
That concludes today's lesson. We'll meet again another time. Don't forget to eat your vegetables and exercise.
Kawasaki didn't respond, as if she were replaying every single exchange we'd had against each other.
"In our first match, Tsurumi-kun was able to fight freely. In that regard, I won't say you're better than him," Sensei continued. "But when it comes to karate, you are superior to us. And you proved that today."
Well, at least in a straightforward fight, I'd win. I'll settle for that.
She slowly lifted her gaze toward the ceiling, uncertainty written all over her face.
"Have I been holding myself back mentally?"
We both nodded.
Confusion crossed Kawasaki's face until she reached her own conclusion.
"I'm an idiot."
"Yes, a complete idiot," I replied without missing a beat.
She shot me a sharp sideways glance, then chose to ignore me.
"But why did I stop holding myself back when I fought you?"
That was a solid question—one Sensei had already answered moments ago.
"You overestimate Tsurumi-kun too much. You even thought he would beat me, didn't you?" Sensei said, still wearing that calm, infuriating smile.
"How cute. All you were missing was a cheerleader outfit and some pom-poms."
I had no idea Kawasaki supported me that much—and honestly, seeing her dressed like that wouldn't be a bad sight at all.
"Do you want to die!?"
Her glare practically burned into me, but a moment later she turned her attention back to Sensei.
"You're right… For a moment, I really thought Tsurumi would win," she admitted flatly, as if regretting the thought itself.
"But when you saw Tsurumi get taken down, what did you think?" Sensei asked.
"That he wasn't as good as I believed. I was surprised to see him fall to such a simple move—the kind you always teach." She glanced at me, a hint of pity in her eyes.
Hey. That was unnecessary. Simple techniques are the most dangerous when used by someone skilled.
"It's good that you understand that," Sensei said. "Once you removed that self-imposed limitation, you were able to surpass me."
"I see…"
With that, everything finally clicked for Kawasaki.
"For that reason, Kawasaki-san, it's up to you whether you wish to continue coming here. The new instructor won't have much left to teach you, and Tsurumi-kun won't be here either. I'd recommend another dojo, but at least within Chiba City, I doubt you'll find one that matches your level."
Kawasaki's talent is absurd. Poor soul whoever tries to court her—he'll probably end up knocked out with a single punch.
I'll pray for your safety, stranger-kun.
In short, if Kawasaki continued coming, it would only be because she wanted to—not because it benefited her in any tangible way. She could just as easily use that time for other things. After all, once you defeat your master, it's fair to say there's nothing left for them to teach you. I'm sure she understands that too; her thoughtful expression makes it obvious.
I went through something similar myself, though in my case it ended in a draw, so I'm not sure the comparison fully applies. Besides, the man the other students and I nicknamed Shiroyasha has never truly lost. He only allows himself to lose when he acknowledges someone's strength. Do you really think a bunch of kids could defeat a JSDF captain? Not in a million years.
Did I forget to mention that part until now?
You didn't ask.
Setting aside my painful memories of being beaten senseless by a member of the JSDF, I noticed Kawasaki remained deep in thought.
"This time… training with you and the others was fun." She kept her usual calm, composed expression. "I wish you the best in winning the national tournament."
Kawasaki bowed deeply to Sensei, a clear sign of respect and gratitude. In the end, she had come to the conclusion that there was little point in continuing if it would all be in vain.
"You've been one of the best students I've ever had," Sensei said with a warm smile. "Your father was right when he told me it was only a matter of time before you surpassed me—though it also helps that I've gotten a bit rusty." He scratched the back of his head in embarrassment.
"You know my father?" Kawasaki asked, clearly surprised.
"He was my senpai back in university. He was already in his final year when I had just joined. He helped me a great deal when I entered the karate club, so I owe him a lot as well."
That reminded me—Kawasaki once mentioned that her father had practiced karate since his school days, and that he was also the one who encouraged her to start training in the first place.
A girl with such immense talent, paired with a father who's both skilled and genuinely supportive… honestly, any guy who ends up getting involved with Kawasaki is going to have a rough time. I'll pray for you, stranger-kun.
"I suppose that makes sense…" she muttered to herself.
With that, the three of us had said everything that needed to be said.
"Alright, now that we've come to an agreement, Tsurumi-kun, Kawasaki-san—how about one last match? I'm sure you won't get another chance like this," Sensei said excitedly, clearly eager to see Kawasaki fight at full strength.
"I'm fine with that. I'm going to beat this guy senseless." Kawasaki cracked her knuckles, stating it like a simple fact rather than a threat.
"Just because you're theoretically more skilled than me doesn't mean it'll work out the same in practice, Kawasaki-chan," I replied mockingly.
"This time, I'll make you eat those words. Don't complain afterward!"
She's overflowing with energy—the kind you'd expect from a protagonist who just unlocked a new power. Of course, she's always had it; she just subconsciously nerfed herself.
Come to think of it, that would make for a pretty good light novel plot.
"Don't worry. The only one complaining will be you," I said confidently.
"I see you two still get along well, haha," Sensei remarked, as cheerful as ever.
And just like that, my final confrontation with Kawasaki was about to begin.
…
"Do you think Sensei will be able to win the national tournament again?"
"I watched the videos of his victory that were uploaded online, so I think it's possible. It'll depend on how much he manages to train from here on out." It won't be easy—but it's not impossible.
After classes ended, Kawasaki and I said goodbye to the others, since we had no reason to stay anymore. To my surprise, they took it well; some of them even started competing over who would become the new number one of the dojo.
Youth at its finest… though, I suppose I'm still young too.
"You're right. It all depends on how much Sensei trains," Kawasaki nodded.
"So, what are you planning to do in the afternoons? Join a club or something?"
Just in case I hadn't mentioned it before, Kawasaki managed to get into Sobu High without any trouble, so it's not like this is the last time we'll see each other. Still, the way we interact feels oddly peculiar.
"I'm not sure. I don't really know what clubs Sobu High has, and I'd rather just go home early," she said calmly.
"I feel the same way."
There are still a few things I need to think about—but I'll do that at home. I want to organize my thoughts properly.
"By the way, Tsurumi… I forgot to say this, but thanks for helping me study."
Kawasaki kept her eyes on the road; she's kind of cute when she gets embarrassed.
"You would've managed even without my help," I said, shaking my head.
When we studied together, I noticed she wasn't as absentminded as she seemed. She probably would've passed on her own—even if it took a bit more effort.
"That might be true… still, you helped me a lot."
She glanced at me for a moment, gave a small nod, and then looked ahead again.
"You're overestimating me."
"I'm not," she replied firmly.
"Alright, alright, whatever you say." There's no point in pushing it further.
After that, we continued walking in silence.
I can't help but think—I have no idea how things will turn out starting next week, now that I'll be a student at Sobu High. There might be more strange situations ahead, or problems I'd rather avoid, but worrying about them won't get me anywhere. All I can do is move forward and deal with things as they come.
Besides, with both Yumiko and Kawasaki at the same school, I get this strange feeling that something bad might happen if they ever cross paths. Still, there's no real reason for that to happen… right?
For now, I just kept walking alongside Kawasaki, quietly enjoying the odd atmosphere between us.
We never clearly defined what we are—just two strangers who met under certain circumstances and happened to cross paths more than once. Still, at this point, that hardly matters anymore.
Because if you asked either of us, we'd probably give the same answer.