Chapter 66: Fuurinji Miu
"So strong! So strong! So damn strong! No way I can match this!"
That was the scream echoing inside Takumi as his magical power was crushed under overwhelming pressure. He'd thought he was hot stuff—practically a master—but in front of this burly old man, the gap felt wider than between a newborn baby and himself at full third-tier burn!
Sweat the size of beans poured down his face.
He knew exactly who this was: the absolute strongest in 'History's Strongest Disciple Kenichi', holder of the title Invincible Superman, master of the Ryōzanpaku dojo (and elder), grandfather of the heroine—Fuurinji Hayato!
Takumi was well aware this series took real martial arts as its foundation but soared way beyond reality, just like that web novel he loved by Meng Ru Shen Ji, 'Dragon and Snake Evolution'. The basics of training and body mechanics were grounded in the real world, but the top-tier combat power was pure fantasy. Even exploding to third-tier fighting strength, Takumi would get one-shotted by this elder.
"I'm here to become a disciple and learn."
"Become a disciple? Hm. Your strength isn't bad for your age—black belt seventh dan, and you've already got a basic grasp of burning ki. We only teach foundational fist techniques here. You don't really need to learn anything else."
"Yes… before coming here I thought I was plenty strong. But just facing you, Elder, made me realize I'm a frog at the bottom of a well. Please—I beg you—let me join. Even as a provisional disciple is fine!"
"I see. I can tell there isn't a trace of killing intent on you. You've never taken a life, probably never even seriously injured anyone. Such pure ki… I've honestly never seen anything like it."
Takumi knew the "ki" he meant was his own magical power. It was the same all-purpose energy as the Little Formless Divine Skill—ki in a fighting-manga world, mana in a fantasy setting, psychic power in an esper world, chakra in a ninja world, even pure energy in a high-tech one.
"One hundred days. Tuition is a thousand yen per day, room and board included. Let me be clear: we'll only teach you the basics—physical conditioning, sparring experience. The core secrets of ki manipulation are reserved for official disciples only."
"Understood. What I lack most is exactly the foundation. Here's a hundred thousand yen. Please accept it."
Takumi pulled out a thick stack of yen bills that had magically appeared in his pocket the moment he entered the training ground. Exactly one hundred thousand—not a yen more or less. Clearly the system's doing.
[Would it kill you to throw in a few extra tens of thousands, you stingy bastard? Demonic Inscription really is cheap as hell.]
"Hahaha, good attitude! From now on you're a provisional disciple here. Work hard. Oh, right—looks like you specialize in karate. Perfect. I'll have the drunkard teach you."
Invincible Superman took the money and vanished in an instant—appearing and disappearing like a ghost. Takumi stood dumbfounded at the gate, unsure what to do. No guide, no way he was wandering in blindly. Sure, it looked like a rundown old compound, but this was the supreme holy land of martial arts in the entire world—like the Vatican of fighting.
A little while later, a sweet fragrance drifted over.
A beautiful girl appeared—golden hair, violet eyes.
Takumi recognized her instantly: the absolute heroine of 'History's Strongest Disciple Kenichi', Fuurinji Miu!
He'd only watched about fifty episodes of the anime, covering just the early arc. A lot of later characters were unknown to him, but as the main girl, Miu was very familiar.
She'd first appeared wearing thick (fake) glasses and those super-frumpy braids, making Takumi grumble back then that "there are no beauties in fighting worlds." Only later did the story reveal she was a genuine knockout. In middle school she'd been stunning, athletically gifted, kind to everyone—and insanely popular with boys. That popularity made the girls jealous; she spent three whole years friendless and deeply hurt. So she started hiding her looks on purpose—dressing down, acting plain—and transferred to an ordinary high school, where she met the protagonist and dragged him into the martial arts world, beginning the journey of the strongest disciple.
"Hello. What's your name?"
"I'm Takumi Kouichi. And you are…?"
"I'm Fuurinji Miu. Grandpa already told me—you're going to be a provisional disciple at Ryōzanpaku from now on. That makes you my Kohai."
"Uh… I'm actually older than you. Can't I be the senpai instead?"
"Hmm… that's not impossible—if you can beat me."
Gentle, gorgeous, generous, cheerful—that was Takumi's first impression of Miu. But beneath that shining exterior hid someone a little airheaded, a little clumsy, prideful, and prone to loneliness. So he didn't argue.
"Miu-senpai."
The word "senpai" made Miu's face light up with delight. Her mood was 'Proud Wanderer'—thrilled to finally have a Kohai. (Of course, Takumi wasn't going to turn into some tragic eunuch figure, and Miu wasn't heading for a doomed fate either.)
"I finally have a Kohai! Looking forward to training together!"
Miu held out her hand. Takumi quickly wiped his palm on his clothes before shaking it.
The moment their hands met, he felt how impossibly soft and boneless hers was—warm, delicate, silky-smooth. The sensation made him blank out for a second.
Honestly, he wasn't some hand fetishist. He'd held plenty of pretty girls' hands lately. But gripping Miu's—feeling that tender warmth and fine texture—made him reluctant to let go. Still, he didn't want to be rude, so he quickly steadied himself and released her.
"Kouichi, Grandpa said you practice karate. That means I'm taking you to Master Shio Sakaki. Follow me."
Miu turned and started walking. Takumi hurried after her—and immediately noticed her figure looked even more incredible from behind.
Those long pants hugged her hips tightly. That perfectly round, perky rear swayed with each step. Just looking at it, he could practically feel the bounce, the heat, the elasticity. His heart started racing a little too eagerly.
Women's intuition is usually sharp—especially for a martial arts master like Miu. She sensed the burning gaze on her back. A mix of shyness and mild irritation bubbled up.
She stopped abruptly.
"—Bam!"
They crashed right into each other in perfect rom-com timing.
Takumi hadn't expected her to slam on the brakes and spin around. He walked straight into her very mature, very full figure.
"Ah! Sorry—are you okay?!"
Both being combat experts, they instantly sprang back a step, reactions lightning-fast. Miu's cheeks flushed bright red. That brief collision had pressed right against her generous chest—the most prominent part taking the full impact.
She shot him a fierce glare, huffed, and sped up her pace without another word.
Takumi groaned inwardly.
'Crap. One careless moment and my favorability just dropped by 10.'
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