"Yame," Sensei Makoto reiterated, his voice now imbued with a greater sense of authority and resolve.
Jin took a step back and casually nodded his head a bit, just following the usual rules of their routine.
"Impossible!" Park Jimin exclaimed, his words laced with frustration and determination, his teeth clenched tightly. "I'm stronger! I'm faster! I've trained longer than you! Why can't I beat you?!"
"I'm truly sorry, Park-senpai!" His voice came out softer than intended, cracking under the weight of his genuine concern. "I didn't mean to hit so hard! Are you hurt? Do you want me to call the medical staff?"
At first, Jin stayed quiet, taking his time to think things over while loosening his hold on the wooden sword, or bokken, and letting it rest at his side. The vibe in the dojo was pretty tense; students were exchanging looks—some found the match between their friends entertaining, while others looked confused about what just happened.
After a moment, Jin took a step back and gave a deep bow, showing genuine respect for his opponent's courage, even in losing.
Jin's gaze fell on Park Jimin, who was visibly agitated. A tick formed in his eye, an indicator of his mounting frustration.
"Tch." Park Jimin scoffed, a dismissive sound escaping his lips, as he jerkily retrieved his fallen bokken. "I don't need your pity… And don't come off as if you're superior to me, you freak."
Jimin casually shoved Jin's hand aside, leaning in to help without looking back.
"I'll remember this," Jimin muttered under his breath, just loud enough for Jin to catch a glimpse of the menace in his tone. "Next time, you'll be the one eating the dirt."
His footsteps echoed sharply on the wooden floor as he strode away, leaving a trail of whispers and murmurs among the onlooking students, who buzzed with varying reactions to what had just unfolded.
Jin remained where he stood, bokken resting at his side, caught in a whirlwind of uncertainty. Was this a moment that had earned him respect from his peers, or had he inadvertently forged a lasting rivalry?
Suddenly, a commanding voice sliced through the lingering tension.
Sensei Makoto stepped forward with a steady stance, his arms folded neatly behind his back. His presence exuded both authority and calmness, naturally drawing the attention of every student in the dojo.
"Everyone," he began, his voice steady yet tinged with something deeper, "did you witness what just occurred?"
The students straightened, their focus sharpening like blades ready for action, pivoting completely to the instructor.
"Pay attention to the specifics of what transpired today," he continued. "Notice how Jin modified his stance just the slightest bit; observe how he adjusted his balance. It was his mastery of timing that became the decisive factor in the match."
Without averting his gaze from the students, he gestured subtly in Jin's direction.
"Before the bout commenced, Tsurugi Jin made a notable shift in his position. Rather than countering Park's aggressive strikes bluntly, he adapted, flowing with the rhythm of his opponent's attacks and seizing upon the moment."
He began pacing deliberately in front of the students, a steady rhythm echoing on the dojo's floor.
"Many of you focus solely on honing your strength, speed, or memorizing techniques like it's a script. However, the essence of true swordsmanship lies in mastering your breath, your instincts, and controlling your own self."
His gaze scanned the array of students before pausing momentarily at Jin, a flicker of acknowledgment in his expression.
"Jin wasn't trying to dominate the confrontation; therefore, his movements appeared fluid and unforced. He centered his awareness on timing and distance—concepts known as maai. Furthermore, the method he employed to disrupt his opponent's rhythm is referred to as kuzushi, an approach that unbalances someone not just physically, but mentally as well."
With deliberate intent, Sensei Makoto turned to Jin fully.
"Tsurugi Jin, you should never apologize to your opponent," he instructed firmly. "Focus on your training."
Jin blinked, processing the swift transition from criticism to acknowledgment. "Y-Yes, Sensei," he replied, his voice soft but resolute.
The venerable master offered the faintest of nods before shifting his attention back to the class.
"Now then, pair up," he commanded, gesturing to the open floor of the dojo. "We're going to review Tsurugi's three earlier transitions: the yokogiri counter, the kote feint, and the left stance. This time, pay meticulous attention to your breathing. Move like water. No reliance on brute force."
The students promptly shuffled into motion, getting to their feet and forming pairs. The polished wooden floor responded with a soft rustle as bare feet slid into designated positions.
"Man, I totally missed that kote feint," one boy whispered, adjusting his shinai with a perplexed look. "I blinked, and suddenly Park Jimin was on the ground."
"Jin's movements are just insane," another student commented, his eyes wide with awe. "It was like he could read any movement of Park Jimin, predicting his every strike."
Meanwhile, Jin found himself at the fringe of the circle, striving to blend into the background. He absentmindedly scratched the back of his neck, feeling the weight of attention as he contemplated the unfolding dynamics around him. Sensei Makoto's hands came together with a sharp clap that resonated through the dojo, breaking the stillness of the moment.
"Listen up! Focus!" he commanded, his voice echoing with authority. "Pay close attention to your timing, spacing, and maai. Jin excelled in his match because he skillfully managed the tempo of the fight. You all need to learn to emulate that same strategy."
As the words hung in the air, several students turned their heads toward Jin, their expressions a mix of admiration and skepticism; some looked on with respect while others seemed doubtful of his abilities.
In response to their gazes, Jin simply flashed a somewhat sheepish grin. "I-I just did what felt natural, Sensei…" he stammered, attempting to downplay his recent success.
Makoto let out a rare, almost amused huff, a sound that indicated a hint of approval.
"Let's see if the rest of you can catch up to his level of skill," he challenged, glancing around the room with a scrutinizing eye.
With that, the atmosphere shifted as the class sprang into action, a low hum of voices rising as they began to engage in quiet discussions and prepare to put their training into practice. Jin, however, stepped aside from the bustling group, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his gi. His heart continued to race, still pulsing with the adrenaline of being in the spotlight.
Quietly, he made his way out of the dojo, the gentle clicking of his sandals against the smooth, polished floor breaking the otherwise tranquil soundscape.
As he walked through the hallway of the Yamashiro Institute, the soft glow of the ambient lighting gave a warm shine to the floors, highlighting the sleek design of the place. The walls were made of smart glass panels that could switch from clear to frosted with just a swipe of a hand, a cool tech feature that added a modern touch to the building.
Looking out of a nearby window, Jin couldn't help but admire the view of Neo-Tokyo, glowing under the sunrise. Vertical gardens climbed elegantly up the sides of the tall buildings, their greenery slightly illuminated by the artificial lights, creating a nice contrast with the concrete and steel around them.
Having changed out of his dojo gi, he now sported the Institute's sharp dark-blue uniform, trimmed with gold and featuring the school crest on the collar. The temperature-regulating fabric was comfy and stylish, but he still felt a bit out of place in the formal look.
As he walked down the hallway, he noticed his classmate Nakamura Ayane struggling to carry a bunch of items in her arms. When she spotted Jin, she attempted to wave, but in her clumsiness, she ended up tossing the glass tablet into the air as she stumbled.
"A-Ah! Got it!" he exclaimed, catching one of the tablets just before it plummeted to the floor. He returned it carefully, holding it between both hands with his palms facing upward, treating it as if it were a delicate artifact. "That was close… Nakamura-san, are you alright? You're carrying way too much stuff," he pointed out, concern evident in his voice.
Ayane looked at him in surprise, her eyes widening for a brief second before a soft laugh escaped her lips, her cheeks coloring slightly pink.
"T-thank you, Tsurugi-kun. I was really hoping to avoid a quantum catastrophe!" she replied, her voice tinged with both gratitude and humor.