The soft-spoken, kind of clumsy kid who always said sorry and gave shy smiles was no longer there. Instead, there was someone new—someone a bit intimidating and determined.
Jin stepped up, his shadow extending in the fading light of the late afternoon sun, taking up space and commanding attention. The transformation was palpable, as if the very air around him had grown heavier, more substantial.
"Stop talking trash about my mother, Tanaka-san," he said, his voice low and edged with intensity.
In that instant, the usual warmth in his eyes disappeared, giving way to a sharp, intense focus that seemed capable of cutting through anything. His laid-back vibe faded, replaced by a tense anger that made his shoulders stiffen. When he finally looked at Kenji, the playful grin he'd had a moment ago was gone, and all that was left was a serious expression.
"I'm prepared to accept your challenge. There are lines you simply cannot cross—especially when it comes to my mother, who sacrificed everything for my sake."
Taking another step forward, he held Kenji's gaze without flinching. The intensity of his stare was such that several students in the crowd shifted uncomfortably, as if feeling the weight of his presence.
Kenji felt a knot of anxiety forming in his chest and throat. Trying to shake off the uneasy feeling, he let out a dismissive snort, stood a little taller, and tilted his chin up, squinting his eyes in a fake show of confidence.
"Tch. Trying to act all tough now, huh? Alright then. Let's see if your sword can truly back up the trash you're talking about," Kenji retorted, although deep down he knew he was trying to mask the sudden surge of fear creeping into his heart.
Kenji clutched his wooden sword a bit tighter, his heart racing with a hint of nervousness he'd never confessed to.
At the same time, his buddies, Takeshi and Ryo, dashed off toward the academy's inner garden paths, laughing like there was no tomorrow. Their playful cackles bounced around the garden as they sprinted, having a blast in the heat of the moment.
With a self-satisfied grin, Takeshi leaned toward a nearby student, his voice dripping with enthusiasm. "Tanaka-sama is going to absolutely clean Tsurugi! He's going to knock him flat!"
"Hey! There's a duel happening in the gravel court!" Ryo shouted excitedly toward some classmates perched on the second-floor terrace. "Tsurugi Jin is about to get wrecked!"
Like moths drawn to a flame, students began to gravitate toward the courtyard, some still clutching half-eaten bento boxes, while others eagerly activated their AR recorders, capturing the unfolding drama. The crowd continued to grow, word spreading rapidly through the academy's communication networks.
Amidst everything happening, Kenji stood confident, soaking up the spotlight. Every time a new onlooker showed up for the upcoming duel, his grin just got bigger and even more pleased with himself.
"Perfect! This is just the audience I need to finally show you your place, Tsurugi," he declared loudly enough for those gathered to hear.
Jin, on the other hand, didn't seem worried at all. If he was scared, he was hiding it pretty well under that calm exterior of his. He kept his eyes fixed on the gravel at his feet, then quickly glanced at Kenji, the kid who had dissed his mom's name without a second thought.
Kenji dramatically lifted his wooden bokken like it was some kind of badge of honor. "Remember this moment, Tsurugi! Everyone here will always recall the day your face met the ground!"
Even with the tense vibe in the air, Jin stood firm, calm and collected. There was a weird shift happening around them; it was like Jin's presence was weighing down the atmosphere, and his breaths became slower and more intentional, radiating a sense of icy resolve. The once excited buzz of the crowd quieted down as if the sunlight filtering through the trees was pausing in respect.
Jin walked over to the practice weapon rack with smooth, purposeful strides and picked up a simple wooden bokken. It was nothing fancy, just well-used and shiny from all those hours of practice. Gripping the familiar weapon, it felt like he was gearing up not just for a fight but for something really important.
On the flip side, Kenji was enjoying his sense of power, tightly clutching his sword. He swung it through the air, making dramatic arcs that showcased its balance while wearing a wicked grin.
As the gravel crunched under their feet, the tension ramped up. Kenji struck an impressive jodan-no-kamae ,, raising his bokken high with a bold confidence. He looked sharp and ready, a testament to all the serious training he had undergone with his private instructor, his eyes narrowed in anticipation.
In complete contrast, Jin stayed relaxed, adopting a neutral chudan-no-kamae with his bokken at his waist. He wasn't focused on Kenji's intense stance or the weapons they held; instead, his gaze wandered past Kenji's shoulder, unfocused yet somehow tuned into every little thing happening around him.
"Get ready, you bastard!" Kenji growled with a ferocity that sent a chill through the air, and without any hesitation, he lunged forward.
*WHOOOOSH!*
The hit landed on Jin out of nowhere—quick and intense, right on the top of his head, meant to finish things off in one hard punch that could break bones. Kenji shouted his battle cry as he swung his wooden sword through the air with powerful energy, showing just how determined he was.
"YAHHHH!"
Jin wasn't new to this kind of situation; he picked up on the danger way before Kenji's attack hit. Just seconds before Kenji brought down his serious weapon, Jin caught a weird tingle on his head and felt this strange buzz in his mind. It was a clear sign—his instincts were screaming at him, telling him to move.
So, without even thinking about it, his body responded smoothly. He shifted his weight and got ready in a seamless way. Instead of taking Kenji's powerful strike directly, Jin lifted his bokken to block the blow. With a quick twist of his sword, he managed to deflect the hit right in the nick of time, sending Kenji's weapon flying off in the direction where Jin had just been standing.
"Tch!" Kenji grunted in frustration, his eyes alight with a fiery rage at having his powerful attack so effortlessly countered.
Even though he faced a setback, Kenji was tough as nails, and his comeback was seriously impressive. You could really see his skill with the sword as he turned that mishap into a slick move, launching a flurry of fast and fierce strikes. His bokken was like a blur, swinging across to target Jin's ribs, firing off quick jabs aimed right at his chest, and finishing with some heavy overhead chops that looked like they could really pack a punch.
*WHOOSH-CRACK-SLAM!*
Each strike was infused with raw power and delivered with a pinpoint precision, creating a relentless barrage that aimed to drown his opponent in a torrent of fury and technical skill. For most fighters, such an unyielding offense would likely be insurmountable.
However, for Jin, the chaos unfolded in slow motion. Time stretched and expanded around him as Kenji's assaults crashed in like waves of rage, heightening Jin's awareness in a way that felt almost surreal. He could perceive more than just the sword; he could discern the underlying purpose behind each swing—a skeletal framework of intention that seemed to rise invisibly from Kenji's body before each strike, outlining the direction and power behind the impending blows.
With an agile swaying motion reminiscent of a tree bending in the wind, Jin narrowly evaded the horizontal slash that sliced through the air mere inches from him. The rush of the blade passed so close that it sent his hair blowing in its wake, each individual strand captured in the golden afternoon light.
As Kenji followed with a direct thrust aimed at his chest, Jin was already prepared. His bokken shifted into position with impossible speed, deflecting the attack harmlessly aside, sending it sliding diagonally past his shoulder, leaving him unscathed amidst the storm of fury that Kenji unleashed.
Kenji's frustration grew with each failed attack. He redoubled his efforts, his movements becoming more aggressive, more telegraphed, yet somehow less effective. It was as if Jin were reading his mind, anticipating each strike before it was fully formed.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as Jin moved with a grace that seemed almost supernatural. His footwork was impeccable, each step precisely placed to maintain perfect balance while creating maximum distance with minimal effort. His bokken moved in response to Kenji's attacks with minimal motion, yet each deflection was perfectly timed and positioned.
In a stunning display of sword mastery, Jin suddenly shifted from defense to offense. In one fluid motion, he flowed around Kenji's latest overhead strike, his body moving in a tight arc that brought him within inches of his opponent. Before Kenji could react, Jin's bokken tapped three precise points on Kenji's body—wrist, elbow, and shoulder—in rapid succession.
ach tap was delivered with just enough force to disrupt Kenji's balance and control, but not enough to cause injury. The precision was breathtaking—each movement executed with the exact amount of force needed to achieve the desired effect.
Kenji found himself stumbling backward, his offensive completely disrupted, his sword arm momentarily numb from the precise strikes to nerve clusters. His eyes widened in disbelief as he struggled to maintain his footing.
Jin didn't press his advantage. Instead, he reset his stance, returning to the calm, centered position he had begun with. His bokken was held loosely at his side, ready but not threatening.
The courtyard was utterly silent, the only sound the ragged breathing of Kenji and the distant hum of the city beyond the academy walls. The crowd watched in awe, many of them recording the exchange with their devices, capturing what would undoubtedly become a legendary demonstration of swordsmanship at the Yamashiro Institute.
Kenji finally regained his footing, his face flushed with embarrassment and frustration. He could feel the weight of dozens of eyes upon him, the unspoken judgment of his peers. With a growl of frustration, he charged once more, abandoning all pretense of technique in favor of raw aggression.
But Jin was ready. As Kenji lunged forward, Jin sidestepped smoothly, his body moving with impossible economy of motion. In one fluid motion, he brought his bokken up in a short arc, tapping Kenji's sword hand with pinpoint accuracy.
The effect was immediate. Kenji's fingers went numb, his grip loosening involuntarily. The bokken slipped from his grasp, clattering to the gravel at Jin's feet.
Kenji stood frozen, his hand outstretched, his face a mask of shock and disbelief. The reality of his defeat was undeniable, etched in the wooden sword lying at his opponent's feet.
Jin picked up both bokkens, holding them out to Kenji hilt-first. His expression remained calm, almost gentle, yet there was an undeniable authority in his posture that commanded respect.
"The match is concluded," Jin said quietly, his voice carrying clearly through the silent courtyard. "Your skill is impressive, Kenji-san. But anger clouds judgment and weakens technique."
He offered the wooden swords back to Kenji, his gesture one of respect rather than triumph. The crowd erupted into murmurs of awe and admiration, witnessing not just a victory, but a masterclass in the art of the sword.
Kenji accepted the weapons with hands that trembled slightly, his eyes unable to meet Jin's calm gaze. The humiliation was palpable, yet there was something else there too—a dawning realization of the true depth of skill he had just witnessed.
As the crowd began to disperse, still buzzing with excitement, Jin stood alone in the courtyard, the setting sun casting long shadows across the gravel. The transformation was complete—the kind, clumsy boy was gone, replaced by someone who commanded respect through quiet confidence and undeniable skill.