Kiryu Kazuma had just finished dinner and was watching his little sister clear the table.
In Japan, women traditionally held a lower status—unless Kazuma specifically volunteered to wash the dishes, Chiyoko would never let him do it.
Back in his previous life, Kazuma often heard the older generation say: Earn an American salary, eat Chinese food, and marry a Japanese wife.
Looking at it now… maybe they weren't entirely wrong. Coming from an era where online feminism often picked fights over trivial matters, seeing Chiyoko so naturally and cheerfully tidy up the table made Kazuma think she was absolutely adorable.
After clearing the dishes, Chiyoko moved to replace the offerings at their parents' memorial tablets.
When she finished, she pressed her palms together in a solemn prayer.
A few seconds later, she picked up the small metal striker placed beside the tablets and lightly struck the bronze singing bowl—one of the traditional ritual implements used in Japanese Buddhism.
A clear ding rang out, resonating through the modest dining room.
Kazuma stepped forward as well, putting on a respectful posture and offering a mock prayer.
Even though he had inherited the memories of the original Kiryu Kazuma, his soul was still that of Wang Jian from China. While he understood these memories were precious, he couldn't help but feel like an outsider looking in.
If he were the real Kiryu Kazuma, he would probably stand united with his sister to protect the dojo that embodied those memories.
But Wang Jian only wanted to sell the dojo, earn his first pot of gold, and kick off his career as a time traveler.
He fully understood Chiyoko's anger. To her, her "brother" was a traitor.
Kazuma gazed at the photos of their late parents enshrined in the household altar and silently, sincerely prayed in his heart: I'm selling the dojo so that my sister can have a better life… to protect her more effectively. Please don't blame me.
Just as he was thinking this, Chiyoko turned to face him and spoke.
"Onii, I'm sorry for losing my temper in front of guests earlier."
Kazuma blinked, momentarily confused.
Right—in this household, Kiryu Kazuma, or rather Wang Jian, was the shihan-dai of the dojo and head of the family. A woman of the house, whether sister or wife, wasn't supposed to contradict him in front of outsiders.
He was genuinely startled. Japan really is a country where gender roles are strict…
"It's fine." Kazuma shook his head. "If I could, I'd want to preserve this dojo full of memories too."
That, of course, was a lie—but sometimes harmless white lies were necessary.
Besides, he genuinely liked this little sister.
When it didn't involve the dojo's deed, Chiyoko fulfilled every part of Kazuma's ideal image of a younger sister.
Chiyoko's clear gaze made Kazuma feel slightly guilty.
"Big liar," she murmured.
"Uh… well… about that…"
Kazuma was about to explain when Chiyoko cut him off.
"I know. Selling it is probably the best choice right now. I just… need a little more time."
Kazuma let out a quiet breath of relief.
Good—finally seeing a glimmer of hope. Before this, she'd outright refused even hearing the word 'sell,' blowing up every time it came up.
At this point, Kazuma figured that even if he secretly signed the deal with Sumitomo Construction tomorrow, Chiyoko probably wouldn't go jump off Tokyo Tower.
He was already calculating whether he should sneak off and sign the contract the next day…
Meanwhile, Chiyoko went back into the kitchen to wash the remaining dishes.
As Kazuma daydreamed, he couldn't help but start planning what to do with the seventy million yen he'd soon be getting—though it was in yen.
This was right before Japan's economic bubble really took off. Almost any investment could bring tenfold returns.
By the time he was fantasizing about becoming the Prime Minister of Japan, Chiyoko had finished cleaning the kitchen and returned, standing in front of him.
"Onii, practice swords with me?"
"Sure." Kazuma agreed instantly. Then it hit him—he hadn't checked his sister's skill level yet using his system.
Taking a deep breath, he focused on her.
Rishin-ryū Level 4.
Huh?
He double-checked his own stats: Rishin-ryū Level 3. His Shintō-ryū level had been carried over from before.
Wait a second—does this mean the original Kiryu Kazuma was actually weaker than his sister?!
Then why did he inherit the dojo? Just because he's male?
That can't be right, can it?
In Rurouni Kenshin, Kaoru inherited her dojo as a woman! Don't tell me manga really is all lies?
Kazuma silently ranted, though of course Chiyoko couldn't hear it.
"Onii?" Chiyoko tilted her head, seeing him spacing out. "Aren't we going to the dojo to spar? Why are you just standing there?"
"Oh—right! The dojo!" Kazuma snapped back to attention and headed toward the dojo.
Even as he moved, his mind was still racing.
No wonder Chiyoko looked so surprised when I used Gatotsu. She's always been stronger than her 'big brother'—and then suddenly he pulls out a move that isn't even in Rishin-ryū…
Yeah, I'd be shocked too.
As Kazuma slid open the dojo doors, he casually asked, "Did you teach Gatotsu to your kendo club at school? Any luck?"
"Ugh, don't even mention it! Only after trying did I realize how tricky it is. If you're not careful, your feet trip over each other during the forward step. Today Miharu fell flat on her face and got a bloody nose."
"I see." Kazuma pulled a bamboo sword from the rack along the side of the dojo and tossed another one to Chiyoko, then drew one for himself.
There were no students around today, but Chiyoko had always maintained the dojo's communal bamboo swords.
In fact, the first time Kazuma met Chiyoko after transmigrating was right here in the dojo—she'd been oiling the communal swords.
At the time, he hadn't fully absorbed the original's memories yet and didn't realize this was his sister. He'd stared at her classic yamato nadeshiko profile, lost in thought for quite a while.
Now, Kazuma inspected the bamboo sword carefully. It was in excellent condition—clearly the result of Chiyoko's diligent maintenance.
Chiyoko, too, seemed a bit nostalgic as she looked at the sword Kazuma had handed her. Suddenly, she spoke.
"Do you remember the first time I tried to take apart a bamboo sword?"
Kazuma instantly searched his inherited memories. Well—searched was more accurate. He still felt a degree of detachment from them, like flipping through the yellowed pages of an old book.
"You mean the time you cut your hand on the sharp bamboo edges?"
"Yeah! I got so mad afterward, I tried to snap the sword in half, ended up banging my knee and getting a huge bruise. Papa heard me crying and rushed in—then thought you were bullying me and smacked you!"
Kazuma chuckled. Even though the memory wasn't truly his, he could still sense some lingering emotion when "viewing" it.
Chiyoko gazed at the bamboo sword for a few more seconds, then drew a deep breath, her expression growing serious.
She fixed her eyes on Kazuma.
"Onii, I feel like you've changed a lot lately… like you're a different person."
"It's probably because Sumitomo offered such a high price." Kazuma answered calmly—he'd long prepared for this kind of moment. Of course someone living with him day in and day out would notice changes.
Blaming it on money was probably the easiest explanation to accept.
"I was going to say, 'How could mere money ever outweigh my feelings for the dojo? That's an insult!' but… they offered too much." He added with a wry smile, slipping in a reference from the manga Baki.
Come to think of it, this was 1980. The Baki author, Itagaki Keisuke, was probably still in the Self-Defense Forces driving tanks…
Chiyoko laughed.
"I didn't know you were the type to be swayed by money, Onii."
She took up her bamboo sword, gave him a bow, then raised it into chūdan stance.
"Come on, Onii—I've got a lot of frustration to vent today!"
Kazuma frowned. "By beating up your brother?"
"If I just pummel you one-sidedly, it'll make me feel even worse," Chiyoko replied with a faint smile. "Please, give me your best."
Kazuma shrugged, then bowed in return. Technically both sides should bow simultaneously, but this was private sparring, not an official match—no need to fuss over etiquette.
He raised his bamboo sword into chūdan.
Truth be told, he preferred iaigiri—it looked cooler.
But back before his transmigration, his Shintō-ryū master, Hasegawa Masato, had once commented: "If you want to play with iaigiri, you'll need at least five more years of practice."
Now that he had this system, he wondered when he'd unlock an iaigiri skill.
Hasegawa-sensei had demonstrated Shintō-ryū iaigiri once—blindingly fast. He vaguely remembered there were faster styles, like Yume-ryū and…
He couldn't recall the other school's name.
Just as Kazuma was racking his brain, something caught his eye—there was a status effect on Chiyoko.
The text was glowing red, burning like fire.
Lone Resolve.
Looked like a positive buff.
When he focused on it, a detailed description popped up.
"Determined to display her full strength, no longer holding back—willing to risk embarrassing her brother to protect precious memories."
…Damn. I thought she'd come around and just needed a little more time?
Kazuma understood immediately—if he lost this match today, any chance of persuading her to sell the dojo would be gone. He'd probably be forced to fight the yakuza head-on.
Then again… this could be interesting. A perfect opportunity to see just how much impact this "resolve" buff had on actual combat strength.
On paper, Kazuma was Rishin-ryū Level 3 and Shintō-ryū Level 6, while Chiyoko was Rishin-ryū Level 4. In theory, he should overpower her.
Now that she had this buff, it was the perfect test to see how much of a boost it provided.
Kazuma took a deep breath, steeling himself. Time to go all out—and beat up his sister.
He decided to take the initiative. With a powerful step forward, he shifted into jōdan stance and unleashed another of the three skills he had unlocked—Jōdan Twin Strike!
(End of Chapter)