What came next was a familiar tactic for the Kiryu siblings—they launched a coordinated assault on Nishiyama Heita.
This type of attack was nothing new to them.
In Japanese kendo, there was a special training method called motodachi. It was generally reserved for experts. When a Shihan-dai–level practitioner had no equals left in the dojo and basic drills no longer offered progress, what then?
Japanese kendo masters devised a solution: have their students perform a coordinated assault—a rotating attack.
The master would stand in a fixed position as the motodachi, while students attacked from all directions in succession.
Many Japanese kendo experts favored this kind of training. One of the most famous examples was Takano Sasaburō, a renowned modern kendo master, who once conducted a legendary motodachi keiko that lasted an entire day and night—with breaks only for bathroom trips and rice porridge. It went down in kendo history… though the history books rarely mention that Takano ended up bedridden for several days afterward, urinating blood from sheer exhaustion.
Kiryu Kazuma's father had used similar training to push his limits. Since their dojo only had the two siblings, it was up to them to conduct the rotating assault.
To keep their attacks sharp and fast-paced, their father had drilled the siblings extensively on coordinating in this kind of combat.
Drawing on that experience now, their assault on Nishiyama Heita was tightly synchronized—one blow flowed into the next, giving him no chance to catch his breath.
In just a few minutes, they had struck him over a dozen times. His bare torso was now visibly mottled with bruises.
And yet, he refused to fall.
Kazuma seized an opening and knocked the last weapon from Nishiyama Heita's hands—a bamboo sword. But to his surprise, Nishiyama raised his fists in a classic boxer's guard, bracing for the incoming strikes.
Through his arms, Kazuma could see Nishiyama's expression: still resolute, his eyes blazing fiercely.
To Kazuma's eyes, the red glow surrounding Nishiyama looked even brighter than before. The "Hannya Mask" marker above his head was now completely engulfed in flames, its text unreadable.
Kazuma knew he wasn't holding back—he'd been attacking with full force. On top of that, he must have been benefiting from all sorts of mental buffs.
An ordinary person would've collapsed long ago under so many hits.
So why was Nishiyama Heita still standing?
And not just standing—his fighting spirit was burning even hotter!
This was the true embodiment of "fire in the heart, light in the eyes."
Kazuma's anxiety began to mount.
Beside him, Chiyoko couldn't hold back and shouted, "Bro! Why is he still standing?!"
Kazuma had no answer.
—Can sheer willpower really let someone's body surpass its limits this much?
Then, out of the corner of his eye, Kazuma spotted one of the downed yakuza starting to stir.
He shouted, "Chiyoko, behind you—one of them's waking up!"
Chiyoko whipped around just as the thug lunged up from the floor.
In that instant, with Kazuma distracted, Nishiyama Heita struck!
He stepped forward and threw a right punch—
Kazuma's bamboo sword slammed into his shoulder, but couldn't stop the blow.
It landed square in Kazuma's chest, knocking the air from his lungs.
But even through the pain, Kazuma could tell: Nishiyama wasn't unscathed. His punch had been slower than before. And after landing it, he didn't follow up with a left—his left shoulder must've been weakened from all the earlier blows.
Kazuma seized the opening and attacked in a flurry, forcing Nishiyama back into his defensive stance.
Meanwhile, Chiyoko floored the rising thug and rejoined the fight.
"What do we do?! Normally he should've gone down already!" she cried, heedless of their enemy overhearing.
Kazuma still had no answer.
But his mind was racing.
—If it's sheer willpower keeping him going… maybe breaking that will could work?
He remembered how he'd unsettled Chiyoko yesterday with a barrage of words, which had led to an easy victory.
So Kazuma spoke. "Your toughness is beyond anything I imagined."
"Don't underestimate a yakuza," Nishiyama replied quietly.
"I'm not underestimating you—not one bit," Kazuma answered sincerely.
That was the truth.
His chest still throbbed from Nishiyama's punch.
For someone this badly injured to still be fighting back—anyone foolish enough to look down on him would've been flattened already.
"But why?" Kazuma asked bluntly. "Why does the fire in your heart burn so fiercely?"
Beside him, Chiyoko shot him a puzzled glance.
Kazuma ignored her, eyes fixed on Nishiyama, awaiting an answer.
Nishiyama smirked. "What's the point of asking? If you stop attacking, you're just giving me time. I'm recovering, little by little. Are you sure that's wise?"
With that, he suddenly roared, "Come on! Bring it!"
For a split second, doubt crept into Kazuma's heart—can I really defeat this man?
But he stamped it down. He couldn't afford hesitation. Not in his swordplay.
They had to win. Had to take down every last yakuza here—then wake one of them to interrogate about Mikako's whereabouts!
Kazuma launched an all-out thrust at Nishiyama.
In that instant, he saw a crazed smile spread across the man's face.
**
Nishiyama Heita had been born in an ordinary fishing village in Okinawa.
He had ordinary parents, and an ordinary older sister.
He might have grown up like any village boy—learning the ways of the sea.
But that future was shattered in his second year of middle school.
One day, his sister, Nishiyama Umitsuki, then a high school student, vanished on her way home.
When she didn't return by nightfall, the entire village mobilized to search for her.
As a middle-schooler, Heita wasn't allowed to join. The village, still recovering from the war, had few flashlights, and it wasn't safe for a child to be out at night.
But Heita snuck out, heading to their "secret base"—a spot he and his sister had created together. Every boy wanted a secret base.
From there, they could see the American military base beyond the electrified fence, watching the jets and transports take off and land.
Heita had gone there with innocent hopes.
Instead, he stumbled upon a nightmare—his sister being assaulted by two American soldiers.
One of the soldiers noticed the stunned boy, grinned, said something in English, and started toward him.
Umitsuki, though battered and bleeding, suddenly clung to the soldier's leg, pleading in English.
Heita had never been good at English—his sister often scolded him for it—so he couldn't understand what they were saying.
But he could feel the fear.
Then his sister screamed, "Heita! Run! Don't look back!"
Still frozen, he didn't move.
Until he saw the soldier smash her head with a Springfield rifle, and heard her, blood streaming down her face, still screaming, "Heita, run!"
Only then did terror finally propel him—he turned and fled.
That was the last time he saw her.
The two soldiers were repatriated to America for "disciplinary reasons"—without ever facing true punishment.
At the funeral, Heita had shouted at his parents, "You're just going to let it go?! How can you?!"
His father, fed up, had struck him hard.
As a fisherman, his father's strength was terrifying. Heita still remembered blacking out from that blow.
"This is life!" his father had roared.
Soon after, Heita ran away from home.
He refused to bow to such a messed-up world.
Never.
Even now, in this fight, he wasn't about to give up the chance for a comeback.
Honestly, compared to past dangers, the Kiryu siblings were relatively merciful.
If they'd been yakuza, they'd have drawn real blades by now.
If he could just seize the right moment, he might take Kazuma down—pin him, and turn the fight.
He still had a small knife hidden in his waistband. If he could press it to Kazuma's throat, that doting sister would surrender immediately.
Summoning every ounce of strength, Nishiyama forced himself to stay upright, waiting for the moment to strike.
He had no doubt—that moment would come.
(End of Chapter)