When Shuo and Koneko stepped into the Kendo Club, all eyes snapped to them. Koneko—the school's beloved "mascot"—and Shuo, whose reputation for attracting trouble (and pretty girls) preceded him, instantly became the center of attention. The male club members, in particular, shot Shuo daggers with their eyes. Handsome, rumored to be close with both Rias and Akeno, and now arriving with Koneko? If looks could kill, Shuo would already be six feet under.
Not that he cared. He'd grown immune to this kind of jealousy. He met their glares with a cool indifference, as if he didn't even notice.
He was still lost in thought when a girl's voice cut through the tension. She wore a kendo uniform, her reddish-brown hair tied up in twin tails.
"Nangong-kun, is there something we can help you with? Or… are you thinking of joining the Kendo Club?" Her tone was polite, but her eyes were sharp.
Shuo studied her face, memory flickering. Tomoe Meguri—Kyoto exorcist lineage, Sona Sitri's loyal Knight. He remembered every detail from his previous life.
He let the silence hang for a moment, then replied, voice steady, "Meguri-san, forgive my intrusion. I'm here to challenge the Kendo Club today."
Tomoe's smile vanished. In its place: pure, simmering anger.
"A challenge?" she repeated, her voice icy.
The room tensed. To call it a "challenge" was putting it kindly. In truth, Shuo was here to crash their club—a blatant provocation.
Koneko's eyes widened in surprise, but she stayed silent.
Tomoe's tone dropped all pretense of welcome. "Nangong-kun, do you even realize what you're saying?"
Shuo had braced himself for this. Still, he couldn't help feeling a little guilty about the mess he was making.
He sighed. "I know this is rude, and I'm sorry. But I have my reasons… and my real goal is to challenge you, Meguri-san."
Tomoe's eyes flashed. "Unbelievable. You barge in here, challenge me straight away, and expect us to take you seriously? How little do you think of our club?"
She actually laughed, the sound brittle with disbelief. So this was the real Nangong Shuo—not the modest, polite boy from the rumors, but a shameless braggart.
"I know how this looks," Shuo admitted. "But I really don't have a choice. Please, Meguri-san, just go along with it."
He could already picture Sona Sitri—student council president—coming to scold him for this stunt. Maybe she'd even try to recruit him, like Rias had. That would be a headache for another day.
Tomoe crossed her arms, her expression hard. "Fine. If you're so determined, I'll give you your wish. But if you want to challenge me, you'll have to earn it. Beat the other club members first."
Shuo knew she was trying to put him in his place, but he didn't flinch. "No problem."
Tomoe addressed her club, voice sharp as a blade. "You all heard him. I won't repeat myself."
The club members bristled with anger. Having someone walk in and challenge them all was a slap in the face.
Shuo strode over to the rack of wooden swords, selected one, and tested its balance.
"Ready when you are," he said.
Tomoe's lips pressed into a thin line. "I won't have you ganged up on. Pick your opponents—beat them, and you get your shot at me. Lose, and you leave. For Rias-senpai's sake, I'll pretend this never happened. But don't come back."
She might have thought Shuo was arrogant, but seeing him arrive with Koneko, she figured he was at least a friend of Rias and Akeno. No need to make this uglier than it had to be.
But Shuo just shook his head. His next words sent a ripple of outrage through the club: "No need for all that. You can all come at me at once."
Koneko's gaze flickered. Nangong-senpai, you're strong, but… isn't this a bit much?
The room went dead silent. The club members looked to Tomoe, waiting for her verdict.
Shuo, meanwhile, stood calm and collected, as if he hadn't just insulted an entire club to their faces. He met Tomoe's eyes, patient and unblinking.
Tomoe's answer was ice-cold: "So be it. Everyone—go!"
The club members exchanged nervous glances, then gripped their wooden swords and charged.
Shuo didn't so much as blink. He recalled the words of a certain great man: "No matter the time or place, always maintain your elegance." (Lu Xun: Yes, that was me.)
He slid his left hand behind his back, feet planted one before the other, right hand gripping the wooden sword. Tomoe scoffed—clearly, this guy had never learned real swordsmanship. That stance was a joke.
But what happened next left her speechless.
Shuo's wooden sword shimmered with a black aura—Armament Haki, if you believed in that sort of thing. Without even moving his feet, he slashed forward. The air cracked. The charging club members' swords snapped in two, their owners sent flying across the dojo.
He'd gone easy on two girls in the crowd, but the rest were left sprawled on the floor, groaning.
Shuo glanced at the two spared girls—familiar faces from his memories. Sona's Peerage: Yura Tsubasa, the Rook, and Kusaka Reya, the Bishop. He could never bring himself to hit cute girls too hard. After all, cute is justice.
He flashed them a gentle smile. "You two are too adorable. How about surrendering? I really can't bring myself to hurt you."
Yura stammered, "I—I surrender…" Reya nodded quickly beside her.
One of them blushed. "Nangong-senpai, your swordsmanship is incredible! We never knew you were this strong!"
"Yeah, why did you always pretend to be so weak?"
Both girls gazed at him with starry eyes. Great. Two more love-struck victims.
Tomoe, meanwhile, stared at the scene in disbelief. A moment ago, she'd been ready to teach Shuo a lesson. Now, all she felt was a surge of fighting spirit.
She sized him up anew. That technique—was he the disciple of some hidden master? All those rumors about him being a shut-in must have been nonsense. Maybe he'd been training under brutal conditions all along. It was the only explanation for his strength.
Her mind spun with wild theories, her competitive fire burning brighter.
Shuo, for his part, had no idea what was going on in Tomoe's head. If he did, he'd probably burst out laughing at her overactive imagination. He was just here to crash the club, not to become the protagonist of some secret martial arts saga.
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