Chapter 8 – Defeating Saeko Busujima!
A heavy impact tore through the silence.
Wood clashed against wood.
The next strike sent a sharp tremor through the air.
Though only practice swords were being used, the sound that echoed out was anything but gentle. Each blow rang loud and crisp—like real blades colliding in deadly combat.
In the center of the kendo club's training hall, a man and a woman were locked in a furious duel. Around them, everyone watching had their mouths agape, eyes wide in disbelief at what was unfolding before them.
Especially the bald guy—he was the one who had once tried to recruit Yukinoshita Akira into the club and even offered to "train" him.
Now? Watching Akira go toe-to-toe with their club president—Saeko Busujima, the undisputed strongest swordswoman in the dojo—he looked like he wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear forever.
What had he done? Tried to teach swordsmanship to a god of war?
That wasn't just embarrassing—it was self-humiliation.
But that's how it always is. The ignorant treat everything as spectacle. Only those with skill can truly see the essence behind each movement.
Truth was, aside from Saeko herself, not a single member of the kendo club truly deserved to be called a swordsman.
This was a casual school club, not a proper kendo dojo. For most of its members, swordsmanship was a hobby, not a path in life.
To the onlookers, the fight seemed balanced. Some even thought Saeko held the upper hand.
But in reality, only the two within that ring understood what was truly happening.
Yukinoshita Akira was the one controlling the pace of the fight.
He wasn't going all-out.
He was learning.
Yes. In that moment, Akira was absorbing.
Studying Saeko Busujima's techniques. Memorizing every form and flow of her attacks.
Like a dry sponge tossed into ink, he soaked up everything with terrifying speed. And within minutes, he began to show an incredible level of comprehension.
Akira had never formally trained in the way of the sword. While he knew how to wield one, he lacked the basic foundations—he was a complete stranger to kendo.
But things had changed.
He now carried the divine blessing of the "Swordmastery Divine Path"—a talent inherited from the template of Tsugikuni Yoriichi, the man beloved by the gods.
Calling him a fast learner didn't even begin to cover it.
He was a born genius in swordsmanship.
Saeko was starting to notice it too. At first, Akira's form looked rough, even crude. It honestly disappointed her a little.
She had thought his "personal style" was just a bluff—an excuse to cover a lack of training.
But the more they fought, the more her assumptions were shattered.
Akira was evolving at a pace that defied common sense.
He wasn't just mimicking her techniques—he was improving them on the fly.
Fixing flaws.
Optimizing angles.
Sharpening timing.
And as he grew stronger with every clash, Saeko's own spirit ignited. She stopped holding back. She gave it everything.
She fought with pride, with her full strength as the heir of Busujima-ryu.
To an outsider, she might've looked like she was still in control—but Saeko could feel it.
The pressure. The looming presence of someone holding back.
Akira wasn't attacking to win. He was attacking to understand.
He was dissecting her style, her footwork, her rhythm—everything about the Busujima school of swordsmanship, a style passed down through her family for generations.
Ordinarily, a swordsman would guard their school's techniques with their life. It was a matter of pride, of identity.
But Saeko wasn't like most.
As the current heir of the Busujima line, she understood all too well the weight of her position.
Though her father never showed favoritism, even training her with utmost seriousness, she knew deep down—he still wished for a male successor.
A son who could carry on the family's legacy.
Not a daughter.
And in this modern, peaceful era, true mastery of the sword had become a pipe dream.
There were no more real battlefields. No life-and-death struggles to forge true sword saints.
Unless someone was a once-in-a-generation prodigy, achieving such heights was impossible.
But right now... standing before her...
There was someone like that.
A genuine genius of the blade.
All the techniques Saeko had trained and refined over the course of more than ten years—Akira had absorbed them in minutes. And not just copied them.
He'd surpassed them.
And rather than feel humiliated...
Saeko felt joy.
This was the person she and her father had long searched for.
Someone destined to break through the limits of swordsmanship.
Even if he was only the adopted son of the Yukinoshita family, that didn't matter to her.
To the Busujima bloodline, the Yukinoshitas were nothing special.
Busujima was a clan that had walked the way of the sword for centuries. Revered among warriors, they had birthed countless masters. Even if they lacked political fame, their name carried weight in the world of martial arts.
The Yukinoshitas, by contrast, were mere bourgeois elites from Chiba. Their so-called nobility came from wealth, not honor.
In the eyes of true clans, they were insignificant.
Crack!
Lost in thought, Saeko's focus slipped for the briefest of moments.
And in swordsmanship, that moment was all it took to lose everything.
Akira struck.
A swift, instinctual slash that couldn't be dodged.
A deafening snap rang out through the dojo.
Saeko's wooden sword split clean in two. The broken tip embedded itself into the far wall.
The sheer force behind it was overwhelming.
"…Wha…"
Snapped out of her thoughts, Saeko could only stare at her broken weapon in disbelief.
Had she… lost?
The other club members stood frozen, eyes wide with shock.
Their Buchou—their idol, the woman who stood as a beacon in their dark world of swordsmanship—had been defeated?
But no one thought Saeko had thrown the fight.
That final strike… it was undeniable.
It was raw power. Pure skill.
In this country, strength was everything.
Whether it was in battle, wealth, or social standing—if someone stood above you, they earned your respect.
The weak… could only bow their heads.
That was the unspoken rule deeply rooted in their culture.
And Yukinoshita Akira had just crushed Saeko Busujima with absolute might.
They had no choice but to acknowledge him.
Not because of status.
Not because of fame.
But for one reason alone—he was stronger.
"…I lost~"
Saeko admitted it without hesitation.
No prideful resistance. No excuses.
After all, in this patriarchal society, it was "normal" for a woman to lose to a man.
Especially for someone like her, raised in a traditional household steeped in Yamato Nadeshiko values—elegant, soft-spoken, and aware of her place.
But to Akira… none of that mattered anymore.
Because in that very moment, the system that had remained silent all this time—
—finally spoke.
[Ding—]
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