"Play around a little?"
The moment Instructor Fujii caught Satoru Gojo's frivolous remark, his brows instantly knitted into a tight knot. Having instructed at the police academy for nearly twenty years, he had never once encountered a student so utterly shiftless. To brand him a "thorn in the side" was certainly no understatement.
The black-haired youth sauntered out from the crowd, hands tucked casually into his pockets.
Aside from Furuya Rei and his circle, the rest of the freshmen who weren't well-acquainted with him subconsciously parted to carve out a path. Perhaps a few female students who fancied handsome guys might harbor zero prejudice due to Hisano's looks, but for the vast majority of his male peers, getting a chance to watch this brat suffer a setback at the hands of their instructor was something well worth snickering over.
Even Jinpei Matsuda let out a low whistle, nudging Furuya Rei with his elbow as he murmured, "Looks like someone's about to have a bad day."
The handsome, wheat-skinned youth didn't voice his agreement, his eyes remaining tightly locked onto Gojo's retreating figure. "Have you forgotten how the two of us suffered defeat at his hands that night?"
Hagiwara, standing by their side, caught the thread of the conversation. "I heard Instructor Fujii is a champion in numerous karate tournaments with extensive real-combat experience. He won't be nearly as easy to deal with as an ordinary person."
The "ordinary person" Matsuda: ? Why do I suddenly feel a bit miffed.
At this moment, Instructor Fujii finally spoke up. "Hisano, even if this is merely a simulation, you must not lower your guard." He spoke in the manner of an elder lecturing an oblivious child. "You must treat this as a genuine, real-world dilemma rather than a playful game."
"Aye, aye~ (I got it~)"
Gojo's attitude was visibly perfunctory to the naked eye. Instructor Fujii didn't press the matter further, simply retrieving two sets of black protective gear from the equipment crate. After meticulously inspecting the tightness of the straps, he extended one set toward the black-haired youth standing opposite him.
"Put this on," Fujii instructed. "Even if they are rubber bullets, firing at close range still carries inherent danger."
"No need, right? That sort of thing won't hit me anyway."
"...It's the regulation." Having attained a fresh understanding of Hisano's willful nature, Instructor Fujii stepped forward, practically shoving the protective gear straight into the youth's arms. "If I have to write 'injury sustained due to student's non-cooperation' in the training report, that would be disastrous."
"Fine, fine~ Though I completely don't need it at all." Gojo couldn't out-argue him and didn't feel like dragging out the rejection.
Consequently, Fujii felt a persistent inkling that something was slightly off, yet he couldn't quite articulate it. The protective gear seemed entirely out of place on the youth's frame.
...It feels almost like strapping a housecat's collar onto a wild cheetah?
Shaking his head to banish the bizarre imagery from his mind, Fujii, who wore an identical set of gear, lightly loosened his shoulders.
"Get ready—" His voice resonated throughout the training hall. "Start!"
In a flash, the instructor burst into motion, raising the rubber firearm to point straight at Gojo's right shoulder. The strike was lightning-fast; the spectating students didn't even find the window to blink before a bang echoed through the room.
The rubber bullet discharged, yet it struck nothing but empty air.
Gojo had shifted half a step aside at some unknown juncture. The bullet zipped past the tips of his upturned hair, yet he hadn't so much as batted an eyelash.
Fujii's reflexes were incredibly sharp; he closed the distance instantly, his left hand lunging forward like a claw toward the youth's left shoulder while simultaneously throwing out his right leg. Once he secured a grip, he could easily slam his opponent to the ground.
Yet Gojo dodged lightly as though he had foreseen the entire sequence, perfectly evading the brunt of the assault.
"Your movements are far too obvious, Instructor." He actually possessed the leisure to critique the performance.
When masters clash, a mere few exchanges are sufficient to gauge an opponent's approximate level. Fujii had permanently assumed that the reason Onizuka suffered a loss at the boy's hands during the entrance exam was purely due to underestimating his foe. Looking at it now, Hisano's reactive capabilities were genuinely not to be underestimated.
At the very least, I cannot commit the same error as Onizuka...
A few thoughts flashed past in an instant, and Fujii resolved to get serious, seeking nothing short of a swift resolution.
His feet planted firmly into the ground as though taking root. He pulled his right hand back to his waist while gripping the gun, extending his left hand forward into a palm strike, lowering his entire center of gravity to the absolute minimum. This was the most stable defensive stance in karate, as well as the optimal starting position to unleash a full-power strike.
A sharp gleam flashed across Fujii's eyes, and he launched forward abruptly.
"Ha!"
With a fierce roar, Fujii's entire physical power exploded. His left leg whipped out like a lash, delivering a vicious low kick aimed directly at Gojo's knee. Even with protective gear absorbing the impact, it was more than enough to cause an adult male to lose balance and crash instantly.
However, Gojo simply lifted his knee, flawlessly parrying the assault with the outer side of his calf.
A dull thud reverberated, leaving Fujii with the sensation that he had kicked a solid iron plate; a wave of pain rippled through his own left leg instead. He had zero time for astonishment. In the very next second, he raised his arm to fire, hoping the rubber bullet would disrupt his opponent's movement trajectory.
Yet Gojo evaded it with effortless ease—precisely the same way he had dodged the very first bullet.
Following up, the youth lightly lifted his foot, the tip of his shoe tapping precisely against Fujii's shin before smoothly locking down onto his right hand which held the rubber gun.
—A joint lock? No, the movement is different!
Fujii assumed he could break free effortlessly, only to discover his entire arm pinned by a terrifying surge of strength, rendering it near-paralyzed.
"Instructor Fujii," the youth's voice drifted lightly into his ear, "you mentioned previously that brute force isn't the key..."
He abruptly pivoted his frame, driving his left elbow fiercely backward!
"The most vital aspect of joint-locking is anticipating the point of exertion, right?"
What caused cold sweat to seep from Fujii's brow was that long before his elbow could fully generate its force, the black-haired youth had already released his grip. Stepping back half a pace with fluid grace, he looked at him with a beaming smile.
"See, didn't I just anticipate it?"
"..."
This kid's movements were far too seamless. Every single one of his own attacks was effortlessly neutralized, and it felt as though every counter-strike had been seen through well in advance.
"It's not over yet!"
It didn't matter; as long as he wasn't disarmed, there remained room for a counterattack. Fujii fiercely threw a left punch, rocketing straight ahead.
Yet Gojo didn't even bother to dodge. He raised his palm, catching the incoming fist square and true.
The collision of fist and palm produced a muffled thud. Fujii retreated sharply, intending to unleash a spinning wheel kick. The speed of this strike was exceptionally rapid and packed immense weight—one of Fujii's signature finishing moves.
Yet Gojo still didn't dodge.
The exact instant Fujii's leg was about to sweep against his frame, he raised a single hand, his palm steadily bracing against Fujii's ankle before delivering a gentle push.
"?!"
Fujii exerted his entire strength just to barely preserve his equilibrium. Before his mind could fully process the situation, the black-haired youth's body appeared to grow light as a feather. Vaulting slightly in his direction, he utilized the momentum of the spin to twist Fujii's arm cleanly behind his back, forcing him to bend forward at the waist.
Fujii attempted to struggle, only to discover that the more he resisted, the more agonizing the pain at his joints became.
"...Eh?"
By the time the spectating students snapped back to reality, their instructor was already flat on his back upon the soft mat, the rubber gun in his hand having transferred into Gojo's grasp at some unknown juncture. And that very gun was currently pressed against the instructor's temple.
"Bang—" Gojo playfully mimicked the sound of an explosion. "If this were a real firearm, you'd already be dead, Instructor."
The entire venue fell into a dead silence.
Fujii's eyes widened, failing to even register what had just transpired. He only recalled a sudden numbness in his wrist, followed by the world spinning topsy-turvy. The next time he opened his eyes, he had already been thoroughly subdued.
Seeing his instructor still locked in a state of profound shock, Gojo secretly let out a helpless sigh.
Do you have any idea how exhausting it was for me to hold back just to make it look like a close fight?
In order to keep his avatar's strength appearing within the boundaries of human excellence, he had been incredibly cautious with every single move, terrified that a slight slip of hand or failure to contain his strength might accidentally unleash a Hollow Purple and obliterate the man. Honestly, he felt the instructor ought to compensate him a little for the mental fatigue.
"Hisano, your combat techniques... who exactly taught you?" Fujii inquired once his rationality returned.
"No one really, I guess you could call it self-taught?"
Every single student present displayed a face that practically screamed, "Are you kidding me?"
However, Instructor Fujii, who possessed deep expertise in the field, actually accepted the explanation. Throughout the brief bout, he hadn't detected any traces of an orthodox martial arts school; it relied far more on a style of free combat unleashed through sheer strength and speed. Even so, it highlighted just how staggering Hisano Nozomi's innate talent truly was.
"Sigh, it was my own narrow-mindedness... It seems you don't require any redundant guidance after all."
In the end, it was he who had been forced to re-learn the proverb regarding higher peaks and greater skies. And those items of protective gear hadn't protected the student; they had protected him.
Sitting up from the mat, Fujii offered a gratified smile. "You are exceptional, Hisano. I think highly of you."
"Oh?" Gojo blinked. "Does that mean I won against you, Instructor?"
Recalling how he had been pinned to the mat and had a rubber gun pressed to his temple in front of a stadium of onlookers... Fujii couldn't help but press a hand to his forehead. He had truly lost face this time. Nevertheless, he wasn't the type to refuse to acknowledge a defeat.
"...Yeah, Hisano. You won."
"Hooray!" Gojo instantly raised his hands with a beaming grin, looking for all the world like a black cat celebrating. "Training is so boring, can I apply to leave class early? I want to go buy strawberry milk."
Fujii: "..."
This brat is honestly still asking for a beating!
"Denied!"
"Ah—Instructor, you're so stingy!"
Kenji Hagiwara couldn't help but marvel after witnessing the entire process. "Hisano-kun is completely on a monster-like tier, isn't he?"
Wataru Date nodded, reviewing the youth's fighting style within his mind to see if there were any elements he could adapt.
"Furuya-kun, Little Jinpei, it looks like your previous losses weren't unjustified at all."
Jinpei Matsuda and Furuya Rei were thoroughly speechless.
What on earth did that fellow grow up eating?! Could junk food or sweets genuinely make a person this strong?
Only Hiromitsu Morofushi silently let out a sigh of relief.
What was that about me fighting Hisano? A setup like that was definitely better left avoided...
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100 Power Stones = 1 Bonus Chapter
10 Reviews = 1 Bonus chapter