Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

Kazuma frowned—not because this Kimura Nobunari felt overwhelmingly strong.

Sure, on paper, that Shinkage-ryū Level 23 looked pretty impressive.

But standing here, Kazuma couldn't sense the kind of presence one expected from a true master. The man simply didn't give off that aura.

Which was odd.

Kazuma stared at the glowing Level 23 tag hovering over Kimura and began to wonder—am I getting cocky? Did beating a whole yakuza group and earning the "Lone Dragon" title go to my head? Now I think I can take on a Level 23?

But no—that wasn't it. He wasn't that arrogant. The guy's skill level was nearly four times higher than his own. He wasn't foolish enough to think he was invincible.

So what was it, then?

In fact, Kimura's presence didn't even feel as threatening as Daimon Gorō's—who only had a measly Level 8 Style-less kendo skill.

Maybe it's like those old MMORPGs… Kazuma mused. When someone's so far above your level, they just show up as a skull icon—you can't even gauge their real strength.

While Kazuma was lost in thought, Kimura completely misread his furrowed brow and silence.

With a slight tilt of his chin, Kimura sneered, "What's the matter? The young hero who single-handedly dismantled the Tsuda-gumi… is he too afraid to face a nameless old man like me?"

No, Kazuma thought wryly. I just can't tell if you're actually strong or not.

But then again—he could just test it. Strength is proven in combat.

And even if he lost, he'd probably gain a ton of experience points. As far as Kazuma could tell, just fighting opponents gave EXP—victory wasn't required.

As for the plaque… whatever. The dojo's getting sold anyway. Who cares?

Suddenly remembering something, Kazuma turned to Chiyoko and asked, "Hey… do we even have a plaque?"

He genuinely hadn't paid attention to such things. Maybe the memory was buried somewhere in his inherited memories, but without Chiyoko's reminder, he wouldn't have recalled it.

"Of course we do," Chiyoko replied. "Otherwise, what do you think is hanging on the dojo wall?"

Oh… right, Kazuma thought, the image surfacing. Guess we do have one.

But this innocent question ended up being wildly misinterpreted by the yakuza crowd.

Nishiyama Heita let out a hearty laugh. "As expected of young Kiryu! Focused purely on the way of the sword—unconcerned with fame or fortune! A true swordsman's spirit!"

The Nishiyama-gumi underlings, who had been holding in their tension all night—now facing a large, intimidating rival crowd—finally found an outlet. They began cheering loudly.

"That Kimura guy's just a fame-chasing hack!"

"A real master doesn't need some plaque!"

"Learn from him, you fool!"

Kazuma was bewildered. Huh? I was literally just checking if we had one… and now they're using it to mock him?

Well, whatever. It wasn't like they weren't going to fight anyway.

Stepping forward, Kazuma raised a hand. Instantly, the Nishiyama-gumi fell silent—as if he were their boss.

…This can't be right. I'm supposed to be a future police officer. Why am I leading yakuza right now?

Turning to Kimura, Kazuma gestured politely. "Kimura-san, please—this way. I am Kiryu Kazuma. I look forward to learning from you."

Kimura smiled and stepped forward. The Nishiyama-gumi parted in perfect unison to let him pass.

Chiyoko, though visibly disgusted by the intruding challenger, still performed her role as the dojo's hostess and led Kimura inside.

Kazuma glanced at the lingering yakuza outside. Remembering Chiyoko's earlier complaint—that their presence was disturbing the neighborhood—he called out, "You all don't have to crowd the entrance. Our courtyard is big enough—come stand inside."

That remark immediately soured the expressions of the Hakuhō-kai officers. To them, Kazuma's refusal to even offer a seat to their chairman was a blatant insult.

One of Hakuhō-kai's men was about to speak, but Chairman Hakuhō Sōgo stopped him. "He intends to walk the path of law enforcement. It's no surprise he doesn't wish to host us. We can discuss this again after Kimura-san wins."

With that, Chairman Hakuhō shot Kazuma a sharp glare, then strode forward.

Nishiyama Heita was quicker. He led his men into the courtyard first, securing the best spots.

Inside the dojo, for the first time since crossing over, Kazuma took a proper look at the dojo's plaque. The bold, flowing calligraphy really did have an air of grandeur.

Yeah… looks like something worth fighting for.

Satisfied, Kazuma accepted the bamboo sword Chiyoko handed him.

He could tell instantly—it was her usual practice sword. The blade carried a faint trace of her presence. After using the Bizen Osafune Ichimonji Masamune, Kazuma had become quite sensitive to such subtle qualities in weapons.

Chiyoko then helped him don his protective gear.

Kimura glanced around. Realizing he'd have to gear up alone, he simply took a middle guard stance, gripping the dojo's practice bamboo sword tightly.

Kazuma, fully geared up, glanced at Kimura and asked, "You're not wearing armor?"

"I see no need," Kimura replied coolly. "Judging by your stance, I doubt you'll land a hit."

Chiyoko started to fetch the judge's flags, but Kazuma waved her off. "No need. This isn't an official match. Just a friendly spar."

"Agreed," Kimura said. "You may attack first."

Kazuma clicked his tongue.

He checked his emotions—nothing particularly intense.

Without strong emotion, no poetry came to mind. He'd tested this before—random verses didn't work. The poem had to resonate with the moment to trigger a buff.

But that was fine. This was the perfect chance to see how far his current swordsmanship, combined with the Lone Dragon buff, could take him against a Level 23 opponent.

He shifted into the Gatotsu stance.

Kimura frowned. "That's a Shintō-ryū posture, isn't it?"

As expected of someone at Level 23—he recognized it instantly.

Kazuma didn't respond. He simply launched forward. Let's see how you handle an afterimage-enhanced Gatotsu!

In a flash, their bamboo swords collided.

Kimura subtly redirected Kazuma's thrust, causing the sakigawa to strike his shoulder instead.

For a moment, Kazuma caught a grimace flash across Kimura's face.

But Kimura's counter came immediately—a solid strike to Kazuma's dō armor.

It felt like taking a punch straight to the gut. Even through the armor, the impact sent a wave of stomach acid up his throat, filling his mouth with its bitter taste.

Both fighters staggered back—Kazuma clutching his stomach, Kimura gripping his shoulder.

Both wore grimaces of pain.

From the courtyard, the Nishiyama-gumi underlings erupted in cheers. "Yeah! Great hit!"

Kimura roared, "What's great about it?! That wasn't a point! The shoulder isn't a valid target, you idiots!"

Kazuma sneered. "Funny… isn't Shinkage-ryū a koryū? I thought traditional schools didn't care about modern All Japan Kendo Federation rules."

Technically, any style with a name was considered koryū. Modern sport kendo didn't formally use style labels.

Kimura glared. "You… I heard your father never earned menkyo kaiden! Yet that Gatotsu was far too polished—only a true Shintō-ryū expert could pull it off!"

Kazuma said nothing. After all, that was literally a skill granted by the system. There was no arguing that.

And as someone with actual kendo experience, Kazuma knew—when activating a skill, his form remained flawless. That was a massive advantage. Even seasoned practitioners couldn't guarantee perfect form every time.

Anyone watching his Gatotsu would assume he was a veteran swordsman. No wonder Kimura was confused.

Kazuma shifted back into the Gatotsu stance.

Kimura tensed, going on the offensive first!

(End of Chapter)