Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

Kazuma followed Keitama—no, followed the class rep—into a narrow alley and into an old secondhand bookstore that had clearly been around for a while.

The moment they pushed open the door, Kazuma was hit by that distinctive scent of aged paper.

Everywhere he looked, shelves were crammed with old books. The whole place had the kind of atmosphere where you half-expected to find a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook tucked away somewhere—and maybe even a wand capable of casting Avada Kedavra.

Seeing Kazuma gawking, Chiyoko tugged on his sleeve. "Bro, stop looking like you've never seen the world before. It's just a used bookstore. Sure, you haven't been here, but still."

"It's not that. I'm looking for the shopkeeper's familiar," Kazuma quipped.

A place like this really needed a familiar to complete the vibe!

Chiyoko frowned. "What's that? Sounds like something out of a TRPG."

In 1980s Japan, tabletop role-playing games—TRPGs, as they were known—were starting to gain popularity under American influence.

Hardcore TRPG fans, frustrated by their office jobs keeping them too busy to run in-person campaigns, had even started doing play-by-mail sessions.

Some companies had sprung up offering the service, employing dozens of writers to reply to players' letters—telling them where they were now, what they saw. Players would then write back with their next actions, and the writers would craft the next chapter of the adventure.

Kazuma honestly couldn't fathom how anyone kept up with a game where each turn took a week of real time—but somehow, the Japanese made it work.

Many famous novelists and scriptwriters would later emerge from this generation of play-by-mail TRPG writers.

One of them being none other than Gen Urobuchi, the "Butcher."

Of course, in 1980, this whole trend was just getting started. Kazuma hadn't expected Chiyoko to have heard of it.

"You know about TRPGs?" he asked, curious.

"I've got a classmate whose brother just came back from studying in America. Every weekend now, he and a few friends he met over there run TRPG campaigns together."

"My classmate complains that every Saturday, it's just her and her mom left at home—their house has three floors, but her dad's out playing cards, and her brother's off running campaigns. It's boring."

Kazuma was struck by that three floors part.

But then again, this was Japan, where some things were the reverse of what he'd known in his past life.

In China, living in a detached house meant serious wealth—regular folks lived in apartment buildings.

But in Japan, detached houses—ikkodate—were the norm for regular families: two- or three-story homes with their own yard. The wealthy preferred high-rise condos.

Kazuma figured her classmate probably just lived in a three-story ikkodate, nothing too extravagant.

He mentally ignored the more telling details—studying abroad, dad playing cards every Saturday...

By now, Tamago had reached the back of the shop and was calling out to the shopkeeper. "Granny Asatō, I've brought you a new customer!"

A kindly voice came from within. "Have you now? Though the way you say that, it sounds like my shop's some shady place."

A short elderly woman emerged from the back, carrying a kettle.

"My, what a fine young man. You've got good taste, little Tama."

"He's not my boyfriend—he's a comrade," Tamago said, pushing her glasses up.

The old woman paused and adjusted her reading glasses, scrutinizing the two of them.

"A comrade? Still recruiting new blood these days? The theory books are over there, novels on this shelf—oh, and I just got a first edition of The Crab Cannery Ship..."

"No, Granny, I mean a comrade for studying for the University of Tokyo entrance exams."

"Ah, that kind of comrade." Granny Asatō immediately lost interest. She gestured toward a shelf. "The prep books are over there—organized by school. Help yourselves."

She turned away, placed her kettle on a warming pad near an old armchair, plugged it in, and sat down to read a yellowed book in some language Kazuma couldn't recognize.

Tamago grabbed Kazuma's hand and dragged him to the shelf Granny had pointed to. She quickly found the University of Tokyo section.

"Kiryuu-kun, which subjects are your weak points?"

"Uh… Japanese and history," Kazuma replied, sneaking another glance at Granny Asatō. The old woman was engrossed in her book, seemingly oblivious to the three of them.

Kazuma couldn't help but wonder—if he grabbed a stack of books and made a run for it, what would Granny do? Call the police?

"Japanese and history, huh? I thought you'd say you're bad at everything except math and English."

"Hey, do I seem that hopeless to you?"

But even as he said it, Kazuma realized it was a pointless complaint. The original owner of this body had been at the bottom of the class. Who could blame her for thinking that?

Tamago ignored his protest and started pulling Japanese and history prep books from the shelf.

"When picking old prep books, besides checking their condition, you should also look for notes left by the previous owner—ideally, ones that are actually helpful," she explained.

Just then, Granny Asatō spoke up. "No need for that. The prep books actually used by real Todai students get snatched up by relatives and friends long before I can buy them. And as for condition, I'm a professional. I check thoroughly before paying for them. No missing pages."

"You hear that, Granny says so," Kazuma said.

"I heard her. But if we don't check and later find missing pages, that's on us. We're saving Granny some trouble," Tamago replied.

Granny gave a dry chuckle. "Then I suppose I should be thanking you for taking responsibility?"

Tamago didn't respond, just kept scanning the shelves. "This one's good… and maybe this one too…"

Granny's voice drifted over again. "Young man, a word of advice—don't go after a girl like her. She may seem sweet and capable now, but if you marry her, you're in for a Spartan life."

"I can tell—she's the type to drill her husband into success."

Chiyoko, who'd been idly hanging around, perked up. "Is that so? Bro, sounds like a good deal—you'll be driven to succeed!"

Kazuma could see it now. His sister wasn't worried in the slightest. She was here for the drama, hoping to see sparks fly—or even blood.

With a sister like this, he really did need to be strong. That way, if things got out of hand between the girls, he could defuse the situation without hurting anyone—or getting himself killed.

"I haven't planned that far ahead," Tamago said calmly.

But that answer sent a chill down Kazuma's spine.

Not that far ahead… meaning she had thought about it?

"Uh… can I ask how far you have planned?" Kazuma asked cautiously.

"Hm? Didn't I tell you? Next spring—see you at Budokan."

Kazuma couldn't help glancing at the status window floating above Keitama's head. Sure enough, it still displayed "See you at Budokan" with a countdown timer.

Whoa… so that's how long her current resolve will last?

This girl was a real iron lady!

Still, maybe that was exactly what Kazuma needed right now. Spending time around her might even rub off—maybe he'd catch a bit of that resolve buff.

But given the current situation, this wasn't the time to involve more girls. The odds of him passing the Todai entrance exam were still slim.

And if he failed, all the girls close to him would be in danger.

Yakuza weren't all that different from Hong Kong triads—when they wanted to send a message, nothing was too extreme.

As the saying went: "If you're in the game, you play to the end."

That bastard Uesugi Sōichirō would probably go after every girl he'd been seen with.

Kazuma hesitated for a moment—then his thoughts cleared.

What am I even worrying about? If I really wanted to keep the girls safe, I should've distanced myself from them the moment this all started.

But now? Tamago had literally dragged him from the supermarket to this bookstore. If any yakuza had seen them along the way, they'd already assume she was involved.

Kazuma had to admit—he'd let his guard down because of her looks. Now she was caught up in this mess.

At this point, telling himself not to get involved with more girls was just empty talk.

Three girls were already on this sinking ship with him.

If he wanted to protect them, he had to get into Todai. And if he couldn't… then he'd have to take down the entire Kanto Union.

That was the responsibility of a man!

And to shoulder that responsibility, he'd gladly leech as much of Keitama's buff as he could.

"Kiryuu-kun?" Tamago noticed he was zoning out. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Nope," Kazuma replied honestly. "I spaced out right after 'see you at Budokan.'"

Chiyoko grinned. "She's too pretty, Bro. You were totally staring."

"Kiryuu-kun, I was asking—what's your current level in Japanese? After Golden Week, our school's entering its first national mock exam. Your performance will affect how much support the teachers give you going forward."

Kazuma scratched his head. "Honestly? No improvement at all compared to before."

Tamago blinked. "You mean… still dead last in the class?"

"Yeah." Kazuma nodded.

She sighed. "Alright. Starting tomorrow, I'll tutor you. At the very least, you need to pass the mock exam."

"Sure!" Kazuma agreed readily. After all, he'd already decided to use her as a convenient tool. Only after agreeing did he realize tomorrow might bring some… complications.

So he quickly added, "Could you come in the evening?"

"Well… I am a girl. If it's too late…"

"I'll walk you home," Kazuma cut in before she could finish.

Tamago smiled. "Then it's settled."

(End of Chapter)