Chiyoko adapted quickly, getting used to the feel of the wooden sword compared to the bamboo one in no time.
"It does feel a bit different," she remarked, analyzing it herself. "Maybe because the wooden sword is a little heavier?"
"The balance is different too," Kazuma added.
"Mm." Chiyoko nodded seriously, then asked, "What should I do next? I want to improve as much as I can."
Kazuma scratched his head. "Do some basic swing drills—"
He stopped mid-sentence. He knew Chiyoko already had solid fundamentals. While basics were important, once you hit a certain threshold, you couldn't improve much just by repeating them endlessly.
Besides, she was also in the kendo club at Etsukawa Girls' Middle School. With the regional qualifiers approaching, she had probably done plenty of basic drills today already.
So he changed course. "Come on, let's spar."
"With bamboo swords?" Chiyoko asked.
"No, wooden swords."
"Won't that affect my performance in the tournament?" she questioned.
Kazuma frowned. "Is this really the time to be worrying about tournaments?"
Chiyoko nodded. "Good point. Even if I don't make it to nationals, my grades are good enough to get into Etsukawa Girls' High."
Kazuma was about to praise his little sister when it occurred to him—wasn't that a subtle jab?
After all, Chiyoko didn't know yet that her big brother had already embarrassed their English teacher today in front of the whole class.
As if reading his thoughts, Chiyoko continued, "Bro, you're planning to get into the police academy on a kendo recommendation, right? Is it okay to train with wooden swords?"
"I told you yesterday, didn't I? I'm aiming for the University of Tokyo."
Chiyoko gasped. "You're serious?"
"I'm serious."
"You'll need a really high deviation score for that. What was your score on the last national mock exam?"
Kazuma grinned. "That's why I have to start working hard now."
Chiyoko looked at him with disbelief, but quickly nodded. "Well, if you say you can do it, I believe you! Want me to tutor you in English? I'm pretty good at it!"
Kazuma chuckled. On the spot, he recited a poem by Wordsworth—he'd picked it because the English teacher had quizzed them on Shelley's To Wordsworth earlier, so it was fresh in his mind.
Chiyoko's mouth formed a perfect O.
Kazuma asked smugly, "Well? How was that, little sister? How did your big brother do with that Wordsworth poem?"
Chiyoko eyed him skeptically. "Did you... memorize that just to impress Fujii-senpai?"
"Why'd you bring up Fujii?"
"Because she's always hanging around you!" Chiyoko clearly had a bone to pick with Mikako.
"Alright, alright—come on, let's spar. Tonight's goal is for you to block all my attacks. I'll go a little slower."
Chiyoko shook her head. "No need! I can block them!"
"You'll end up with a bunch of bruises and be sore for days," Kazuma warned. "You really want me to go full speed?"
Chiyoko hesitated visibly.
After a few seconds, she said, "I'll go put on armor. I haven't showered yet anyway, so sweating a bit more is fine."
It seemed she wanted to spar seriously, but not get beaten up too badly.
Watching her retreating figure, Kazuma smiled softly.
At that same moment, on the third floor of the Tsuda-gumi office, Tsuda Masaaki pressed the rewind button, ready to replay the conversation between Patrol Chief Sayama and Daimon Gorō from the cassette tape they'd retrieved.
The tape recorder was quite large—boxy and square. Despite its size, it was called a "portable" recorder. To emphasize that portability, it had a folding handle on top, and behind a panel on the back was a compartment for giant D-size batteries.
Many people born after 2000 had probably never even seen a D battery.
Meanwhile, across the ocean in America, this style of boombox was popular among rock-loving youth—blasting music while rapping and shooting rifles.
In Japan, though, these were mostly used at underground concerts by indie bands.
For the Tsuda-gumi, this particular unit was used to record the screams of captives—perfect for intimidating uncooperative property owners. Since this was an era of landlines only, and most of their safehouses had no registered phones—after all, if the phone company knew the address, it wouldn't be much of a secret hideout—the cassette-and-boombox combo was the best option.
Tsuda-gumi thugs often carried these to victims' homes to play the tapes.
Incidentally, in Kazuma's original world, this kind of boombox had soon made its way into his home country, where it was copied and became the famous "Yanwu" brand recorder.
Tsuda Masaaki listened carefully to the tape again, absorbing the exchange between Patrol Chief Sayama and Daimon Gorō. When it ended, he hit stop, looked up at Ōta Jūzō. "Well?"
Ōta summarized, "Basically... Kiryu Kazuma is really strong."
Tsuda stood, turning to face the window that looked out over the street.
"A high schooler with that kind of combat ability?" he muttered, opening the window to let the cool spring air in.
No one responded. No one knew the answer.
The room fell silent.
Ōta sensed the tension and finally spoke. "Actually, it's not unheard of for talented high schoolers to show up at national martial arts tournaments. A few years back there was Kinitani Genshin from Jigen-ryū, and more recently, the karate champion Mōri Haruko."
The youngest wakashu in the room, Shin'nosuke, piped up. "I heard about Mōri Haruko! She can break stacks of boards barehanded and even kick a moving car to a stop—"
"Baka!" Ōta snapped. "No human can do that! She's not Ultraman!"
Shin'nosuke shut up.
Listening to their exchange, Tsuda continued gazing out the window, deep in thought.
Suddenly, he spoke. "Ōta, tomorrow pick a few of our shatei with kendo experience. Have them go to the Kiryu dojo, ask to observe for a day."
Ōta blinked, but was used to his boss's unconventional thinking. "Understood. Are we going to cause trouble?"
"Idiot. What good would that do? Observing for a day naturally includes sparring with the assistant instructor, right? Let the shatei test Kiryu and get a read on him."
"I could go myself," Ōta offered. "I've got a kendo rank."
"Go look in the mirror first. Even without the crest, anyone can tell you're yakuza from a hundred meters away. Pick shatei who don't look the part. No crests."
At that point, Shin'nosuke asked, puzzled, "Didn't HQ give us a gun? No matter how good he is, a gun beats martial arts."
"Fool!" Ōta barked. "If we use a firearm, the cops will be on us like sharks scenting blood."
Japan had strict gun control laws. Getting caught with an illegal firearm meant near-certain conviction—no fancy lawyer could help much.
That's why Japanese police loved busting gun cases. If any signs of gun use showed up at a crime scene, they'd go all out.
As a result, yakuza had become extremely cautious about using guns. The fact that the Tsuda-gumi had been entrusted with one by their parent organization showed how much trust they'd earned. It meant Tsuda Masaaki could one day rise to wakagashira or even young boss.
Tsuda glanced at Shin'nosuke. "If we had to use a gun on some high school kid, we'd be seen as incompetent. The whole syndicate would look down on us. The Tsuda-gumi would never rise beyond a third-tier group. No—guns are off the table. Speaking of which, Ōta, what about the blade we discussed? Has Akidataya gotten back to us?"
Akidataya was a specialist in handling stolen goods, doing business with all factions—rumor had it even the police used them to offload old evidence.
"I'll follow up with them," Ōta replied.
"Good. Do it soon."
Tsuda took a deep breath and murmured to himself, "Looks like brute force won't work. We'll need another plan."
Fortunately, the Tsuda-gumi wouldn't officially take over Nishiyama-gumi's old territory until after the Kanto Union's executive meeting.
Tsuda still had time to prepare.
(End of Chapter)