"Ya," Sensei Makoto said again, more firmly this ti.
Kael stepped back slowly, bowing slightly as protocol dictated.
"Impossible," Park Jimin hissed through gritted teeth. "I’m stronger! I’m faster! I’ve trained longer than you! Why can’t I beat you?!"
Kael said nothing at first. His posture relaxed, lowering the bokken to his side. The room was quiet but heavy with tension, the other students watching closely—so in awe, others in confusion.
Then Kael stepped back and bowed deeply—not the perfunctory acknowledgnt of victory, but the profound respect of one warrior honoring another’s courage, even in defeat.
"I’m sorry, Park-senpai!" His voice cracked with genuine distress. "I didn’t an to strike so hard! Are you injured? Should I summon the dical staff?"
Even in victory, his first concern was for his opponent’s wellbeing—a quality that had always mystified his more ruthless classmates.
The room blinked in stunned silence.
Park Jimin’s eye twitched.
"Tch." He scoffed, picking up his fallen bokken with a jerky motion. "Don’t need your damn pity... and don’t act like you’re better than , you freak."
He turned his back, brushing Kael’s hand away as he instinctively stepped forward to help him.
"I’ll rember this," Jimin muttered that barely audible. "Next ti, you’ll eat the ground."
His footsteps echoed as he walked away, leaving the spectators buzzing behind him.
And Kael just stood there in silence.
Park Jimin’s footsteps faded into the polished wood in silence.
Kael remained still, bokken lowered at his side, unsure if he’d just earned respect or made an enemy.
Then a firm voice broke the tension.
Sensei Makoto stepped forward, arms folded behind his back. His presence was calm and commanding, which drew the eyes of every student in the dojo.
"Everyone," he said, his tone even but edged with intent, "did you see it?"
The students straightened their attention snapping to the instructor.
"Take note of the earlier events.... He changed his stance just a little bit, and you can see how he adjusted his balance. The way he managed the timing was what made the difference in the match."
He motioned to Kael without looking at him.
"Just before the fight, Tsurugi Kael shifted positions. He flowed with Park’s attacks and took advantage of his rhythm rather than trying to counter them.."
He paced slowly in front of the students.
"Most of you concentrate on your strength, speed, or just morizing the moves by heart. Real swordsmanship, however, is about having control over your breathing, your instincts, and yourself.."
His gaze swept the students, pausing briefly on Kael.
"Since he wasn’t attempting to be dominant, Kael’s movents appeared effortless. His attention was on awareness, on distance and timing. It’s known as maai. Additionally, the way he disrupted his opponent’s rhythm was kuzushi, which throws soone off balance not only physically but also ntally.."
Sensei turned to face him fully.
"Tsurugi Kael. Never apologize to your opponent.. Continue your training."
Kael blinked. "Y-Yes, Sensei."
The old master gave the slightest nod, then looked back to the class.
"Pair up," he instructed, gesturing to the open floor of the dojo. "We’ll review Tsurugi’s three previous transitions: yokogiri counter, kote feint, and left stance. Pay attention to your breathing. Move like water. No use of force."
There was a shuffle of movent as the students got to their feet and began forming pairs. The polished floor echoed with the soft sound of bare feet sliding into position.
"Man, I didn’t even see that kote feint," one boy whispered as he adjusted his shinai. "As soon as I blinked and Park Jimin was already down."
"Tsurugi’s movent is insane," another muttered. "It’s like he knew where Park Jimin would strike next."
A taller girl rolled her shoulders and smirked. "That’s a Tsurugi technique for you."
Kael stood quietly at the edge of the group, trying to blend in. He scratched the back of his neck, unsure how to respond to the attention.
Sensei Makoto clapped his hands once, sharply.
"Focus!" he barked. "Be mindful of your timing, spacing, and maai. Kael was successful because he managed the match tempo. You have to learn to follow suit.."
A few students shot Kael glances again—so admiring, and others were skeptical.
Kael just gave a sheepish grin. "I-I just did what felt natural, Sensei..."
Makoto gave a rare, almost amused huff.
"Let’s see if the rest of you can catch up."
The class broke into motion, voices rising in quiet discussion as they prepared to practice. But Kael stepped aside, wiping sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his gi. His heart was still pounding—not from the match, but from the attention.
He slipped quietly out of the dojo, sandals clicking lightly on the polished floor.
The hallway lights of Yamashiro Institute glowed softly as Kael walked, their reflection tracing lines across the polished floor beneath his feet.
Smart-glass—slim panels that could change from clear to opaque with a single hand swipe—was used to make the walls. It was subtle but high-tech. The entire building exuded a subdued sense of accuracy—everything was modern.
Outside the window, Neo-Tokyo shimred beneath a rising sun. Vertical gardens spiraled up the sides of buildings, glowing faintly under the artificial morning light.
Kael moved his bag’s strap up onto his shoulder. The Institute’s dark-blue uniform, with its gold trim, school crest at the collar, and temperature-adjusting synthetic fibers, had replaced his dojo gi. Formal and tidy, but never quite at ease around him.
Two upper-year students passed him, murmuring.
"Is that the second-year who beat Park-senpai?"
"Yeah. Tsurugi Kael, right? Weird guy."
Kael smiled awkwardly and ducked his head, pretending not to hear.
His shoulders were slightly hunched, and his footsteps were quiet, as if he was trying to avoid drawing attention to himself. Just another pupil at the most prestigious school in the world.
Near the central staircase, a girl with short black hair fumbled with an armful of physics texts and blinking data pads. One tablet slipped from her grip.
Kael caught it before it hit the ground.
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