Chapter 40
Club Building.
Hasegawa Saori followed Yokoyama Miyu up the last flight of stairs, matching her stride so closely she nearly stepped on the president's heels. The hand that usually gripped her heavy shinai trembled at her side. When Miyu pulled open the door to the rooftop dojo, Saori slipped past her and planted herself in front, scanning the room like a hawk searching for prey.
Her gaze swept from the lower left corner to the far right, skimming over every face. The one silhouette she'd carried in her heart for weeks wasn't there. The thrill in her chest cooled to a lump of disappointnt, and the brightness in her eyes dulled.
She couldn't help replaying Hojo Shione's teasing voice from two days ago: "If you show up, you'll definitely run into him..."
Not here, then.
Was he hiding from Saori?
"Hmm?" Miyu tilted her head. Noticing the downward curve of Saori's mouth, she asked, "What's wrong? Saori, are you hungry?"
Saori sniffed, lifted her eyes, and held up two pale fingers like twin white flags. "I'm in a bad mood today. Two onigiri will be enough."
Miyu blinked. "Only two? You must really be upset. I'll grab them for you in a minute—"
"Mm."
Saori nodded, her high ponytail swaying behind her like a trono. She swept another glance across the H University kendo club, puffed her cheeks, and asked softly, "President, when we draw lots later, can I be the one to pull them?"
"You want to draw? Why the sudden interest?"
"Er..." The question stumped her. Saori scratched her temple, thought until her brain squeaked, then tugged at Miyu's sleeve with shining eyes. "Can't I?"
Looking into those clear, guileless eyes—especially when they took on that kicked-puppy shimr—no one could bring themselves to refuse. Besides, the draw was just for show. Miyu relented. "All right, you can do it."
Saori's eyes lit up like twin lanterns. She flashed five slim fingers at Miyu. "President, I feel better now. Five onigiri later."
"..." Miyu pressed her lips together, already regretting her soft heart. She eyed Saori's flat stomach. "No way. Three max."
"Okay."
Fujiyama Keio, having listened to Miyu's briefing, stared at the girl bent over the sign-up table, scribbling nas with one hand while wolfing down rice-balls with the other.
"You're saying she'll take part in the n's instructional exhibition match?"
He studied Saori more carefully. She was tall for a girl—well over 170 cm—but still, kendo was kendo. Won's divisions existed for a reason. The gap in training volu and raw physicality was enormous. Putting a girl against boys felt unfair, almost against the spirit of the sport.
Miyu nodded, reading his thoughts. "Don't worry, Fujiyama. Saori's our first-year ace. She won IH gold last year. Our second- and third-year boys still can't touch her."
Keio's brows shot up. That sounded like boasting. IH usually required at least a second-year's experience; freshn rarely even earned a slot. Yet he'd known Miyu since last year's tournant, and she wasn't one to exaggerate. He gave a noncommittal hum. "That good, huh?"
"You'll see. And if Saori hadn't asked, we wouldn't have put her in this exhibition at all."
Keio understood. The club split into two groups: casual mbers who wanted to experience kendo's spirit, and the varsity squad focused on competition. The latter trained under paid coaches, their workload triple that of the regulars.
C University's kendo club had deep pockets and deeper talent, racking up national titles every year. This year the administration asked H University to bring ho a dal. C University had agreed to ntor them—part coaching, part morale boost. The exhibition match would serve as the opening ceremony. Every mber, varsity or not, would draw lots for a chance to cross swords with the visitors.
If Saori was as strong as Miyu claid, using her to demonstrate basic techniques would be overkill.
Seeing Miyu's confidence, Keio nodded. "Then I'll look forward to it."
At the table the volunteer raising the draw slips signaled they were ready. Keio stepped forward to draw. To prevent cheating, each school's representative drew from the other's pool.
Saori stood at the edge of the box, eyes locked on Keio's hand. When he unfolded the slip and she saw her own na written there, a spark flashed in her gaze. She gave her sleeve a subtle flick, pald a second slip, and theatrically drew it from the box.
She unfolded the paper hastily. Written on it: Shiratori Seiya.
Keio blinked. At first nothing seed amiss.
But when he called the na—once, twice, three tis—no one answered. A quick scan confird Shiratori Seiya wasn't even in the hall.
Keio turned to the vice-president at his elbow. "Tazawa, where's Shiratori Seiya?"
Tazawa scratched the back of his head. "Huh? No idea."
"..." After a beat Keio offered Miyu an apologetic smile. "Looks like he's not here. Maybe the na was written wrong?"
Miyu shrugged. "Let's draw again." She turned to Saori. "Saori, one more ti."
"Okay."
Saori answered chanically, eyes darting as she plunged her hand back into the box. Another flick of the sleeve, another slip unfurled.
Shiratori Seiya.
Keio stared, dumbfounded. Soone must have written the sa na twice. He was about to ask when Saori spoke first.
"Can't find him? But I'm sure I saw him co in..."
Keio studied her face—so innocent, so earnest—and dismissed the idea that she might be lying. Still, curiosity tugged at him. "You know Shiratori Seiya?"
"Mm-hmm." She nodded, bright and brisk. Then her clear eyes glimred. "Is he afraid of ?"
She raised her voice just enough for the entire hall to hear.
"Kind of cowardly, isn't it? Afraid of a girl."
Up on the platform, Hasegawa Saori smiled sweetly while the kendo club buzzed around her.
The room fell silent.
Yokoyama Miyu, realizing what had just been said, quickly stepped forward and grabbed Saori's arm. "Saori, don't say things like that."
"But Saori's not making things up," the girl replied, a look of grievance suddenly crossing her face. "Running away without even fighting—that's cowardice, isn't it? Or maybe I should fight several tis? If we do it in rounds, you won't be scared, right?"
"If you're still scared after that, then you have no right to call yourself a kendo..."
"Saori!"
Miyu, startled, had never imagined such words coming from Saori's mouth. She quickly covered Saori's lips with her hand.
But the words had already spread, and the room erupted in commotion.
It was a blatant insult. Soone imdiately stepped forward. "Shiratori-kun isn't here today—I haven't seen him at all. I'll fight in his place."
Hasegawa Saori glanced at him, pried Miyu's hand away from her mouth, and asked, "If you lose, will he co?"
"...?"
Nagano Ritsuke blinked, completely caught off guard by this response—especially since it ca from a girl. His expression darkened. "If I lose, he'll co."
"Really?"
Saori's lips curved slightly, a flicker of doubt crossing her clear eyes. "You won't go back on your word again, right? That would be against..."
Before she could finish saying "the spirit of kendo," Miyu quickly pulled a rice ball from her pocket and stuffed it into Saori's mouth. Then she pinched Saori's waist hard and shot her a fierce glare.
We're here for kendo instruction, not to make enemies!
"Mm..."
With the rice ball in her mouth, Saori couldn't speak. She chewed slowly, looking toward Fujiyama Keio with questioning eyes.
Fujiyama Keio's brows had been furrowed for a while. Despite being friends with Miyu, being called out in front of everyone stung. He nodded curtly. "If you can beat Nagano, I'll make sure Shiratori cos—even if I have to drag him here by taxi."
Saori, mouth still full, mumbled, "It's a deal!"
Fujiyama Keio nodded again.
He still didn't believe Saori could be that strong. She didn't seem particularly bright, and her words were deliberately provocative—calling her foolish wouldn't be an exaggeration. Moreover, Nagano Ritsuke's skills were among the best in the club. He considered Nagano to be on Shiratori Seiya's level. After Shiratori refused to participate in this year's national tournant, he'd given the spot to Nagano.
Nagano might lose, but losing to a girl? That seed unlikely.
In the changing room, Miyu strapped on Saori's armor while frowning. "Saori, what exactly are you trying to do?"
"Uh..."
Saori remained silent, lips sealed like soone practicing the art of silence, her face wearing an innocent expression that seed to say, "Nothing to do with , I don't know anything."
"Do you know this Shiratori guy?"
"..."
"What's your relationship with him?"
"..."
"Does he have so grudge against you?"
Miyu stared at the girl, noticing her evasive gaze, and imdiately knew sothing was off. "Did you know each other in high school?"
"You have to see him today, don't you?"
Saori's eyes grew even more evasive.
Miyu had never seen her like this—clearly hiding sothing. She ventured, "Don't tell ... you like him?"
As if so secret switch had been flipped, Saori's hand trembled slightly.
Miyu noticed imdiately. Her hands stopped adjusting the armor, her eyes wide with surprise. She pressed, "You really like him?"
Saori bit her lip, a faint blush coloring her pale cheeks.
The iron tree was blooming.
The phrase popped into Miyu's mind. She understood instantly but found herself curious about this Shiratori Seiya. She knew how simple Saori was—she'd never seen her discuss anything related to romance, only ever focused on practicing kendo. If not for her obsession with food, Miyu might have thought her a passionless kendo machine.
Then, sothing occurred to Miyu, and she couldn't help asking, "So when you drew lots earlier, you cheated, didn't you?"
"..."
When Saori guiltily looked away, looking like a child caught doing sothing wrong, Miyu knew the truth. She pinched Saori's fingertips with an exasperated tone. "After you et Shiratori Seiya, you're coming with to apologize to Fujiyama."
"Okay."
This ti, Saori didn't pretend to be mute. She lowered her head and agreed.
Miyu had never doubted that Saori would lose to Nagano. After nearly a year together, she knew exactly how terrifying this girl could be.
And indeed, that was the case.
Monts later, Saori stood on the dojo floor holding a bamboo sword.
When Fujiyama Keio's hand dropped as the signal, she shot forward like lightning.
Still as a virgin, swift as a hare.
Nagano Ritsuke reacted quickly, raising his bamboo sword to block. But the next instant, his wrist went numb from the impact.
He tried to counterattack, but Saori's next strike was already coming.
Crack-crack-crack!
The bamboo sword in Saori's hands beca a blur of motion, striking repeatedly at Nagano's head. The rapid strikes blended together into a continuous sound, each blow powerful and precise. In monts, Nagano couldn't hold his ground.
The next instant, his sword was knocked aside.
"n!"
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