That sucked. You didn't have to narrate every sensation so vividly, y'know?
"It would be preposterous not to! The intensity of the liquid. The perfect heat. The intimate feeling of the soap on our–"
Nope. Stopping you there. Not another word. We're here anyway.
Ren thanked the bus driver, then stepped out in front of a building:
HANEGAWA HIGH
The bus sped off.
"Such wonder. A carriage without horses. And you are certain that this is normal here?"
Yeah, pretty much. I take the bus to school basically every day – well, except yesterday, but that was–
"What happened yesterday?"
… Don't worry about it.
Ren tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. He didn't want Soren to find out about Princess Glitterdoom.
So… this is it. Hanegawa High. Not half bad, huh? …Go Hanegawa…
It stood at the end of a sloping street – a three-story box of beige concrete and slightly-too-blue windows, surrounded by a fence that had seen better paint jobs. The school gate creaked when it opened, but hey, it opened.
The courtyard had a few half-hearted flower beds, a clock that was always three minutes off, and a proud little banner above the entrance that read: "Strive For Brilliance!"
(Someone had already drawn devil horns on the word "brilliance". They hadn't been cleaned off.)
It wasn't bad.
Not a top-tier private school – definitely no Shirosei Academy – but not some run-down mess either.
Just… Hanegawa. Respectable enough. Hell, maybe even slightly above average. The kind of place that produced accountants, nurses, and maybe one Olympic alternate in the last twenty years – Ren was sure he'd seen the guy's face somewhere in the school… or was that the beware poster?
Nevermind that, it was Hanegawa. And it was home.
"It lacks a moat."
I'll be sure to keep that in mind for the suggestions box.
***
Ren sat in an empty classroom, twirling a pencil between his fingers.
"Where is everyone?"
On time. We're just super early. Don't know whose fault that is.
"I stand by my decision. When a lady speaks to you, you treat her with respect. That is one of the core values of a knight."
Alright, Prince Charming. Just so you know, I don't talk to girls, so you won't be seeing any action in this body.
The door creaked open.
"Bro?"
Ren glanced up. Haruki.
"No way! Who took Ren away? What have you done with him?" he teased.
"What's good, Haruki."
"Ah. So this is the male stripper."
"I was good. I don't know about anymore, though – you could be some weird-ass alien inhabiting my best friend's body!"
"Nah dude, it's still me–"
"But if you are an alien…" Haruki leaned in, grinning. "How about you lend me one of your tentacles for… y'know what…"
"And I see you definitely aren't taken over."
A deadpan voice drifted in from the corner.
"That'd be unlikely."
All three – the boys and the knight – jumped.
"Futaba, what the hell?!" Haruki shrieked.
"When did you get there?" Ren asked.
"How did she get there?" Soren added.
Futaba stepped out of the shadows and into the light, like some weird, melon bread-obsessed evil mastermind.
"There would be no benefit in taking over Haruki's body. His immune system is exceptionally high compared to the average Japanese teen, so it would be more trouble than it's worth."
"Score. Wait – how do you know how strong my–"
"Ren, on the other hand, has an ideal body to inhabit as a host…"
How ironic.
"... as his immune system is pitifully weak."
Still hurts though.
Ren's sulking was interrupted by a voice.
"My god, is she some sort of assassin? Witch? Does she hold a divine item?"
Nah, Soren. She's just Futaba.
Futaba dropped into her seat without another word, already halfway through a melon bread she must've pulled from the abyss.
Haruki turned to Ren.
"So, what club are you picking this year?"
Ren shrugged.
"Dunno. Was thinking of joining the 'Go Home Club.'"
"Too bad it's already full. One guy went so hard he got a full sponsorship."
"Wait, really?"
"No. Dumbass. But dude, really – you should try to find something."
Soren chimed in, all noble and stern.
"Knights should train their body as well as their mind. Choose a discipline."
Ren sighed. Then looked up.
There it was – the club sign-up board, freshly posted outside the classroom. Students were already crowding over it.
He got up, wandered over, and scanned the sheet.
- Baseball
That's Mr. Narcissistic's thing…
- Drama
No, thanks. Theatre kids weird me out.
- Robotics
I'm barely passing physics as it is – wouldn't want to add onto that. I'll leave that to Futaba.
- Light Music
Yo, Soren.
"I am here."
You know how to play an instrument?
"No. I believe I used to know someone who did, though."
Yeah. Me neither. Scratch that.
- Track & Field
Could be useful–
"Are you a coward? Planning on running from all your problems?"
Maybe–
"Choose again."
Fine. Fine.
…
- Kendo Club
Open to all years. Beginners welcome.
He stared at it. Swordsmanship in real life. That'd be a first.
Huh. Soren, what do you think about this? Thinking what I'm thinking?
"That I have been blessed with a second chance to forge you into a proper warrior? Yes."
I was going more for 'try not to suck,' but sure."
Ren reached for the pen, hardly hanging onto the string – classic Hanegawa – and just as he began scribbling his name–
"You're joining the Kendo Club?"
A voice. Soft. Curious. Not familiar.
He turned.
There she was.
Long, light-coloured hair tied into a low ponytail. Foreign-esque features with a hint of Japanese in between. Clean posture, cool tone, blazer crisp. He'd seen her before – once, maybe twice – lurking on the edge of group photos or walking down the hall with a lunchbox that looked suspiciously handcrafted.
The exchange student.
"Oh – uh yeah," Ren said, stumbling a bit. "Thinking about it."
She gave a small nod and a polite smile.
"Good choice."
Then, without another word, she signed her name just above his, and walked off.
Ren blinked.
Okay. That was weird. Cool. But weird.
He looked down.
Alina Fujisawa.
Maybe Japanese?
Definitely a mystery.
"I sense something unusual about her."
Yeah, she's hot.
He could already feel Soren winding up the imaginary club in his brain.
I was kidding!
"I meant her presence, fool. Her aura is… familiar."
Ren frowned.
What does that even mean?
"I'm not sure yet."
The tension hung – a beat longer than expected. Then–
"Sooo," Haruki said, exuding that same golden retriever energy that he always did. "Did you just get flirted with by the exchange student? That's soooo romance-anime-coded. Alya Hides Her Feelings In Russian? Pet Girl Of Sakurasou? Bunny Girl Senpai?"
"That wasn't flirting."
"She spoke words to you, dude. That's, like, at least level three."
"You're making it sound like a JRPG."
"If it were, she'd definitely be the cool support character with some tragic backstory and a healing spell that only works once."
"A 'phoenix down' type of girl?"
Haruki gave a solemn nod. "Exactly."
Futaba wandered up behind them, arms crossed, melon bread absent.
"You're both idiots." She said flatly, strolling up the board. She scribbled her name under Robotics, then returned like nothing happened.
They stood for a moment, watching the rest of the student body finish their club sign-ups and drift back to class.
"So you're actually going with Kendo?" Haruki asked, genuine this time.
"Yeah. Figured I'd try something new."
"Yesterday must've gone really well, then – considering you're thinking of being a big shot swordsman now."
Ren had a flashback to the cave.
He gave out an uneasy chuckle. "Yep. Super well."
Futaba gave him a long side-eye.
"You're going to die in the first match."
"Gee, thanks for the support."
"I'm simply being realistic. Your VRMMO KD ratio leaves much to be desired – probably because you have the coordination of a stunned goat."
"Knights do not fear goats."
Not helping.
KIIN-KOON-KAAN-KOON.
Haruki stretched.
"Welp. Guess it's time to pretend I understand trigonometry again. Haruki: Sine-ing out."
"That doesn't make sense." Futaba retorted, also walking away.
Just me and you again, Soren.
Ren felt a low buzzing in his chest. Anticipation? Nerves?
Maybe it was nothing.
Maybe it was just breakfast.
Or maybe, it was the fact that – for once – he wasn't just drifting. He was heading toward something – even if that something was him getting his ass whooped.
***
The gym smelled like wood polish and effort.
Ren stood at the end of the court-turned-dojo, eyeing the row of freshmen lined up with their shinais. All of them had some kind of energy – nerves, excitement, or just maybe too much sugar.
He, meanwhile, was just trying to figure out how to not look like an idiot.
To the side, another group ran through warm-up swings in near-perfect sync – tighter stances, sharper movements. Experience radiated off them. Among them, Ren spotted her. Alina. Cool, composed, and stance squared up like she belonged there.
Definitely not a beginner.
"My God. Her form is outstanding! The swings. The precision. Heavens!"
Glad to see she's already won you over–
Before he could dwell on the growing feeling that he was very much in the wrong room – a cheerful voice cut through the clatter.
"Welcome to the Kendo Club, y'all!" a cheerful voice called out.
The captain – Ren guessed – stepped forward. Tall, clean-cut, with a warm grin and a shinai slung casually over his shoulder.
"I'm Minato Kisaragi. Third year. Captain. Great to see new and familiar faces alike!"
He paced slowly across the gym, the floor squeaking just slightly under his socks.
"As y'all can probably tell, we've got two groups here today. First-years and newcomers – welcome. You're the lifeblood of this club. And over there.." he gestured to the tighter formation of older students, "...our veterans. Second- and third-years, returning members, and former tournament competitors."
Ren's eyes slid back to the practiced swings of the experienced group. They didn't miss a beat.
So she's a tournament competitor, huh?
"Whether y'all are here to compete," Minato continued, "or just want to learn the way of the sword and have some friends doing it – we're happy to have ya."
He turned towards Ren's group. "That said… special welcome to our lone second-year rookie!"
Minato's smile aimed squarely at Ren.
Oh no.
"Ren Tsukihara, right?"
Ren gave a half-bow, half nod combo. "Yeah. That's me."
"Real glad to have ya! Just so y'all know, we don't care what year you're in – just that ya show up, work hard, and treat each other right. This is a team. We grow together, and we were all beginners at one point."
Minato gestured towards the far side of the room. "Except Shirogane. He was born with a shinai in his hand."
A couple laughs rippled through the room. Shirogane just scoffed.
"That's Hayate Shirogane. Second-year – our vice-captain. Try not to get paired with him unless you like eating floor."
Great. The resident prodigy.
"Anyways, let's get warmed up. Rookies on this side, returners on that. Line up and grab a shinai. I'll walk y'all through the warm-ups."
This feels like the first day of school all over again.
Ren filed into the beginner line, clutching a loaner shinai.
"This shall be glorious! You are moments away from forging the foundation of a proud martial legacy!"
Moments away from getting clowned, more like.
The warm-ups started simple – or at least, they looked simple when other people did them.
Raise. Step. Swing. Shout.
Ren managed the shout part just fine. The rest? Not so much.
"He's holding that shinai like it owes him money," a first-year beside him muttered.
He adjusted his grip, overcorrected, then tripped on his own foot during the next forward step.
Soren let out a loud, audible sigh.
"Did my training teach you nothing?"
No. It's just – there's pressure, y'know?
"Pressure? From what? You have vanquished beasts – even subdued an enraged orc. That is no ordinary feat, Ren."
Yeah, well. That's VR. This is real life.
"And what is the difference?"
I dunno. That I could actually break something here.
"Listen. Whether you are in this VR realm or the real one, my training holds true. Breath. Focus."
Soren was right. Ren shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and tried again.
SWOOSH
"Nice form, Tsukihara!" Minato called from across the room.
Ren blinked.
…Huh.
"See? Again."
The world slowly faded further and further into obscurity, until all that was left was Ren, his shinai, and Soren.
"Raise. Step. Swing. Again. Raise. Step. Swing. Again. Good!"
He did have to admit – having this annoying little Lancelot in his brain did have its perks.
"All right y'all, those are the warm-ups." Minato grinned. "Now for the fun part. Line up. I'll assign ya a number."
Oh no.
"We'll do a little mini-sparring tournament. Sound good?"
No it does not.
Minato clapped his hands. "Alright, pairings are up! First round, find your number twin!"
Ren glanced at the crumpled slip of paper in his hand. Seven.
He scanned the gym – a nervous first-year was already waving.
Okay. Baby steps.
MATCH ONE:
The kid practically bowed before Ren could even line up. Shinai wobbling, stance wide enough to land a plane.
"Ready… begin!"
Ren took a single step, shouted, and tapped the kid's helmet before he had the chance to flinch.
"Point, Tsukihara!"
Well. That was fast.
MATCH TWO:
This one had better form. Taller, too. But every time Ren so much as breathed too loud, the kid jerked like he was being haunted.
"He is cowardly. Blitz him."
Ren grinned. Took a deep breath.
"Ready… begin!"
One step left. Flinch. Adjust. One step right. Swing. It was over.
"Point, Tsukihara!"
"Bravo, Ren. Bravo."
Ren exhaled.
Two for two.
MATCH THREE:
Okay. This guy looked solid.
Proper stance. Calm expression. Didn't look like he was about to pass out. Great.
How do I get to him…
"His feet. Look."
Soren glanced at the boy's feet. They were jittering.
"He is eager. Too eager. He will charge you."
Good spot, Soren. Good spot.
"Ready… begin!"
Ren held firm, feet planted, guard up.
Soren was right. The boy charged at him.
THWACK!
Parry. Slide. Slick. Swing.
"Point, Tsukihara!"
Three for three.
Ren stepped back, breathing a little heavier now – but grinning.
"Nicely done," Minato called from the other side. "You're full of surprises, Tsukihara."
"I am deeply impressed. You are becoming more and more like me with every passing day."
Gee, thanks. Didn't know I was aiming for Percival.
"Alright, damn fine work so far! We've got time for one more rotation – odd numbers to the left, even to the right!"
The gym buzzed as people shuffled around, pairs forming on either side of the floor.
Someone counted.
Someone doubled-checked.
"We're one short," Minato muttered, scanning the room. Then, louder: "Need one from the advanced group!"
A hand rose – slender, calm, already holding a shinai.
Alina.
"You don't mind, Fujisawa?" Minato asked.
She gave a polite shake of the head, "No, it's alright."
And crossed the room, light on her feet. Silent.
"Thanks. Alright then, who's won all their games so far?"
Heads turned.
Ren.
Oh no number 2.
"Guess it's you Tsukihara! Have fun out there – quick tip, she fights fast." Minato nudged while walking off.
"Yes! Yes! Finally! A duel befitting us!"
You do know that it's me fighting – not you?
MATCH FOUR:
She stood across from him, calm. Measured.
Ren tightened his grip on the shinai. His heartbeat was not calm. Or measured.
An exchange of bows.
"Ready…"
This was a bad idea.
"Begin!"
Ren stepped forward, cautious. She didn't move.
Weird.
Still nothing.
Then – WHAP!
She struck his shinai, knocking it upward with a flick of the wrist, then stepped back. Deadly fast. Deadly efficient.
"She is testing you."
Testing?
"Her guard has gaps. Intentionally so. She wants to see what you do."
Ren didn't know whether to feel flattered or terrified. He tried a counter. Stepped in. Swing.
Tap.
She deflected again – gently. Not mocking, not arrogant. Just calm.
Now it was her turn.
She blitzed in. Counter.
THWACK.
Parry.
THWACK.
Parry.
"My she's fast."
THWACK.
Parry.
An opening in Ren's defence. A gap…
She backed off.
Minato glanced over from the side, raising a brow.
Games are over. Time to end this.
Ren lunged. Overcommitted. She sidestepped.
WHACK!
Contact.
"Point, Fujisawa!"
Ren stumbled back. Breathing hard. Was that even her full speed?
She bowed. He bowed back, trying not to collapse in front of the cute girl.
As Alina walked away, she glanced over her shoulder. Paused.
"I'm impressed. Your form. Not just anybody can block my strikes."
Then she continued off.
Not smug.
Not triumphant.
Just curious.
What the hell was that?
"She was studying you. Your guards. Your footwork. Your timing."
Why?
"I am not sure yet. Perhaps you should ask her."
But the match was over. And she'd already returned to the experienced group – blade in hand, face unreadable.
"I'm really impressed, Tsukihara. Like seriously. Fujisawa is a tough opponent." Minato chimed in.
"Yeah, but I could tell she was holding back. Any idea why?"
"No clue. She's a tough one to crack. I knew her before she transferred here – faced off against her at a tournament. Certified to say she whooped my ass. But even so, I could tell she was trying towards the end."
"Huh…"
"Anyways, I've got a gift for ya." Minato took a shinai, brand new, from behind his back. "It's Hanegawa tradition that during initiation, the student that shows the most promise gets gifted a shinai – a sorta way of encouraging them to keep practicing."
At least Hanegawa's useful for something.
"Oh wow, thanks. I don't really know if I deserve this though."
"Like hell ya don't! You went three for three, and were able to keep up with Fujisawa. You're the only person who deserves this.
Minato gave a meek chuckle – totally out of character.
"So… ya thinking of coming back next time?"
"Oh yeah, for sure. This was fun."
"Good. I was hoping you'd say that, because…" Minato pulled out a brochure from behind him.
Where does this guy keep all these things?
INTER-SCHOOL KENDO TOURNAMENT
BEGINNER TO ADVANCED BRACKETS?
"I really think you should consider this, Tsukihara. It starts in a few weeks, and you show real promise. If you work on your skills a bit more, I reckon you could medal in one of the beginner, hell maybe even intermediate, brackets!"
Minato had a fiery passion burning in his eye. Ren could tell he loved the sport.
Ren took the brochure from Minato. "Thanks. I'll consider it."
***
That evening, the sky was dipped in violet.
CLICK
"We're– I mean I'm home!"
He dragged himself through the door, every muscle in his legs staging a quiet protest. He trudged through the hallway with the grace of a wounded animal.
"Yo," Aki called from the couch, not looking up from her textbook. "Where were you?"
"Kendo Club."
Aki let out a very Aki-laugh.
"I'm being serious." Ren replied.
She peeked over the top of her book. "For real?"
"Yeah. Just thought… I might do something with my life for once."
"Wow. Good on you! Y'know what, in honour of my brother not being a loser, I'll make my super awesome, tamago kake gohan tonight."
"That sounds great, but I think I'll pass today."
Heartbreak 2.0.
"What?"
"Yeah. I think I'll pass. I have something I need to do."
"A-alright then."
Ren exhaled, quietly, and headed for the front door – shinai in hand.
The night air hit him in the face – cool, quiet, a little damp. Streetlights buzzed softly overhead.
He took a stance in the empty front yard. Raised the shinai.
You ready to do this, Soren?
"Yes."
"Raise. Step. Swing."
"Again."
"Raise. Step. Swing."
"Again."