Although the entire playground was filled with colorful stalls and noisy chatter, the space was still limited to the school grounds. The larger dedicated arenas were reserved for official club performances, while the gymnasium served as another prime venue for showcasing skills.
By the time Erika-chan had finally calmed down and regained her usual cheerful composure, she and Yotsuba Mahiro arrived at the second small gymnasium, where the Kendo Club's demonstration was underway.
"Ohh~ it's supposed to be a Magic High School, yet they actually have a Kendo Club?" Erika-chan muttered casually, though her eyes sparkled with interest.
At that moment, the two of them were leaning on the railing of the second-floor corridor, overlooking the polished wooden floor where the match was unfolding below.
"Oi, oi, wasn't it you who dragged me here in the first place? You already knew this, so why act all surprised now?" Mahiro teased, raising an eyebrow.
"Baka! Can't you just play along and pretend you didn't hear that?!"
Erika-chan's face flushed pink as she pouted, her tiny fists repeatedly thumping against Mahiro's arm. To anyone watching from afar, the scene looked less like irritation and more like a spoiled child throwing a cute tantrum. Mahiro couldn't hold back a laugh.
If strangers saw this, they'd probably think the two of them were dating.
"But still," Mahiro said, resting his chin on his palm as he watched, "even if it's just an exhibition match, that senpai from the Kendo Club is pretty strong."
"Ah? You mean Mibu Sayaka-senpai?" Erika-chan asked.
"Mm."
"Since when do you know anything about kendo?"
"I don't," Mahiro replied flatly, so quickly and decisively that Erika-chan could only stare at him in disbelief.
"Then how do you know she's strong?"
"Because I had a practice bout with her at the dojo two days ago. Just pure kendo—no magic."
"Eh?!" Erika-chan leaned closer in surprise, so much so that a faint fragrance reached Mahiro's nose. Unlike the refined elegance of Mayumi-senpai, Erika-chan carried a scent that was fresh and lively—like citrus, sweet and tangy.
Mahiro quickly pulled his attention back and shrugged nonchalantly."Of course I won. Do you even need to ask?"
"Tch, liar."
"What would I gain from lying to you?"
"I still don't believe you." Erika-chan puffed out her cheeks, clearly unconvinced. "Mibu Sayaka-senpai was the runner-up in the National High School Kendo Championships two years ago! She's famous as the 'Kendo Komachi'—if you want to beat someone like her, you'd need at least an Inka level in swordsmanship."
Mahiro tilted his head slightly. He knew about Inka—one of the five traditional licenses in kendo: Kirigami, Mokuroku, Inka, Menkyo, and finally Kaiden. But another term piqued his curiosity.
"Kendo Komachi? What's that supposed to mean?"
"It just means she's a kendo beauty, baka." Erika-chan waved her hand as if it were obvious. "Because of her looks and skill, the title naturally stuck to her. In fact, even though she was the runner-up, she became more famous than the champion. I guess the nickname really suits her though…"
Mahiro's gaze drifted back to the floor, where Sayaka-senpai's movements flowed with grace and strength. Erika-chan noticed the intensity of his stare and mischievously narrowed her eyes.
"Ne~ Yotsuba-kun, do you… like girls like Mibu-senpai?" she asked teasingly.
"Yes," Mahiro said frankly, not even hesitating. "I like her sword. It's beautiful."
Then, without missing a beat, he added, "But between us, I think Erika-chan is far cuter."
"B-baka! Saying stuff like that won't make me happy at all, you know!" Erika-chan shot him a glare, but the redness at the corner of her eyes betrayed her.
Just then, a loud commotion broke out on the gym floor.
"Hm? Looks like there's trouble."
"Yeah, I see it too…"
Mahiro rested his chin on his palm again, watching the stir below with Erika-chan. From the way things looked, it wasn't just a friendly spar. No—it was a clash between two clubs.
kenjutsu versus kendo. Modern versus traditional.
"Ohh, this is about to get interesting," Erika-chan whispered, her lips curling into an eager smile.
"What makes you say that?" Mahiro asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Didn't I tell you before? Sayaka-senpai is the famous Kendo Komachi. But the guy standing across from her also has quite the reputation." Erika-chan's eyes glimmered with recognition. "His name is Kirihara Takeaki. Two years ago, he was the junior high champion of the Kanto Regional kenjutsu Tournament. A genuine number one."
"So compared to the Nationals, the Kanto championship has more prestige, huh?"
"Exactly. Still, in the end, magic sword techniques are far more practical than either of the traditional forms."
"I see." Mahiro placed both hands on the railing. And then, without warning, he vaulted over.
"Ehh?! Yotsuba-kun, what do you think you're doing?!" Erika-chan cried, leaning over the railing in shock.
"I'm going to help!" Mahiro's voice rang out, already swallowed by the crowd as his figure disappeared into the commotion below.
"Eh?! Yotsuba-kun, what are you—?!"
"Geez, this guy…" Erika puffed her cheeks and crossed her arms, glaring in mock frustration. "We agreed to just watch the show together, baka!"
Still, despite her complaint, she made no move to leave. Her eyes stayed sharp, waiting for the unfolding storm.
Because this conflict wasn't just some playful sparring.
From the way Kirihara carried himself, his stance, his smirk—it was clear this wasn't accidental. It was deliberate provocation, maybe even something premeditated.
Mahiro, too, had noticed. That was exactly why he descended—to see with his own eyes what this senpai intended.
"Ohh~ looks like it's finally starting," Erika whispered, her tone filled with glee.
On the gymnasium floor, the atmosphere had already reached its boiling point. The tension between the two clubs was stretched taut, a bowstring ready to snap. There was no way this could end quietly.
And, just as Erika and Mahiro predicted, the first to move was none other than Kirihara Takeaki himself.
He strode forward confidently, wooden sword in hand, eyes gleaming with pride.
"Mibu, let's have a match," he said in a voice that oozed superiority. "Don't worry, this is just a demonstration between clubs. I won't use any magic. I'll cooperate with you."
The arrogance in his tone was the very essence of an Ichika-sei—a first-course student looking down on others.
Sayaka's brows furrowed, her lips tightening. She answered with a voice sharpened like steel. "Do you honestly think you can defeat me with swordsmanship alone? You, Kirihara-senpai of the kenjutsu Club—who's known for relying on magic—think you can beat me, a Kendo Club member who has dedicated everything to the blade, with just swordplay?!"
Her words were not just defiance—they were a declaration of pride.
Because to Mibu Sayaka, this was the ultimate insult.
She had poured her soul, her blood, and countless hours of effort into kendo. And now, a student who built his reputation with magic-assisted swordsmanship stood before her, boasting that he could defeat her without even relying on that.
It was pure arrogance.
Kirihara sneered. "Heh… what big words, Mibu. Then I'll let you see for yourself."
He raised his sword high, his eyes flashing with a conceited gleam. "Witness my true swordsmanship! The skill I've honed to transcend the limits of mere physical ability!"
Those words were the signal. The unofficial duel between Kendo and kenjutsu began at that very moment.
With a swift motion, Kirihara brought his wooden sword down toward Sayaka.
CLANG!
Sayaka raised her own shinai just in time. The sharp crack of wood colliding against wood resounded like a gunshot across the gymnasium.
CLANG! CLANG!
Blow after blow followed, each strike faster and heavier than the last. Their wooden swords clashed with such force that the sound echoed like steel blades in mortal combat.
The crowd flinched as the pressure of their exchange washed over them, the air itself trembling.
And then—
"Ahhh!" A scream rang out from somewhere in the crowd.
But the two on the floor paid it no mind. Their world had narrowed to the clash of swords, the rhythm of attack and defense, the raw intensity of their duel.
Even though they were using wooden swords, every strike rang out like tempered iron colliding, proof of the sheer strength and spirit behind each blow.
Anyone watching—even without seeing every detail—could imagine it clearly.
This was not a simple demonstration. This was a battle of pride, conviction, and something far greater than just kendo or kenjutsu.[1]
[1] Same same, but different!