Clang!
The sound of wooden swords clashing echoed through the dojo as Mibu Sayaka firmly blocked another one of Kirihara-senpai's strikes. Sweat trailed down her temple, yet her eyes carried a calm sharpness. And in that fleeting exchange, something stirred in her heart—
So weak.
Yes, that was the only thought she could muster. The way Kirihara fought, the sloppiness in his footwork, the hesitations in his swings—it all screamed weakness.
Compared to Yotsuba Mahiro, who had once challenged her and overwhelmed her completely, Kirihara was far, far inferior.
That realization surged through her blood.
If it's like this… then I can win!
"Haaah!"
Sayaka's spirit roared as her wooden sword clashed once more against Kirihara's. Sparks of intensity flew as the sound of wood colliding thundered through the hall.
Up in the stands, Chiba Erika leaned forward, eyes widening. Her breath caught.
"Amazing…! Mibu-san is completely different from before. To think she's grown this much in only two years… it's unbelievable!"
Erika muttered in her usual habit of soliloquy, but this time, her words carried not only surprise, but also a spark of envy—no, a fiery fighting spirit of her own.
Regret suddenly gnawed at her.
If only I had jumped in alongside Mahiro just now… I would've had the perfect excuse to fight as well! To test my strength against the so-called Kendo Komachi!
But down below, the battle was already reaching its conclusion.
"Guh!"
Kirihara stumbled backward, teeth clenched as pain ran through his shoulder. His strike had barely grazed Sayaka's forearm, cutting only the sleeve of her uniform. In contrast, her wooden blade had landed cleanly, slamming against his right shoulder with precise force.
"If this were a real sword, that strike would've been fatal," Sayaka declared, her voice firm and steady. "But your attack? It barely scratched my sleeve. Admit defeat gracefully, Kirihara-senpai."
Her figure radiated confidence, almost heroic, and the audience could feel it.
At the edge of the crowd, members of the Kenjutsu Club shifted uncomfortably. Their faces twisted as if they had swallowed bitter herbs. Their pride took the hit even harder than Kirihara himself.
To lose to the Traditional Kendo Club…? To let it be seen so openly? Did this mean that Ichika students were weaker than the Nika students? The shame burned deep.
Sayaka's calm but cutting words stabbed deeper into Kirihara than her wooden sword had.
Yes, she was correct. His rational mind as a swordsman acknowledged it. But his pride—his heart—refused to accept it.
"Hah… hahahaha!"
Suddenly, Kirihara threw his head back and laughed, the sound bordering on madness. His shoulders shook, eyes flashing with something dark.
Sayaka's instincts screamed danger. Tightening her grip on the wooden sword, she slid back into stance, her gaze sharp as steel.
"You said, 'if it were a real sword,' didn't you? Then let's test it out!" Kirihara's voice twisted into something wild. "Mibu… do you want to fight with real skill? Then I'll grant your wish!"
With those words, Kirihara released his right hand and slapped it down onto the CAD concealed beneath his left wrist cuff.
A surge of psion light burst forth.
Shiiiiiing!
A shrill sound, like glass scraping against metal, sliced through the air. The spectators grimaced and covered their ears. Sayaka, being closest, staggered as the auditory interference rattled her eardrums.
Her body stiffened for just a moment—yet that moment was all Kirihara needed.
"Take this!"
He lunged, closing the gap in an instant, and swung his wooden sword down with his left hand. But this time, the blade hummed with yellow psion light.
That was no ordinary strike. It was a vibration-type spell—High-Frequency Blade!
The weapon blurred with lethal sharpness.
No time to dodge!
Sayaka forced her body to retreat, but it was hopeless. The blade was descending too fast, too close!
At that critical instant—
"—!"
A figure leapt into the fray, sliding between Sayaka and the incoming strike.
Her eyes widened in disbelief. "M-Mahiro-kun?!"
"What?!" Kirihara's face twisted in shock, but his blade didn't halt—it sliced downward, roaring with psion energy.
Whoosh!
Mahiro shoved Sayaka back with his free hand, his expression calm yet sharp. Then, with a sidestep smooth as flowing water, the blade whistled past him, narrowly missing his head.
Before Kirihara could recover, Mahiro's hand darted out. Gripping a nearby wooden sword, he struck with pinpoint precision.
Clang!
The blow smashed against Kirihara's wrist, and the psion-imbued weapon went flying high into the air.
"Ugh—!"
And before Kirihara could even react, Mahiro followed up with a sharp kick straight into his gut.
Thud!
The impact sent Kirihara flying back into the crowd. Gasps echoed through the dojo as Kenjutsu Club members scrambled to catch their senpai before he hit the ground.
Dust settled. Silence fell.
Mahiro calmly rested the wooden sword against his shoulder, his eyes steady as he looked down at Kirihara.
"I say, Kirihara-senpai…" His voice cut through the air, cold but composed. "…are you a sore loser?"
Kirihara's face contorted, but Mahiro didn't give him a chance to retort.
"As a grown man, a loss is a loss. There's nothing shameful about that," Mahiro continued, his tone as steady as if he were lecturing a younger kouhai. "What is shameful is the way you carry yourself. You could just train harder and come back stronger. But instead—" Mahiro's eyes narrowed, his words landing sharper than his kicks, "—you attacked Mibu-senpai with a High-Frequency Blade while she only had a wooden sword. And you even did it with a sneak attack. Aren't you embarrassed? Because, honestly… I'm embarrassed for you."
The words hit harder than the strike. Kirihara's face flushed crimson, then drained white, then turned green, like a traffic light gone mad. But no rebuttal came. Mahiro had spoken the truth. Deep down, Kirihara knew he had lost control of himself, and no excuse could cover it.
Mahiro, however, didn't bother wasting more breath. How to deal with violations of CAD use wasn't his concern—that was the Public Morals Committee's responsibility. He scanned the crowd, his eyes quickly finding a familiar figure.
"Oi, Shiba Tatsuya! You came at just the right time. Help clean up this mess."
From among the gathered students, Shiba Tatsuya stepped forward. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of surprise in his eyes.
"Kirihara-senpai," Tatsuya said evenly, "due to your improper use of magic, please come with me."
He immediately tapped his communicator and reported, "—This is the Second Small Gymnasium. One student to be taken into custody. Injuries confirmed. Please dispatch a stretcher as a precaution."
His gaze drifted momentarily back toward Mahiro. He had intended to step in himself, but Mahiro's speed had left him no opportunity. And that sword strike…
No magic had been used, yet the blow to Kirihara's wrist had caused a clean fracture. The precision, the speed, the sheer control—it rivaled even Mibu Sayaka's skills.
'Could it be… another Sharingan effect?' Tatsuya thought silently.
"Hey! What the hell, brat?!" one of the Kenjutsu Club members shouted angrily. "You're just some replacement weed! Who do you think you are, ordering people around?!"
"That's right!" another yelled, pointing at Tatsuya. "Why is only Kirihara being arrested? Mibu-senpai was part of the fight too! Both sides should be punished equally!"
Tatsuya didn't flinch. "As I already explained, the violation was the improper use of magic. That's the difference." His tone remained calm, polite, and unyielding.
But reason seldom swayed the hot-blooded. The Kenjutsu Club members surged forward, turning the confrontation into a full-on brawl.
It was inevitable. First Course students looking down on Second Course students was already a sore spot—so how could they accept being judged by one of the "weeds"?
Mahiro, however, didn't join the fray. Instead, he turned back, his expression softening.
"Mibu-senpai, are you alright?"
Sayaka, still clutching her shinai, nodded awkwardly. "I'm fine… Yotsuba-kun, thank you for saving me."
Her voice was low, but her gratitude was genuine. She glanced nervously at the chaotic scuffle on the floor. "But… shouldn't we help Tatsuya-kun?"
Mahiro shook his head. "No need. Those guys don't stand a chance. Tatsuya's on another level entirely."
Sure enough, Tatsuya systematically suppressed every single Kenjutsu Club member. His movements were efficient and precise; even when they tried to cast spells, he dismantled their activation sequences before they could complete them. Against him, resistance was meaningless.
"Yo, Mahiro-kun~"
A cheerful voice interrupted. Erika Chiba, with her fiery short hair bouncing, hopped down from the second-floor railing. She strolled up to him with her usual carefree energy and slapped his shoulder in a half-joking show of encouragement.
"That was quite the hero-saves-the-damsel scene you pulled off just now."
Mahiro smirked at her teasing. "What's this, Erika? Don't tell me you're jealous?"