The cats were all strays that had gathered around North City Central Park, living there for as long as anyone could remember.
Over a year ago, when Morikawa Yu had first come to the park, he'd stumbled across them. He had bought some kibble and started feeding them.
Since then, the cats had grown familiar with him. Now, whenever he called, they would emerge.
"Meow~"
"Meow~"
The first few bounded toward him, tails swishing.
Yu set the bag of food on the ground, watching them jostle and claw for a mouthful, his gaze filled with quiet affection.
Go on, eat, eat. Fill yourselves up. Once you're full… it'll be my turn to have some fun.
Time slipped by in gentle silence.
At last, once the lead cats had nearly eaten their fill, Yu's eyes fell on one—a jet-black cat crouched among them.
He focused, and in his mind called upon the skill: Forward Step Slash.
In an instant, Yu's body vanished from where he had stood.
"Meoooww!"
The black cat, startled out of its wits, arched its back and leapt aside—only for a bamboo blade to rap sharply against its head.
It pawed at its skull, dazed, before Yu grabbed it gently by the scruff and lifted it into the air.
The other cats froze where they were, their meals forgotten. Wide-eyed, they stared at the human who had always fed them, unable to comprehend how he had suddenly moved faster than their eyes could follow.
Yu chuckled softly and set the black cat back down.
His speed just now… it had clearly surpassed what any normal creature should be capable of.
And more than that—the skill didn't seem to require a specific target at all.
Slipping the bamboo blade back at his hip, Yu freed his hands and fixed his gaze on a gray cat crouching about seven meters away.
The gray feline glared back, back hunched high, tail bristling, its whole body coiled to bolt.
Yu shook his head. In the next heartbeat, his body blurred into an afterimage and reappeared behind it.
The cat's pupils contracted in alarm. Before it could twist around, Yu had already seized its nape and ruffled the fur atop its head.
Around him, the rest of the cats gawked in utter bewilderment. The two-legged creature that always fed them—when had he become able to fly?
Yu didn't care. Again and again he flashed forward, testing the limits of his speed.
The cats broke into chaos, scattering in every direction. But no matter how far or fast they fled, Yu caught them easily. Even the same cat could be run down again in only a few breaths.
He never used the shinai to strike them—he had no intention of harming them.
Gradually, his movements grew smoother, more refined. Beneath the cloak of night, his darting silhouette was like that of a phantom—swift, elusive, terrifying.
If anyone else had witnessed the scene, they might have been scared half to death.
Yu, however, reveled in it. He basked in the rush of wind caressing his ears, the sheer freedom of movement.
Dashing through the brush, he laughed, sometimes swinging the bamboo blade to slice down the tall grass that barred his path.
Forward Step Slash!
Forward Step Slash!
Endless forward momentum!
This was joy.
He was the happiest Wind Swordsman alive.
Once satisfied with the trial, Yu scattered the cats and let them go.
Then he pressed deeper into the park.
With every use of Forward Step Slash, he felt more and more attuned to the presence of the wind around him.
It seemed to gather at his side, tugging faintly at his clothes, widening his vision.
The night no longer felt like night—it was more like a cloudy afternoon.
Not as bright as day, perhaps, but clear enough that nothing escaped his eyes.
Treading over mossy stone tiles, Yu finally came upon a grove of weathered stone pillars.
Some were no thicker than a man's arm. Others were massive, as wide as millstones. Each one was scarred with deep grooves.
Legend held that this place had once been the training ground of a master swordsman from the Sengoku era, the grooves carved by his blade over years of relentless practice.
The park had long ago tried to promote it as a tourist attraction, but the story had been dismissed as little more than a marketing gimmick and eventually abandoned.
When Yu had first transmigrated and begun learning kendo, he'd been drawn to this spot. He'd come often to practice his swings here.
Others might scoff at the story. But he believed it.
And now that he had awakened the system, it was the first place that came to mind.
Yu approached the thickest pillar and ran his hand along one of the channels.
Many were deep—some as much as a foot carved into solid stone.
To any normal person, it would seem fake, proof of nothing more than the park's attempt to create a spectacle.
But was it really just a gimmick?
Yu unhooked the bamboo blade at his waist, placed his left hand on the guard, and closed his eyes.
Drawing a deep breath, he sank his weight, then swung.
—Steel-Cleaving Slash!
There was no sound, no jarring resistance.
When Yu opened his eyes, the bamboo sword's tip had sunk into the stone as easily as if it were butter.
He exhaled slowly, gripping the hilt.
Now to pull it free.
Moments passed. The sword did not budge.
Yu grimaced.
Instead of forcing it, he focused on recreating the sensation he'd felt earlier.
Wind, unseen yet palpable, wrapped around his right hand. Slowly, gently, he pressed downward, easing the blade loose.
It slid out.
A thrill ran through him. He swung again.
—Steel-Cleaving Slash!
Again, the bamboo sank deep into stone.
This time, as he withdrew it, a fierce gale whistled in his ears.
Yu's head snapped up. Around him, a whirlwind rose, visible even to the naked eye.
Steel-Cleaving Slash—after two consecutive strikes, it charged the Whirlwind Slash effect, unleashing a storm that swept everything before it.
So this is its true form.
The temptation to release it surged through him. But his instincts screamed a warning.
If he unleashed it here, the consequences could be disastrous.
So he held still.
After a few breaths, the swirling winds ebbed away, leaving only scattered leaves littering the ground in a rough circle four or five meters wide.
Steel-Cleaving Slash. Forward Step Slash. These were the skills he currently possessed.
But Yu knew his strength wasn't limited to just these.
During his duel with Kondo Kiyoshi, he had already noticed—his blade moved faster than any ordinary person's.
And in the system, under Style, he'd seen it listed: Kendo: Secret Essence.
In kendo, the ultimate mastery of a school was often referred to as gokui—a hidden essence, revered even above the rank of full transmission.
Which meant… he might already be standing at that pinnacle.
When he had first received the system, he had never imagined this.
He'd assumed it was the start of a long journey—that he'd slowly climb his way up. He hadn't expected to find himself at a height others could spend their entire lives chasing.
Yet he also knew—what was the peak for others was only his beginning.
If he wanted to achieve the impossible, he had to keep moving forward.
He had to grow stronger.
When he had defeated Kondo Kiyoshi, he'd gained experience points. That meant defeating others would yield the same.
So why not? He would challenge every notable dojo in the 19th Ward, one after another—measure himself against their masters, and see how far he could go.
Swinging the bamboo blade in a few lazy arcs, he scattered the ring of grass left behind.
Then Yu opened his system and selected Recall.
Blue light wrapped around his body. In the next instant, his familiar bedroom came into view.
Perfect. Recall worked.
He set the bamboo blade aside, tidied up, and lay down in bed.
Closing his eyes, Yu drifted toward sleep—until a sudden thought jolted him.
Wait… how did I even get to the park in the first place…?