The next morning, Morikawa Yu rolled out of bed.
Last night he had biked to North City Central Park, and only right before falling asleep had he realized—he'd forgotten to ride the bicycle back.
Still, he hadn't gone back to look for it.
It was Friday anyway. He had classes.
The park wasn't far from school; he could swing by on his way.
After greeting his sister, Yu left the house, bookbag slung over his shoulder, muttering Japanese grammar and history dates under his breath.
For someone educated under the rigorous Chinese system, Japanese high school studies weren't difficult.
The only subject that truly gave him headaches was Japanese literature.
After all, he wasn't really Japanese. Before transmigration, his Japanese was limited to a handful of "anime lines."
Things like daijōbu and nani nani nani.
If not for having fused with fragments of the original Yu's memory, he wouldn't even be able to hold a conversation.
At the park, his bicycle was still there.
He mounted it and rode to school, heading straight for the classroom.
By the time the morning classes ended and he'd wolfed down lunch, Yu endured the drag of the afternoon periods until at last, club activities rolled around.
With his bamboo sword slung across his back, he headed toward the kendo hall—and spotted a familiar figure walking the same way.
The vice-captain.
She was headed to the dojo too.
"Emi!" Yu called.
The vice-captain turned. Her face was as frosty as ever—until she realized it was him. The chill softened slightly.
"Captain? What is it?"
"Nothing. I'm going to practice too. Let's walk together."
"Alright."
She nodded, continuing on.
Yu fell into step beside her, recalling yesterday's incident with Kondo Kiyoshi.
She'd acted as referee, then helped clear the crowd afterward. She'd done him a big favor.
He quickened his pace and tapped her shoulder.
"Thanks for yesterday."
"It was nothing. That guy's always been irritating."
She shrugged.
"How did you even run into him?" Yu asked.
"How?" She tilted her head. "Yesterday, Teacher Maki took us upperclassmen to Asada Shrine for prayers. She lingered at one spot on purpose, and that guy showed up."
"He found Teacher Maki? They know each other? At Asada Shrine?"
Yu frowned.
He knew Asada Shrine—Tokyo's largest, famed across all of Kantō.
And given this world's strange, unscientific phenomena, shrines and temples thrived even more than in his past life.
Still, he hadn't expected Hojo Maki to take the club's seniors there.
"Mhm. Sensei said she wanted to pray for both us and the new members. She even asked the shrine's priestess to ritually cleanse her sword."
"Ritual cleansing…" Yu nodded—then froze.
Something tugged at his memory. Something he'd forgotten.
When Hojo Maki had handed him that sword yesterday… hadn't he heard it sing?
"What's wrong, Captain?"
The vice-captain's eyes narrowed, suspicious.
"Nothing," Yu replied quickly. "Just remembered something."
This wasn't her concern. He changed the subject without missing a beat.
"Speaking of which… I still don't know that guy's sister's name."
"…Huh? You don't know his sister's name? No wonder you looked so lost yesterday!"
She gawked at him.
"She was a first-year last year! You mean to tell me you didn't even memorize your own members' names? What kind of captain are you!?"
Yu rolled his eyes and stretched lazily.
"How would I know? I wasn't captain last year. Not my problem."
"Not captain so you don't care? That's your excuse!?"
"Isn't it a perfectly good excuse? If you don't hold the post, you don't meddle in its affairs."
"You—!"
"Come on, don't take it so seriously. Just tell me her name already."
…
In the end, Yu still didn't get her name.
The vice-captain was impossibly stingy.
At this rate, she was doomed to stay single forever.
Grumbling inwardly, Yu followed her into the kendo dojo.
He slid the door open, stepped into the entryway, swapped his shoes, and found the hall already buzzing with activity.
Upperclassmen were paired off in sparring matches at the center, while new members practiced basic swings along the edges.
Yu gave them a polite nod, then walked to his spot and set his bag down.
That was when a petite girl approached, hesitantly, as though every step toward him was a gamble.
She peeked at him, timid and wary, as though terrified of being brushed off.
Yu's head throbbed the moment he saw her.
He knew her—Kondo Kiyoshi's younger sister. He had imprinted her face firmly yesterday.
But he still didn't know her name.
"Kondo-san. Good afternoon," he greeted.
"C-Captain… good afternoon," she whispered, bowing.
"I…" She bit her lip, cheeks flushing, clearly wanting to say something—but in the end, her courage failed. She lowered her head.
"If it's hard to say, then don't force yourself, Kondo-san."
Yu sighed.
"I have something to take care of. Excuse me."
"Ah… Captain…" Her head dipped lower, shoulders drooping in disappointment.
Yu didn't linger. He had something more pressing. He needed to see Hojo Maki.
That sword's cry still gnawed at him.
Upstairs, he found her office and knocked.
"Come in."
"Yes, Teacher Maki."
He entered.
Behind the desk, Hojo Maki stood at the window, her slender hands resting lightly on the frame, gaze lost in the cherry blossoms drifting outside.
"Teacher Maki?"
"Do you need something?"
She turned, elegant brows drawn faintly together as her eyes met his.
"Not much. I just wanted to ask about the upcoming national high school kendo tournament."
Yu had no intention of blurting out what he'd experienced. Better to probe indirectly.
"With the competition coming up, I thought—"
"You don't need to worry about that," Maki cut him off.
She crossed back to her desk, sat, and leaned forward slightly.
"I'm your instructor. I'll handle the arrangements. The school will provide support as well."
"All you need to do is focus on your daily training."
"…Understood."
Yu nodded, though his face darkened.
He hadn't expected her to shut the subject down so decisively.
But then, she had the clout to back it up.
One of her aunts sat on the school's board. Without such connections, a twenty-year-old could never have become a kendo teacher here.
"Anything else?" she asked.
"…No."
Yu shook his head.
He wanted desperately to ask about the sword's cry—but the system could never be exposed.
Maki had trained him for two years. If she caught even a hint of something strange, she would press until she had answers.
"Truly nothing else?"
Her gaze locked onto his, unblinking.
"Well…" Yu hesitated. "Does Teacher Maki… know Kondo from yesterday?"
"Yes. Our families are old friends. I've known his parents for years."
Yu blinked in surprise, studying her face again.
Maki-sensei, you're this young—and yet you're friends with his parents? Uncle-and-aunt age?
"What are you thinking that's so rude?" Maki's eyes chilled, narrowing at him.
"Nothing. Just that you seem to be getting more beautiful by the day."
"Heh. Do you say the same to all your juniors?"
"Go on. Back to practice. Don't forget to guide the new members."
She flicked her hand in dismissal.
Suppressing his curiosity about the sword, Yu bowed and left.
Behind him, Maki's expression darkened as she watched his back retreat.
Yesterday, when she had taken the upperclassmen to Asada Shrine to pray, Kondo Kiyoshi had sought her out regarding his sister.
Because of his family's ties to hers, she hadn't turned him away, and had even let him follow her back to the dojo.
But during his duel with Morikawa Yu… something happened.
Her family's heirloom blade had quivered, singing within its sheath.
At first, she had thought it an illusion.
But even after she forced the blade closed, she could still feel it pushing against her hand, straining to slip free.
It had not been a mistake.
That sword, an ancient relic passed down through her family, once enshrined and blessed—it stirred only in the presence of powers beyond the human.
Which meant either Kondo Kiyoshi… or Morikawa Yu.
Both were close to her.
She didn't want to believe either one had changed.
And yet…
The way Morikawa Yu had spoken today—light, evasive, even flirtatious—that was not the boy she knew.
He'd always confided in her openly before. Never tossed around careless compliments.
No matter how well he tried to hide it… she could see it.
He was keeping secrets from her.