According to Kotonoha Katsura's own thoughts, she didn't want to be here at all.
While she genuinely loved kendo, and becoming a disciple of the legendary Masao Busujima was an honor that would secure her future, Kotonoha was still just a fifteen-year-old girl. She longed for what every other girl her age longed for: love.
In her imagination, she should be meeting a boy of similar age and interests—preferably a gentle classmate—so they could share a shy, perfect school romance.
However, Kotonoha never had a chance to refuse. Against Manami Katsura's domineering personality, Kotonoha had no voice.
This apprenticeship concerned not only her future status but also her health. Therefore, neither Kotonoha nor her father, Mr. Katsura, had the right to object. After all, her father was merely a figurehead—a man who had married into the wealthy Katsura family and secured his job solely through his wife's connections. In the face of important family matters, he was invisible.
"Bow!"
The sharp command snapped Kotonoha back to reality.
Looking at the row of stern-faced masters in front of her—men she had only ever seen on the news—Kotonoha's mind focused. She felt like a rabbit stumbling into a den of wolves, but there was no turning back now.
She respectfully kowtowed nine times to Masao Busujima, who sat in the seat of honor. Then, with trembling hands, she picked up the ceremonial tea cup.
"Master, please have some tea!"
Adrian sat comfortably, took the cup from Kotonoha's delicate hands, and nodded with satisfaction.
An Inner Disciple enjoyed the Master's protection and social network, but in exchange, they were required to serve the Master with absolute devotion. In the strict worlds of Sumo and Judo, disciples were often expected to scrub their master's back—or even their buttocks.
While Kendo wasn't quite as extreme, the principle remained: whatever the Master demanded, the Disciple provided. As long as it wasn't publicly outrageous, she could not refuse.
'Of course,' Adrian thought, sipping the tea and eyeing the girl over the rim of the cup, 'given Kotonoha's timid personality, even if I demand something excessive... she wouldn't dare resist, would she?'
After the tea ceremony, the next step was the reading of the rules.
Normally, a senior disciple would explain the regulations of the Busujima Style to the newcomer. However, since Masao's previous disciples had been shipped off to the United States, Saeko Busujima had to perform the duty herself.
As she recited the strict code of conduct, Saeko kept observing the girl kneeling before her. Kotonoha looked delicate, fragile, and pure—completely different from her promiscuous mother.
Human instinct is to protect one's own. In Saeko's eyes, her father was a man of integrity who had maintained his widower's chastity for years. The only reason he had been involved with Manami Katsura was surely because that succubus had deliberately seduced him!
Saeko ground her teeth slightly.
For the past two nights, her sleep had been plagued by restless, feverish dreams. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw that image: Manami's massive, voluptuous buttocks thrust into the air, the "pig's ear" labia spewing semen and fluids onto the tatami mats.
She would wake up sweating, her body inexplicably hot, forced to change her damp underwear in the middle of the night. It was incredibly annoying.
Saeko assumed it was just the shock of seeing such a scene combined with her own puberty. She was a physically mature girl, after all.
'Of course,' Adrian mused, watching his daughter's flushed cheeks, 'a certain person would never admit that he had been adding a special hormonal supplement to her diet for the past few days.'
Compared to Kotonoha and her mother, his favorite project was, of course, his own daughter.
"Next, our newly initiated disciple, Kotonoha Katsura, will demonstrate her swordsmanship!"
The elaborate ceremony had dragged on for over two hours. Finally, they reached the conclusion.
Kotonoha needed to demonstrate her skills before the assembled masters.
Normally, this was just a formality. As long as she performed a proper Iaido draw and cut—whether striking a target or a straw dummy—she would pass. Everyone would applaud politely, and the day would end.
However, two hours of constant kneeling, bowing, and tension would make even a healthy person dizzy. For someone with Kotonoha's constitution, it was torture.
She stood on the performance stage, her face pale, her legs trembling. She was in a state of extreme exhaustion.
She drew the blade.
Thwack!
Her strength failed halfway through the swing. Instead of a clean cut, the blade bit into the wooden dummy and got stuck.
Silence filled the hall.
The crowd, hands raised halfway to applaud, froze. Looking at the girl's initial stance, she had seemed promising. How could such an amateurish blunder happen?
Whispers broke out immediately.
Saeko glared angrily at Manami, feeling that this woman and her incompetent daughter were tarnishing the Busujima reputation.
On stage, Kotonoha's face turned bright red. She tugged at the sword handle, trying to pull it free, but her arms had no strength left.
Panic set in. The whispers grew louder.
Unable to cope with the shame and the physical strain, her eyes rolled back in her head.
Thump.
Before she could hit the floor, a shadow moved. Adrian stepped onto the stage with lightning speed, catching Kotonoha in his arms before she fell.
"My disciple is unwell today. The ceremony has been long. Please forgive her!"
He held the unconscious girl against his chest and addressed the onlookers with a commanding voice.
The crowd immediately nodded in agreement, eager to curry favor. They praised Kotonoha's initial form and blamed the mishap entirely on her poor health.
As for what they were really thinking? That was anyone's guess.
After seeing off the boisterous crowd, the great doors of the dojo were closed.
Only four people remained in the vast hall: Adrian, Saeko, Manami, and a timid-looking man wearing gold-rimmed glasses.
The man was Mr. Katsura—Kotonoha's nominal father. He was a small, nervous man who knew his place in the food chain. He also knew that when he married Manami, she was already four months pregnant. Kotonoha couldn't possibly be his biological daughter, but he had never dared to voice that fact aloud.
"I am truly sorry for what happened today!"
Manami Katsura knelt on the floor, bowing deeply to Adrian.
Saeko stood beside her father, glaring down at the woman. Manami was using her breasts as cushions again, pressing them against the floor while her buttocks were raised high in a submissive pose.
'That lewd woman,' Saeko thought venomously. 'She must have seduced Father with that pig-like body. Otherwise, why would Father take such a sickly, useless girl as a disciple?'
Mr. Katsura knelt beside his wife, head bowed low, but he was just a piece of furniture. No one paid him any attention.
"It is nothing. I knew Kotonoha had a weak heart," Adrian said, waving his hand indifferently. He looked down at the unconscious girl in his arms and then at the mother kneeling at his feet. "Since she has become my Inner Disciple, helping her improve her health is my duty."
He smiled, a look that was both benevolent and predatory.
"As her Master, it is perfectly reasonable—and necessary—for me to thoroughly examine my disciple's body."
"I am truly grateful!" Manami raised her head, her eyes shining with excitement and understanding. "Please, Master... feel free to command me if there is anything you need me to do!"
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