Chapter 3
Kendō
Kendō proved a challenge, especially with the Vice Principal barking orders. For once, Shūji’s presence was a blessing; he provided distraction through the training session.
Once the students had packed—sore to the point of stiffness—only a few handfuls remained in the dōjō. From what Elyna understood, Katayū, Fujimoto and Dr Sōhma trained a few kendōka to compete in the Nationals.
Even without a battle, a samurai was a samurai.
Elyna did not get time to bow out before Katayū sent Senda Haruki to her to perfect her direct strike. Apparently, she needed to work on her men—the most basic of frontal blows. Keeping a weary sigh internal, she was reminded of a pair of warm eyes, and well-meaning advice.
Katayū-sensei can be a slave driver when he notices potential.
If not for Sano’s warning, she would have taken the Vice Principal’s insistence with less grace.
As for Senda Haruki… he was another kind of character; in three weeks, they’d barely exchanged a dozen words.
As class representative, she’d expected they’d coordinate more but Haruki kept his sentences short to the point of annihilation.
As if every syllable scorched his mouth.
But tonight, the young man’s strictness pushed him to thrive rather than withdraw. Bokken in hand, stoic as one of the Queen’s Guards at Buckingham Palace, he transitioned from one stance to another as if he’d been born with a blade.
“That is awesome!” she exclaimed as he demonstrated some left-handed techniques. “I want to learn that.”
Haruki bowed, red-cheeked but not a hair out of place despite the exertion. A snort echoed on the other side of the dōjō. “In fifteen years or so, if you persevere,” came Shūji’s mocking voice. Sweat ran down his hairline, making him look like a drowned cat.
“Focus, Onishi!” Katayū thundered, causing her own limbs to tremble.
A reverent mood settled. Elyna paused; the constant switching between first name and last name always confused her, not to mention the dozen levels of suffixes used. Her mind had to catalogue way too much information.
A heavy bokken suddenly appeared before her eyes, and she found Haruki’s expectant look; in the dōjō, he was her senpai, and that commanded respect.
“A dozen strikes.”
“Can I try the other way too, like you?”
Her question seemed to surprise him. Left-handed kendokas had been shunned for centuries before a few famous sword wielders demonstrated just how efficient that advantage was.
Come on discipline-man, let me have my fun.
Strangely, Haruki nodded. Elyna retrieved the wooden sword and set to work. Lifting up above the head, sliding step forward, strike down, erect with a glide backwards, and go again. A relentless repetition to find the right balance, the exact moment when to strike.
Several times, Haruki corrected her position, tapping the offending limb that did not coordinate properly with the handle of his own bokken. Elyna almost laughed; the student did illustrate the ‘no touching with a ten-foot pole’ perfectly.
For a fleeting moment, Elyna wondered if the boy hated her.
He watched her intently as she switched sides, his silent assessment making her skin clammy.
After a good twenty strokes, her arms and shoulders burnt like the seventh pit of hell.
That discipline-man could perform a hundred without batting an eyelash was baffling.
A brutal smack sent her wooden sword flying; Elyna blinked, empty-handed. In front of her stood the Vice Principal, a smirk painted upon his lips.
“Mind your grip, Trewith. You’re dead.”
That Katayū was one of the few able to say her surname properly didn’t remove the sting. His disregard for suffixes was an oddity that emphasised his commanding presence. The dark-haired man turned to Haruki.
“Left-handed, really?”
A silent conversation passed between master and apprentice, and Elyna decided to make her voice known. “What?” she protested. “I could break an arm one day!”
A mighty frown met her quip, and she suddenly felt very, very small. “Master it the right way first,” Katayū rumbled.
The right way. Elyna slid a glance to Haruki; he didn’t seem hurt by the comment. “Katayū-sensei,” the kendōka intervened. “Elyna-sensei feels more at ease this way.”
Elyna’s eyebrows shot up, mimicking the surprise on Katayū’s face. “Are you not right-handed?” he asked, boring holes into her.
The young woman sighed. “I write with my right hand, yes. But I had the same problem when I skated, the left side always felt easier to me.”
Katayū’s lashing aura loosened, seemingly puzzled. “Show me,” he commanded. Then pointed to his head. “Men. Right first.”
Stunned, Elyna retrieved her bokken, and mulled over the idea of splitting the Vice Principal’s forehead open.
He wasn’t wearing a helmet! She was so nervous that her first strike was a child’s poke.
The Vice Principal batted her wooden sword away without a second thought, sending her a pointed glare.
She expected a harsh rebuke, but he just said:
“Again.”
And again. And again. None of her blows came close enough to endanger him. Light on his feet, he just danced around her strikes, sliding upon the tatami with a shuffle, as if he could have had tea and biscuits.
“Get that leg back there,” he rumbled, swatting at her calf. “We’re not aiming for a split.”
She swallowed a snort; he was pressing her again, left-handed, this time.
“Go on,” he ordered. And she obeyed. If none of the blows connected, she felt more at ease with the movement.
His features twisted into a frown. “You’re a dancer, Trewith,” the Vice Principal lamented, swatting her blade away so easily she almost blushed. “Your footwork and strikes are well-timed, but without purpose.”
Vexed, Elyna leapt forward. She would show him purpose! The blades clashed loudly, time and again, and she felt the full brunt of Katayū’s power behind his parries. How could a man so lean pack so much strength?
“Purpose, not anger!” he barked.
Elyna took a deep breath to centre herself; the frustration receded, replaced by sheer strength of will. After a few parries, Katayū turned to Haruki with a satisfied expression.
“Good catch, Haruki-kun. Left side feels more natural.”
Then, his intense gaze pierced her through before he retreated, not without imparting more advice. “Keep working. And don’t forget that you want to blow your opponent’s heads to bits!”
Horrified, Elyna huffed. “I could never, sensei!” Her plea drifted behind his retreating silhouette. To her greatest shame, rolling laughter echoed on the other side of the dōjō.
“Take a swing at his head to see if it’s as inflated as his ankles!” Shūji called out, bokken raised in a sideways position.
Katayū’s voice cracked in the room. “Enough!”
The bellow rattled her bones, sending her heart into overdrive. That man is intense. She found herself missing Sano Kazuki's quiet presence—the way he set boundaries with students through quiet humour rather than volume, deflecting their provocations without ever letting them cross the line.
He was an amazing teacher, leading through example. But apparently, Sano Kazuki wasn't part of the kendō team; a fact she regretted. Elyna slid a glance at the clock. 7:15 pm. Katayū was now drilling Shūji into a harrowing routine without mercy.
“Focus!” The reprimand was accompanied by a swat at his student's legs.
“Ouch, Katayū-sensei!” the youngster whined. “You are so annoying!”
The Vice Principal’s answer was too low for her to hear, but laced with threat. Then Shūji’s voice rang loud and clear. “Come at me if you’re man enough!”
Silence descended in the dōjō; this time, Shūji had just crossed a line. Elyna froze mid-swing as she watched Katayū’s expression shift to something dangerous that sent a shiver down her spine.
“What did you just say?” His voice was deadly quiet.
Any sane soul would have thrown themselves on their knees and begged for forgiveness at the murderous aura that came from the Vice Principal. But Shūji’s eyes only gleamed with mischief. “I said come at me properly, sensei. Unless you’re afraid a student might show you up.”
Elyna gaped. That boy has no survival instinct.
“That’s it! Armour, now!” Katayū thundered.
His student didn’t even deign to respond; he was already trading his bokken for a bamboo shinai, and suiting up.
Dr Sōhma looked up with interest. The little woman tilted her head aside in anticipation, pulling on her keikogi to straighten it.
Elyna shivered; she’d only met the school nurse once and wasn’t sure what to make of her.
It seemed like the woman who might have to patch up both opponents was amused by the square off.
The few overtime students left in the dōjō abandoned their practice as Shūji and Katayū slid on protective gear, forming a tight circle. Elyna found herself pressed between Haruki and a boy, reeling in anticipation.
The full armour turned the Vice Principal into something dangerous; he towered over his student easily. Eyes glinting behind her stylish glasses, the school nurse lifted her chin with amusement, ready to announce the beginning of their friendly spar.
Despite her lithe frame and small stature, the woman had no trouble making her voice heard.
“Hajime!”
Katayū’s first attack came swift as lightning, his feet sliding on the mats. Elyna’s breath caught in her throat; he wasn’t a samurai, but something wilder. A spirit of the forest, a yōkai, mayhap, legendary and immortal, come to crush a petty human.
This wasn’t the disciplined art of the sword—bushidō—this was war in its purest form.
To Shūji’s credit, the boy didn’t crumble. He only evaded, all fluid grace and sharp claws. His smaller frame twisted and flowed around Katayū’s devastating strikes with uncanny ease, always landing just out of reach. Elyna had no doubt that an impish smile quirked his lips underneath the mask.
Shūji’s counters came in lazy, deceptive arcs that turned lethal at the last second. Elyna could only stare, breath short, wondering if her expression reflected awe or terror.
Katayū pressed forward relentlessly, each swing of his shinai carried bone-shattering force.
Sweat started to gather on his gaping keikogi, a testament to the intensity of the duel.
Then Shūji did something downright impossible: he seemed to dissolve away from a strike only to reappear at Katayū’s flank.
His shinai darted out in a perfect thrust, but the Vice Principal was ready.
The sharp crack of bamboo was deafening, a testament to the strength of both opponents that refused to back down. Dr Sōhma counted points placidly, while Fujimoto discussed technicalities with a student.
Then his heavy features suddenly brightened, and he turned to the open doors.
“Oh! Hey, Mikasuki-san!”
Despite the boisterous greeting, his voice barely registered over the duel. Elyna’s attention shifted, leaving the fighting opponents to find an older man with an affable smile. She recognised the janitor whom she often crossed paths with in the gymnasium.
More surprising, he was followed by a beautiful woman. Her flaming hair and foreigner’s features called for attention. By her side, Mikasuki watched the match, amused.
Elyna left her spot to shift closer, wondering who the redhead was.
“And now they’re going at it again,” the janitor chuckled.
“Is this… normal?” the woman asked, features drawn in concern. Many eyes turned to her now, distracted from the storm. Mikasuki shrugged, smoothing out his greying hair.
“As normal as…”
There was a sudden beat of silence—no shuffle of feet on the tatami, no crack of bamboo over armour.
“Sarah?” a rumble echoed in the room, coming from underneath Katayū’s headgear. The man was frozen in the middle of a swing, shinai held high over his left side.
CRACK!
Shūji’s men strike connected squarely with the Vice Principal’s helmet, the impact echoing through the dōjō like a gunshot.
“Point!” Dr Sōhma shouted, sounding delighted.
Shūji raised his shinai, gloating like a kid who’d bested his elder brother. “Ha! I told you I could…”
“Shut up!” Katayū bellowed, lunging at his student like a tornado. He landed three strikes in rapid succession, each blow more devastating than the last.
“Point!” Dr Sōhma shouted. “Point, and…”
Shūji staggered backwards, completely overwhelmed. Despite the violence of it all, Elyna couldn’t help but laugh as she imagined his stunned expression underneath the helmet. Suddenly, the school nurse’s composure dissolved. She started giggling behind her hand, the gesture neat and elegant.
“This isn’t kendō, Katayū-kun, this is a brawl.”
The Vice Principal eventually stepped back to remove his mask, ebony hair spilling free as he turned towards the entrance. Eyes glued to the pretty stranger, he looked absolutely flabbergasted.
Elyna wondered, for a moment, if the blow he’d taken to the head was serious enough to warrant a concussion. The Vice Principal wiped his forehead with a sleeve, looking… sheepish?
Then she understood. The blow to the head was absolutely innocent. Her lips curled in amusement. Well, would you look at that? Our esteemed samurai also has girl problems.
“Sarah, mmm?” came Shūji’s usual drawl.
He, too, had removed his mask, playful gaze settled on the intruder. The redhead fidgeted under the student’s attention; at least, the woman knew danger when she crossed it. At once, Shūji's features morphed into an expression that promised retribution.
“Ne, Sarah-san, can I pin you to my armour? It seems Katayū-sensei will be easier to distract with you around.”
The woman’s cheeks flared with embarrassment as a resounding “Shut up!” thundered in the dōjō.
Elyna: Hey! I just saw the Gatotsu technique from Saitō
Aksel: Heavy stuff, sis…
Aksel: Wait, what from whom? ??
Elyna: The cop, in Ruroni Kenshin you dolt!
Aksel: Left-hand bast… beep?
Elyna: Yeah. Discipline-man is awesome at kendō ?? But the Vice Principal is a fury.
Aksel: ??
Aksel: Whatever floats your boat