Chapter 5
“Swordsmanship.. It’s a little scary.”
I lightly touched the sword the academy had handed out.
It wasn't a real sword.
It was made of a material with hardness and strength somewhere between iron and wood.
It was a practice sword of unknown composition.
But just because it wasn't a real sword didn't mean it wasn't scary.
“At this rate.. even just getting beaten with it would leave me seriously injured.”
Getting beaten with an iron rod already hurts.
How much more would a roughly sharpened sword like this hurt?
When I was learning magic and handling mana, it hadn't felt real,
but the moment I picked up the sword, reality hit me.
A guy who could barely handle a Chinese cleaver in the kitchen was holding a sword.
But I had no choice.
“.. If I don't want to die, I have to do it, I guess.”
If I fled the academy, I'd die.
But if I was weak even at the academy, I'd die.
Getting my hand cut by a knife while practicing would hurt,
but getting my throat cut by a knife because I hadn't practiced would kill me.
“.. I hope the professor is good at teaching..”
It was obvious, but.
Even within the academy, each professor's teaching ability differed.
The difference in stats was big enough to make people reroll their games.
It was quite significant.
I entered the classroom with a sigh.
If morning classes were fixed for each class,
students could plan their own curriculum in the afternoon.
In other words,
students from other classes could come too.
“..!”
A familiar face came into view.
Pure white armor.
A pure white face, and golden hair reminiscent of the sun.
The girl who had flustered me when we'd met during class assignments.
Rank-one Mist was standing before me.
“Oh, hello?”
Since we were acquaintances, I greeted her for now.
But as soon as Mist saw my face, hers turned red.
“Ah... hello.”
As if her mind had stopped working,
she fidgeted awkwardly.
She wasn't supposed to be a character who malfunctioned like this..
Why was she acting like this?
“Ah.. Are you taking this class?”
Mist turned around as she spoke to me.
She had clearly been standing by the door as if she were about to leave.
But now she was going back to her seat.
“Yes. I want to learn swordsmanship.”
“Ah.. right. Since you don't have a supernatural ability.. swordsmanship would be good for you.”
Mist bit her lip slightly.
Then she stared at me and began to speak.
“Um..! I'm sorry about last time!”
Huh? About what?
Her words made my brain freeze for a moment.
Had she done something she needed to apologize to me for?
“Um.. what are you sorry about?”
“Ah, for speaking so carelessly about the entrance exam.. I shouldn't have belittled your hard work..”
Ah, now I remembered.
Mist had criticized what I'd done in the entrance exam in the garden,
and I'd changed her perspective by framing it as [hard work].
Had she really still been dwelling on it?
Well, it was a very Mist-like reaction.
She was the type to feel terribly ashamed of her own mistakes.
But.. she hadn't really done anything that wrong?
“Ah, no, it's fine. Honestly.. even I admit it wasn't exactly a fair-and-square method.”
“But..! Since you don't have a supernatural ability.. I think you really did your best!”
Mist stared at me with her eyes opened wide.
There was intense fervor in her eyes.
“To place first in the entrance exam without any supernatural ability at all.. I think you had no choice. If anything, I admire your determination!”
“I don't think I could have gone that far myself..”
Mist tapped her index fingers together and gauged my reaction.
By this point, I was more scared of her.
If I told her I'd simply freeloaded my way through it.. would she leave me alone?
Probably not.
“Um.. it's all right! Class is about to start, so.. I'll head inside.”
“Ah.. yes, yes!!”
Mist quickly stepped out of my way.
Then, when I sat down, she sat exactly two seats away from me.
… She still seemed to be reading my reaction.
—
“I’m Zensan.”
A black kasa hat.
A martial arts uniform fluttering in the wind.
A Japanese sword strapped to his waist.
The professor who entered the classroom instantly captured everyone's attention.
“I will be your swordsmanship instructor.”
‘.. A troublesome person has appeared.’
Zensan the Romanticist.
He was the strangest swordsmanship instructor in the academy.
This man pursued only [romance].
Naturally, his swordsmanship fundamentals and knowledge were outstanding.
But all of it was devoted entirely to a single thing: [romance].
“Here is a swordsmanship textbook.”
Zensan stepped onto the podium and took out a book.
The famously famous swordsmanship textbook.
It was [The Fundamentals of Swordsmanship].
Zensan tossed the swordsmanship textbook into the air.
- Swish!!
“You don't need any of this crap.”
He displayed an incredible quick-draw technique and slashed through the swordsmanship textbook.
The textbook was reduced to scraps of paper.
“You can't learn swordsmanship from a book. From the next lecture onward, come straight to the training grounds.”
With that, the professor left the classroom.
All the students inside stared blankly after him.
‘I got stuck with a crazy professor.’
Everyone must have thought so.
And I agreed.
But he wasn't simply bad.
Even if a student's skill was lacking, this instructor rated them highly if their approach was right.
Considering that the academy was a place of education, perhaps he was the most fitting instructor.
However, his standards were entirely up to him,
so there were always students who ended up fuming.
“All right!! I won't say much. Swing your swords! Whoever hits the scarecrow 1,000 times, I'll let them finish early!”
Zensan shouted and went beneath the shade.
Then the professor himself began striking the scarecrow.
- Swish. Thwack!
“Wow.. His form is incredible.”
One student said that as he watched Zensan.
I agreed.
On the screen, I'd thought it was merely the model of a character swinging a sword.
But seeing it in reality, the motion was so elegant it felt like art.
‘.. As expected, a one-trick romance professor.’
But I sighed.
There was simply no way to coast through this class.
All I could do was diligently strike the scarecrow 1,000 times.
But how could I, striking a scarecrow for the first time, manage 1,000 hits?
‘Professor Zensan actually cares more about form than the number of hits. Even if you hit it 1,000 times, do it beautifully. With style. That's his [romance].’
‘And.. surprisingly, he doesn't complain even if you don't hit it 1,000 times.’
Of course, my evaluation score might suffer.
In the game, if you didn't hit it the full 1,000 times, your evaluation could never reach A or higher.
‘Come to think of it.. my goal is to become stronger, not get an A..’
‘..Should I just not complete the 1,000 and take my time getting my form right?’
All right.
Rather than forcing myself to complete 1,000..
I'd just strike it a reasonable number of times, resetting my stance each time.
- Thunk! - Clack!!
- Boom!! -Whack!!
“Everyone is working hard.”
Professor Zensan finished his 1,000 hits in an instant.
He finished in less than 20 minutes,
which meant he had swung almost once per second.
“Hooh.. That one clearly knows how to get through a lot of hits.”
Zensan admired Mist as he watched her.
She was striking the dummy extremely quickly while maintaining perfect form.
The sensor attached to the dummy had already passed 400. At this rate, she would finish everything in around 40 minutes.
“Hmm.. This one.. what? Still only 50 times?”
Zensan's anger rose as he looked at one dummy with an unusually low number.
No, how could someone have managed only 50 hits so far?
This one was weak-willed.
Not physically frail.
He was a loser who had set a limit on his own body and cried, ‘I can't do it!’
Someone like this.. couldn't take my class.
“I suppose I'll have to throw him out immediately.”
Zensan looked at the dummy's number.
There were as many dummies as students in the training grounds,
and each dummy was numbered.
Since the sensor was linked to the number, it wasn't hard to see who it was.
“The name is.. Bin. Definitely someone I've never heard of.”
Those with potential stood out from the beginning.
By contrast, those who failed to distinguish themselves had a reason for it.
This one was exactly that sort.
- Thunk!!….
- Thunk…!!
Zensan felt his judgment growing more certain.
“I thought maybe the sensor was broken, but that's not it. His hit count really is low..”
Zensan looked at Bin striking the dummy.
Bin was striking it with intense concentration.
His movements were extremely slow.
And, to be honest, his form was terrible too.
But..
Zensan felt his chest grow hot.
He couldn't say why.
It was plain to see that Bin was weak and had never swung a sword even once.
And yet he was stirring Zensan's heart?
‘.. Is there something to this guy?’
Zensan stopped and surveyed his surroundings.
“Hyaaah!!! Hah!!”
It wasn't that the others lacked enthusiasm.
No, if anything, they were more intense.
They struck faster and harder, as if they would smash the scarecrows apart.
They were giving it everything they had.
By comparison..
He could feel that this one was holding back.
But what was different about this one?
- Thunk..! Clack..!
He studied Bin's stance intently.
There was only one.
A vertical slash.
Then another vertical slash.
And another after that.
‘.. How crude.’
The reason he had cut up the swordsmanship textbook was
that most students already knew its contents.
But Bin's stance didn't even contain the basics from the textbook.
It was a truly empty vertical slash.
‘But.. every swing is getting a little better.’
His first vertical slash had been truly pathetic.
No, it was still truly pathetic.
But.
Bin was improving.
After each swing, he reset his stance.
Sometimes he twisted his thumb ever so slightly,
or spread his thighs a little farther apart.
‘This time.. he changed the pressure applied to his pinky.’
‘Ah.. no, that's not it. Relaxing the tension in his chest isn't good.’
‘Yes! In the end, the starting point is gripping the sword tightly! No matter how much he changes little things, they have no effect because his grip is too weak!’
Before he knew it, Zensan was watching Bin's swordsmanship intently.
There was something moving about this frail student's swordsmanship.
It had none of the feel of striking the dummy fast and hard like the others.
But.
He was improving.
Even if it meant swinging once for every two swings others made and taking a little longer to think,
Bin continued to pursue better swordsmanship.
“.. Impressive.”
Zensan acknowledged it.
[312]
Bin had only managed 300 swings in this class,
but he had made the most progress of any student in the class.
He was also the most impressive student.
“An impressive student deserves to keep attending my class.”
Zensan acknowledged Bin.
Of course, Bin was merely taking a little more time to think as he swung his sword.
And.
Mist had been watching this too.
“…As expected.. I judged someone who worked so hard too narrowly just because he has no supernatural ability..”
Of course.
They were words that would have made Bin furious if he'd heard them.