Chapter 18 – Maki Zenin's Guidance
Back in his room.
Tatsuro slipped off his shoes, walking barefoot across the smooth floor. He gently placed the cursed tool—his newly chosen sword—on the desk. After retrieving the washed laundry from the machine, he hung the clothes out on the balcony to dry.
Finished with chores, he sat on the bed and looked at the sword on the desk, trying to recall the sword techniques he'd seen on TV. If only Maki would let me copy some sword moves, he thought wistfully.
But realistically? No chance.
He'd just copied her naginata techniques. If he shamelessly asked for more now, she'd probably beat him to a pulp. Even he wasn't thick-skinned enough to walk knowingly into that death flag.
Is today just going to be a wasted day...?
Knock knock knock!
A sudden knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. A familiar voice followed:
"It's me. Open up."
It was Maki Zenin.
Huh? What's she doing here?
Tatsuro raised an eyebrow. By now, she should've been out training with Yuta, or maybe helping Fushiguro Megumi get settled. That'd make more sense.
Still, you couldn't leave a guest waiting.
"I'm coming," he replied, standing up.
He opened the door to see Maki holding a convenience store bento.
"I brought you food. You haven't eaten since this morning, right?"
"Oh—uh, thanks."
Tatsuro accepted the meal awkwardly. It was a bit embarrassing. He was the cook in their group, and yet he'd forgotten to eat.
"Wanna come in? I've got some leftover fruit in the fridge."
"Sure. Hope I'm not intruding."
Maki slipped off her shoes and entered.
"No worries. We're classmates. It's not like you're a stranger."
He didn't bother closing the door, just sat down and began eating. Between bites, he asked, "So… you came all this way just to bring food?"
Maki shot him a glance. "What, I'm not allowed to?"
"No! Not at all! You saved my life! If you'd waited any longer, I'd have starved."
"Hmph."
She snorted, then got to the point. "Are you really confident about beating Fushiguro? Or were you just bluffing?"
"Well… kinda bluffing. Losing to a junior would be super embarrassing."
"…"
"You're shameless most of the time. Why suddenly care about pride now?"
Watching him slurp noodles so carefreely gave Maki a strange mix of exasperation and frustration. She smacked him upside the head.
"How confident are you?!"
He choked on his noodles, coughing violently. He held up four fingers.
"Four… forty percent. But if you teach me some sword techniques today, I'll have fifty."
"…Fifty, huh? Fine. I'll teach you. But if you lose, I'll never let you live it down."
She grabbed him by the collar and yanked him toward the door.
"Wait, I haven't finished eating!!"
Tatsuro clung to the meal box, shoving food in his mouth. He hadn't felt that hungry before, but now, looking at the food, his stomach had started growling. Probably because he'd puked his guts out earlier from training fatigue.
"You can eat later. I wouldn't be doing this if I didn't think you had a chance. So let's go."
With zero room to argue, Maki shoved her shoes on and dragged him out.
---
At the training ground.
Tatsuro sat nearby, watching Maki swing her sword with sharp, efficient movements.
He activated his Sharingan.
No sparring today. His body couldn't take it. But his eyes could record. His brain could memorize. That was enough.
There were no fancy flourishes in her form. Each strike was plain—but heavy with force.
Unlike the wide, aggressive movements of the naginata, her sword techniques focused on controlling the tempo—turning defense into offense.
As expected of Jujutsu High's cursed tool specialist.
Simple. Practical. Sharp.
If he could truly integrate what she was showing him, then his odds weren't fifty percent—they were sixty.
With the Sharingan, nothing was wasted. His biggest weakness was his low stamina and cursed energy. Against a summoner like Fushiguro, a drawn-out fight would spell disaster.
---
The next morning.
Riiing!
The alarm rang.
Tatsuro opened his eyes and stretched. He felt… surprisingly okay.
"No more soreness. Nice! After today's practice, I'll be ready for tomorrow's duel with Fushiguro. Honestly, I'm kinda looking forward to it."
He got dressed, cleaned up, grabbed his sword, and headed out.
Surprisingly, everyone else was already awake.
Only Panda was sitting to the side, cheering.
"Go team!"
The others were running laps on the training field.
Did I set my alarm wrong?
Tatsuro blinked. Everyone knew Maki was an early riser. But Yuta and Toge? They usually trained later.
Panda wasn't even training. He was literally just cheering.
"…Wow. Useless much."
"Yo! You're late! Everyone's here but you! Get running!"
Panda waved excitedly.
"You don't even run—shut up! And I woke up plenty early!"
Tatsuro dropped his sword on the grass and began stretching before joining the jog.
After five laps of warm-up, it was time for combat drills.
This was why everyone had come early—so they could assess Tatsuro's current strength.
"How long do you think Tatsuro can last against Maki?" Panda asked quietly.
Yuta hesitated. Remembering how badly he had gotten beaten, and acknowledging that Tatsuro was naturally more gifted at combat, he guessed:
"Maybe ten minutes?"
"Katsuobushi," muttered Toge, shaking his head.
"No way," Panda replied. "Sparring doesn't usually last that long. Maki's been holding back in training. If she went all out, you'd be KO'd in seconds."
Toge nodded. "Salmon."
"Ouch… That hurts, guys…"
Yuta smiled wistfully as he looked toward the center of the field. He clutched his ring gently and whispered:
"Rika… One day, I'll break your curse. I'll set you free."
In the arena, two swords clashed.
This wasn't just a sparring match between student and teacher—it was a trial by fire.
A stepping stone on Tatsuro's path to becoming strong.
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