Me, fighting Yamamoto? While that might indeed happen in the future, it was far too abstract at the moment.
Arima Shizuya took half a step back. As though facing a barrel of explosives about to blow, he spoke in a careful, wary tone.
"Um, Captain-Commander... do you perhaps have some misunderstanding about me?"
Was there a possibility—
that he had discovered my identity as a spy and wanted to use an exchange of blows as an excuse to beat me to death? Damn! W-well, it didn't seem impossible!
Seeing Arima Shizuya's tense expression, Yamamoto showed neither joy nor anger. He merely turned sideways, clenched his right hand into a fist, and slowly raised it level with his brow.
"What is it? Aren't you going to take your stance?"
Though there was no wind in the dojo, the old man's long beard and white brows fluttered in the air.
"My Original Flow is not one for words. It cultivates essence, energy, spirit, and body. Rather than gaining a momentary advantage through verbal sparring, I prefer to communicate this way."
Shhh...
Tabi scraped across tatami soaked with sweat and scrubbed to a glossy shine, making a faint sound like grit and gravel.
"Let fists be the mouth, and let the body speak."
"There is no need to worry. This is merely a simple exchange of blows. I will not use spiritual pressure."
"Therefore, let me properly witness just how far you have mastered my Original Flow."
In essence, this was basically the principal testing a student...
At this point, now that he had put it that way,
even if he did not want to fight, he had to.
He adjusted his breathing, relaxing and then tensing his muscles.
Arima Shizuya was about to imitate the other man's movements and take his stance