A Story Starting from Classroom of the Elite

Only when it was just her and Tanaka Yukishin.

She could still relax naturally.

Karuizawa Kei was, after all, Tanaka Yukishin's official girlfriend.

She really didn't know how to face her.

Receiving no reply, Karuizawa Kei didn't continue to tease.

She still understood the principle of knowing when to stop.

As a girl, the fact that she accepted her dear wanting to start a harem was already a sign of deep love.

As for her taking the initiative to help him build a harem, that was impossible.

Even if her body couldn't take it, she still wanted to monopolize him for a while longer.

The two walked toward the club activity room.

At the same time, Chabashira Sae returned to the faculty office.

She sat in her seat and fell into deep thought.

Of the The Big Three pointed out at the start of the school year, two were inactive, and the other was slacking off.

The class points had started to plummet in the last few days.

She saw it all, and kept it in her heart.

Unfortunately, she couldn't say anything.

Since most people didn't realize the importance, she would let the class rankings bring them a sense of urgency.

Under the premise that those with the ability wouldn't take charge, this could be considered the best choice.

What a headache.

Those with ability had plenty of choices.

Class A was not a necessity for them.

So, how exactly should these three SSRs be activated?

From the day he entered the school, going to clubs to grind dungeons had become a daily routine for Tanaka Yukishin.

But in a school with over 400 students, the number of clubs was limited.

On April 28th, he arrived at the final stop—the Kendo Club.

Koenji Rokusuke came as part of the cheering squad to watch the final act.

"It really makes one envious, points flowing into your account like water."

No matter how many times he saw it, he had never thought that points could be earned this way.

This wasn't a limitation of vision or thinking, but rather that his own ability ceiling prevented him from even having such thoughts.

"Koenji, if you want to give it a try, I can yield the Kendo Club to you."

Tanaka Yukishin tried to egg him on.

These people had been watching him for fun for nearly a month.

Why not have one of them say, "I could do that too"?

Koenji Rokusuke sensed the "malice" hidden behind Tanaka Yukishin's encouragement and decisively refused.

"Forget it, my stamina isn't as exaggerated as yours."

"What a pity, if only I could watch this for a lifetime."

The one speaking was the Koenji variant from the second year—Kiryuin Fuuka.

She had been well-fed on drama during these past few days.

Although the vast majority of the time, it was a one-sided crushing victory.

But scenes like this, one against many, were a supreme delicacy in themselves.

"If you're interested, Senpai, I can yield the Kendo Club to you as well."

"No, no, I'm a girl."

"Men and women are equal, believe in yourself. You can do it, Senpai."

"Even if you talk until the sky falls, I won't go."

"Tch."

The failed Tanaka Yukishin turned around to chat with Karuizawa Kei and Sakura Airi.

Talking and laughing, the group walked to the Kendo Club.

In front of the main entrance, the Kendo Club President Miyajima Hayata was already waiting.

"Ah, the Kendo Club President isn't a beautiful girl, but a rough guy. What a disappointment."

Looking at the handsome young man before him, who stood 1.8 meters tall with muscular, well-proportioned limbs.

Tanaka Yukishin made an outrageous statement.

Miyajima Hayata didn't get angry, instead following the flow of the conversation.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you by not being a beautiful girl."

"Although I don't mean to discriminate against women, in activities involving physical confrontation, there are inevitably fewer female experts than male ones. This is determined by the physiological structures of men and women."

As he spoke, Miyajima Hayata led the group through the activity room and into the inner chamber.

The Kendo Club activity room at Advanced Nurturing High School was located at the end of the north corridor on the third floor of the activity building. Pushing open the old oak door, which let out a faint creak, the scent of pine resin lingering from bamboo sword strikes rushed to meet them.

The 270-square-foot Japanese-style room was floored with dark brown wood, polished to a fine luster by years of suburi practice.

The entire east wall was divided into six sections by high windows; sunlight filtered through beige blackout curtains, casting mottled light and shadow onto the silver-gilt kote armor displayed on the shelves.

In the center of the north wall stood a vermilion-lacquered shrine, with three unsharpened real swords displayed in a fan shape, the nameplates of successive captains hanging beneath the sword guards.

To its right, the honor wall displayed awards from the last decade: the quarter-final banner from the National High School Team Tournament in the 23rd year of Heisei, the winner's medal from the Kanto Region Rookie Tournament...

Most eye-catching was the championship certificate from the Kanagawa Prefecture Tournament won just last year, its gold-leaf edges shimmering under the fluorescent lights.

Above two rows of black folding chairs in the corner hung a sheet of hanshi paper with the word "Zanshin" written in ink, the strokes slightly blurred.

Over twenty bamboo swords leaned against the paulownia wood rack on the west wall, the pale yellow bodies of new swords intermingled with old ones worn to a dark brown patina.

Chest protectors were neatly stacked at the base of the rack, each set labeled with tape bearing the club member's name.

At this moment, six second-year students were engaged in Ji-geiko, their navy blue kendo hakama billowing with their sliding steps, the wooden floor emitting rhythmic thuds under their feet.

The supervising advisor tapped a timer, and the shout of command combined with the crisp clatter of bamboo swords striking startled the white pigeons by the window.

The sound of flapping wings mingled with the distant noise from the playground, gradually dissipating in the April sunshine.

Inside the inner chamber.

Tanaka Yukishin took a bamboo sword handed to him by someone nearby and swung it casually, creating a whistling sound.

Miyajima Hayata stood opposite him.

He waited quietly for Tanaka Yukishin to get used to the bamboo sword.

A few minutes later, feeling more comfortable with it.

Tanaka Yukishin stopped and spoke.

"How should we do this? Give me the procedure."

"Let's leave it to you, Tanaka-kun. After all, I'm not sure what level your strength has reached."

After thinking for a moment, Tanaka Yukishin recalled that Japanese kendo techniques were essentially just eight cuts and one thrust.

These were the nine types: Tangzhu (↓), Kesa Slash (↖), Reverse Kesa Slash (↘), Left Pheasant (→), Right Pheasant (←), Left Upward Cut (↗), Right Upward Cut (↙), Reverse Wind (↑), and Thrust.

He didn't know any fancy moves anyway.

So, he would simply use speed and power to strike eight times.

"Listen, Senior, you know I've never practiced kendo. So, I'll just perform two crosses. For the first, the upright cross, I'll wait for you to get ready, then swing from a stationary position. You can counter-cut, parry, block, or do whatever you like."

"For the diagonal cross that follows, I'll add movement. I'll wait for you to be ready before I strike as well. How does that sound?"

"Eight strikes after getting ready... that should be enough."

Miyajima Hayata gripped his bamboo sword and nodded.

As the gatekeeper for the final stop.

He had long since learned from other clubs that he was no match for his opponent.

But as a descendant of a samurai family, he could not retreat without a fight.

The slanting afternoon sun passed through the beige blackout curtains, cutting a line of light and shadow across the floor where the two stood in confrontation.

After the completion of the [Dragon Bloodline] and a month of digestion.

Tanaka Yukishin's physique had improved by thirty percent compared to before he enrolled.

He made a slight estimation and decided to stick with his usual thirty percent power.

The bamboo sword drew a reverse half-moon from bottom to top, the trajectory tearing through the floating dust to form a visible vortex of air.

This unconventional Reverse Wind upward strike carried the force of a gale, aiming straight for Miyajima Hayata's waist and chest.

Miyajima Hayata slammed his heels into the ground, his Tangzhu-style vertical strike descending like a guillotine.

The moment the two bamboo swords collided, a muffled thunderous sound erupted, and fine bamboo fibers burst from the point of contact.

Watching from the side, Koenji Rokusuke saw the knuckles under Miyajima Hayata's gauntlets turn white—proof that he was pouring his entire body weight into his hands.

The wooden floor sank slightly under the reaction force, and the Zanshin scroll hanging nearby swayed gently.

"Do you need a break?"

Tanaka Yukishin raised an eyebrow; he hadn't expected Miyajima Hayata to be able to match his thirty percent power by utilizing his body weight.

But for the subsequent strikes, it wouldn't be so easy to rely on body weight.

"No need."

Miyajima Hayata rotated his wrists to loosen his muscles before gripping his sword and bracing himself.

The second vertical strike descended immediately, the bamboo sword leaving a curved afterimage, and Miyajima Hayata shifted into a 45-degree diagonal defensive stance.

As the two swords were about to collide, Karuizawa Kei, watching from the side, instinctively gripped Sakura Airi's sleeve, whose hands holding the camera were trembling slightly.

Koenji Rokusuke's posture, previously with hands in his pockets, had shifted at some point to arms crossed and leaning forward, his breathing becoming shallow and rapid.

The moment the bamboo swords made contact, a teeth-gritting sound of compression rang out, and the defender's knees completed three micro-bends within 0.3 seconds to absorb the impact.

In an instant, the scent of pine resin filled the air, a common phenomenon caused by high-intensity strikes.

Sakura Airi's camera captured the shocking scene: Miyajima Hayata's bamboo sword bent into an exaggerated C-shape, his left knee slammed heavily into the floor, and sweat splashed onto the ground.

The advisor had entered at some point, and Kiryuin Fuuka caught a glimpse of the numbers on the stopwatch in his hand; from the collapse of the defensive stance to dropping to one knee, the entire process lasted only 1.47 seconds.

Tanaka Yukishin looked at Miyajima Hayata's slightly trembling hands, shook his head, and turned away.

After waiting for Miyajima Hayata to switch to a new bamboo sword and recover, Tanaka Yukishin swung his blade horizontally.

Facing the third strike, Left Pheasant, Miyajima Hayata, having regained his composure, chose a cross-parry.

When the two bamboo swords collided, Karuizawa Kei's skirt suddenly fluttered, stirred by the light breeze generated by the sword pressure.

As the numbness in his hands caused his strength to give way, Miyajima Hayata's bamboo sword spun through the air toward the shrine, grazed the gold-lacquered sword rack, and embedded itself into the paulownia display shelf.

Among the scattered bamboo splinters, one happened to wedge itself right into the center of the three characters on the Heisei 23rd Year Banner.

The entire dojo fell into an eerie silence, save for the buzzing vibration of the bamboo sword against the wooden shelf.

Koenji Rokusuke suddenly burst into laughter: "This is far more thrilling than a home run flying out of the baseball field!"

His voice echoed through the spacious room, jolting the onlookers back to their senses.

I should be able to update two chapters totaling 4000 words daily from now on.

I should...