Miyajima Hayata dropped the broken sword and rolled his eyes.
He replied irritably.
"You can use a wooden sword like a real one in your hands. What more do you want?"
As he spoke, he returned to the bucket of water and continued alternating between hot and cold treatments.
But his gaze never left the wooden sword in Tanaka Yukishin's hands.
"Speaking of which, it's a real shame, Tanaka-kun."
"If you'd lived in ancient times, you might've roamed the world with the sword in your hand, doing whatever you pleased." He raised his hand and shaped it like a gun. "But in this era... one bang, and it's over."
With that, Miyajima Hayata laughed.
It seemed like a retort for having just been defeated, or perhaps self-mockery over the decline of the art of swordsmanship.
"What's there to regret? The person is what matters. Can't kendo still live on through ordinary people and the police?"
"Even without this wooden sword, I can still roam the world with my own fists."
Tanaka Yukishin offered a sarcastic consolation, his words carrying an unspoken meaning.
"Hmph. You'll understand once you've seen the power of firearms. Real firearms, not props from movies and TV."
Miyajima Hayata wasn't angry. He only shook his head.
In his view, Tanaka Yukishin probably still didn't understand the power of modern weapons.
But he failed to notice the strange gleam in the boy's eyes.
In truth, Tanaka Yukishin understood the power of modern weapons better than anyone. That was exactly why he'd been training his mental strength so hard.
What did it matter to him if bladed weapons had become relics of a bygone age?
He had a cheat.
The group walked out of the inner room.
At the doorway, Tanaka Yukishin suddenly turned back.
The sunlight fell just