Hellish training and the genius who didn't fit in

Junior disciple?

Zenitsu Agatsuma looked at the expressionless Uesugi Sasuke before him, whose eyes were more frightening than a demon's, and felt his calves trembling.

He wanted to cry.

Being forced to train by the old man every day was miserable enough.

Now he had a junior disciple who looked as though he might kill him at any moment.

He couldn't live like this!

He couldn't help wondering if he should pack his bags and run away tonight.

"Zenitsu."

Jigoro Kuwajima's icy voice interrupted his wandering thoughts.

"Take him to the empty room. Starting tomorrow, you two will train together."

"Y-yes! Master!"

Zenitsu jolted, hastily nodding and bowing, then looked cautiously at Sasuke.

"Um... well... junior disciple, please follow me."

Sasuke said nothing and simply followed him in silence.

That silent pressure made Zenitsu feel as though a ferocious beast were following him, leaving him terrified with every step.

Sasuke was given a simple room.

A bed and a table were all it contained.

He didn't care about such things.

To him, this place was merely a stop along the way to becoming stronger.

He sat cross-legged on the bed and closed his eyes.

In his mind, the lightning of [Chidori] alternated with Jigoro Kuwajima's stern gaze.

Breathing Styles...

Let's see just what makes this world's power so special.

The next day, before dawn.

Bang, bang, bang!

Rough pounding sounded at the door, accompanied by Kuwajima's roar.

"You two brats! Get out here!"

Sasuke's eyes snapped open. Without the slightest delay, he dressed and left his room.

From next door came a chaotic burst of crying and shouting.

"No! Let me sleep a little longer! Just a little!"

Thud!

With a dull thump, Kuwajima kicked Zenitsu out of the room, sending him sprawling face-first into the dirt.

"Stop blubbering like a good-for-nothing! Get to the back of the mountain!"

And just like that, training began without warning.

The so-called training was mind-numbingly monotonous.

Running laps around Mount Momoyama.

Doing countless push-ups and sit-ups.

Then came swinging a sword.

A thousand times every day.

For Zenitsu, it was hell.

By the end of the first day, he lay collapsed on the ground, sobbing his heart out.

"I can't do this anymore! I'm really going to die! My muscles are going to snap!"

"Shut up!"

Kuwajima's cane struck him mercilessly on the head.

"You can't even endure this little bit of hardship, and you want to be a swordsman?"

Meanwhile, Sasuke's performance shocked both Kuwajima and Zenitsu.

They had done the same amount of training.

Zenitsu was already as exhausted as a dead dog.

Yet Sasuke was merely breathing a little hard, fine beads of sweat covering his forehead, his gaze as calm as ever.

His body had already undergone preliminary modifications by the system.

Physical training of this intensity was still within what he could endure.

He simply completed Kuwajima's assigned tasks in silence, over and over again.

Without complaint, without a word about the hardship.

That terrifying perseverance left Zenitsu dumbfounded.

Is this guy... a monster?

However, when it came to swordsmanship training, the situation took a dramatic turn.

Kuwajima gave each of them a wooden sword.

"When swinging a sword, posture and how you apply your strength matter most. Watch closely. I'll only demonstrate once."

Kuwajima personally demonstrated the most basic forward downward slash.

The movement was simple, yet full of power and coordination.

"Come on, both of you. Give it a try."

Still sniffling, Zenitsu reluctantly picked up his wooden sword and gave it a feeble swing.

"Haven't you eaten? Put some strength into it!"

Kuwajima roared.

Sasuke tightened his grip on his wooden sword.

It was longer and heavier than a kunai, and felt entirely different in his hand.

He imitated Kuwajima's stance and slashed down with all his strength.

Whoosh!

The rush of air was loud, and the swing looked imposing.

But Kuwajima's frown only deepened.

"Idiot!"

He struck Sasuke on the back with his cane.

"Who told you to use brute force? Your shoulders are stiff! Your waist isn't moving! That's not a slash-it's a smash!"

Sasuke stiffened, a flicker of astonishment crossing his eyes.

It was the first time anyone had ever called him an idiot.

"Again!"

Sasuke took a deep breath, adjusted his stance, and swung again.

"Wrong!"

"Still wrong!"

"Your wrists are too stiff! You're supposed to wield the sword, not let the sword wield you!"

For more than a dozen attempts in a row, Kuwajima rejected every one of Sasuke's swings without mercy.

In Kuwajima's eyes, his movements were mechanical and awkward.

They completely lacked the intuitive feel a swordsman ought to have.

Beside them, Zenitsu watched his normally calm, powerful junior disciple get torn to shreds by their master's scolding, and actually felt a strange sense that things had evened out.

"You, good-for-nothing! Get over here!"

Kuwajima pointed at Zenitsu.

"Show him how it's done!"

"M-me?"

Zenitsu pointed at himself, reluctance written all over his face.

"Hurry up!"

Zenitsu shuddered in fright and had no choice but to raise his wooden sword. Recalling his master's earlier movements, he let out a tearful sound and casually swung.

Swish!

A perfect arc.

There was no wasted movement. Power traveled from the soles of his feet to his waist, then through his arms and wrists, precisely reaching the tip of the sword.

The entire movement flowed seamlessly, completed in one fluid motion.

Even Zenitsu himself froze.

Sasuke's pupils contracted slightly.

He stared fixedly at Zenitsu.

This blond boy who cried all the time and seemed as timid as a mouse.

At the instant he swung his sword, his entire bearing had changed.

Kuwajima looked at Zenitsu with a complicated gaze.

There was gratification, but also regret.

He patted Zenitsu on the head.

"Well done. A shame you're so timid."

Then he turned to Sasuke.

"Did you see that? That is talent."

"Your body is very strong, and your willpower is second to none. But in swordsmanship, as you are now, you can't even compare to one of his fingers."

Sasuke stood silently in place, the knuckles of his hand gripping the wooden sword white from the force.

Since coming to this world, this was the first time he had lost so utterly in the very "talent" he took pride in.