We returned to the school just as it was starting to get dark, before leaving home, I’d taken the opportunity to pack a suitcase with clothes, toiletries, and all that stuff.
Of course, I’d also packed a few things I was absolutely certain would be vital on my difficult journey toward becoming a jujutsu sorcerer.
The Switch.
The PlayStation.
Priorities.
When we arrived, I got out of the car and went to grab my suitcase from the trunk, but Utahime stopped me before I could head toward the dorms.
“Nagi,” Utahime said.
“Don’t go rest just yet.”
“Since you joined later than the rest of the first-year students, you’ll have additional classes.”
I’ve never liked extracurricular activities.
Free time should be exactly that: free time.
“And what do those involve?”
“Covering the basics you should have learned before entering this school,” she replied calmly.
“Hand-to-hand combat, physical training and cursed energy control”
“Okay…
That actually sounds pretty interesting.
When are they?”
“Every afternoon, one hour a day”
Oh, just one hour, that’s not so bad.
“And for how long?”
Utahime took slightly longer than usual to answer.
She studied me for a few seconds, and an almost imperceptible smile appeared on her face.
“That will depend on your progress.
Although that’ll ultimately be up to your instructor.
You’re starting right now.”
There was something almost sympathetic in Utahime’s expression, like she knew perfectly well what was about to happen to me and already felt sorry for me.
“Can I at least stop by my room and drop my stuff off?”
“Five minutes, Shirokawa,” she said.
“Not one more.”
A training tracksuit in my size had been left on the desk, probably prepared in advance.
I quickly changed into it and swapped my regular shoes for a pair of sneakers.
I closed the door behind me and headed toward the place Utahime had indicated.
The dojo was somewhat separated from the rest of the buildings.
Unlike the traditional aesthetic that dominated the campus, this place was much more modern, built as something halfway between a martial arts training hall and a gym.
There were punching bags hanging from the ceiling, benches and weights, bars, cable machines, training dummies, and several resistance machines.
“So you’re the new guy.”
I looked up toward the source of the voice, finding a huge guy.
Broad and solidly built, with massive shoulders, a thick neck, and arms covered in small scars.
His head was shaved, his hands were wrapped, and the simple sportswear he wore was soaked in sweat.
Until a second ago, he’d been hitting one of the punching bags.
“I’m Nagi Shirokawa,” I introduced myself.
He approached slowly and looked me up and down.
“You’re too skinny,” he concluded.
…
Off to a great start.
“You’re tall, but you don’t have enough mass for your height.
Put those two together and you’re an easy target with poor stability.
High center of gravity without enough weight to back it up.”
He clicked his tongue as he continued examining me.
“I can tell you are an athlete.
You’re in shape,but you are not ready to fight ,you don’t have a fighter’s body.”
What the hell is this guy talking about?
I’ve even got abs.
I’m pretty damn strong.
“I’m Hayama,” he continued.
“From now on, I’ll be your combat instructor.”
“Nice to mee—”
“Quiet.
I don’t care, you’re here because you need to get stronger.
“I can use cursed energy,” he added, “but I have very little compared to a normal sorcerer, and I don’t possess a cursed technique either.”
That surprised me a little.
“Then how do you…?”
“I reinforce my body and make do with that.
I don’t need anything else.” He pointed at me.
“You, on the other hand, have cursed energy to spare and no fucking idea how to use it.”
“Hey, I’ve done pretty well for myself so far.
I killed dozens of curses just the other day.”
Hayama burst out laughing.
“HAHAHAHA!
You?
Done well?” He picked up a tablet and glanced over my report.
“Against trash,” he cut me off.
“Low-level spirits that any experienced sorcerer could deal with.
Says here that the moment a Semi-Grade 1 curse showed up, you practically shit yourself.”
…
“All of that comes from not knowing how to use cursed energy properly.
But we’ll start from the beginning,” he continued.
“From now on, I’m going to make you sweat blood and turn that body of yours into the body of a real sorcerer.”
Mayday, mayday.
Get me the hell out of here.
He pointed toward the center of the dojo.
“First, your body and your fighting ability.
Then your cursed energy.
Only after that do we worry about your techniques.”
“Let’s start with the basics,” he said.
“Guards.”
I got into position, spreading my legs slightly and raising both arms to protect my head, imitating what I thought was a decent defensive stance.
“Wrong.
We’re not boxing.”
Without warning, he kicked the side of my knee.
“Ah!”
“If you focus too much on protecting your head, you leave the rest of your body wide open.
You need a neutral stance that lets you react to any kind of attack from any direction.”
He adjusted my shoulders and gave one of them a light push.
“And you’re too stiff.”
He lowered my arms slightly.
“Relax.
Breathe.
You need to be able to attack, defend, and move from the same position.”
From there, we moved on to fairly simple exercises: footwork, stance changes, shadow strikes, push-ups, jumps, and defensive movements that Hayama made me repeat until I got them right.
An hour later, I was damn sweating, then came the worst part.
“Let’s fight,” he said.
“No cursed energy.”
He said that last part while staring directly at me, as if he already knew I was thinking about cheating.
We stepped into the ring and faced each other.
I spread my feet, raised my arms the way he had just taught me, and tried to keep my body relaxed.
I attacked first with a right hook.
Hayama read the movement from the start.
He leaned his head back slightly, and my fist passed right in front of his face without touching him.
“Too predictable,” he said.
“Your stance gives you away.”
I tried again, this time throwing two quick punches so he wouldn’t have time to respond.
He blocked both with barely any movement, twisted his body, and drove a short punch into my stomach.
The air vanished from my lungs.
“Breathe,” he ordered. Find the original chapter at g.com.
“Every time you attack, you hold your breath and tense your entire body.”
I backed away a couple of steps and recovered my stance.
This time I waited, judged the distance, and approached more carefully.
Hayama didn’t back away.
Now.
I threw the punch.
A moment later, I was staring at the ceiling, my back slammed into the mat with a dull thud.
“What…?”
“O-soto-gari.
Judo.”
Hayama looked down at me.
“You get too close and shift all your weight forward.
You’re practically asking me to throw you.”
We faced each other again.
This time, I started moving around him, changing directions and making sure not to charge straight in.
“Better,” he admitted.
“At least you learn fast.”
I stepped forward, looking for another opening, and a kick hit me in the chest before I could take advantage of one.
It wasn’t especially powerful, but it was enough to send me backward and knock the air out of me again.
“Fuck!”
“Dollyo chagi.
Taekwondo.”
Come on, Nagi.
React.
You can’t let some old guy beat your ass this easily.
Hayama moved again, this time aiming a low kick directly at my supporting leg.
I pulled it away too late and lost my balance for a moment.
“If you don’t have a solid base, you have nothing.
Your legs support everything else.”
I went in again, this time more out of pride than because I had any actual plan.
I managed to grab his forearm and pulled, trying to force him backward.
Hayama turned his hips, used my own momentum against me, and I slammed into the mat again.
I stayed there for a few seconds, staring at the ceiling.
“I’m starting to think I’m not very good at this.”
Hayama offered me a hand and pulled me back to my feet.
“Until now, you didn’t need to be.”
I dusted myself off as he continued, still not entirely sure what he meant.
“You have a huge amount of cursed energy and two abilities that give you an enormous advantage.
If you were using them right now along with cursed energy reinforcement, I wouldn’t stand a chance against you.”
“Roughly eighty percent of a sorcerer’s potential is determined at birth.
The amount of cursed energy you possess, your natural talent, and above all, the technique you’re born with decide most of how far you can go.”
“With me, we’re going to maximize the other twenty percent.
That’s all I can offer you.”
We kept going for a few more minutes.
By the time he finally called an end to the training session, my shirt was stuck to my body with sweat, and I was bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath.
I looked at Hayama, sweaty, exhausted, and pretty damn pissed off.
“It’ll come with time.
And sweat,” he said.
“Now go rest.
We’ll continue tomorrow.
And the day after that.
And the day after that.”
Don’t worry, baldy.
What goes around comes around.
I’m going to pay you back for all of this.
Someday, the student will defeat the master.
It’s the law of life.
Chronostasis and help more people find it!