Kazuya finished his meal, covered the disposable bento box, and placed it in the trash bag. He then looked at the mold on the floor with a scratch of his head—he had spent two hours clearing it when he first arrived, and now it was back again.
Japan's humid weather, combined with the age of the apartment, led to mold growth everywhere in spring, making it unbearable. He took a brush and scrubbed a few visible spots, but it didn't have much effect. With a sigh, he left the brush, sat on the floor, and picked up his phone to check the schedule, contemplating whether to allocate more time for cleaning. After some consideration, he reluctantly scheduled two more hours on the weekend for mold removal and readjusted his timetable, allocating all his free time during the week to swordsmanship practice.
With his vitality recovering to nearly half, he picked up the bamboo sword again to practice "Soburi." With the increased level of the "Ancient Swordsmanship" skill, his understanding of swordsmanship seemed clearer.
The "Soburi" practice involved lifting the sword over the head at about a forty-five-degree angle, swinging it forward, and then retreating after releasing the full force. Different sword schools had different positions for this movement; some aimed at the chest and abdomen, while others aimed lower. It was a fundamental exercise for swordsmanship, focusing on maintaining the correct grip, improving arm strength, practicing power delivery, building endurance, and, most importantly, mastering the intensity of the strikes. Not every strike would hit a person, and if one didn't get used to retracting the sword, they would be vulnerable to a counterattack.
Kazuya was covered in sweat soon. His muscles, which had not fully recovered, were now filled with lactic acid, causing discomfort. However, he continued to swing the sword with determination. This was probably the best opportunity of his life, and if he didn't work hard now, he would be a fool!
After an unknown amount of time, his left hand, responsible for controlling the sword, lost its strength, and the bamboo sword slipped from his grip. Kazuya glanced at the experience points, realizing that the "Ancient Swordsmanship" had only reached level 4.
This once again proves how cheating this game is. Skills in the early stages of the game were easy to acquire, but once players experienced the benefits of skills, the difficulty spiked. Either you grind hard, or you spend money, making it one of the tricks game developers used to exploit players for cash.
His skill [Japanese] reached level 3 through memorizing the hiragana chart, and he had been accumulating experience through daily conversations, only reaching level 7 so far. As for swordsmanship, he intended to quickly raise its level, so he had to double his efforts.
Breathing heavily, he sat down to rest, picking up the books on swordsmanship. However, a loud noise from outside caught his attention, followed by a series of curses. In this area, such incidents were considered routine. Disappointed people would get drunk, venting their life frustrations by causing a ruckus, smashing things, and shouting. It happened almost every day, but no one bothered much. Occasionally, if the disturbance became too intense, someone would call the police, and the officers would come, wrapping the intoxicated troublemaker in a blanket and dragging them to the police station for sobering up.
This time, however, Kazuya thought for a moment, gently pushed open the door, and looked towards the darkness at the end of the corridor. He called out softly, "Yoko?"
"Woof! Wo..."
The response was a dog's bark, followed by a whimper, as if the dog's mouth had been covered. After a short wait, he heard Yoko's voice, "Onisan, I'm here."
"Have you heard from your parents?"
Yoko stood up and whispered, "I live with my mom... She hasn't called back yet."
A single-parent household? Kazuya felt a bit sympathetic. He glanced again at the drunkard downstairs, who was wielding a wooden stick, banging on the trash cans, and occasionally cursing at the sky. Kazuya said, "It's late. It's not safe outside. Come in and wait here!"
Yoko looked at Kazuya and then at the drunkard below. She knew that there were several heavy drinkers on this floor as well. Considering the time, they might be returning after having their fill of alcohol. If they happened to notice her...
Though she was small, she was well aware that the area she lived in was not a good place. Normally, after returning home from school, she tried not to go out. Now, it was already quite late, and the darkness outside was intimidating. Looking at Kazuya's upright demeanor, considering that he just treated herself to a bento box, he seemed genuinely trustworthy. Choosing the lesser of two evils, she hesitated and picked up her backpack, carrying the little dog. She approached Kazuya, asking softly, "Will it be a bother to Onisan?"
"It doesn't matter."
"Sorry to trouble you for now. I'll leave when my mom come back."
Kazuya smiled, opened the door wide, "Come in!"
"Thank you!" Yoko bowed and expressed her gratitude. She held her phone and tried to make her smile sweeter, avoiding any signs of nervousness or wariness.
At the makeshift entrance, she took off her shoes, keeping an eye on Kazuya. To her surprise, he entered the room without closing the door completely. She ask, "Aren't you closing the door, Onisan?"
Kazuya turned back with a smile, "It's fine like this. There's nothing valuable to steal in my place." Instead, he believed in the old adage, "Give a thief no opportunity," and it was better to be cautious as a single man living alone.
Yoko blinked and understood his intention. Her heart relaxed a little, and her smile became more natural. However, as she entered the room with her backpack, she realized that she had inadvertently brought the dog inside. She immediately thought of sending the dog away. Meanwhile, Kazuya had taken the empty corrugated cardboard box used for books, saying, "Is this your dog? You can put it here!"
Don't mess up my floor...
She hesitated for a moment, then placed Toratoro in the box, whispering, "It's my dog, but my mom doesn't allow me to keep it at home, so I have to leave it on the street."
Such a gentle person, not minding Toratoro's dirty appearance...
Toratoro entered the box without causing any trouble. Propping its front paws on the edge of the box, it made a soft greeting sound towards Kazuya.
Kazuya glanced at it and realized it was just an ordinary mutt. Its lineage seemed quite mixed, making it difficult to discern its breed at a glance. However, its dog eyes appeared quite spirited.
Since the dog didn't seem to be causing any trouble or making a mess inside the apartment, Kazuya decided not to mind. He gestured to her, saying, "Feel free to sit, Yoko. I don't have much to offer you."
Yoko bowed again, sweetly saying, "I'm very thankful, Onisan."
Kazuya noticed that she seemed a bit uneasy and her movements awkward though she smiled sweetly. He had experienced something similar before during a period when he was staying with relatives. He knew it was best not to treat her very well and let her be on her own. Being too enthusiastic might backfire.
"Well. I'm going to read books."
"Sure, Onisan."
Kazuya went to the inner part of the room, leaving the area near the door for her, and resumed reading his books.
Seeing Kazuya's attitude, Yoko felt considerably more at ease. She raised a finger to Toratoro, commanding it not to make any noise. Then she carefully knelt down, making sure not to breathe too loudly.
After sitting for a while, she sneakily glanced at Kazuya and noticed that his attention seemed completely focused on the book. He didn't pay any attention to her, so she took the opportunity to scrutinize him more closely.
As she observed for a while, she found herself unable to look away, as if Kazuya possessed some kind of magical charm, exuding a sense of comfort and reliability. Just looking at him seemed to induce a feeling of happiness.
Suppressing the desire to keep staring, she shifted her gaze towards the slightly moldy tatami mats. After all, he was a high school student and had something in common. It was probably just her imagination.
Having nothing to do for a while, Yoko took out her homework from the backpack and began to do her homework, getting immersed in her studies.
The room became quiet, with only occasional unclear shouts from the street outside. Toratoro, realizing that no one was playing with it, curled up inside the box and began to doze off.