Ichijō Mirai was indeed practicing shooting.
With a police pistol, he pointed it at a target 100 meters away and fired without blinking.
The target wobbles a few times.
A few seconds later, there was an automatic count: "One! Five! Three! One! Four!"
It was a lousy shot, but it hit the target.
Ichijō Mirai was very relieved and touched, and consoled himself earnestly: "You are great, and your shooting is just as good as the police."
Simple translation: You can't hit anyone no matter what you do. Even if you manage to hit someone, you definitely can't hit their vital points.
After reassuring himself, he took off his goggles, closed his eyes hard, replaced the gun with a new one, and said without looking back, "Don't point that gun at me."
By the door, Matsuda Jinpei had just picked up an unloaded police gun from the floor and turned it around in his hand, the muzzle and sights sliding unobtrusively over Ichijō Mirai's body.
He was silent the entire time, and was stunned for a moment when he heard Ichijō Mirai's words.
Ichijō Mirai continued firing, emptying the magazine of his new firearm before adding, "I would have the urge to run away."
If a reserve police officer pointed a gun at him, even if it was an empty gun, he would immediately run away and live on the run.
He puts the gun away, turns his head, "What are you doing here?"
Then he suddenly realized, and answered himself, "I used the bullets a little slower this time, and it was almost three o'clock and I hadn't finished practicing yet, which triggered the random plot at night."
Matsuda Jinpei: "?"
Matsuda Jinpei didn't hear much or understand much, but he heard the first sentence and saw the mess in the shooting range.
It looked like it had been robbed.
"You have really been practicing with your spear," he walked over, his eyes swept across the table, found the unopened medicine bottle, and looked at Ichijō Mirai's hand, "How long have you been practicing, seven or eight hours?"
"You don't want your hands anymore."
"Standing in the military position for so long instead of resting and medicating, you came to practice shooting."
Ichijō Mirai reloaded and fired again.
He stared at the notch on his police pistol, trying to aim at the tiny target in the distance and pull the trigger.
The auto-announcement sounded again, "Three rings! One ring!"
"Tch," Ichijō Mirai switched guns, "I told you, these police guns are annoying."
The annoying thing is that they don't listen.
"The gap is too big compared to the target, the aim is too big, even if you keep aiming, the shot isn't accurate, and the place where it hits keeps changing."
He checked the balance of bullets in this archive, and realizing that there were only a hundred or so, he said, "What are you going to say, about the unknown past?"
"You can start."
"I'll do it next time I have time."
No time then whatever.
"You guys, you're really..." said Matsuda Jinpei, his eyes widening, "indescribable."
He watched as Ichijō Mirai fired a new round of shots, watched the red, swollen and stiff hand pull the black trigger.
He also watched as Ichijō Mirai pressed down on the recoil of the pistol without blinking as if he hadn't felt it at all.
The recoil of a pistol isn't that much, but a recoil that lasts for seven or eight hours is a blunt knife that cuts through flesh.
As he watched, Matsuda Jinpei said coldly, "I'll teach you."
Ichijō Mirai turned around, "Huh?"
"Even though I'm not a trained professional, I'm not 100% accurate, and it's a bit awkward to use a gun with faulty rifling," Matsuda Jinpei spat, "and I can't say things like 'I can't shoot', but..."
"I'll teach you."
He went up, tapped Ichijō Mirai on the shoulder, and said succinctly, "Relax your shoulders."
"Guns breathe, your body must breathe too, the frequency must be aligned, your body must not be too tight, you're too tight, like you're being held at gunpoint, ready to dodge."
Uh...
Ichijō Mirai: "It's an occupational habits, sorry."
He tries to relax his shoulders in the neck and shoulder area, and it's a bit awkward.
"And the shoulder blades, the waist, the legs," Matsuda Jinpei patted the spots that needed to be relaxed in turn, and then patted Ichijō Mirai's hands, "Most importantly, the hands."
"You can't even feel the details of the gun right now, can you?"
He actually thought that in the case of Ichijō Mirai's hand, he would only be able to feel the pain in his own hand, and that was already a relatively euphemistic way of phrasing it.
After thinking for a while, Matsuda Jinpei picked up a gun, held it in his right hand, touched the muzzle with his left hand, and struck it with a slight shake. "You can try this to see if you can feel it very clearly. When your left hand touches the muzzle, your right hand can clearly feel the vibration of the muzzle being struck, so clear that it feels like a part of your body is being struck."
Ichijō Mirai tried it, and there was only a slight blur.
He reacted, "Oh, it's a little swollen now, not like normal."
And the temporary loss of pain had dulled the acuity somewhat.
"Well," Matsuda Jinpei had expected it and wasn't too surprised, "next time you can try this feeling as if you're one with the gun, and look for its 'breath'."
"It can also be understood as finding the feel."
"Hit accuracy is fed by bullets, and it takes time to train a gun to be like your own arm."
He lowered the gun and stated the ultimate goal, "Now rest."
"There are some things that can't be achieved quickly in the short term, it takes a long time to hone and let time wear down the intimacy between you and the gun."
"You can also try to disassemble and reorganize the gun," Matsuda Jinpei added, "I'm quick on the uptake because I have a bit of disassembly experience, and I'm experienced at feeling objects in my hands, so it's quicker to get a feel for them."
"I've been practicing for more than ten years, and it's taken me a long time. You don't have to rush, you can rest today."
That makes sense.
But it doesn't apply to players, who can create a century in one night.
Ichijō Mirai nodded seriously, "Okay, thanks."
He picks up a fully loaded gun and holds it in his hand, trying to feel the gun's presence and 'breath'.
Matsuda Jinpei: "..."
Just listen to what you want to hear, right?
"Never mind," he said, somewhat reluctantly, "I won't comment on your statement 'I don't know anything about shooting', but from what you've said, you've only had simple training, haven't you?"
The reason for not evaluating was partly because he really didn't want to evaluate the words of the guy who shot ten rings, and partly because he realized that Ichijō Mirai really didn't seem to know how to shoot.
From his posture.
"It's too hard for a guy who's only had simple training to shoot at a 100-meter target with a pistol." Matsuda Jinpei emphasized.
Matsuda Jinpei emphasized, "and it's a police gun."
"Forget it, you don't listen to people, your posture is wrong, let me teach you, relax."
He simply lowered the gun, found himself behind Ichijō Mirai, and helped adjust his posture, "Relax."
"Breathe."
"The enemy we'll be facing isn't a target, and there's still so much time to practice, we don't need to chase accuracy now."
"Adjust your breathing, press your arm down, feel the gun. When you breathe, the gun shakes with your breath, alright?"
"...Right now."
"Bang!"