"This next technique is called 迅閃蹴 (Jinsenkyaku) – Swift Flash Kick," Sir Takeda began, his stance shifting fluidly as he prepared to demonstrate. The air in the classroom seemed to tighten, every student on edge. "It's a low, rapid kick meant to destabilize an opponent by targeting their lower-body weak points. This is not just about speed; it's about precision."
His tone grew more commanding as he continued, "As a Yukā user, techniques like Jinsenkyaku and Tanshō are essential. We lack the raw power of other styles, but what we lack in strength, we make up for in agility and precision. Master these, and even the strongest opponent will falter."
The class watched in rapt silence as Sir Takeda assumed his stance. His movements were meticulous, each adjustment deliberate yet fluid. His feet seemed to bounce lightly on the floor, like coiled springs ready to explode. "Watch closely," he instructed. "You aim for the opponent's legs, shin, ankle, or even the side of their knee. The key is to strike fast and retreat even faster."
Without warning, his leg snapped out like a whip, striking the dummy's metal calf with a sharp clang. The sheer speed of the movement caused the dummy to shudder violently, its base vibrating against the floor. Takeda's kick was so swift it was over before most could process it.
Seijuro's eyes widened, his heart pounding. That speed... and that precision... it's insane! How can something so quick carry such impact? He swallowed hard, his face breaking into an almost nervous grin. "I've got so much to learn here… but damn, this is exciting!"
The rest of the class buzzed with murmurs of awe and admiration. Sir Takeda, unbothered by the reaction, turned back to the students, his gaze sharp. "Now, for the third technique I asked you all to learn: 軸転 (Jikuten) – Pivot Shift," he announced. "Unlike the others, this isn't a direct attack but a defensive maneuver—a sharp pivot to reposition yourself for evasion or a follow-up attack."
Some students exchanged confused glances, their skepticism apparent. One of them finally raised his hand. "But, uh, sir… isn't it just dodging? Why do we need to learn a specific technique for that?"
The question drew a collective nod from several others. Sir Takeda's brow furrowed, his expression stern. "First of all," he snapped, "raise your hand before speaking out of turn!" The student shrank slightly, mumbling an apology. Takeda continued, his tone firm but not unkind. "Dodging without technique is like driving a car without understanding how to steer, brake, or accelerate. Sure, you might get moving, but you'll crash before long."
The class fell silent, though many still seemed uncertain. Takeda sighed. "Let me simplify it. Untrained dodging is predictable, inefficient, and exhausting. Jikuten, on the other hand, uses precise footwork to conserve energy, evade effectively, and create opportunities to counter. Watch and learn."
He stepped forward, planting his right foot firmly on the ground. "One foot must always stay rooted," he explained, tapping his right foot for emphasis. "Your opposite foot controls your movement. This creates balance and fluidity, allowing for quick repositioning." He demonstrated a seamless pivot, his left foot sliding in a controlled arc while his upper body followed with effortless grace.
"To show you how this works in real combat, we'll combine it with Tanshō." Takeda scanned the class, his sharp eyes landing on one of the students. "You. Step forward."
The boy in question blinked in surprise, glancing around to confirm it was indeed him being addressed. He was tall and lean, his physique more muscular than most. His skin was a rich brown, his features sharp yet friendly, framed by long, curly hair tied back messily, with loose strands falling over his face. His name was Amun Ma'atir, a student of Egyptian descent.
"Yes, sir," Amun said, his voice deep and confident as he strode forward. The class watched him intently, some whispering among themselves. Seijuro's gaze narrowed as he studied the boy. "This guy... he's no joke," he thought, his mind racing. "That aura... his Reitō is leagues above the others. Stronger than mine, even. I'll have to be careful around him."
Seijuro had always been meticulous in how he evaluated people, categorizing them with a cold and calculated precision. In his mind, the world was split into two kinds of individuals: the "irrelevant," those too weak or insignificant to bother with, and the "contenders," those who posed a potential challenge to his ambition. He didn't waste time or energy on the former. Why would he? They were little more than background noise to him, distractions in a world that demanded focus.
Since he had arrived in the classroom, his sharp gaze swept across the room, lingering on each student just long enough to assess their worth. Every movement, every stance, every glint of confidence—or lack thereof—was analyzed. "Weak. Irrelevant. Hopeless," he muttered internally as his eyes passed over one student after another. But when his gaze landed on certain individuals, his thoughts sharpened. "There different. That one could be trouble."
To Seijuro, this methodical filtering was more than a habit—it was a necessity. If he wanted to rise to the top, he needed to identify the threats before they could blindside him. It wasn't arrogance but a survival tactic honed by years of being a street thug.
"Amun, I want you to attack me," Takeda instructed, his tone calm but commanding. "Come at me as fast as you can. Don't hold back."
"Yes, sir," Amun replied, his demeanor shifting instantly. The friendly air about him evaporated, replaced by a deadly focus. The change was so sudden that even Seijuro felt a chill. What the hell? He's like a different person, Seijuro thought, his heart pounding.
Without hesitation, Amun launched forward, his fist hurtling toward Takeda's face with blinding speed. But Takeda, his right foot rooted firmly, shifted his left leg with practiced ease, lowering his body just enough to duck under the strike. The movement was so fluid it seemed almost effortless.
Amun didn't falter. His other fist came up in a vicious uppercut, cutting through the air with a force that seemed to ripple around it. But Takeda was already moving. His planted foot remained in place as he pivoted smoothly, his body twisting just enough to evade the attack. The uppercut struck nothing but air.
Before Amun could recover, Takeda countered. Using the momentum of his pivot, he drove his palm forward in a perfect Tanshō. The strike stopped just inches from Amun's chest, but the sheer force of the motion caused Amun to flinch, beads of sweat rolling down his face. He knew that if the attack had landed, it would have been devastating.
The class erupted into gasps and murmurs of amazement. Seijuro felt his hands trembling slightly. "That... was incredible. Amun's attacks were so fast I could barely keep up, but Takeda handled them like it was nothing."
Takeda straightened, his expression as calm as ever. "You see? Jikuten isn't just about evading. It's about creating opportunities. With this technique, you can transition seamlessly from defense to offense, keeping your opponent off balance."
Amun nodded respectfully, his breathing steady despite the intensity of the exchange. "Understood, sir," he said before returning to his spot in the class. Seijuro watched him carefully, filing away every detail. That guy… he's dangerous. But that makes him the perfect rival."
Takeda clapped his hands, drawing the class's attention. "Now, you've all had a week to practice these techniques, and today I'll be testing you on them. Your grades will depend on how well you've mastered them."
The room erupted into panic, students whispering furiously to one another. "A test? He didn't say anything about a test!" one of them hissed.
Takeda smirked, clearly enjoying their reaction. First-years never take things seriously until they're forced to. Time to knock them into shape.
"Shall we begin?" he asked, his grin widening as the murmurs of protest grew louder.