Hey again, it’s Takeya Renshō.

  And, uh… my life has gone from strange to bad.

  Really bad.

  ———

  The Ichimonban Training Hall was still.

  Not silent. Expectant.

  Takeya stood in the center, gripping his bde. His expression was tense but focused. Across from him, Captain Masaki Hiroto stood with his arms folded, studying him with a measured gaze.

  “You’ve always had a natural talent for defense,” Masaki said. “So I trust you to withstand these styles.”

  Takeya stiffened but nodded. “Yes, Captain.”

  Masaki exhaled, rolling his shoulders. “Prepare yourself.”

  Then, he moved.

  ?Masaki’s stance shifted fluidly.

  “The Ichimonban Style.”

  His bde shot forward, clean and efficient. No wasted motion. A perfect bance of precision and adaptability.

  Takeya met the strike cleanly, his defense solid.

  Masaki didn’t pause. He shifted again—his movements turning light, almost weightless.

  “The Sakura Style.”

  His sword flowed unpredictably, a soft but erratic tempo. It danced through the air, attacking from odd angles, forcing Takeya to move with it.

  Takeya kept up, adjusting, matching Masaki’s fluidity.

  Then—another shift.

  Masaki’s stance dropped lower. His grip tightened.

  A wave of cold, crushing force settled over the hall.

  “The Kōsetsu Style.”

  Takeya hesitated. “Am I supposed to let you counter, or—”

  Masaki stepped in.

  One clean motion—Takeya barely caught the strike.

  “I can use this style for more than just countering.”

  Takeya exhaled sharply, bracing as the weight behind Masaki’s blows doubled. Each strike was a crushing impact, relentless, like a ndslide bearing down on him.

  He could still keep up.

  But barely.

  Then, another shift.

  Masaki’s movements changed again. No longer just overpowering.

  Now, inescapable.

  “The Ibuki Style.”

  Takeya’s guard broke for a moment.

  Masaki’s bde came down, forcing him to move whether he wanted to or not. His footwork was disrupted—Masaki dictated the entire rhythm of the fight.

  Takeya gritted his teeth, pushing himself beyond his limits just to stay standing.

  But then—Masaki exhaled.

  And his bde sang.

  A single, devastating shift.

  “The Gōraiken Style.”

  Takeya barely raised his sword—

  Too te.

  Masaki’s next strike shattered his guard, his bde ripping through the air with a force that sent Takeya flying back.

  His weapon hit the ground first.

  Then, he did.

  The training hall went quiet.

  Masaki exhaled, lowering his bde.

  “You held on to the end,” he said. “Good job. You’re improving.”

  Takeya groaned, lying ft on the ground. “I thought I was a dead man.”

  Masaki turned back to the rest of us.

  “So there you have it.” His gaze swept over the group. “Those are our styles.”

  A pause.

  “You all have one week to learn them.”

  His eyes nded on Ren and Ryuko.

  “Except you two.”

  Ren gave a slow nod. Ryuko scoffed. “Figures.”

  “You’ve already learned the Ichimonban Style,” Masaki continued. “Now, you must master the other four.”

  He met their eyes. “And then, you must defeat me while using them.”

  Ren’s face didn’t change. “All four?”

  Masaki nodded. “All four. And if you won’t come at me prepared to kill, then you two don’t have a chance.”

  Ryuko rolled his shoulders. “Right, right. You already taught me that st time.”

  Masaki smirked. “Good. Then you know what to expect.”

  He raised his bde.

  “Hands on your Reibakus,” he said, voice steady.

  ”Let the training begin.”