Chapter Fifty-Eight: The Maiden of the Way of the Sword

“What a peaceful day,” Lancer remarked, sitting calmly atop the rooftop opposite the classroom with a cup of mysterious red tea brought by Withered Flowers in hand, unfazed by the resentful gaze of Kazuto.

“Teacher Sasa, why is Lancer allowed to skip class?” Kazuto, unable to restrain himself, finally voiced the question.

The English teacher, equally composed, pulled out a perfect score exam paper, then sighed in a troubled tone, “I’ve realized I’m not suited to be an English teacher.” With that, she retreated to the front door and started “planting mushrooms,” her face lined with frustration.

Only then did Kazuto recall that Lancer was a bona fide Englishman, with no need to study English at all.

“He actually said that attending my class is inferior to afternoon tea…” Some of the students in the front row overheard the teacher’s muttered complaint.

Lancer waited serenely until the class ended, then returned to the classroom and asked, “Kazuto, how about it? Would you like me to be your English tutor? I won’t even charge you~” Though Kazuto was gifted academically, he had his own shortcomings. The most evident was his spoken English: while his written work was indistinguishable from a native, his performance in oral exams was consistently disappointing.

“Damn you!” Anyone would be irked if their weakness was pointed out, but Kazuto knew Lancer meant no harm—he was just joking.

“Goodbye,” Lancer said, smiling and bidding farewell to the class. With his abilities, he had no real need to attend school, but he came for two reasons: to forge a good relationship with Kazuto, and because most of his prior learning had been self-taught. Though impressive, he’d never experienced genuine student life, and naturally wished to try it.

“Are we leaving?” Kazuto asked, slipping his books into his backpack.

“Of course! I plan to visit every club in the school.”

“Do as you like. Let’s go.”

“Moe Milk~”

——————— Memory Divider ———————

As the top student in class, Kazuto’s teacher naturally assigned Lancer to sit beside him. Kazuto didn’t seem particularly affected by Lancer’s appearance, prompting Lancer to internally complain, “No wonder he remains so focused after winning over so many girls. Should I call him dense, or perhaps dense, or maybe just dense?”

But this worked to Lancer’s advantage—no need to devise excuses to approach the protagonist. The desk mate role was perfectly convenient.

“By the way, Lancer, have you joined any clubs?” After Lancer dealt with the throng of enthusiastic classmates, Kazuto suddenly asked.

“Not yet. But do I really look that much like a girl?” Lancer muttered to himself. It wasn’t as if he’d never looked in a mirror, but he didn’t think it was that exaggerated.

“Hmm… It’s impressive, but once you know your gender and look closely, it’s obvious,” Kazuto replied, giving what he felt was the fairest assessment.

“Look closely?” Lancer felt deflated.

“Uh, let’s go check out the clubs.”

“Alright!” Lancer revived instantly. He longed for the clubhouses described so fondly in countless anime—like the baseball club manager (if Dura), the supernatural research club president (highschoolDXD), and many other anime-themed clubs.

Kazuto brought Lancer to every club he’d dreamed of, only for Lancer to exclaim in frustration, “Kazuto! Are you messing with me? Why is there no manager in the baseball club, just an old coach? Why is the supernatural research club full of strange-eyed people? And why are the anime research club members all hardcore geeks? Where are the cute girls? Where did the cute girls go?”

Kazuto’s mouth twitched. Even this elegant truant could be so “Spartan” in his reaction—it was completely unexpected.

“Where on earth did you get these strange ideas?”

“GAL games, novels…”

Kazuto’s eye twitched. “Can’t you be a little more normal?”

Covering his face in resignation, Kazuto thought, “I’d better introduce him to some more conventional clubs.”

After Lancer showed no interest in the literature club, Kazuto took him on a tour of the entire school, finally bringing him, somewhat reluctantly, to the kendo club…

“Ha! Face!”

From outside the door, Lancer heard a loud shout.

“Kazuto, does your school have other students who skipped grades besides you?”

“Huh? No.”

“That’s odd. Why is there a girl inside who’s obviously too young?” From the sound, Lancer deduced she’d just won, and for his last glimmer of hope, he insisted on meeting her—maybe she was the genius swordswoman Saeko Busujima.

But upon entering, Lancer was struck down again—it was clearly not her. The girl’s “O hundred”—he considered the Japanese pronunciation himself—and sighed deeply.

“Brother? Who’s that bastard with you?” The girl in the kendo uniform first showed surprise at her brother’s arrival, then, seeing Lancer’s Spartan expression and evident disappointment, her anger instantly maxed out.

“That’s Suguha, our new transfer student,” Kazuto explained.

“A girl?” She questioned, then mocked, “Already this grown, and still…” She mimicked Lancer’s sigh.

“I’m sorry, I’m a boy.”

…

…

For a moment, everyone in the dojo—Suguha included—was stunned.

“Now that we’re here, how about a match?” Lancer challenged Kazuto.

“Um, I haven’t…”

“No excuses. Come on, I trust my instincts.” Lancer asked the kendo club president for two wooden swords and a bamboo sword.

“Take this. I’m not used to bamboo swords—I’ll use the wooden one. You can use whichever you like.” Without letting Kazuto refuse, he handed him a sword.

Kazuto sighed, seeing Lancer already prepared. “Fine. But aren’t you going to put on a kendo uniform?”

“No need. Are you not wearing one either?” Lancer adopted a casual stance, resting the bamboo sword at his waist.

“No, I trust you won’t hit too hard. But what rules? Kendo or fencing?” Seeing Lancer’s expression, Kazuto knew he wouldn’t budge, so he sighed again.

“Whatever. Let’s treat it like real combat. But…” Lancer smiled slightly, “You won’t have the chance to attack me.” He rested his left hand on the wooden sword’s hilt, tucked it into his belt, and took out a coin with his right hand.

“Let the sound of the coin hitting the ground be our signal.” He said no more.

…

Everyone watched the coin in Lancer’s hand. As he flicked it into the air, all eyes focused on the three meters separating the two.

“Ding!” The moment the coin hit the ground, both moved at once.

“Thunk~” The sound of two blunt weapons colliding echoed through the hall. Kazuto gripped his sword with both hands and struck down, while Lancer blocked with the hilt, then drew his sword, forcing Kazuto to retreat with a backward step.

Lancer didn’t take it seriously—if he unleashed the aura of battlefield combat, his opponent would likely freeze before the match even began. Still, he was impressed; this was no sign of someone who hadn’t touched a sword in years.

“Heh, didn’t you say you hadn’t practiced in a long time?”

“Don’t you know about virtual games?” Kazuto replied, then took up a fencing stance.

“Going all out now?” Lancer again assumed a drawing posture. In kendo, the only thing he liked was the draw, which explained why every match with Kazuto began this way.

Kazuto lunged with a double-handed thrust at Lancer’s throat, but Lancer was confident he wouldn’t be hit. He drew his sword to block the thrust, then instantly knocked Kazuto’s blade aside and struck upward.

The tip of his sword pressed against Kazuto’s chin.

“I win.”

“Indeed.” Lancer smiled, handed the wooden sword back to the club president, and Kazuto, smiling wryly, returned his as well.

“Brother! I didn’t know you practiced kendo.” The kendo girl rushed over.

“Suguha, I’ve told you many times—why do you keep coming to our school?”

“Well, the president and others won’t spar with me, so I came here.” She opened her eyes wide, acting spoiled toward Kazuto.

“Ah, forget it.”

Lancer watched the siblings with amusement. The girl leapt from Kazuto’s arms to face Lancer. “Cross-dresser! I’ll avenge my brother!” She made a silly face and dashed out in her kendo uniform.

By the way, it’s the start of a new month—give what you can, everyone~~

For the sake of updating at midnight, I always have to wait up late before sleeping. Even if there’s no merit, there’s hard work—no more words, off to bed.

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