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577 — The Art of Cutting Hands
🕑 Added 2025-10-09 16:07:56 +0000 UTCThe training hall was massive—at least the size of four basketball courts.
Everyone sat in a wide circle, cross-legged on the floor, listening with full attention to Kyousuke as he lectured from the center.
This wasn’t that kind of kendo used for school exams or tournaments.
What he was demonstrating came straight from ancient sword styles—the kind that, with a real blade in hand, could instantly turn a man into a warrior fit for the battlefield.
“...And that’s why,” Kyousuke explained calmly, “I believe the fumikomi—the stamping step—doesn’t need to be too fast.
The key to all four basic kendo footwork forms lies in how you shift your center of gravity. Move too quickly, or too heavily, and you’ll lose ki-ken-tai-ichi—the unity of spirit, sword, and body.
Power needs to flow through your stance. Your left foot should stay as close to the ground as possible.
For example, just now—when Takagi’s strike was about to hit me—all I had to do was…”
Everyone listened in rapt silence.
The students who practiced kendo hung on every word, absorbing the master’s wisdom like starving men at a feast.
Those who knew nothing about kendo, on the other hand, were completely captivated by Hojou’s calm composure and commanding presence—his aura of a true swordsman.
After a short explanation, the sparring resumed—this time, a four-on-one match.
Compared to the earlier chaotic brawls, this was actually more challenging.
In a free fight, Hojou could move however he pleased.
But in this match, he had to stay within the rules of competition kendo.
And unlike before, the opponents were wearing full armor, which meant he couldn’t just knock them out cold—he had to aim for proper scoring zones.
Still…
Facing four attackers surrounding him from all sides, Hojou Kyousuke brought his bamboo sword to the front of his body, perfectly aligned with his centerline.
His stance looked almost like he was holding incense before a shrine—or pressing his palms together in prayer.
This was the Kongō no Kamae, the “Diamond Stance” of ancient swordsmanship—an unshakable stance of both compassion and wisdom.
With this, the sword became both shield and weapon. Any incoming strike could be deflected, while his body remained perfectly guarded.
The stance was said to be one of absolute victory.
He had actually picked it up from an old instructional video online—some obscure koryū (ancient style) technique surprisingly compatible with modern kendo rules.
Other stances—like Chūdan-no-kamae or Hassō—often got penalized for “lack of unified offense and defense.”
But Kongō no Kamae met all the standards: perfectly balanced, defensive first, offensive second.
When Kyousuke learned it, he immediately realized how practical it was.
Both hands were right in front of him, making it easy to block even stronger opponents—then follow up with a kick straight to the chest.
‘Simple. Effective. Satisfying.’
The four members from Higashi High recognized the stance.
They knew their captain wouldn’t go all-out, that he’d give them a chance to attack first before countering.
So without hesitation, they charged forward, yelling as they went.
But this time, Kyousuke didn’t wait.
He stepped forward—and exploded into motion.
In that instant, his movement was like a thunderclap splitting the sky.
His indigo hakama flared behind him, and in the blink of an eye, he had crossed the entire space, closing the gap before anyone could react.
A sharp shout tore through the air:
“HAND—!!”
The kind smile vanished from his face.
The calm Diamond stance turned into the fierce glare of the Diamond Guardian.
The first to face him was Amakawa Toru, the ever-determined vice-captain who had lost to him countless times.
But what came charging at him didn’t feel human.
It was like being hunted by a cybernetic saber-toothed tiger—an apex predator radiating pure killing intent.
Before Toru even realized what had happened, pain flared in his right hand.
His bamboo sword slipped from his grasp and clattered to the floor.
No time to dwell on the defeat.
Desperate, he lunged forward, trying to throw himself in Hojou’s path—to block him, to protect his teammates.
But he caught nothing but air.
Kyousuke, master of movement like wind and lightning, had already shifted position.
“HAND—!!”
The shout came again—followed by a clean strike.
Toru’s teammate Takagi Kazuki, who had been attacking alongside him, suddenly lost his weapon too, his bamboo sword flying from his hand as if pulled by a magnet.
It wasn’t that Takagi was weak.
Toru knew that.
It was that their captain was too strong—his reading of attacks so precise that he seemed to strike before the move had even begun.
This was the legendary timing of Sen-no-sen—“attacking at the very start of the opponent’s motion.”
To onlookers, it looked like Takagi had walked right into Hojou’s blade.
Still, the two defeated teammates refused to give up. They both lunged at their captain, trying to grab him—to create a single opening for the next attacker.
‘This… this is our bond!’ Toru thought, tears welling in his eyes.
But Hojou was already a step ahead.
He leapt lightly into the air, twisting as his sword carved a shining arc landing cleanly on the next opponent’s hand.
“HAND—!!”
One by one, they fell.
Not because they were weak—but because their captain was a monster.
This was Sen-sen-no-sen—“attacking even before the opponent has begun to think of attacking.”
Kyousuke had already foreseen the outcome before any of them had moved.
He wasn’t just a swordsman.
He was the Handless Demon—the undefeated king of hand strikes, the future of Japanese kendo itself.
Toru Amakawa dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face, overcome with pride and awe.
This—this was the lost glory of Higashi High.
The last fighter didn’t even hesitate.
He charged forward, pure determination blazing in his eyes—and was immediately struck down.
“HAND—!!”
Toru didn’t even know what to call that technique anymore.
He only knew one thing: his captain was too damn strong.
From the sidelines, Himeno Seiko’s lips parted slightly, her beautiful face frozen in disbelief.
Her bright eyes reflected nothing but the indigo figure at the center of the room—the man who had effortlessly defeated four opponents in the blink of an eye.
‘So this… this is kendo?’
She’d always thought it was just a sport of yelling and clashing sticks—but now her heart was racing, her blood boiling with excitement.
Beside her, Arisugawa Ren was practically glowing, her cheeks flushed with admiration that bordered on infatuation.
“I’ve decided,” she whispered breathlessly, “I’m going to ask my father to hire Hojou-kun to train the entire police department!”
The girl with the neat princess-cut hairstyle wasn’t second-in-command of the “Roppongi Lady Squadron” just because she was personally talented.
In Japan’s noble social circles, personal skill often meant less than family power.
Her father, after all, was the chief of the Roppongi-Azabu Police Station—a position that, while it might sound minor, actually ranked as a Senior Superintendent, a high-level officer in the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department.
In terms of hierarchy, he was only two steps below big names like Heiji Hattori’s or Light Yagami’s fathers.
And the Arisugawa family wasn’t some ordinary household either—their path to power had no obstacles.
If Hojou-kun won a national championship, it would secure him entry into one of Japan’s top private universities.
But if he joined her father’s police kendo team and represented them in the National Police Kendo Tournament, even placing second would be enough to earn her father a promotion.
In other words, Hojou Kyousuke’s success would benefit the Arisugawa family directly.
After the third round ended, the exhausted fighters rose to their feet, bowed respectfully to Hojou Kyousuke, and stepped aside.
Then, eight new challengers entered the ring.
Facing their cries of “Friendship! Honor! Youth! Bonds!”, Hojou Kyousuke showed no mercy.
He responded with a battle cry of his own — “Hand! Hand! Hand! Hand! Hand! Hand! Hand! Hand!”
In the next instant, bamboo swords clattered to the floor and bodies fell in every direction.
They’d started off trying to play by the rules—but by now, it was pure chaos, a brawl disguised as kendo.
And honestly, Hojou himself had abandoned defense entirely, just enjoying the thrill of overwhelming offense.
Still, he reminded himself to stay considerate toward the students from Kaihin High.
Unlike his own reckless subordinates, these people had come here to learn.
As a generous teacher with a kind heart, he decided to give them something valuable—his best technique from Hokushin Ittō-ryū.
Back when he first became captain of the Higashi Kendo Club, he taught his team this one thing: “aim for the hand.”
It wasn’t fancy—but it worked.
It was the perfect combination of offense and defense.
Striking the men (head), dō (body), or tsuki (throat) required worrying about counterattacks, but the hand?
If you cut your opponent’s hand, they can’t strike back. It’s simple, efficient, and brutally effective.
Thanks to that, Hojou had built a team strong enough to dominate the nation in record time.
Yes—cutting hands was truly the most elegant art in the world!
Watching the admiring gazes of the girls from Kaihin High and Roppongi, Kyousuke couldn’t help but feel proud.
“Why does Hojou-kun only target their hands?” Himeno Seiko asked curiously.
It was undeniably cool, but the question still lingered in her heart.
After all, his opponents aimed everywhere—his handsome face, his abs, even his sharp jawline—
yet Hojou, like a true gentleman, disarmed them and stopped there.
Even in the heat of combat, he was composed, merciful, and refined.
And he always struck the right hand.
As the saying goes, “A man’s sword reveals his character.”
To her, that proved Hojou-kun was a loyal and devoted man—surely, a perfect future partner.
Kyousuke smiled to himself.
‘Ah, a proper high-society lady.’
Trained, elegant, and skilled at saying exactly the right thing to flatter him— the perfect setup for him to explain his technique in detail.
If this were Eriri, she’d already be yelling and throwing her silver sword at him, demanding a real duel.
If it were Sakura, she’d be laughing loudly, taunting everyone:
“Only a few challengers? Don’t tell me you’re underestimating my Hojou!”
And if it were Mitsuha, she’d just chase everyone off so the two of them could train alone—
though anyone who refused would earn themselves a thirty-round sparring session.
Smiling wryly at the thought, Kyousuke opened his mouth to explain—
When suddenly, a loud, eager voice interrupted:
“I know! I know the answer!”
The déjà vu made his brow twitch.
Thankfully, it wasn’t that idiot Hatake Gorou, but the ever-reliable Haitani Rindou.
Relieved, Kyousuke decided to let him take the stage.
After all, praise always sounds better coming from someone else.
He sat down gracefully as two girls from Soubu High’s Kendo Club hurried over—
one knelt on his left, offering a towel, the other handed him a sports drink.
“Himeno-san, don’t you know our captain’s title?” Haitani asked.
Before she could respond, the dojo erupted in a thunderous chant—
“The Handless Demon!”
Kyousuke’s smile froze.
“To face our captain,” Haitani continued dramatically, “you must first accept the risk of losing both hands!
Death isn’t the end—our captain teaches what true cruelty really means.
On the battlefield, losing your hands means even suicide is impossible! To reach his level—”
“Ah… ahhhh…” Himeno Seiko’s mouth dropped open in fascination, her eyes sparkling.
“Alright, Rindou,” Kyousuke cut in through gritted teeth, forcing a smile.
“Let me explain this part myself.”
Turning to the dazzled Himeno, he continued warmly:
“I’m a licensed practitioner of Hokushin Ittō-ryū, so naturally, my sword techniques focus on—”
“But Hokushin Ittō-ryū doesn’t have a stance like Kongō no Kamae,” interrupted Mikiyo Ryuushi, ever the serious student.
“Our opponents aren’t ancient warriors—they’re modern kendo fighters,”
Kyousuke replied with a dangerous smile, then launched into a detailed and mesmerizing breakdown of his sword form.
By the time he finished, the looks of awe on Himeno Seiko’s and Arisugawa Ren’s faces were enough to make him finally relax.
And then—
the next round began.
Sixteen challengers this time.
