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571 — Get a New One!
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 16:27:46 +0000 UTCWith the sound of heavy sliding doors slamming open, the deep-brown wooden gates parted one after another, flooding the room with blinding light from the far end of the building.
The entire dojo stretched over a hundred meters long, with the central training hall alone taking up nearly ninety percent of the space.
The whole interior was connected without any partitions.
When the doors on both the north and south sides swung open, the place was instantly illuminated—it was clearly the main training area for daily practice.
The synchronized movement of all those doors opening carried a powerful sense of unity, a kind of disciplined intensity.
The students from Kaihin High stood frozen for a moment, feeling oddly out of place, like a bunch of country kids visiting the big city.
“Good day, Boss!”
A thunderous shout erupted, echoing through the blinding white light.
Tamanawa Jun and Mikiyo instinctively raised their hands to shield their eyes, feeling a gust of wind rush at them like a storm.
When the echo finally died down, they saw it—inside the vast dojo, an entire formation of people were kneeling in perfect rows.
Each of them wore deep indigo kendo uniforms.
Their hair—some slicked back, some spiked, some oddly shaped like chestnuts or sea urchins—gave them a wild, delinquent vibe.
Every single one sat upright, neck stiff, posture razor-straight.
It didn’t take a genius to realize that deafening yell had come from them.
The few Kaihin girls who had been excited to try riding motorbikes earlier now stood frozen, their faces stiff as robots.
Their heads slowly turned toward their “leader”—not their captain, Mikiyo, but rather toward Hojou Kyousuke himself.
“Heh… come on,” Kyousuke said with a twitching smile. “That’s their way of welcoming us.”
Welcoming? Seriously? What kind of “welcome” makes you feel like you’ve wandered into a samurai army drill?!
Even Tamanawa Jun couldn’t believe Kyousuke could say something that outrageous with a straight face.
Of course, he knew perfectly well what “Boss” meant here—it wasn’t a school title.
Kyousuke didn’t elaborate further and simply led the group forward.
The dojo was built in the traditional style, with the floor raised higher for drainage.
When Kyousuke sat on the edge of the wooden veranda, his legs could stretch straight out comfortably.
The girls beside him, though, had their feet dangling, carefully dropping off their shoes so they wouldn’t fall.
As soon as Kyousuke slipped his shoes off, two kendo club members—clearly his subordinates—rushed up, took his shoes neatly, and respectfully handed him a warm towel to wipe his hands.
If they’d gone any further, they might’ve started massaging his feet.
The Kaihin High students stared in stunned silence. Kyousuke could only return an awkward yet polite smile.
‘So this is what Kisaki meant by “building team cohesion and loyalty”?’
The effect was… maybe too good.
Did he secretly send his members to maid training or something?
The formation that had been kneeling all stood up at once and dispersed—like a ceremony ending.
Whether it was because they knew that over-the-top greeting would earn them a beating from their boss, or because they actually had things to do, no one knew.
Kisaki Tetta walked over with his usual smile, followed by several people who all carried strong presences.
After greeting his “boss,” Kisaki turned to the Kaihin group to introduce everyone.
“Nice to meet you all. I’m Kisaki Tetta, manager of the Sōbu High Kendo Club.”
“I’m Amegawa Tōru, captain of the Higashi High Kendo Club. Pleased to meet you.”
“I’m Rindo Haitani.”
“I’m…”
After a round of introductions, the Kaihin group quickly realized there were way more schools participating in this joint training than they’d been told.
Still, the most prominent and well-known among them were Higashi and Kaiju High.
Even the smallest school—Roppongi High—looked far more formidable than them.
Are these people really just high school students? Tamanawa Jun couldn’t help wondering.
Mikiyo, however, felt the complete opposite.
After getting encouragement from Kyousuke earlier, seeing so many strong-looking people only ignited her determination to get stronger.
Kyousuke stood silently to the side, listening.
He knew the truth behind these “kendo captains”—they weren’t ordinary students.
Every one of them was actually a regional branch leader of the delinquent group Bousou Angels.
Take the Haitani brothers, for example.
They held the title of “kendo captain” but couldn’t swing a bamboo sword to save their lives.
If you put them in a kendo match, the only event they’d qualify for would be the police’s close-quarters combat division.
“I’m Mikiyo Ryuushi. Please take care of us,” Mikiyo said, her voice trembling with excitement during her first major event.
Whatever doubts she’d had earlier were completely gone. Her teammates followed up with their own self-introductions.
Afterward, Kisaki sent some members to guide the Kaihin students to the locker room to change.
Meanwhile, he used the time to brief his big brother about the dojo—its construction, layout, and size.
“It hasn’t been officially named yet,” Kisaki explained. “Everyone’s come up with some ideas, but we’re waiting for you to decide. Still, I was thinking… maybe after you visit the Hokushin Ittō-ryū main dojo, then we could—”
He trailed off, but Kyousuke already understood what he meant.
This guy had learned a lot during his campaign work with Naitō Akifumi—about the Hokushin Ittō-ryū style.
Its political connections within the police, and the fact that some insiders were hoping Kyousuke would challenge for the position of headmaster.
Knowing Kisaki’s ambitious personality, Kyousuke wasn’t surprised.
He probably had been itching to get involved with the Hokushin faction for ages.
The fact that he’d waited this long before trying to push Kyousuke into crashing their dojo was actually impressive restraint.
Kisaki’s words sounded polite—“waiting for you to decide”—but Kyousuke could hear the true intent beneath it:
‘Hurry up, crush the main branch, take them over, and turn our delinquent group into something official—like a police academy.’
Kyousuke gave him a sideways glance.
Kisaki’s face was calm, serious, focused.
“Do as you see fit,” Kyousuke said finally. “After the Detective Association Awards, I’ll visit the Hokushin main dojo. We’ll decide things then.”
“Yes, sir!” Kisaki bowed slightly.
When he straightened up, he couldn’t quite suppress the grin tugging at his lips.
He knew one simple truth: no matter how the world changed, being a thug would never have a future.
The world belonged to those who played by the system.
Their organization had grown influential—thanks to their numbers and their unusual makeup (students who could sway families and peers)—enough to rival some mid-sized associations.
If they worked harder, they might even snag a few city council seats in weaker districts.
But with over eight hundred councilors across Tokyo’s 23 wards, titles meant little.
To truly become respectable, they’d need to get inside the bureaucracy itself.
Some of their “model students” from Higashi High might make it into top universities or government jobs, but most members were still airheads who’d end up as factory workers or company grunts.
If Kyousuke could seize influence over the Metropolitan Police through Hokushin Ittō-ryū… then their entire path to legitimacy would open up.
Kisaki Tetta’s mind raced with ambition.
Those who weren’t cut out for academics could simply graduate high school and join the police.
After ten months at the academy, even if they were assigned to the most remote police box, they’d still be an asset to the organization.
Even the ones who got into elite universities would benefit from this system.
With everyone tied together by mutual interest, no one would ever think about leaving.
The organization’s unity would become stronger than ever.
The Rampaging Angels would truly rise — an unstoppable force no one could ignore.
Maybe one day, even the Imperial Guard Headquarters would be under their control.
If others could sit upon the throne of power, why couldn’t his big brother—Hojou Kyousuke?
When that day came, his brother’s light would shine over all of Japan. And Kisaki Tetta… would become the right hand of a god.
The thought alone made his heart burn so hot it felt like his chest would melt.
Hojou Kyousuke glanced at his silent subordinate beside him, exhaling helplessly.
Kisaki’s expression was serious, but that only made it worse—this guy’s delusions had somehow worsened since high school.
Spotting Hatake Gorou and Eikichi Onizuka approaching, Hojou said dryly,
“Hey, Kisaki. You’re drooling—maybe chill out a bit?”
“...Yes.” Kisaki quickly straightened up, pretending nothing happened.
Someone like him, with this much self-control, couldn’t possibly be drooling… right?
“Whoa, Kisaki! You are drooling! You that hungry?” Gorou yelled dramatically.
Before Kisaki could even react, Mitsuhashi snatched the camera hanging around Onizuka’s neck and started snapping rapid-fire photos of Kisaki’s face.
Kisaki’s eyebrows twitched.
He reached up to his mouth—
Damn it. He was drooling!
Even Kisaki, master of composure, was stunned.
He cursed under his breath.
Fine, that future he imagined had been too tempting.
Could anyone blame him?
Who wouldn’t want to serve a godlike leader for life—one whose family ruled forever, while his own descendants loyally stood beside them?
It was the kind of story that sounded straight out of a sci-fi epic.
“You’re mistaken,” Kisaki said coldly.
“No way! Mitsuhashi got pictures!” Gorou laughed.
“He didn’t even turn the camera on,” Kisaki replied flatly.
“Impossible! My camera’s always on, ready to capture the youthful spirit of my juniors at any moment!” Onizuka boasted proudly.
Of course, by juniors, he meant the girls from the kendo clubs—not the dumb guys standing around. It was no wonder he’d spent a fortune on a second-hand DSLR.
“Really? Then show me,” Kisaki said evenly.
At that, Hojou Kyousuke’s expression turned amused.
The older guys nearby—Makki Hojou, Tsuzuki Ryou, and the rest—were already smirking knowingly.
“See? The light’s on right here—” Onizuka said as he leaned in, handing over the camera.
Just before Kisaki could take it, Ryuji Danma, the brains of the Onizuka duo, grabbed the camera.
“Hold up, Eikichi, you idiot.”
Kisaki froze for a split second. Had they seen through him?
“The strap’s still around your neck, dumbass. Take it off first,” Ryuji sighed, slipping the strap free.
“Oh, right! Totally forgot. You’re so detail-oriented, Ryuji.”
“And you’re so observant for noticing that I’m detail-oriented, Eikichi!”
“Guess we’ve both grown into amazing people, huh?”
Listening to the mutual back-patting, Makki Hojou completely lost it, his face turning beet red from trying not to laugh.
Even Tsuzuki Ryou, now a Tokyo U student, turned his back and silently shook with laughter.
“Well, of course!” Onizuka puffed up proudly. “Otherwise, why do you think it’s just the two of us here?”
Everyone except Hojou went silent, their faces darkening instantly.
“Eikichi! Didn’t we agree not to bring that up in front of Gorou and Kuroda?! I told you not to brag about my girlfriend being 151 cm and super cute!”
“It’s fine! Gorou doesn’t like short girls anyway. Just look at Kuroda’s girlfriend—she’s 165. Totally his type!”
Their ridiculous exchange sent the group into hysterics—everyone except Gorou and Kuroda, of course.
Comedy is born from tragedy, after all. Their pain only made everyone else’s laughter louder.
The infamous Oni-Baku duo had always been the group’s clowns, and college only made them worse.
Well—except for Kisaki, whose face had turned pitch black with irritation.
“Just hand me the camera already,” he said flatly. “I need to check if it was even on.”
Still laughing, Onizuka passed it over without hesitation—he didn’t even look.
‘CRASH!’
A deafening smash echoed through the dojo.
Everyone turned in shock to see the shattered remains of Onizuka’s camera scattered across the floor.
“My… my!” Onizuka gasped in disbelief.
“Ah, sorry. Slipped,” Kisaki said calmly, not a hint of guilt on his face.
“HAHAHAHAHA!”
The entire room burst out laughing. Of course, everyone except Onizuka had already figured out what Kisaki was up to the moment he asked for the camera.
“I just bought it this morning! We were together less than two hours!” Onizuka wailed, mourning his poor camera as if it were alive.
“My bad,” Kisaki said with mock sincerity. “I’ll replace it—with the latest model. Prettier, sleeker, and way better.”
That only made everyone laugh harder.
Serves Onizuka right for bragging nonstop about his girlfriend.
“You idiot,” Ryuji sighed. “You know the photos are stored on the memory card, right? You didn’t have to break the whole thing.”
“True! But that’s what makes Ryuji so smart—always spotting the details!” Onizuka said proudly.
“And it’s smart of you to buy a camera that uses external memory in the first place—great foresight, Eikichi,” Ryuji shot back.
“I told you,” Kisaki said evenly, “it was an accident. My hand slipped.”
Onizuka crouched and started digging through the wreckage, only to realize something.
“Hey… there’s no memory card.”
“The store clerk must’ve scammed you,” Kisaki said smoothly, not missing a beat.
“…”
Onizuka froze, then slowly pulled out his phone.
“My camera’s Bluetooth-connected. The photos automatically transfer to my phone.” His grin returned—this time full of smug satisfaction.
“…”
Now Kisaki went quiet.
“Hey, Onizuka,” he finally said, smiling faintly, “your phone doesn’t seem to be on. Let me take a look.”
“You think I’m stupid? The screen’s literally on, you snake!”
