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593 – Hojou, Why Do You Always Slam the Brakes When You Ride!?
🕑 Added 2025-10-16 17:39:39 +0000 UTCThe commotion caught everyone’s attention.
Both the Kaihin High students and the Roppongi crowd hurried over, squatting around the crater Kyousuke had just smashed into the wooden floor with his bamboo sword.
“Holy crap…”
Chief Arisugawa muttered under his breath, then grabbed Hojou Kyousuke by the shoulder and stared at him like he’d discovered some kind of rare mythical creature.
‘If I had a guy like this under my command,’ he thought, ‘I’d be promoted every year. By next spring, I’d be Commissioner-General.’
The chief was just about to throw in a few flattering words, maybe even test the waters to see if he could recruit this “unparalleled general” into his ranks.
But before he could say anything, Kyousuke stretched, yawned, and announced that the last move had drained all his energy and that he needed to rest.
Then he vanished toward the locker room at lightning speed.
Sure, being praised was nice — good for both ego and blood pressure — but Kyousuke didn’t have time for that right now.
Didn’t he see the look Mitsuha was giving him?
If he stuck around here any longer exchanging polite nonsense with the chief, the miko would probably get impatient enough to start an exorcism right here and now — and it wouldn’t be the chief she’d purify first.
Mitsuha was, after all, a shrine maiden who held grudges very clearly.
Chief Arisugawa’s cheerful smile stiffened.
‘Drained his energy, huh? My ass.’
That was a casual swing — looked like it took less effort than drinking a glass of water.
The man split the floor with a bamboo sword, as if chopping down an enemy general was nothing more than flicking dust off his sleeve.
With Hojou gone, the chief turned to his own subordinate — his “second-rate steed,”
Ready to offer a few comforting words before the guy completely lost confidence.
But before he could even speak, someone else grabbed his shoulder.
“Chief! Did you see that!?”
Detective Chiba Kenichi’s eyes were practically sparkling.
“One strike! Just one strike and he crushed that hardwood floor! And that was a bamboo sword, not a steel bat!”
Chiba’s voice was full of manic excitement.
“Unbelievable! He’s absurdly strong — like, not even human levels of strong! No one could block that strike! Not even last year’s national kendo champion, Takenouchi!”
He didn’t even bother using honorifics for the national champion — clearly, this man had thrown caution and reputation out the window.
In his mind, if he could hype up Hojou Kyousuke enough, then his own defeat would become legendary too — not humiliating.
After all, the alternative was unbearable.
Just imagining the next police gathering where someone would grin and say—
“Yo, Chiba! Heard you got scared into kneeling by a high schooler?”
—was enough to give him nightmares.
Police gatherings were endless — between the official ones, the “social” ones, and the “community outreach” ones, there was always some excuse to drink and gossip.
etired senior officers relied on those connections to get cushy consultant gigs at big corporations — the so-called “descent from heaven.”
For low-level cops like Chiba, those events meant leftovers — free resort vouchers, discount coupons, or maybe just enough goodwill to keep their wives from yelling for one night.
But if this whole “defeated by a kid” story spread wrong… he’d go from “Azabu’s rising kendo star” to “the punchline of every drunken party.”
A living nightmare.
“Right, I need to tell Inspector Naitou about this too!”
The thought hit him suddenly.
If anyone could appreciate the legend of Hojou Kyousuke, it was Naitou Akifumi — the man who practically invented the art of bragging about him.
He remembered the last exchange event vividly.
Back then, Naitou had publicly praised Hojou to the heavens, calling him the future of Hokushin Ittou-ryū.
Chiba had thought, ‘Wow, this guy’s really lost his shame — hyping up a high schooler in front of all these senior officers?’
Plenty of people had rolled their eyes at Naitou’s words — Japan’s hierarchy didn’t exactly encourage juniors outshining seniors — but Naitou had doubled down.
Anyone who dared talk trash about Hojou got verbally body-slammed, no matter their rank or title.
And these weren’t nobodies — most of them were from elite Tokyo University circles, all sixth-dan and above in kendo.
Every time, Naitou ended his tirade with the same line:
“April 27th. Yaesu, Hokushin Ittou-ryū Tonomachi Chiba Doujou. Hojou-kun will show you what true genius looks like.”
It had happened so many times that Chiba — then a mere bystander — had honestly assumed Hojou must have seriously pissed Naitou off, enough for the inspector to drag him into ruin with him.
But today, when he saw that bamboo sword split the floor beside him, felt the air itself seem to shatter — he understood.
Naitou wasn’t dragging Hojou down.
He was building him up.
Those senior officers Naitou had insulted?
The angrier they’d been then, the more shocked they’d be once Hojou beat them. And after that, they’d all revere him — just like Chiba did now.
He pulled out his phone.
“Hello, Naitou-san? It’s Chiba, from Azabu Precinct — we met at the exchange event.”
He laughed breathlessly. “No, nothing serious! Just… nearly died under Hojou-san’s sword, that’s all.”
“What do you mean, which Hojou!? The one and only — the Handless Demon, Hojou Kyousuke!”
On the other end, Naitou Akifumi had been wiping sweat with a white towel — but as soon as he heard the name, his tone flared with excitement.
“So you’ve seen him too, huh! Hojou’s technique has turned Hokushin Ittou-ryū into art! It’s like people want to put their hands under his blade, just to witness his cut—”
And off he went — the ultimate Hojou fanboy in full power mode.
Chiba matched his energy, describing in vivid detail the two times he’d been utterly destroyed by Hojou’s strikes.
“Ah, you’re lucky, Chiba! I haven’t even had the chance to spar with him yet. But I’ve seen his iai once — pure godspeed. Human reflexes can’t even register it. I swear, the man could cut oxygen molecules in half.”
Chiba froze for a moment, then felt a surge of pride.
‘Yeah, he thought, who else would have had the sense to drop to his knees before that strike hit?’
But the next moment, shame crept in. Cutting oxygen?
Now that’s how a true Hojou fan should talk!
“Yes, yes! I heard it too — the sound of oxygen being split! The air got so hot from the sword speed it triggered a chemical reaction! My face even got splashed with water!”
“Excellent! Do you have it on video? I—”
And so, the two of them — the noble racehorse and the humble draft horse — enthusiastically built an entire religion around Kyousuke over the phone.
Meanwhile, Chief Arisugawa just stood there, staring blankly.
He was an elite graduate himself — yet somehow, he had absolutely no idea what these two were talking about.
Miyamizu Mitsuha couldn’t stop giggling behind her hand — this scene was all too familiar.
After all, she’d seen it so many times before: back when Onizuka and the others were around.
Kyousuke could just wave a novel in their faces and tell them to “find the answer within,” and they’d actually take it seriously.
She had already finished bathing and changed into her casual clothes, so now all she had to do was quietly wait for Kyousuke to return.
‘Ah, what a shame…’ she thought, her cheeks puffing slightly.
‘If it were just the two of us, I could’ve gone to help him wash up. After all, no one knows that body of his better than I do.’
By the time Kyousuke came out, freshly changed, Chiba Kenichi was reluctantly ending his phone call — not before scheduling drinks later that night to “discuss the philosophy of Hojou.”
In the very last second before hanging up, he even begged Naitou Akifumi to spread the word about how he’d been so overwhelmed by Hojou’s strike that he’d collapsed into a kneeling apology on the spot.
Let them laugh now — once everyone else lost to Hojou too, he’d be remembered as one of the first disciples of a living legend!
———————————————————————
Meanwhile, in Chiyoda’s Tonomachi Chiba Doujou, Naitou Akifumi set down his phone, grabbed a bottle of water, and chugged half of it in one go before letting out a long, satisfied sigh.
“What’s that? I thought I just heard you mention Hojou Kyousuke,” came a deep voice beside him. “That the same guy you and Yamamura Ono can’t stop talking about?”
Naitou turned, and towering over him was a man nearly two meters tall — a mountain of muscle wiping sweat from his neck.
His indigo kendo uniform was so drenched it had turned black, steam rising off him like he’d just stepped out of a sauna.
For a man who’d read Attack on Titan, the image instantly reminded Naitou of the Colossal Titan — only this one still had a face and skin intact.
“Daidoji, you actually need to take breaks?” Naitou teased, tossing him another water bottle.
The giant — Daidoji Tsukasa — caught it easily.
In his hand, the one-liter plastic bottle looked like a keychain accessory.
He unscrewed the cap and downed the entire thing in a single gulp.
For most people, drinking that much water before more physical training would be a disaster, but Daidoji didn’t seem to care.
“For now, yeah,” the giant said, wiping his mouth with a grin that was way too playful for someone his size.
“You’ve got some nerve, you know that?” Naitou laughed.
“Please, your Hojou-kun can apparently cut oxygen molecules in half,” Daidoji shot back with a smirk. “If that’s true, I probably don’t even need rest.”
“Enjoy your cocky attitude while you can,” Naitou said coolly. “Once Hojou-kun steps into this doujou, you won’t be smiling like that anymore.”
Even standing before the strongest fighter in the school, Naitou’s tone didn’t waver. The man truly embodied his title — Japan’s Number One Hojou Fanboy.
Daidoji chuckled, shaking his head. “Then I’ll be looking forward to this ‘Hojou-kun’ of yours.”
“You should be!” Naitou declared, his chest puffed with pride.
Inside, though, he was groaning.
‘Why does time move so damn slow?’
April 27th couldn’t come fast enough — the day the Mystery Writers’ Association would hold their award ceremony.
He wanted the whole world to see Hojou Kyousuke in all his glory now.
No, he couldn’t just sit around.
He’d call the PR department, get them to order a bulk of Hojou’s new book, maybe even convince his colleagues from other prefectures to chip in on promotion.
Worst case, he’d bribe them with dinner.
As a proud member of the Tokyo University “Gold Watch Club,” Naitou wasn’t exactly known for investigative work, but when it came to networking and politics?
He was untouchable.
Add to that his position as the external representative of the Hokushin Ittou-ryū school, and he had connections everywhere.
The same ones he’d used earlier to convince two conservative judges to support Hojou.
He wiped off his sweat, grabbed his phone again, and started walking toward the locker room.
Forget practice — what mattered now was making sure Hojou won.
If by some freak accident he didn’t, then on April 27th, the mob of furious fanatics would tear Naitou apart — and even kneeling in apology might not save him.
Ah, what a tragic burden to bear.
‘Damn you, Osaka Go. Damn you, Weekly Shounen High. Damn you, Mystery Writers’ Association of Japan. If only you all did your jobs right…’
He sighed deeply. Looks like I’m the only one carrying the world on my shoulders.
———————————————————————
Meanwhile, back at the doujou—
Himeno Seiko and Arisugawa Ren were practically glowing with excitement.
Both had spent the whole day preparing sweet words and flattering lines to cheer up Hojou-kun — only to be told he had to leave early.
From the looks on the faces of the Soubu High and Higashi High students, though, they clearly knew he wasn’t staying from the start.
The two girls turned in unison and glared at the Rindou brothers.
Haitani Ran rolled his eyes.
‘What are you mad at me for? If you couldn’t make him stay, that’s your problem.’
But no matter how much he complained internally, he still had to smile and follow the strategist’s plan.
He sighed dramatically.
“Yeah, actually, our boss was planning to stay and have a group sleepover tonight. He even came up with a bunch of fun mixed-gender games — like sharing a single noodle Lady-and-the-Tramp style, or biting the same apple from both sides…”
“Eh!?” Himeno Seiko’s eyes lit up immediately.
That sounded like her dream opportunity!
“But…” Ran let out another heavy sigh.
“But what?” Arisugawa Ren leaned forward eagerly.
With her influential father standing right there, whatever the issue was, she was sure she could fix it.
“You know how it is. Besides being just a humble swordsman and high schooler, our leader’s also a nationally famous author.
His new book’s about to launch, and he’s been insanely busy with it. He even pulled an all-nighter yesterday just to free up time for today’s match.
He’s exhausted — but still had to rush off right after. Poor guy…”
Ran’s sighs were perfectly timed — his acting could’ve won an Oscar.
Himeno Seiko and Arisugawa Ren along with all the other girls were immediately filled with pity.
Hojou-kun worked that hard?
He fought so fiercely today, then immediately had to switch gears to writing?
The image of him trading a sword for a pen melted their hearts.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” Seiko asked softly, eyes shining.
Of course, she’d already seen through Ran’s little trick — but she was more than happy to play along.
“Well…” Ran grinned like a fox, lowering his voice. “I heard the Himeno family has some strong ties in Osaka’s—”
