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583 — I'm a Pro at Beating Up the Other Woman!
🕑 Added 2025-10-12 17:16:51 +0000 UTCThe swordwoman from Nara never disappoints.
She’s not like Kasumigaoka Utaja, who can slice through a person’s heart with nothing but cleverly chosen words; nor is she like Eriri, blessed with sudden, lightning-quick inspiration that seems to summon gods.
But there’s one thing no one can beat her at—
‘If you even think about touching the man who belongs to me, I will kill you.’
Just like when she landed those thunderous blows on Kasumigaoka’s two big soft spots before, Mitsuha never holds back from showing her strength.
‘Reach for him, and I’ll cut you down!’
Miyamizu Mitsuha wasn’t just defending her own happiness — she was defending her friends’ happiness too!
Thinking that, the girl who had been softening at the sight of the repeatedly falling and stubbornly rising Himeno Seiko suddenly smiled as she delivered yet another ruthless blow.
“Hands, hands, hands!” she chanted, time and again knocking the bamboo sword from Seiko’s grasp.
‘Ah — so that’s what it felt like when Utaha saw me.’
While driving off the newcomer, Mitsuha seemed to at the same time understand how Utaha and the others had felt when they were the latecomers.
On the mat, Himeno Seiko felt pain through her whole body.
The wild girl across from her was clearly demonstrating outstanding kendo technique.
Though, like Hojou, she had a taste for chopping at the hands, she’d occasionally strike Seiko’s face or ribs as well… though she let the throat alone.
“Stop! Seiko! That’s enough, really enough, sob…” Arisugawa Ren’s eyes brimmed with tears as she sobbed from the stands and called to her friend.
When had Seiko ever been made to suffer like this? The girl shuddered.
Is this what love’s pain feels like? It’s too much.
Himeno Seiko heard her friend’s plea, but she didn’t give up.
She bowed to Miyamizu Mitsuha in thanks, stepped back to her starting line, and readied herself for the next bout.
She knew that for a beginner like her, such high-intensity sparring at the outset wouldn’t actually lead to real improvement.
Besides, she had no real desire to learn kendo.
Could she wrest Hojou-san away from Mitsuha by force?
Pfft.
As a top-tier lady, learning how to deal with a mistress was part of a debutante’s education — or more precisely, a bride’s training.
Her teacher’s words stayed with her:
“We don’t need to defeat the mistress.
Even if you can, you shouldn’t — an overly aggressive woman isn’t liked, neither by her husband nor by the mistress.
You must consider the mistress’s emotions as part of your strategy.”
“Maybe you can beat her and send her away, but can you keep winning forever? Ultimately, what decides your place in the family is your husband.
What you must secure is a position that won’t be shaken — the respect and love of your husband.”
“A cat shows submission by presenting its belly to charm people; a woman can do the same. If you let the mistress bully you, your husband will feel pity.”
“If you keep attacking the mistress, your husband will feel respect. He’ll see your vulnerability and also feel how important he is to you. He’ll respect you.”
Her teacher was Yasukko Tokushima, a woman of excellent breeding from a shoemaking family that had lasted since the Taisho era.
Married to a well-known banker, their household was the picture of domestic bliss — the sort praised in high society.
No scandal of mistresses had ever been associated with them.
A banker with no mistress? Sounds impossible.
But Tokushima-san had no such troubles — that was the mark of her skill as a wife.
So the moment Himeno Seiko saw a woman close to Hojou-san, she immediately flipped through her mental file labeled “Lesson One: Tokushima’s Teachings.”
First: endure. Let her beat you so Hojou sees your softness and fragility as a woman, awake his desire to protect — after all, you can’t beat Miyamizu Mitsuha.
Then bite back the tears and let her continue to hurt you, so Hojou sees how far you’ll go for him — again, after all, you can’t beat her.
Soon Hojou would throw down his bamboo sword, pull Mitsuha’s sword out of her hands, and shout, “Enough! Don’t you see Seiko’s hurt?”
‘Wahahaha…’
The more she pictured it, the more exhilarated Seiko became.
Her adrenaline drowned out the pain.
A famous entrepreneur once said that merely imagining success in black and white isn’t enough — you must see it vividly in color, and then failure becomes impossible.
As for her — Himeno Seiko didn’t just see success in color; she’d already pictured herself collapsing in Hojou’s arms and hearing his caring voice.
Some people see and therefore believe.
Seiko believed, and therefore she saw.
Miyamizu Mitsuha, beating her up won’t do a damn thing.
Winning a man takes brains, not brawn!
It was thoughts like these that kept Seiko getting up and stepping forward to take another hit.
But…
Why didn’t Hojou even glance my way? Instead he kept staring at that violent girl!
Falling to the floor again, Seiko looked to Hojou Kyousuke with hopeful eyes — only to see him loudly praising Miyamizu Mitsuha, using exaggerated, doting language as if teasing a three-year-old.
And that wild girl lifted her face, all proud and happy.
‘What the hell!’
By rights, someone like Hojou — the poster boy for extreme violence — should prefer a gentle, pliant woman like me, right?
If he ever took a mistress, surely Mitsuha would go straight for a knife and cut someone up! How could life ever be harmonious like that?
But then again, current-day Miyamizu Mitsuha still had a bamboo sword in hand.
Yet there was a childish softness in her features now, like a little girl showing her parents a newly learned nursery rhyme.
In an instant she’d gone from violent maniac to ordinary, charming common girl.
‘No, no, wake up, Hojou! Can’t you see? ‘
‘Miyamizu Mitsuha is worried that if she keeps chopping my hands I’ll be unable to pick up a sword from sheer pain.’
‘So she’s been switching targets just to keep torturing me!’
Even someone as innocent as me would get beaten black and blue by that girl—what if, someday, Hojou has to go to some fancy club for a business dinner?
She’d probably storm right in and start a brawl! Unlike me, who would just have his bath ready and a warm bowl of hangover soup waiting when he came home.
“Hey, that move you used just now—wasn’t it the same one from the Kendo Championship finals two years ago? Looks like you’ve perfected it,” Kyousuke said with a grin.
“Huh? How do you even know that?” Mitsuha blinked, pleasantly surprised.
“I saw it. I tracked down one of your high school classmates and got the recording of your match.” Kyousuke said it as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
“Eh? Really? Hehehe~~” Mitsuha chuckled, her smile bright and unrestrained.
“At the time, everyone thought I was some kind of prodigy. I mean, I’d never even trained in kendo before, right? I kept telling everyone I hadn’t.
But Sayaka said that back in Itomori, I used to beat people up with bamboo swords all the time. So Miho and the others were convinced I was lying.”
“Didn’t you tell Sayaka to spar with you? You could’ve said it’s just like the old days in Itomori—just the two of you, a good old-fashioned fight,” Kyousuke teased, smirking mischievously.
“Of course I did! I asked her how I used to train back then, and she said I never trained at all. I told her she was lying—that she used to spar with me all the time! Then I beat the crap out of her for pretending to forget.”
Mitsuha’s cheeks reddened, but she couldn’t help snickering proudly.
“Hahaha, though if Sayaka actually learned kendo, poor Teshigawara would have an even harder life.”
“No way! Teshigawara’s already living his hardest life!”
“Hahaha! Then I guess I should teach him something, huh?”
“Teach what? How to hit Sayaka back?” Mitsuha’s eyes narrowed dangerously.
“Of course not! I’d just teach him how to run away faster.”
Kyousuke raised both hands defensively.
Sayaka was a good friend—how could he ever encourage hitting her?
“Oh right, you are an expert at running away~~” Mitsuha drawled, clearly hinting at something.
The two chatted like there was no one else around.
This kind of casual talk after training—something they’d both imagined countless times before—had never actually happened until now.
It felt… so good. So natural.
“Hey, Miyamizu-san! Let’s go again!”
The shout snapped Mitsuha out of it.
Himeno Seiko was standing a few meters away, trembling slightly but still holding her bamboo sword.
Mitsuha pressed her lips together, then turned back to glare playfully at Kyousuke.
Their eyes met for a brief, wordless exchange before Mitsuha smiled, walked over, and effortlessly took the bamboo sword from Seiko’s hands.
Then she gently helped the girl remove her face guard, revealing a flushed, sweat-slicked face full of stubborn defiance.
Even now, Himeno Seiko refused to back down.
No way! Tokushima-sensei’s teachings can’t be wrong!
If she could just let Mitsuha beat her a few more times, Hojou would surely see the difference—how kind and gentle she was compared to Mitsuha’s roughness!
Her lips quivered. She was close to tears.
Had… had she just taken all those hits for nothing?
‘Hojou-kun, seeing me like this, all hurt and pitiful—why aren’t you scolding that brute for hitting too hard!?’
“Alright, Himeno-san, you’ve done enough. Take a break and watch the next round,” Mitsuha said, pressing her gently to sit down on the mat.
“Next! Who’s up?”
Her dark eyes swept across the room—and locked onto the group from Old Higashi High.
‘Yes, you. Kisaki Tetta. Eikichi Onizuka. Hatake Gorou…’
These guys—she’d been itching to hit them for ages.
Back when she’d just swapped into Kyousuke’s body and wasn’t fully used to it, they’d ganged up on her during sparring.
Sure, it was technically Kyousuke’s body getting hit, but she had felt every bit of the pain!
Jerks.
Of course, she’d eventually paid them back—with her improving kendo and Kyousuke’s insane physical strength—but still, she’d always wanted to “personally” settle the score.
During her three years wandering Tokyo in spirit, Mitsuha hadn’t only bonded with the residents of the dorm—she’d also become friends with these so-called “Rampaging Angels.”
Not that they ever realized it, but that didn’t stop her from feeling a strange fondness toward them.
Especially Kisaki.
That guy never laid a hand on her, but he did treat her like some lunatic—mocking her, forcing her to study.
Unforgivable.
Maybe that’s why, ever since their trip to Itomori where he’d pieced together bits of the truth, Kisaki had been terrified of Mitsuha.
Terrified of revenge.
And who could blame him?
When she’d shared a body with Kyousuke, she’d been vindictive enough to make poor Onizuka endure extra “special training” sessions just to get back at him.
So yeah, Kisaki had every reason to sweat bullets whenever she was around.
Even earlier, when that water cup had been balanced on his head, he didn’t dare move—just stood there watching his “big bro” almost walk into disaster.
Thankfully, big bro was as invincible as ever; no obstacle could ever keep him down.
“Kisaki! You’re up first!”
Her shout cut through the air.
Making Kisaki froze, handed his water cup to someone else, and walked forward with a helpless smile.
“Miyamizu-san, I thought this was supposed to be training for the girls?”
“Stop whining. Hitting you is about as easy as hitting a girl.” Mitsuha waved dismissively.
“Please let me at least put on my armor,” Kisaki said politely, bowing slightly.
He knew no matter what he said, this beating was unavoidable.
“Men! Kote! Dō!”
Before anyone could even blink, Kisaki was on the floor.
Then it was Onizuka’s turn.
Now he was a whole different league.
Once he put on his gear, he looked like a medieval knight straight out of a museum exhibit—nearly two meters tall and radiating pressure just by standing there.
“Hahaha! I’ve always wanted to test my skills against the famed ‘Swordswoman of Nara.’ At New Year’s, Makki said my technique was miles below yours!” Onizuka laughed heartily, swinging his bamboo sword through the air with a heavy whoosh.
Mitsuha tightened her grip on her sword, feeling confident even without Kyousuke’s strength.
Then she turned to glance at someone behind her—just a quick signal.
That someone—Hojou Kyousuke—arched an eyebrow, his gaze turning sharp as he shot a deadly glare at Onizuka.
“Huh??”
‘What the hell? Why does boss look like he’s about to kill me!?’
