Chapter 3: The Martial Arts Class
“Slava, Sid, are you both ready?”
“Yes.”
“Yes!”
It was late afternoon in Alfaleia Academy, several days after Alma’s arrival.
I faced my classmate in the sturdy auditorium.
It was a newly established martial arts class as part of our physical education. A practice match was taking place in the middle of the class.
It appeared that they chose the auditorium because it would not break even if things got a little heated—but I doubted that they had built the auditorium so steady for such a reason.
Even if it was only a practice match, this would be the first time I faced off against a person in a long while.
The name of the boy facing me was Sid Oldham.
He was always saying he would leave the Elven country and spread his name far and wide as a great adventurer.
He had wild green hair and an aggressive look in his eyes.
I couldn’t say that his typical behavior was very proper, but I didn’t dislike the kid.
“Hehe! I won’t lose to a guy that always has his nose stuck in a book!”
It’s true that he was always playing pranks, and he had a foul mouth. He even slept during class. But when it came to physical education, he always got into high spirits and participated out of his own free will.
He participated especially eagerly during martial arts lessons.
For better or for worse, I took a liking to the pure young boy so full of childishness.
“Listen to what I just told you, and let’s have a fair fight. Now then…. Get ready!”
Do not strike too hard. Hitting the eyes and the crotch is forbidden. If you feel any danger, disengage immediately. Alma’s rules, for the most part, could be broken down into these three things.
If either of us broke any of the rules, Alma said that she would stop the fight.
Alma was far enough away to not get in the way of the match, but I was sure that stopping it would still have been extremely simple for her.
“Here I come, Slava!”
“—Alright. You may come at me with everything you have.”
When the fight began, I took the familiar stance I had taken thousands of times before. It was the stance we had just learnt, but I was sure there would be no problem even if I used it better than would be expected of a beginner. It was the basic stance of the Shijima style.
It was the stance developed by my great master, Iwao Shijima, which excelled in defense.
When I first began studying under my master, this stance was largely considered rather bizarre. But now that the Shijima style had spread and even had its own separate branches, it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say that this stance could be considered one of the basics of martial arts.
Ever since I first learnt this stance, I have had a strong connection to it. I smiled, feeling as if I was greeting an old friend.
My opponent, Sid, took the same stance. However, since he did not understand the essence of those movements at all, his stance simply imitated the motions.
It reminded me of the time I’d had a disciple. It was oddly pleasant. My opponent now was merely a young boy who knew nothing of the meaning behind martial arts. Even so, I was happy to be able to guide him in the form of a match.
Now then, all that was left was for Alma to give the start signal… But no matter how long I waited, I did not hear Alma’s dignified voice. I glanced at Alma in confusion, and… She was frozen in place, her mouth hanging wide open.
“Oi, teacher, what’s the problem? Let’s start already!”
Sid undid his stance and put his arms behind his head; he seemed to be fed up with waiting.
“Eh? O—oh, right . I’m sorry. Please get back into your stances, both of you.”
It seemed like I was not the only one who was confused. Sid wore the same puzzled expression on his face. Upon hearing Sid’s voice, however, Alma snapped out of her confusion and returned to normal.
“That stance… It can’t be… But it is so perfect—?”
I fixed my stance. Sid’s mind seemed to be elsewhere as he took up a stance full of mistakes. Alma was muttering something, but at this distance, there was no way I could hear what she was saying.
“Are you ready? —Begin!”
But that did not matter right now. How many years had it been since I faced off against a youngster like this?
Unlike dealing with disciples of martial artists who didn’t know what they were doing, raising an inexperienced youngster is one of the greatest joys for a martial artist.
“Hyaa!”
As soon as the signal to begin the fight went off, Sid dropped the stance he had held just a moment ago and launched a foolishly simple punch. It was a defensive stance so it was hardly suited for an attack but, other than dropping his stance he did not accomplish anything.
—Good. It was a carefree, extremely childlike punch. I smiled at his naiveté; I wondered exactly what he would come at me with next.
But I was a martial artist—one who had never given up my childhood dream of becoming the strongest. No matter that it was only a practice match, I was not so soft as to lose on purpose.
I moved the hand I held in front and wrapped it around Sid’s arm, diverting the direction of the force.
Without using much power or magic, I used Sid’s arm as a pivot and disrupted his stance. Not in order to attack but rather to move in. Not to erase but rather to redirect.
After disrupting his stance, I swept his feet lightly. Even if Sid was boy with a small build, I felt no weight as I sent him tumbling into the air.
Alma and the rest of the kids were dumbfounded. Some of the children were cheering at the scene of a person flying into the air.
This is what is known as responding to brute force with martial arts. In order to show that to those little kids, when Sid began to fall I caught him carefully as I gently stopped the momentum of his fall.
“Eh? What? Did I just—lose?”
“Yes. Alma-sama said it before, right? These are real martial arts that don’t rely on strength, Sid.”
I had my hand on the back of Sid’s head, right where it would have touched the ground. Sid muttered as if in a dream, finally realizing what had happened after seeing the ceiling and my face.
“Aw-Awesome! As expected of gramps!”
A portion of the student cheered at the flashy moves. Before I noticed it, I was surrounded by applause.
In my later years, I used to think of cheering as annoying noise—but the children’s honest praise wasn’t half bad.
I said children, but now that I think about it, I was about the same age.
Being unaccustomed to the situation, I let out a slight bitter smile—and stiffened immediately. Wait a minute. What did I just do?
If I remember correctly, I think that I threw Sid really well. I thought back on each and every one of my actions.
When I realized what I had done, my face turned green. What am I, an idiot? My bitter smiled instantly turned stiff.
My original plan had been—yes, I was only supposed to borrow Sid’s attack and sweep his legs until he tumbled over.
But what I had done afterwards was a mistake.
What I did just now was the Shijima style technique, “Shadow Leaf.”
The technique throws the enemy’s body like the weight of a leaf. It uses rotational power, called centrifugal force, and borrows the opponent’s own strength to twirl him faster and faster in the air and then throw him head-first into the ground.
It was a technique that put to practice all of the fundamental skills of the Shijima style.
It was as if my whole body had turned to stone. I peeked at Alma, moving stiffly like a rusty door.
“Slava…kun. That technique, where did you…? No. It doesn’t matter where you learnt it. How did you learn that technique so well at such a young age?”
…I screwed up. It was a technique that I had practiced hundreds, if not thousands, of times. It was understandable that I had done it unconsciously, but why did it have to be here?
It seemed to have become second nature to me. I was so foolish. I wanted to smack my own head. But now wasn’t the time; I could blame myself later.
The one who had seen my technique the closest, Alma, had an expression that was difficult to describe. It was filled with bewilderment.
“Ah… Well… It seems that my father has studied the Shijima style before… He has trained me in the technique that gathers all the basics of the Shijima style, Shadow Leaf, since I was little, so… Umm. It is certainly a technique that should not be used on someone who only just started martial arts today. I apologize.”
I wondered if I had talked too much. I had said it very smoothly. After giving an excuse that had even me convinced, I put on an expression as if I were reflecting on my actions.
The fact that my father was a member of the Shijima style was a complete lie, but although the Shijima style wasn’t very popular when it first started, it now had so many branches across the world that my story should be believable.
“He has been training you in the technique since you were little…? At what age did you start?”
“When I was five. But, even though I asked him to teach me more, he did not teach me any other techniques.”
“Then, are you saying that you learned nothing but this technique?”
“Umm. Yes.”
…I was a really good actor, if I may say so myself. I think it really looked like ‘a kid reflecting on showing off his martial arts too much.’
“Well, it’s something that I was going to teach eventually. The fact that you got there first… It’s not something to praise you for, but since this is a Shijima style match, it is also not something to complain about. Your concern for your opponent was also good… It was a perfect ‘Shadow Leaf.’ You have talent.”
Alma smiled, though it was a tad awkward.
… I-I made it somehow. I need to learn from this and be more careful in future.
Geez. To have to hold back on my instinctual movements… I felt like I was getting further away from the peak of martial arts. However, it might come in handy when I have to use a feint.
For the time, I was relieved at the averted danger. I hoisted Sid, who I had been holding this whole time, onto his feet.
Just as I lifted the now-conscious Sid up, Alma instructed us to move away from the sparring area.
That was really close. I need to be careful when I use Shijima Style techniques in front of that child.
I wiped the sweat off my brow as I realized the danger of these martial arts lessons.
As I did that, Sid, who at some point had sat down next to me, was holding the ends of his exercise clothes.
“… What happened?”
His eyes told me he wanted to say something, so, since I was technically his senior, I asked him.
Even if I did stop half-way, I had used a Shijima technique on him. I just hoped that he was not gripped by fear.
“You’re awesome Slava. What did you do to get so strong?”
When he said that, his expression was the complete opposite of what I expected. He was filled with admiration and respect.
… I see. ‘How do I get stronger,’ is it? That’s something I would like to know as well… Or so I would like to say, but let’s teach him the one thing that I have learnt for sure.
“You need to be diligent every day. If you have a strong will and train for a long time, Sid, then you, too, will eventually become as strong as me.”
“Diligent…? That just means I have to try my hardest! Alright! One day I will definitely beat you! Just you watch!”
Just as I thought, kids around this age really are too dazzling.
I smiled, forgetting that I was at the same age as that dazzling kid.
———————————————————————————————————————————–
At the Elven school, Milafia’s national Alfalia Academy, where elven children from all across the country gather, in the only room in which adults gather, a peerless beauty groaned.
While still young for an elf at 90 years old, she was the legendary martial artist that had carved her name into history: Alma Shijima.
She had put forth an effort to raise young boys and girls in order to find someone worthy to inherit the Shijima name.
After visiting different schools and traveling all across the country, she finally found a young boy that caught her eye at the most prestigious school in the country.
She held a book with all of the student’s information in the palm of her hand. The page it was opened to read, ‘Slava Marshall’. The name was the same as that of her now-deceased master.
“… There must be something wrong with me. For me to remember my master when I look at that kid…”
Alma put the book down on the desk and looked up at the sky. She remembered the face of her great master who, from an elf’s point of view, died young because he was part of the human race.
Slava Marshall. Not to mention the race, the eyes, the nose, the ears, their builds… nothing was the same. Her first impression of him was that he was a regular, well behaved boy. But after the first lesson just now, she had to rethink that opinion.
“Seriously. Even though they look nothing alike… Why does he remind me of my master?”
She already knew the answer in her heart but said it out loud as if though that would confirm the answer.
… It was that graceful ‘Shadow Leaf’. It was a Shijima style technique executed so smoothly that all the moments seemed to merge together. But more than that, it was the natural way in which he took up the Shijima style stance that reminded her of her master.
“For him to have the same name… Master, is this your guidance?”
Alma was speaking to her master in heaven. Nobody answered her.
However, she was sure about one thing. She had finally found him.
Her eyes burned with determination. Her world, which had been so drab until now, once again filled with color.
“Master… I finally found a successor to entrust the Shijima name to.”
Alma murmured towards the heavens once again.
…She was completely unaware that her master, who was supposed to be in heaven, was that young boy himself.
The boy in question sneezed a little, feeling the intertwining fate from his past life.
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