Kazuma stood in front of a wooden house that also functioned as an aikido dojo. The building was simple, with an old signboard whose color had begun to fade with time. From the outside, the place did not look like a busy martial arts training center—more like an old house slowly forgotten.
He knew about this place from a friend at campus. According to him, the owner of the dojo was an old man who had once been a champion in a national aikido tournament, long before the Mato dimension appeared in Japan and changed the world. At that time, this dojo was quite famous. Many students came to learn, not only because of his great techniques, but also because the master himself was known to be patient and wise in teaching.
But time never stops moving.
Now the dojo looked quiet. The front yard was slightly messy, dry leaves scattered in the corners of the wood that had begun to decay. There were no sounds of training, no spirited shouts from students like those usually heard from martial arts dojos. Only the afternoon wind blew gently through the half-closed sliding door.
Kazuma stood there for a moment, observing the surroundings. He began to feel doubtful.
Maybe this place was no longer active. Or perhaps the master had grown too old to teach.
But he shook his head lightly, pushing the doubt aside.
He could not rely only on assumptions. If he truly wanted to train his body, then he had to see for himself what the condition of this place was like—and the person who led it.
Kazuma took a deep breath, then stepped closer to the door. The tatami visible through the gap looked still neatly arranged even though its color had begun to fade.
With slight hesitation, Kazuma knocked on the wooden frame.
"Excuse me… is anyone inside?"
His voice echoed clearly inside the silent dojo.
Kazuma waited for a few seconds.
The silence remained.
"Haah, it seems he's not—"
Before he could finish his sentence, his body was suddenly lifted off the floor. In one swift movement that he did not even see clearly, his balance disappeared. The world spun for a moment before his back slammed onto the dojo's wooden floor.
BRAK!
Kazuma lay there in shock. His breath caught for a moment before he quickly turned his head toward the person responsible.
Standing before him was a small old man. His hair was completely white, his body thin, even slightly hunched. Yet his gaze was sharp—far too sharp for someone who looked fragile.
"Eeh?"
Kazuma could only let out a confused sound.
"Who are you?"
The old man's voice was hoarse and heavy, like old wood being scraped. Even though his body was small, the pressure he applied to Kazuma's joints made it impossible for him to move freely. His grip was strong—very strong for someone of his age.
Kazuma swallowed before answering nervously.
"Sorry for disturbing you… My name is Kazuma Satou. I heard there is an aikido dojo here. Are you Yamazaki Kudo?"
That name was quite famous among old martial arts enthusiasts. Yamazaki Kudo was the owner of this dojo, a former national champion from the time before the Mato disaster changed the world. Now his age was estimated to be over eighty years.
The old man narrowed his eyes.
"That's me. You didn't come here to steal, did you?"
His tone was full of suspicion.
Kazuma could understand the reason.
'Fair enough… considering he's alone in this place,' he thought.
Slowly Kazuma rose after the pressure on his body was released. Without hesitation he immediately dropped himself to the floor in a dogeza position—kneeling with his head touching the wooden floor.
"Mr. Yamazaki!"
His voice sounded serious and full of determination.
"Would you be willing to accept me as your student!"
The atmosphere in the dojo became silent again.
The afternoon wind entered through the gap in the door, moving the thin curtain in the corner of the room. Fine dust danced under the sunlight streaming through the old wooden window.
Yamazaki Kudo looked at the young man bowing before him with an expression that was difficult to read. His wrinkled eyes narrowed, as if trying to judge whether this young man was truly serious or simply wasting his time.
"Boy… you're not joking, are you?"
"Of course not."
Kazuma's answer came without the slightest hesitation.
Yamazaki snorted softly.
"What's your reason for choosing me? In this world women are more superior because of their power. Martial arts like this should already be irrelevant."
Kazuma slowly raised his head, but remained kneeling respectfully.
"Maybe that's true, Mr. Yamazaki."
He took a short breath before continuing.
"But I read your biography. Even though you were only an ordinary human, you once brought down several Shuuki during the early days of the Mato disaster. That happened right in the first days when the world changed."
Yamazaki's gaze shifted slightly.
Kazuma continued in a calm voice.
"That's why I admire you. Even without the blessing of the peach, you still stood against creatures from another dimension."
The wind blew softly through the dojo again.
Kazuma lowered his head once more before speaking.
"It's true that things are relatively safe now because Mato is controlled by the Anti-Demon Corps. But still… there are gates that slip past their surveillance."
He lifted his face, looking directly at Yamazaki.
"We can't wait for tragedies like Yokohama or Oisawa to happen again to realize that reality."
The names of those two places hung heavily in the air.
Both were locations of major tragedies—places where Mato gates appeared without warning and Shuuki invaded before the Anti-Demon Corps could react. Hundreds of casualties fell before help arrived.
Several seconds passed without a sound.
Then…
"Hmph."
Yamazaki let out a long breath while crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"An unusual boy… do you hold a grudge against those Shuuki because they killed someone close to you?"
His voice sounded deeper than before, no longer merely suspicious, but testing something hidden behind the determination of the young man before him.
The question made Kazuma's body tense slightly. His shoulders trembled faintly, as if an old memory had been touched.
"No," he finally answered.
He lifted his head with a slightly awkward smile.
"But the fact that the Shuuki killed my father and left my mother in a coma… that can't be denied."
Kazuma paused for a moment before continuing in a calmer tone.
"I've already made peace with myself. Because when that disaster happened… it wasn't something I could control."
The wind entering through the dojo door rustled softly, returning the atmosphere to silence.
"..."
Yamazaki stared at him for quite a while without saying anything. His gaze was sharp, as if trying to read whether the young man's words were sincere or merely neatly polished excuses.
After a moment, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Haah… alright."
The old man scratched the back of his head before continuing.
"You have enough motivation. And more importantly… you're not drunk on revenge."
He looked at Kazuma again, this time with a slightly softer expression.
"I'm grateful for that."
His steps shifted slowly across the old wooden floor of the dojo.
"And coincidentally… I am indeed looking for a student."
Yamazaki stopped right in front of Kazuma.
"It would be rather unfortunate if Yamazaki-Style Aikido ended with me alone."
His tone now turned more serious.
"So tell me, boy. Are you ready to go through harsh training?"
His gaze sharpened.
"Because if you truly become my student… I won't only teach you."
He raised his index finger slightly.
"I will make you my successor."
Those words made Kazuma freeze.
He truly did not expect this conversation to end like this. At first he had only come to find someone who could train his body—someone who could teach him the basics of fighting.
But now… what was being offered to him was far greater than mere training.
He remembered something he had once heard.
Yamazaki Kudo had indeed lived single into old age. He had never married, had no children. His family had become victims during the tragedy of the first days when the Mato gates appeared in Japan.
Perhaps that was why this dojo felt so quiet.
Kazuma took a slow breath.
Although there was still a little confusion in his heart, he did not say much.
Instead, he nodded firmly.