From the moment I woke up this morning, I had decided to do things the same as usual. Except for the sword clashes, I would focus on maintaining a strong defense and fight using pulling techniques. Both Watanabe and Yonekura sensei wanted to win more than anything. There was no benefit to using the correct sword at this stage.

In stark contrast to the first day, the warm-up venue was sparsely populated. Two days ago, there were 96 male individual competitors, but now only eight remained. I suddenly almost forgot that I was one of those eight.

In a corner of the warm-up venue, there was a man peering into the viewfinder of a camera. He changed his position and angle to capture the practice. He must have been an avid kendo fan. It's rare for magazine or newspaper reporters to go out of their way to film the practice scene.

People who like to watch kendo are all people who have experience in kendo. It's rare to find someone who has never practiced kendo but likes watching it. At least, I've never met anyone like that.

However, these kendo fans are no longer high school students. The reason they go to the trouble of going to the venue and filming the practice is because they can no longer go back to that summer.

As he watches the practice through the viewfinder, he will obviously no longer be able to compete in the Inter-High School Championships. Perhaps this is why the high school students' summer seems all the more dazzling.

The man pointed the camera lens towards me. He hadn't even put on his mask yet, and was staring blankly at the lens, holding a bamboo sword. I hurriedly tried to make a stiff face so that my face wouldn't look silly. I thought I heard the sound of the shutter clicking.

"Shall we get started now?"

After finishing his stretching, Watanabe had already wrapped a hand towel around his head. He put on his mask, being careful not to look at the camera lens. Watanabe also seemed to notice the camera, and deliberately re-tied the strings of his mask.

The camera turned in a different direction and then there was a cough.

"Concentrate, concentrate."

You can't just focus on one camera, if you win you'll be surrounded by dozens of cameras.

After the women's individual quarterfinals, the men's individual quarterfinals began. I was wearing a mask and waiting at the side of the court. Fujinami was also standing at the side of the court. His gaze was fixed on the spectators. I wonder if his girlfriend was there to watch.

Sensing someone's gaze, I suddenly glanced around the stands. It reminded me of my father. Maybe he was there to watch the game. But it wasn't my father, who had just taken time off work, who was casting a passionate gaze at me. Gripping the banister tightly, Professor Masuda was looking at me with a troubled expression on his face. I turned my body and ignored his gaze.

I tried holding my shinai in a middle stance. It felt right. When I'm not in good shape, no matter how I hold myself, I always feel something strange in my body, but that didn't happen today. It felt very natural, and I was able to hold a solid stance. Now, even if we were to attack the center, I could probably beat Fujinami. That thought crossed my mind.

The women's match ended. The referee was replaced and the men's individual players were ushered onto the court. I took a deep breath and put strength into my belly button.

As I crouched at the starting line and aimed my bamboo sword, I was met with the astute gaze of Fujinami. His eyes, staring out from under his beautiful double eyelids, were as cold as ice.

At the referee's signal, the two stood up.

Fujinami shouted in a high-pitched ultrasonic voice. He responded calmly. I was surprised when I first heard it on video, but now I'm used to this distinctive call.

He closed the distance himself and struck first. Fujinami is generally a slow starter. The most common pattern for Fujinami to lose is when his opponent takes a point early in the match and then holds on to it. His goal was to win by holding on to it. Of course, he is aware of how difficult it is to get that point.

When he tried to strike his men and move closer, Fujinami didn't like it and stepped back. He approached faster than Fujinami, sliding closer and bringing the two into a sword fight. He was confident that he could beat anyone in terms of sliding speed. The number of times the soles of his feet had worn out during practice could not be counted as 10 or 20.

I had a hunch that there wouldn't be many opportunities for pulling techniques. Fujinami clearly didn't like getting into a tight match. No matter how fast my sliding feet are, I don't think a skilled fighter like Fujinami would allow himself to be forced into a tight match so many times. I have to make the most of the few opportunities I have.

Taking a small step back, he swung his shinai down at Fujinami's right torso. However, Fujinami forcefully blocked the attack with his right elbow, stopping the shinai before it hit his torso. Instead, Fujinami's men was open. He suddenly turned his shinai and unleashed a Hikimen at Fujinami. It looked like he was going to land the Hikimen, but Fujinami quickly raised his shinai with just his left arm to block the men.

He gave Fujinami no time to rest. This time he struck the kotegae, but it was too shallow, giving Fujinami an opportunity to regain his balance. Fujinami returned to his seigan kamae and pounced like a wild animal. He dodged Fujinami's kotegae at the last moment.

Fujinami was overwhelmingly strong.

He was completely different from Iwata and his previous opponents. Strange strikes came flying from unexpected places. And each strike was aimed accurately at the men, kote, and do. I had intended to take the initiative and win the match with pulling techniques, but it was me who was being pushed into the pace.

While watching the video, I was thinking of various strategies. Fujinami has a tendency to drop his sword tip. Therefore, it would be better to attack with the men rather than the kote or do. To do this, I would make him think about attacking from below with dekote or haraikote, and then finish him off with my deadly hikimen.

But when he actually faced the opponent, he had no time to think about such things. He simply lost control and continued to avoid Fujinami's relentless barrage of strikes. Why couldn't he get into a sword fight? Why was he losing the momentum so quickly? Why...

"Stop."

The referee called out. Back at the starting line, the referee and two assistant referees gathered in the center of the court, exchanging a few whispered words. It was then that I noticed for the first time that one of the assistant referees was wearing familiar glasses. It was the assistant referee who hadn't raised his flag for the pull technique in the fourth round. He clearly didn't have a good impression of me. It was bad luck that we were going to meet again today. After the three referees dispersed, the referee turned to face me.

"Time wasted. One foul."

Behind Fujinami, applause erupted. It was the Joyo cheering squad.

Hearing the applause, I somehow recalled a night of heavy rain. The ringing sound of the applause reminded me of countless raindrops hitting a roof. It felt like the rain was falling only on my head. It was the first time I had ever felt so depressed by the applause of the opposing team.

"beginning"

As soon as the match started, Fujinami closed the gap, and I approached him again. Just as I thought I could bring the match to a close one, Fujinami suddenly let go.

He was hit hard in the face.

"Meeeeeeen!"

Fujinami's shouts became louder than ever, and the referee immediately raised his flag.