Myoho Gakuen's first player had taken two points in less than two minutes. It was an easy victory. The match for the second player then began. Our second player was a third-year student. He was a hard worker and a good kendo player. Ogata-sensei had entrusted him with the role of second player for the past year. Ogata-sensei likes to keep the same players in team matches. He doesn't like to change the order either. I myself have never played in any position other than captain for the past two years.

The opposing team's second-in-command, wearing a white sash, was effectively their number two. Our team might be a little weaker, but there was no need to worry.

The team members are showing extraordinary enthusiasm for this Inter-High. It is clear that the reason for this is Mr. Ogata's retirement as coach. The teachers at Myoho Gakuen are scheduled to retire in the year they turn 60.

It was a month ago. As I was getting ready to go home after practice at Naniwa University, Ogata sensei called out to me, saying, "Do you want to go out for dinner?" It was the first time in six years that he had invited me out to dinner.

We had dinner across from each other at a Chinese restaurant near the nearest station. It seemed to be a restaurant in a student area, and its specialty was large portions. When I ordered a ramen and rice set, Professor Ogata said, "That's not enough, is it?" and ordered some gyoza and sweet and sour pork. However, he only ate about half of his own fried rice and told me to eat the rest.

While we were finishing off the huge amount of food, the teacher began to talk over tea.

"Does your mother still hate me?"

"Well, a little."

"He's my only son."

The teacher shrugged.

"What are you going to do about your future? This is turning into a career consultation."

I timidly brought up what I had been thinking for a long time.

"I'm torn between going to university or joining the prefectural police."

Practicing kendo in the Osaka Prefectural Police riot squad had been his dream since he was in elementary school. Considering his parents, he thought it might be better for him to return to Hiroshima. However, his father told him, "I don't think you'll ever come back to Hiroshima."

"If you're unsure, you should go to college."

Professor Ogata answered immediately, and the matter was settled.

The teacher said, "Can I have some after all?" and reached his chopsticks towards my plate.

"Do you know who will be the new coach in my place next year?"

"I've heard rumors."

"High school students have amazing communication skills."

Rumors had been circulating for six months that a young teacher with a police background had been selected as his successor.

"The talk of re-employment has been going on for quite some time. Ever since you guys were in middle school."

Professor Ogata began speaking as if talking to himself.

"To be honest, Myoho isn't that strong outside of the Kendo club. We've had a lot of complaints. Some teachers have even accused us of abandoning the students. Oh, and just to let you know, this is a secret. Don't tell anyone."

"yes"

"But I don't think it's right to continue as a coach until I die. I guess it's like giving way to the next generation."

The teacher seemed to be in a state of deep emotion, otherwise he would not have spoken so personally to me, a student.

"Teachers have a hard time too. The world is small."

"What will you do from next year onwards?"

"From next year..."

While munching on a gyoza, the teacher said, "They'll probably find out soon anyway."

"I'm thinking of moving abroad"

"abroad?"

"Probably somewhere in Europe. My wife said that if we were going to go, Europe would be good."

"It's like a slow life."

I tried saying something I'd heard on TV, but the teacher just laughed it off.

"That's not true. I was thinking of opening a dojo over there. If I don't waste money, I could survive for a few years. I have two sons, and both of them agreed. Anyway, I've done pretty much everything I can in Japan, so from now on I'll work to spread the sport overseas."

It was a decision befitting a teacher who has dedicated himself to promoting kendo.

"I don't mean to pressure you, but I want you to win the Inter-High so that I can go overseas with a good feeling."

I never had any other goal than to win, so I answered "yes" without any hesitation.

The second-in-command, a fellow player, faced several dangerous situations, but persevered and managed to bring the game to a draw. When substituting players, he slapped his teammate in the middle position with force, signaling that he was leaving it to him.

It's time to put on my mask. The hand towel in front of me has the words "Shu-Ha-Ri" written on it. It's in Ogata Sensei's handwriting. The same words are printed on all of Myoho Gakuen's hand towels.

"Shu" means to follow the teachings of the master. "Ha" means to break away from the teachings of the master and seek out your own style. "Ri" means to break away from the teachings of the master and pursue your own path according to your own heart. This teaching is not limited to kendo, but is also applicable to martial arts and performing arts.

As I tied the men-himo, I wondered what stage I was at. Was it the "protection" stage or the "break" stage? Perhaps the day was fast approaching when I would have to leave Ogata Sensei's teachings behind and take flight.

Myoho Gakuen advanced through the preliminary league without any trouble. They played against two schools, and only lost once to their vanguard. They were fully motivated, and won both of their final matches by two points.

"Am I moving too much?"

After the match, Kunihama called out to me.

"Both individual and group competitions have to take place tomorrow, so save your energy."

It's true that I may have moved a little too much. Even in a match where I knew I was going to win, I relentlessly attacked my opponent. But it was still much better than my usual training.

"It's okay. It's a piece of cake compared to practice."

After dinner at the dormitory, we were all gathered in a room that looked like a conference room. Professor Ogata made sure that everyone was there and then began to speak.

"Tomorrow is my last day as manager."

That one word made everyone feel nervous.

"The first and second year students may not be able to accept that the coach will be changed in the middle of the season. I had no intention of abandoning my responsibility, but I am sorry that it ended up like this."

I heard a sniffle behind me. It was a second-year vanguard.

"Third-year students, you'll retire with me. Of course, you'll have to participate in the training camp. You've all worked really hard up until now. I want you to know that all the tears and blood you've shed were all for the sake of tomorrow."

Then Professor Ogata turned his gaze towards me.

"It's an individual competition, Ishizaka. Tomorrow, I want to see your best performance."

"yes"

I was going to bet everything I had ever learned in kendo on tomorrow's match.

"Your match will be my farewell."

Even at a time like this, Kunihama was still grinning. Until he was in middle school, he thought he was doing it on purpose, but it seems that his face really is like that. Once, after an official match, an opposing player yelled at him, "What are you doing here?"

"Tomorrow, give it your all and make a grand entrance for me."

"yes"

Everyone replied in unison.

After the class was over, I watched the teacher's back as he left the conference room. His back, which had been enormous when I was in elementary school, now looked small. Had I grown bigger, or had the teacher shrunk? Maybe it was both.

That night, I took care of my bamboo sword and protective gear and went to sleep. On the final day, if I made it to the finals in both the individual and team competitions, I would play seven matches in one day. Naturally, I intended to prepare for seven matches.

The next morning, I woke up at five o'clock. As I sat up, I noticed that the bamboo sword that had been leaning against the wall had fallen over. I'm not the type to take good luck charms seriously, but I somehow had a bad feeling about this. I got out of bed and leaned the bamboo sword against the wall again. When I returned to my room after breakfast, the bamboo sword had fallen over again. Realizing that I was getting a little irritated, I told myself out loud to "calm down."

I changed into my judo uniform at the hotel and took a taxi to the gym. Kunihama sat next to me in the car.

"That's unusual. Are you nervous?"

Kunihama shows no sign of concern.

"You're a kendo cyborg. Pull yourself together."

I didn't usually like the nickname given to me because of my poker face. But just this once, the term "Kendo Cyborg" felt reassuring. That's right, I'm a cyborg. I'm not human, so I don't have to worry about it.

After warming up in the gym, the individual matches started immediately. Before the matches, the teacher called us.

"As a coach, I have participated in countless national tournaments and have even won prizes. I thought that was all due to my excellent coaching skills."

What was he suddenly saying? The teacher spoke quickly, as if he was trying to save time before the match.

"But when it comes to you, I don't think I brought you here, I think you were brought to me. You're the first and last student to ever do that."

The teacher continued talking, worrying about the time until the match.

"Up until now, there have been many players who were more talented than you. But in the end, they were never able to become Ishizaka Sho. Do you know what the difference is? Those guys can survive without kendo, but you can't survive without it. That's the difference."

The women's individual quarterfinals have concluded.

"If we play normally, we can definitely win. Just keep a cool head."

There was an unusual gentleness in Ogata-sensei's eyes, which I suspect was not unrelated to the fact that it was his last day as coach.

"yes"

The short answer is that we're in the quarterfinals.