All Beautiful Girls Want to Stick with Me

Using the key to open the kendo club’s door, Kisara Tendo’s seriousness about kendo could only be called obsession. Almost every day after school, she would come to the kendo club to train. After finishing her training, she would then carefully clean the dojo.

Even on Saturdays and Sundays, she wouldn’t slack off, continuing her practice at home.

How terrifying was Kisara Tendo’s self-discipline!

Kotomi Izumi even suspected that, even after Kisara got married in the future, as long as she hadn’t finished her daily kendo training, even on her wedding night, she might complete her training first before doing anything else.

However, now it was class time during the day, so Kisara shouldn’t be in the kendo club…

Kotomi really didn’t want her Kisara-senpai to see her coming to the kendo club just to slack off. With Kisara’s personality, a place of kendo training was very likely a sacred ground in her heart!

As the nominal captain of the kendo club, not only did Kotomi fail to show up regularly for training, but she also used the kendo club as a place to skip class and slack off. Her senpai might just draw a sharpened katana and swing it straight at her.

Ha!

Take this!

Dragon Flash!

Walking into the kendo club, Kotomi’s face immediately showed helplessness. Apparently, she wasn’t the only one skipping class here… Kisara was already standing in the center of the dojo, swinging a katana gleaming with cold light.

Every strike was lethal. Whenever she trained, she imagined the surrounding air as enemies.

When practicing kendo, Kisara often tied her long hair into a single ponytail. The sweat that sprayed as she swung her sword scattered on the wooden floor, slightly soaking her training uniform against her skin.

Kotomi’s gaze was constantly busy, too many places pulling her eyes. Finally, her attention was captured by the white nape of Kisara’s neck, revealed after tying her hair into a ponytail.

The sword Kisara swung wasn’t a famous blade, just an ordinary katana kept on the dojo’s rack. Usually, she personally maintained it, keeping the blade so polished its cold gleam made one’s heart tremble.

Her Kisara-senpai, wielding the katana, was beautiful, but Kotomi didn’t dare approach. Perhaps because of Megumi Kato, even seeing a fruit knife now could trigger her trauma—let alone a katana.

Kisara shifted her stance, her swordplay like that of a peerless dancer. The cold wind of the blade swept around her as she spun and slashed with killing intent. Just then, she turned and saw Kotomi standing dumbfounded at the dojo entrance, her small hands nervously clutching the doorframe.

Kisara froze for a moment, then smiled, waving her hand:

”Kotomi! I didn’t expect you to come to the kendo club, and in the morning too. Come on in!”

At her words, Kotomi grew even more reluctant to step forward—not for any other reason, but simply because the hand Kisara waved happened to be the one holding the sword.

The motion made the blade’s gleam flicker repeatedly in Kotomi’s eyes.

The little Kotomi was nearly scared to tears.

Fortunately, Kisara quickly realized she was still holding the sword. Speaking to someone unarmed while brandishing a blade went against the etiquette of a swordsman.

”Don’t worry, no need to be afraid. Though the sword looks intimidating, it hasn’t been sharpened yet.”

After saying this, Kisara spun a clean yet slightly dazzling flourish in the air before sheathed the katana into its black scabbard.

With both hands, she returned the sheathed sword to the rack.

Only then did Kotomi dare to shuffle forward with tiny steps.

”Kisara-senpai, aren’t you supposed to be in class this morning?”

”Math sounded too boring, so I used going to the restroom as an excuse to slip out of the classroom. Since I had free time anyway, I came to the dojo to practice. What about you, Kotomi? Did you suddenly feel like training?” Kisara sat on the wooden floor, slowly regulating her breathing.

Kotomi had observed before that Kisara had a particular habit after training. She wouldn’t sit down immediately, but instead paced slowly in small steps to adjust her breathing. Just like how people don’t sit right down after exercise—now Kotomi understood why.

However, even after stopping and sitting down, Kisara would continue to maintain a regulated breathing rhythm, as if she hadn’t finished adjusting earlier. Yet she often said that unless her breathing was fully adjusted, she wouldn’t sit down, no matter how tired her legs were.

”Same as you, I skipped class. I was bored, so I came to the dojo to take a look. Hasn’t Kisara-senpai finished adjusting her breathing yet?” Kotomi asked curiously.

”Hm? I already finished just now.”

Kisara wiped the sweat off her cheeks and neck with a towel, then added patiently, with the air of a true kendo senior:

”But don’t copy my breathing adjustment time. The time each person needs to regulate their breathing is different. Part of it comes from natural constitution, part from training. Generally, the longer you’ve practiced kendo, the faster you can enter and exit the state of wielding the blade, and the faster you can return your breathing to normal.

”Since I’ve practiced kendo since childhood, the time I need is shorter.

”When you finish practicing, don’t get lazy. You must regulate your breathing until you no longer feel out of breath before stopping. And when you sit down, do it slowly and lightly.”

If Kotomi were just the kendo club’s nominal captain, Kisara wouldn’t have wasted time explaining all this. She feared Kotomi might not be interested in such details and grow impatient.

But since Kotomi would eventually participate with her in the Six Schools Tournament, while Kotomi’s skill wasn’t really in doubt, her knowledge of kendo’s etiquette and details was almost nonexistent. At best, she had a half-baked understanding, or else only knew the kind of fictional knowledge she picked up from manga.

So Kisara had no choice but to explain from the beginning. Yet she and Kotomi weren’t even in the same class—or the same grade. They rarely met each week, and each time it was Kisara who sought Kotomi out.

Whenever they met, Kisara would seize the chance to tell Kotomi bits of detail about competitions and etiquette.

”Then why, after sitting down now, are you still adjusting your breathing?”

Only then did Kisara realize why Kotomi had asked about her breathing. It turned out Kotomi had noticed her rhythm. What sharp eyes this little girl had! She wondered if those pink eyes of hers could, in a match, see through her opponent’s movements in advance.

”I just forgot to switch my breathing rhythm back for a moment,” Kisara admitted plainly. ”Once you get used to adjusting your breathing, you might forget to switch back to normal. After a while, you may even start liking the feeling.”

”Do you like it, Kisara-senpai?”

”Not really like, just… I often forget to switch back.”

”Then… whether I come to like this feeling of adjusting my breathing rhythm will depend on you, senpai~” Kotomi smiled faintly, speaking with hidden meaning. Surely it wasn’t too much to tease her senior just a little?

But for Kisara, who had practiced kendo since childhood, her mind was always most active when wielding a sword—not when studying. After setting the sword down, her brain naturally sought simplicity. To think in circles over one thing would feel exhausting.

As a result, Kisara didn’t understand at all what Kotomi meant by those words.

Kotomi words clearly carried an ambiguous tone, but Kisara, after hearing them, took it as something entirely different.

—She wants to challenge me!

That’s right, Kisara didn’t pick up on Kotomi’s hidden meaning at all. She mistook Kotomi’s words as a declaration of battle. Her heart blazed with fighting spirit!

She had always thought Kotomi lacked enthusiasm for kendo, but now she realized Kotomi was actually the type of girl who loved challenges. Not bad at all—not fearing challenges, boldly initiating combat, neither humble nor arrogant. This was the basic etiquette a swordsman should possess.

Come, Kotomi!

Since you want me as your opponent, I absolutely won’t let you down! I’ll give you a fierce and exhilarating match in return for choosing me as your rival!

”Kotomi, wait just a moment.”

”Eh?”

A few minutes later.

Kotomi stood unwillingly across from Kisara, dressed in a borrowed kendo uniform, holding the bamboo sword Kisara had tossed her.

Although it felt rude toward her senpai, Kotomi really wanted to point the tip of her blade at Kisara’s neck and scold: I’m about to faint from your dense straight-girl logic! How could you take my sweet words and twist them into a battle invitation?! Say it to my face!

Oh, right—bamboo swords don’t have tips.

Kotomi stared helplessly at Kisara, who was warming up her wrists across from her. She knew Kisara’s mind revolved entirely around the word ”kendo,” but she hadn’t expected her reasoning to be this strange—turning flirting into a challenge.

It was rare, but even Kotomi could be driven dizzy by a dense straight girl.

Kotomi had no desire to fight. It wasn’t like she’d die if she didn’t. If Kisara just wanted to test her ability for the Six Schools Tournament, then there was no need. Sure, Kotomi had only learned a little kendo in the past—out of her love for Rurouni Kenshin—but she had still managed to level up her kendo rank with some effort.

How strong she really was, she wasn’t sure. But judging by her own sense, competing in the Six Schools Tournament, raising her bamboo sword and shouting ”Slay all enemies!” while showing off a bit on stage—she should be fine.

Kotomi didn’t want to waste time idling with this sword-demon senpai. She wanted to go back to class!

Persuasion by her senpai, was it?

Though unwilling, Kotomi wasn’t the type to back down from a fight. And seeing Kisara’s excited expression, holding the bamboo sword with the joy of having an opponent, she didn’t want to spoil her mood.

Then fight! Just right to test her kendo rank’s strength!

Kotomi took a deep breath, gripping the bamboo sword tightly. In an instant, all her scattered thoughts quieted. Every sense sharpened, aligning closer to the essence of kendo.

Her perception was the most exaggerated—she even felt that, if she had the patience, she could count every tiny particle of dust floating in the surrounding air.

Of course, Kotomi had no such patience.

”Are you ready?” Kisara asked, having taken her stance, every part of her prepared.

Kotomi nodded.

Kisara raised her bamboo sword, eyes fixed directly on Kotomi. She didn’t view her as some amateur or an easy opponent. On the contrary, Kisara focused with all her strength, determined to fight with full power against Kotomi.

Not only out of respect, but because Kisara suspected Kotomi might be pretending to be clueless—her real skill could very well surpass her own!

As Kisara lifted her sword, her gaze changed. Whoever met that gaze would immediately understand why she was called ”Sword Demon.”

”Tendo Style, Menkyo Kaiden—Sword Demon, Kisara Tendo, enters!”

”Hiten Mitsurugi Style—Kotomi Izumi, enters.”

…What kind of kendo style was that?

Not just Kisara—even Kotomi herself felt a rush the moment she said it, only to regret it immediately with embarrassment.

Too chuunibyou!

There was no such thing as Hiten Mitsurugi Style in the real world. And even if it did exist, Kotomi had never learned it.

Never mind the ultimate technique Amakakeru Ryū no Hirameki—she couldn’t even use Ryūsōsen.

At the Six Schools Tournament, she’d have to control her mouth. If she shouted out ”Hiten Mitsurugi Style” on stage, how much laughter would that earn?

Win or lose, Sobu High’s kendo club would become famous at the tournament—not thanks to Kisara, but because of a chuunibyou girl claiming her style was Hiten Mitsurugi.

Kisara’s loud shout helped cover Kotomi’s embarrassment, followed by the Sword Demon’s sudden attack.

The bamboo sword cut through the air. Kotomi let go of the hilt, dropping flat to the ground. At the moment Kisara’s strike fell, Kotomi grabbed her own blade, letting Kisara’s sword slam against the guard.

As a Soul player, Kotomi felt no fight could be won without a few rolls. Dodging Kisara’s strike, she rolled away, putting distance between them. With a flourish, she regained grip of her bamboo sword.

This response had nothing to do with kendo formality. Kisara was stunned—it was as if Kotomi wasn’t in a kendo match at all, but a life-or-death battle where their weapons just happened to be swords.

No rules. Only one thing mattered: winning.

Or rather—surviving.

The distance they gained seemed like a breather, but in Kotomi’s eyes, phantom traces of Kisara’s next moves appeared. With her heightened perception, she could already see every possible angle of attack Kisara might use once she closed in.

The imagined sword lines overlapped densely. Once Kisara struck the first blow, it would cascade into a barrage, sealing off every retreat.

Kotomi could see it—but seeing wasn’t the same as knowing how to respond. Against the Sword Demon Kisara, she couldn’t think of a perfect counter. Her speed and reaction left almost no time to move.

The pressure closed in.

Kotomi once again understood why Kisara was called Sword Demon. When she got serious, her sword style left no room for retreat.

In a direct clash, neither blocking nor countering could break her momentum.

If that’s the case…

Kotomi’s mind spun as her body acted first. The instant Kisara charged, Kotomi leapt into the air.

A jumping slash?

Seeing Kotomi’s incredible leap, Kisara immediately tried to predict her next move. In her shoes, she would use a downward strike, smashing straight for her opponent’s head.

If the opponent reacted quickly, they could raise their sword to block. But with Kotomi’s unorthodox style, the moment they raised their bamboo sword, she might use the chance to kick them instead.

In a tournament, it would be foul play. But in real combat—rules meant nothing. Survival was all that mattered.

Kisara twisted to the side, unwilling to block head-on. Even if Kotomi’s downward strike carried extra force from her fall, Kisara planned to counter it with a diagonal slash.

Kesa-giri!

Using Kotomi’s landing momentum against her, Kisara struck upward with enough force to nullify any overhead slash.

But the strike Kotomi unleashed wasn’t a jumping slash at all—it was—

Gatotsu!

Her bamboo sword shot straight forward, thrusting right toward Kisara’s face.

Even with the blade already at her eyes, Kisara didn’t panic. Instead, she smiled faintly, released her grip, and bent her body back with astonishing flexibility, letting the bamboo sword graze past her cheek.

In the next moment.

Kisara turned, grabbing Kotomi’s shoulder, pinning her beneath her. With her other hand, she pulled out a dagger from her chest—sheathed, but still pressing instantly against Kotomi’s neck.

This was the dagger Kotomi had gifted Kisara during their trip to Kyoto.

Looking down at Kotomi pinned beneath her, Kisara wore the smile of a victor:

”After crossing swords like this, I finally understand your kendo a little.

”Beneath all the brilliance lies only emptiness.

”You wield many powerful techniques, your strikes overwhelming, your speed and foresight terrifying. They bloom like dazzling flowers, breathtaking to behold. But flowers cannot live without soil. The soil that sustains them—the essence of a swordsman—is their sword heart.

”Yours isn’t lacking… it doesn’t exist at all.

”Kotomi, your heart seemed calm just now, but in truth, it was in chaos.

”Can you tell me—what exactly is your heart thinking about?”

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