Teaching Kendo in Tokyo 1980

The day before the Golden Week holidays began, Kazuma once again led Chiyoko through the doors of Sumitomo Construction headquarters.

This time, Executive Director Ōhara himself came down to the elevator lobby, with Ogawara in tow, to greet them.

After some polite small talk, Ōhara ushered the Kiryu siblings into his office and warmly poured them tea himself.

Seeing how cordial Ōhara was being, Kazuma felt a surge of optimism. Finally, we might be able to resolve our financial problems.

After all, while the Kanto Union had promised to cover the cost of fixing their gate, any compensation still had to go through the Transportation Industry Association's red tape—which would take at least half a year.

Meanwhile, their remaining savings barely covered food expenses.

Kazuma decided to take the initiative. "Executive Director Ōhara, about our family's dojo..."

"No need to worry about that anymore," Ōhara said with a smile. "We've decided to abandon the acquisition plan for your dojo. No one will bother you two about it again."

Kazuma, who had been all smiles and mentally counting money, froze.

"Wait, hold on—you've already acquired most of the surrounding land, haven't you?" he quickly tried to salvage the conversation. "I heard you're planning to build a high-end residential and commercial complex. If our little old dojo ends up sitting there all alone among a bunch of modern buildings..."

What he wanted to say was "Why not just buy us out too? Otherwise, it'll look like an eyesore and ruin the whole aesthetic."

But Ōhara cut him off cheerfully. "No need to worry about that! The design is still in the early stages—it can easily be adjusted!

"We can add green spaces and small parks around the dojo, leaving plenty of open space between it and the apartment buildings!

"I promise it won't block the dojo's lighting at all!"

Kazuma was stunned. Lighting? That's what you're worried about? If you just bought the dojo, I could move into one of the new apartments, enjoy whatever lighting I wanted—wouldn't that be much better?

"Uh, well... lighting aside, I actually want to sell the dojo..." Kazuma decided to just be blunt.

Ōhara immediately looked troubled. "That may be difficult to execute. The board has already decided to preserve the dojo.

"On top of that, we've received a letter from the Ministry of Education. They believe the dojo might qualify as a cultural property. Until the necessary evaluations are completed, they strongly advise against any development."

Kazuma frowned. What does the Ministry of Education have to do with this?

A rundown dojo that hasn't had a menkyo kaiden in two generations—a place the national kendo federation has probably forgotten even exists—is now a potential cultural property?

One thing about Japanese bureaucracy: it's extremely bureaucratic.

For example, if a car accident damages a roadside shrine or temple overseen by the Ministry of Education, the traffic department can't handle it. Even the traffic police can't process the scene until a Ministry official arrives.

If the Ministry now declared the Kiryu dojo a cultural property, even a giant corporation like Sumitomo Construction couldn't touch it.

Not unless they shelled out hefty political donations to grease the wheels over at the Ministry.

Kazuma hadn't expected that Uesugi Sōichirō would have connections in the Ministry—but thinking about it, the man was a sword saint with plenty of cultural interests. It wasn't that surprising after all.

With a resigned click of his tongue, Kazuma accepted the reality: the dojo was now unsellable.

If Sumitomo wouldn't buy it, no one else would. The surrounding land all belonged to Sumitomo, and no other company would swoop in just to buy a single isolated lot.

Seeing Kazuma deep in thought, Ōhara apparently thought he hadn't grasped the situation yet and continued, "This land won't be sold anytime soon. You can live there peacefully for as long as you like."

Kazuma gave him a flat look. "Thank you for the explanation."

"Not at all! Is there anything else I can assist you with, Kiryu-kun?"

"No, that will be all. Thank you very much." Kazuma stood up decisively. No point wasting time here when selling the land was off the table.

Ōhara also rose and enthusiastically offered to escort them out. "I'll walk you downstairs."

"No need, Director Ōhara—you must be busy."

"Oh no, I insist! You are honored guests of our company."

Kazuma seriously suspected this was just Ōhara trying to annoy him. Guests? If we were really honored guests, you'd have bought the land!

But he didn't say it out loud. No point. He just let it go.

And so, the Kiryu siblings barely had time to warm their seats before being courteously escorted right back out of Sumitomo headquarters.

From a purely polite standpoint, Ōhara had given them plenty of face—personally welcoming and seeing them off—but it still left an uncomfortable knot in Kazuma's chest.

Outside Sumitomo, after bidding Ōhara farewell, Chiyoko asked, "What now?"

Kazuma scratched his head. "Well... let's go home first and think it over."

Just then, Kazuma spotted none other than Itō Yūsaku, dressed up like some respectable businessman, getting out of a taxi with his bodyguard.

Itō Yūsaku noticed them too. He was about to close the taxi door when their eyes met. Without a word, he ducked back into the car.

His bodyguard looked puzzled. "Something wrong? Did you forget something?"

"If you don't want a beating, get in the car!" Itō Yūsaku yanked the man inside.

The taxi peeled away in a hurry.

The Kiryu siblings watched it go.

Chiyoko remarked, "Too bad. If you'd had the chance to punch him, it probably would've improved your mood."

"Probably," Kazuma admitted with a shake of his head. "Come on, let's go home."

"Let's stop by the market first—we're already out," Chiyoko suggested.

"Yeah." Kazuma nodded. Then a thought struck him. "By the way, Chiyoko—when offering something to a Jizō statue, like the ones you see by the roadside, what's a good offering?"

Chiyoko tilted her head. "Fruit should be fine, I think. The important thing is sincerity. Why?"

"Mm." Kazuma nodded. "Let's buy some fruit. There's a Jizō I think we should make an offering to."

In truth, he was wondering if offering something might trigger some kind of temporary buff. He planned to test each type and track their effects and durations.

Chiyoko looked at him quizzically but didn't ask.

And so, the siblings left Sumitomo headquarters, took the commuter rail back to Kitakatsushi Ward, and picked up ingredients for dinner—as well as offerings for the Jizō—at their usual shopping street.

Guided by memory, Kazuma led Chiyoko toward where he had seen that Jizō statue in the rain the other day.

In his mind, the statue had a distinctive red cloth tied around its neck. It should be easy to spot.

But something odd happened.

They walked up and down the street several times, retracing his route to the Tsuda-gumi office, but saw no sign of the Jizō.

Chiyoko wiped her brow with a handkerchief and asked, "Bro, are you sure it was this street? Maybe the rain that day made it hard to see and you took the wrong route?"

Kazuma stood by the roadside, surveying the surroundings. "No, I'm sure. It was right here. I remember it clearly. The statue should've been right here."

He pointed to the exact spot he recalled.

He was certain he hadn't imagined it.

Was it a hallucination?

Or maybe... this special ability of mine isn't limited to reading people's states—it might also reveal supernatural things?

If a sword can have a spirit, why not a Jizō statue that can move on its own?

Just then, Kazuma spotted an older man heading home from work and hurried over. "Excuse me, sir. Is there a Jizō statue around here?"

The man gave him a strange look. "No. I've lived here thirty years, pass this way every day—never seen a Jizō here."

Kazuma frowned and thanked him, then turned to Chiyoko. "That's odd."

Chiyoko spotted an elderly lady coming their way. "I'll ask her."

She shoved her things into Kazuma's arms and ran over. "Excuse me, Grandma! Is there a Jizō statue around here?"

"What statue?" the old lady shouted back.

"Jizō!" Chiyoko raised her voice.

"Jizō? Oh, there was one! Before the war. But it got taken down when they rebuilt after the war. That was—oh—almost thirty-three years ago!" the old lady shouted cheerfully.

Chiyoko glanced back at Kazuma.

Kazuma called out, "Thank you, Grandma!"

"Don't mention it!" she replied, continuing on her way.

Kazuma crouched at the spot where he remembered the statue standing and placed the fruit offering on the ground.

In his previous life, he had a simple belief about gods and spirits: Since I'm here anyway, might as well pay my respects.

After arranging the offering, he clasped his hands and closed his eyes.

Chiyoko stood behind him, mimicking his gesture.

Kazuma silently prayed: Jizō-sama, we met by chance before. I can't repay you properly, but when I'm better off, I'll be sure to restore your statue. For now, please accept this humble offering.

Lacking any formal Buddhist knowledge, he ended with a line he'd heard on TV:

"Great heavenly dragon, revered Jizō, wisdom of the Buddhas, Prajna paramita."

When he finished, Kazuma glanced at the sky and breathed a sigh of relief.

Phew—no lightning strike. That's good.

He stood and said to Chiyoko, "Let's go."

"That's enough?" Chiyoko asked. "Was it sincere enough?"

"The heart matters more. We've got other things to focus on."

Like studying.

Like figuring out how to make money.

With that, Kazuma hefted their groceries and strode purposefully toward home.

(End of Chapter)