Io looked right at me, her head slightly tilted. I had nothing left to say in response. All I could do was sigh.
“Here,” Io said, putting an MMA glove in my hand.
“Do we really need to do this? Sparring, I mean.”
“I feel like it’s not enough to just memorize the fighting moves. To act as if I am a trained fighter, I need to practice sparring in such a way as to simulate a true battle.”
“I see… So that’s why you’re interested in me and not Shiika.”
“The way you train is unusual, and it seems like you’ve mastered some kind of martial art. Isn’t that right?”
“…Can you teach me how to get ahead on the final exam?”
I wanted to reemphasize this.
Information, that was what I was lacking. Before I went and revealed my hand, I wanted to make sure our agreement was set in stone.
“Of course. Women’s honor.”
“Because I recorded you saying that. And if you double-cross me, I’ll upload it to WayTube and have you totally canceled.”
“Hee-hee. Relax. I play it straight. That’s my personal policy.”
“Systema—it’s a martial art for soldiers; or rather, it’s a fighting technique. I’m self-taught, though… If a true soldier ever saw me, no doubt they’d be furious. That’s how amateur I am.”
“I see. Well, I’m looking forward to seeing you in action either way.”
“Try not to get injured. I may be an amateur, but that also means I’m not good at pulling my punches.”
“All right. Anyway, sometimes the risk of injury makes it more exciting.”
“Please give me a break with that.”
If I scarred the face of one of their most precious assets, her talent agency might send assassins after me.
I didn’t want to lead a life in fear, like that one WayTuber who lives abroad for their own safety after exposing the dark side of certain celebrities. That’s the kind of thing I’d only do if I had nothing left to lose.
As I thought about that, I pulled the glove over my hand.
Io was already in the middle of the mat. Bouncing on the spot, checking her footwork, waiting impatiently for me to be done getting ready.
“Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Sure. I’m ready for you anytime,” Io said.
There wasn’t a gong, but we both sensed when it was right to start, and lightly bumped our fists to signal the beginning of the match.
Io lowered her hips halfway and took a deep breath.
A kung fu stance. The back of her left hand was facing me, and she curled her fingers, provocatively beckoning me.
These were the kind of moves I’d seen in films. It was impressive.
Amazing. My first time seeing this in real life.
“You’re ready anytime, huh? You’ve got…some…NERVE!”
Scraping my feet against the floor, I covered the shortest distance in the shortest amount of time… A one-inch punch.
The overwhelming force generated by the twisting of the hips and the rotating of the shoulder went all the way through my arm and into my fist, putting an even amount of weight behind my rapid strike.
A blow like that could even knock out a thug with decent fighting skills. Now, I have some self-confidence, but I’m not just tooting my own horn here. I can say it based on my past experiences, but…
“Huh…? Hah!”
“Wha…? Are you serious?!”
Io parried the blow with the back of her left hand and instantly moved into my exposed space.
Then she gently placed her beautiful white palm on my navel and jabbed it inward.
It was like getting a wrecking ball to the solar plexus. I took a step back, my legs tangling together.
I wanted to congratulate myself for not losing my footing after a blow like that. I was able to keep my feet planted to the ground with a rootlike tenacity. No doubt a result of all my training to my lower body and core. Yes, muscle training really is important. And I’m glad I kept it up. Very, very vital.
“Wow, you really did pull your punches. I see, I see. Great technique.”
“Since when did Ryouran become a school for training martial artists?”
“Well, for me, this is all part of the arts.”
“I see… Well then!”
“…! Whoa, that was a sharp blow. I barely managed to dodge that.”
Smack. Smack. Io and I punched glove against glove, letting off a dull sound.
The sweaty sparring continued in silence for a while after that, but since it’s got nothing to do with Shiika’s story, I’ll omit the blow-by-blow here. This is just some behind-the-scenes work, you see. What’s important is the conversation we had after that.
“The final exam. Each year…the key is to…”
Io threw a punch at me, then finished her sentence.
“The key is to get someone talented in the Fashion Department on your side.”
“The…Fashion Department?” I mindlessly parroted her own words.
I barely paid any thought to the Fashion Department. Some fashion students were in a few of our elective classes, but to be honest, our grade was so full of flashy students I’d never felt like getting involved with any of them.
“Theatrical performances, movies, concerts, dance events… Costumes play a vital role in all of them.”
“So…looks are what’s most important, you mean?”
“Yes. The costuming’s actual merits aside, having a designer with a great reputation provide the outfits always greatly increases the reception of the audience to any given production.”
“But why team up with students from the Fashion Department? If we hire a first-class designer and have them make costumes for us, that would be even better, surely?”
“Do you think a first-rate designer would accept such a job from an inexperienced student?”
“What if I saved up some money and—? Whoa?!”
A sharp jab came flying at my head. I reeled back, dodging the blow.
Leaning close enough for me to feel her breath, Io spoke with a deadpan expression.
“A costume’s either ugly or beautiful, depending on the status of its wearer. You can save up all the money you want, but it won’t help you… Even in the finest of costumes, if you don’t have the style, you’ll just look like a fool.”
“…Yes, people who wear designer clothes to try to look cool often are a tad cringe.”
“Precisely. Wow, you catch on quick.”
“I have a finely honed radar for cringe.”
Yes, I’d grasped what Io was getting at right away.
Clothes make the man, they say, but there’s a limit to what you can hide just by dressing up nicely.
It’s not about whether you’re wearing good clothes, but whether you’re wearing clothes that suit you.
A first-class designer would probably be busy and would value their free time highly. A wad of cash probably wouldn’t tempt them much. No doubt a really good designer would only provide haute couture to someone who could raise their own profile. At least, that’s how I saw it.
“But in that case, wouldn’t it be the same story if I tried to hire some talented student from the Fashion Department? Like, for example, the first-year Azusa Harajuku.”
“Of course it would. But they’ve got their own end-of-term exam requirements to fulfill, too, you see. They’re going to want to find the most talented students to dress. So if they were to collab with someone who was a perfect fit and help raise their reputation, then…”
“But how do you persuade someone of that level? With subscribers and views?”
“No way. Designers know how hollow those kinds of numbers are. Likes on social media don’t get you recognition in Europe. It’s about tangible results… The brand you create for yourself. The right model. The right face.”
With a chuckle, Io sharply raised her right leg in a high kick.
I blocked it, guarding my face, but Io kept her leg stretched high and continued talking.
“And entertainers need the right staging of costumes to create their brand… Their face.”
“Ah, right.”
“Fashion designers are the mirror image of that. They need the right staging provided by an entertainer, someone to make their costumes really pop… To create their brand, their face.”
“Then if we can show Azusa Harajuku that Shiika and the others are the kinds of entertainers she should work with…she’ll want to collaborate with us?”
“Yes. Well, before that, though… Hah!”
Once again, Io’s fist came flying toward my face.
“You need the right…attack!”
“…I see… I feel like I’ve learned a lot.”
Io’s fist stopped a few centimeters from the side of my face.
And my fist, too, stopped right in front of her’s.
An attempt at a cross counter. Io beamed, and I did, too, lured in by her smile.
“Consulting with older students… It really is invaluable. Thank you, Io.”
“This was a wonderful training experience. Thank you, Gakuto.”
We thanked each other and finally withdrew our fists.
Both Io and I were sweating, our breathing erratic.
I looked at my watch and saw that quite some time had passed. I also realized that I still felt rather energized, despite all the vigorous exercise and talking. In fact, I felt oddly purified and refreshed.
“Gakuto.”
I was just wiping my sweat with a towel, about to exit the room, when Io stopped me.
“Will you spar with me again?”
“Hmm, I don’t know…”
An ambiguous response. Honestly, it hadn’t been so bad. But I was only attending this school as an accessory to Shiika’s career. Right now, I was working alone to gather info, yes, but honestly, I’d rather stick close to Shiika’s side. I wanted to make it clear that this was just a one-off thing. Doing it regularly sounded exhausting.
After thinking about it for a while, I replied:
“Tit for tat. The next time there’s something you can do for me, I’ll spar with you again.”
After finishing my match with Io, I wondered what the members of the Shibuya Gang were doing, so I headed to the dance studio.
When I opened the door, the first thing I saw was a pile of dead corpses: Shiika, lying on the floor, not moving at all, while Akiba and Komae were in a state of exhaustion. Only Shibuya seemed like she was still alive, but she was sweating a lot and looked pretty out of breath.
“Oh, it looks like you worked hard.”
“Ah, Gakkun! ’Sup?!”
Ootsuka noticed me and came dashing over, in high spirits.
Ootsuka didn’t look tired at all, naturally. She was business as usual, full of pep.
“Gasp, gasp… That woman. She’s dangerous. A sporty demon…”
Akiba sounded hoarse, like someone about to bleed out.
“She’s a monster! Grrr!”
“It’s amazing that you have enough breath left to joke around with… I’m completely spent.”