Dojo Drills and My First Slime Slaughter
Kiryu Dojo, and after that first battle—whoosh! Whoosh!! Kendo didn't feel all that tough since I'd trained for exactly this beforehand. Mastering the basics was straightforward. Just endlessly repeating the same stance, swinging the sword in steady arcs.
Whoooosh!! Whoosh!!!! I had serious confidence in boring, repetitive grind work. As a guy who'd hit the pinnacle of monotonous routine cranking out 3,000 words daily as a web novel hack, I had killer tolerance for tedium.
"Nice! 500 reps! Head strikes are good—now wrist strikes, 500 more!" Gonzaemon said with a grin.
I swung away at wrist strikes without a peep, trusting every rep would rack up EXP.
Whoooosh! Whoosh!!! Half-lost in a trance, swinging the bokken like mad, when Gonzaemon finally clapped his hands.
"Good!! That's a grand total of 1,000 swings. Take a breather—but stay on your feet, no sitting."
He'd been swinging right alongside me, yet not a drop of sweat on the guy. This was where the spec gap showed.
Standing break, huh... Classic athlete thing. They never liked seeing you plop down to rest. Made sense—sitting actually tired you out more. I caught my breath on my feet.
"Repeating the same motion without a hint of boredom. Gotta respect that grit. You're not like the kids these days."
Gonzaemon chuckled.
"Thank you, sir."
I bowed as politely as I could.
"Eh... Kendo used to be huge back in the day, but now? No buzz. Sweaty sports like this ain't kid-friendly anymore."
Suddenly he was lamenting his woes.
"Even my daughter—now that she's hitting that age, she ditched kendo to hang with friends. Dyed her hair... wears those short skirts. Tch. Worried she'll run into some shady guy. Lately her curfew's slipping too."
"I see."
I listened attentively, all respectful-like.
"Hahat! Seriously, not like the young ones. Manners on point."
Just shutting up and listening was boosting his favor, I could feel it.
"Glad you think so. Thanks."
I flashed a sly smile.
"Alright, break's over. Back to training, Shota."
Boom—he'd switched from "Arikiri" to my first name, Shota.
'We're in the friend zone now...' As a total fujoshi—no, otaku—I knew what that meant. We'd hit a level of familiarity.
I grabbed the bokken again.
After that, I trained till evening. Once the first session wrapped at the dojo, Gonzaemon called me over.
"By the way... You ever done kendo before?"
His eyes sharpened on me.
"No, sir. First time."
True for this world, anyway. Sticking to the possession backstory avoided plot holes later.
"Hmm... Posture's too solid for a newbie. Uhahahaha! Might have real talent!!"
Gonzaemon bellowed a laugh.
"Thank you, sir."
Phew. Suspicion cleared.
"Anyway, come back tomorrow. You're soaked—hit the dojo showers."
He clapped my shoulder. No reason not to, so I beelined for the showers.
For the next week, I threw myself into training. Spring break anyway—no plans. Morning to night: kendo, home, repeat.
Naturally, I crossed paths with other students. Plenty my age, adults too.
"Oh, new guy? Haven't seen you before."
"He's pretty good."
They were all chill. Partly 'cause I played nice.
Another solid day done, heading to showers with the crew. That's when—
"I'm home."
A sleepy, sultry voice. In walked long straight blonde hair, the kind of bombshell beauty that'd stop traffic. And... overwhelming bust. Not just the chest—her whole body's killer.
Yep. Psychologic 3 heroine, Umi Kiryu.
'In the original story, do I stalk her and drop dead?' Bitter thought.
"........."
The guys heading to shower froze, jaws dropping. Topic? Obviously Umi.
"Hooking up with a girl like that? Dream come true..."
"Saw her chest jiggle when she moved? Insane..."
High school boys gonna boy. Conversation veered that way.
"Shota, you into that type, right?"
A buddy nudged me.
"Eh... Maybe."
I dodged. Truth? Zero bandwidth for that. My internal timer was ticking.
A week gone already. Time flew.
"Lame."
The guy next to me laughed it off, scrubbing down.
'Tonight... Time for real combat XP?'
Dressed and out, I mapped my night route. Felt eyes on me, but nah—paranoia.
The week's training paid off quick.
"Nailed it..."
Level 2. Took a whole week for one ding—depressing—but hey, progress.
Strength up 2, Agility 1, Durability 1. Standard level-up gains—random 1-3 bumps. Solid enough.
'No save-scum resets here.' Reality meant no exploits.
'Luck and Magic flatlined, huh.' Kendo wouldn't touch those anyway. Ditch 'em clean.
'Level 2...'
Should handle level 1 mobs now. Confidence surged.
'Let's do this.'
Risky solo, but nothing beat real fights for XP. Tonight: hunt.
Midnight hit—I cracked the window, slipped out. Second floor, low drop—no issue.
At midnight, Emoshita City's boundary with the Other Side blurred. Monsters spawned till 2 AM. The dreaded "witching hour."
Farm till then, bag some EXP.
'Shopping district first. Gear up.'
RPG 101: weapons first. Shopping district had spots, but prime was Hoshimaru Store—blacksmith by day, monster gear by night.
"You..."
The owner eyed me hard.
"Looks like you know the Other Side... and you're geared to fight."
Grimy smirk.
Good—sharp guy, no backstory dump needed.
"Take what you want. Daytime? Just models. But they chew through monsters fine."
He rapped the display.
Level-locked gear anyway. Noob me? Slim pickings.
◈ It's an iron pipe, but not some industrial scrap. Crafted as a proper weapon. Perfect for vintage vibe fans.
Basic noob one-hander. Better than bokken—shorter, lighter.
"Uh... 10,000 yen."
Owner quoted. Pricey for construction-site junk... but necessary. Paid cash.
Grabbed potions and status cures too. Solo hunt essentials—no healer.
Shopped out. Felt Japan's inflation sting.
"Happy hunting."
Only then did he grin.
Gear sorted, out into the night. Three-plus playthroughs? Knew the spots.
Old Town outskirts—classic noob field. Grind small fry, fast levels.
"Grrr..."
"Groooar..."
Nightfall: monsters roamed free. Black jelly blobs.
Slimes. Weakest mobs per trope.
Whoo...
Tense as hell. But I slapped my cheeks, hyped up.
"Kkieeeek!!"
Pro tip: scream to focus. I charged the slimes, howling.
"Gehk?!"
"Gerurk!!"
Aggro pulled—they oozed toward me slow.
Whoooosh!
Slime attacks? Basic body slam. Noob fodder.
Step back!
I sidestepped the slam range.
Smaaaack!!
Iron pipe straight to the slime's face.
Splooosh!!
Burst sound—slime exploded.
First win. This... slaps? Confidence boost.