The day passed by in a blink.
Before he realized it, the sun had begun to set over Sobu High School. Here, dismissal ti ca relatively early, giving students plenty of room in the afternoon for extracurricular activities—clubs, as they were called.
Of course, there were always those who proudly considered themselves part of the "Go-Ho Club"—the students who skipped all that and just went ho.
But in this country, club activities weren't just hobbies. They were a vital part of the social structure—almost like miniature corporations operating within the school. Every club had its own purpose, its own prestige, and in many cases, its own battle for funding.
Schools would allocate budget to each club based on value and performance. If a club won tournants or brought prestige to the school, it could expect rewards in the form of more resources and attention. The Kendo Club, Karate Club, Tennis Club—they weren't just pastis. They were investnts, reputation machines, and sotis even stepping stones to bigger opportunities.
On the other hand, clubs that failed to show any asurable results were often cut off. In a system that prized efficiency and was deeply intertwined with capitalism, these underperforming clubs were quickly dissolved—or worse, forgotten entirely.
That afternoon, after the final bell rang, Yukinoshita Akira didn't head ho like usual. Instead, he made his way toward the Kendo Club's dojo.
There was a simple reason for it—he wanted to feel the presence of a sword again.
After all, he had inherited a legacy from another world. A legacy born from the Demon Slayer Corps, passed down from the greatest swordsman in history—the original creator of the Breathing Techniques.
Clack. Crack. Snap.
The sounds of wooden swords clashing echoed throughout the wide dojo. It was an expected soundscape in a country so deeply steeped in samurai tradition.
In ancient tis, a samurai could strike down a commoner and walk away without consequence. Those days were long gone, of course, but the spirit of the sword—the reverence for its strength and symbolism—still lived on in this nation's bones.
As Akira stepped inside, he was greeted by the sight of dozens of students clad in protective gear, wooden bokutō in hand, practicing in pairs with intense energy. The dojo was full of life, filled with shouts and strikes.
But to Akira, it all looked like child's play. A group of kids pretending to fight, waving toys around.
He had seen real battles—crossed blades where life and death teetered on the edge. His body still rembered the weight of blood, the heat of combat, and the silence that followed a kill.
Compared to that... this? This was just a ga.
"Hey there. Are you a new student? Looking for soone or just checking things out?"
A bald student approached him with a friendly smile. His face was still drenched in sweat, his kendo armor not yet removed—he had clearly just finished an intense round of practice.
"I'm just visiting," Akira replied casually.
"Oh, interested in joining the Kendo Club? That's great! Though... you're kind of skinny, huh? If you do decide to join, I'll personally train you. In three months, you'll be a whole new man!"
"Thanks, but I'm not sure yet. I've always been part of the Go-Ho Club. But for so reason, today I felt like checking out a few clubs before I decide anything."
"Fair enough. But hey, whenever you change your mind, the Kendo Club's doors are always open."
"I'll think about it."
He responded politely—but inwardly, Akira had already crossed the club off his list.
This place wasn't what he was looking for. It was just a gathering of ordinary people, seeking ordinary thrills.
He sighed internally, regretting coming here on a whim.
"—Wait. Please, don't leave just yet."
A soft, clear voice cut through the air.
Akira paused mid-step.
And not just him—the entire dojo froze. Practice ca to an abrupt halt as every student turned toward the source of that voice.
At the entrance stood a girl with long, glistening purple hair that cascaded down her back. She wore the standard Sobu High uniform, but the way it hugged her figure only accentuated her commanding presence.
Akira narrowed his eyes. That face... it looked familiar. But wait—was there a purple-haired girl in Oregairu?
"B-Buchou...?"
The bald student's voice wavered as he tried to speak, but he instantly clamd up the mont the girl shot him a firm glance.
Sothing about her shifted the entire atmosphere of the dojo. Everyone—every single student—was now focused entirely on her.
Their eyes were filled with awe, admiration, even reverence... and a touch of fear.
She was a natural center of gravity. The kind of person whose presence alone could silence a room.
But what struck Akira most... was that not a single person seed resentful or envious. On the contrary, they looked at her as though she were a goddess among mortals.
And she—this idol among them—was now standing in front of him.
"It's a pleasure to et you," she said with a soft smile. "I'm the captain of the Kendo Club—Saeko Busujima."
"...Saeko Busujima?"
The na made Akira freeze.
No way. Seriously?
Wasn't this world supposed to be Oregairu?
What the hell is a character from Highschool of the Dead doing here!?
Could it be... this world was actually a blend of multiple ani universes?
"I know this is sudden, but... may I challenge you to a duel?"
Her words caused a ripple of gasps to spread throughout the dojo.
Saeko Busujima.
The daughter of the legendary Busujima family—renowned across the country for their mastery of the sword.
Even though she was only a second-year high school student, she was already a national champion.
Her father was one of the greatest living swordsn in Japan. And while Saeko hadn't yet surpassed him, her skills had already left most other swordsn in the dust.
So why... was soone like her challenging a seemingly average boy?
Whispers of doubt and confusion began to circulate among the students. But Akira paid them no mind.
To him, the opinions of those around him mattered about as much as the buzzing of insects in the background.
"Busujima-san, are you serious? I'm just a regular student. There's no way I could go toe-to-toe with soone like you," he said, brushing her off politely.
But her expression didn't falter. "No... you're strong. Stronger than anyone I've ever faced."
And that "anyone"... included her own father.
From a young age, Saeko had shown an extraordinary aptitude for the blade. Trained under her father's strict guidance, she absorbed technique after technique, refining them to suit her own style.
By now, her skills were nearly unmatched. And yet...
The mont she laid eyes on Yukinoshita Akira, her instincts scread at her.
It was like a wolf eting a tiger.
They were both predators—but the difference in strength was clear as day.
Even with just a single glance, she knew deep down:
I can't win against him.
It was a sensation she had never experienced before. Not even when facing her own father.
Though she hadn't surpassed him yet, she'd always believed that day would co.
But today... her confidence was shaken.
Because standing before her now was no ordinary boy.
He was sothing else entirely.
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