Faster than a Bullet

In a dimly lit room, a Japanese teenager sat with his eyes closed, fully immersed in his thoughts. His short black hair framed his face, accentuating a straight nose and pale skin. Small, red lips revealed a cheerful disposition despite his modest surroundings.

Furaya Reizo, immersed in his thoughts, was reminiscing about the past month with satisfaction. His life had taken a turn for the better since he stumbled upon the cultivation book.

********

After Reizo's triumphant victory in the preliminary rounds, he seamlessly progressed to the real tournament, where he continued to dominate. His opponents proved defenseless against the unleashed power of Qi, resulting in injuries, though not as severe as the first match.

However, one incident weighed heavily on Reizo's conscience. The first and only opponent he faced in the preliminary, a particularly strong boy, suffered a minor head trauma due to Furaya's inability to control his newfound strength. The boy grieved over the unintended consequence for several days, but there was little he could do now to remedy the situation.

Unfortunately, the wave of success brought with it an unexpected turn of events. Because Furaya wasn't the only youngsters adept with Qi in the tournament. The organizers soon discovered that some kids were easily overpowering their opponents, jeopardizing the supposed fairness of the competition. Recognizing the influence of Qi and cultivation books, they decided to postpone the tournament. It became evident to the judges that cultivators like Furaya held a significant advantage, prompting a reassessment of the tournament's fairness.

The boy had no idea what the judges would decide,but with the quarterfinal deadline approaching next week, he wasted no time cultivating, honing his sword techniques, and striving to become stronger. His efforts bore fruit a few days ago when he broke through the Second Stage of Body Tempering and advanced rapidly towards the next level.

However, that wasn't the only significant event in his life. After qualifying for the quarterfinals, his master called him to the dojo and bestowed him two gifts: a genuine katana and an ancient parchment!

That was a moment he would never forget, the memories were vivid in his mind.

The dimly lit dojo echoed with the solemn voice of Furaya's master. The teenager, seated with his eyes closed, felt the presence of his instructor, a figure who had guided him through the initial steps of his life.

"As my master gave me, I now pass these two things on to you, my direct disciple," the words reverberated in the quiet space, adding an air of significance to the moment. Furaya, still with his eyes closed, sensed the weight of his master's teachings and now, the physical weight of the gifts bestowed upon him.

"M-master!" he exclaimed, his voice slightly trembling. The unexpected generosity touched him deeply. In their modest dojo, the notion of receiving more than the teachings was indeed a surprise.

"These items have been passed down for generations," the master continued, his voice carrying a mix of reverence and uncertainty. "Legend has it that this katana fought in the battle of Sekigahara, and this technique was developed by Musashi himself when he faced a formidable staff master. I'm not certain if they are authentic, but this is our heirloom."

Furaya carefully accepted the katana and parchment, the weight of their historical significance palpable in his hands. These were far more precious than anything he had ever possessed.

"At first, I had planned to give these to you after you won the tournament, which I'm sure you will. However, with the changing world and the increasing influence of Qi, combined with your remarkable aptitude for cultivation, I thought it would be better to present them to you now," his master explained, a warm smile gracing his face. "I truly want to witness how far you can go!"

"I'll become the strongest swordsman on Earth. Thank you, Master!" Furaya expressed his gratitude with a deep bow, determination burning brightly in his eyes.

********

Furaya found himself seated on a weathered mat within the tranquil confines of the dojo. Resting on his lap was a magnificent katana, a relic of the past that far surpassed his own years. He gazed tenderly at the weapon, his reflection dancing upon the polished, razor-sharp blade. A subtle smile adorned his face, expressing a deep affection for this precious gift – a possession that held more cultural and sentimental value than anything his humble parents could have ever afforded.

The katana itself was a manifestation of Japanese craftsmanship, a symbolic embodiment of honor, tradition, and martial prowess. Its slender yet robust blade, meticulously forged and meticulously tempered, bore the marks of time and a storied history. The hilt, adorned with a simple yet elegant wrapping, offered a comfortable grip that resonated with the hands of those who had wielded it in the past. The handguard, or tsuba, displayed intricate engravings that told tales of battles long gone, a testament to the sword's connection with the rich heritage of Japan.

Each nuance of the katana spoke volumes about the country's reverence for the art of the blade and the discipline of the warrior. Furaya, fully aware of the cultural significance encapsulated in this weapon, cherished it as both a gift from his master and a link to a heritage that extended beyond his own existence.

Beside him lay the ancient technique he'd diligently practiced throughout the week. It was challenging, demanding his utmost dedication. Its origins traced back to the legendary Musashi, and while doubts lingered about its authenticity, Furaya's determination to master it remained unwavering.

Closing his eyes, Furaya immersed himself in the Qi around himself, an intangible mist weaving through the air. He anticipated that, at this pace, the Third Stage of Body Tempering was within reach. According to the cultivation book, this stage promised enhanced bone density—a crucial step toward his dream.

The genuine katana had unexpectedly accelerated his cultivation progress. The amount of Qi he used to absorb within hours was completed in a few minutes!

Just as the boy was immersing himself in cultivation, the wooden door flung open and a middle aged man entered the room.

"Master!" Furaya bowed respectfully.

"Here you are, immersed in cultivation once again!" The master's voice echoed through the dojo, a warm smile playing on his lips. Day by day, his admiration for this disciple grew. "The training is about to start; you must attend even if you're stronger than everyone now."

Furaya, having reached the Second Stage of Body Tempering, surpassed most of his fellow disciples, many of whom struggled to attain the First Stage. Due to this stark difference, Furaya was under strict instructions not to unleash his full strength during training sessions. Not like he desired to do so in the first place.

With a swift motion, the boy leaped to his feet and followed his master to the training hall. Upon entering, Furaya found the other disciples, approximately twenty kids of varying ages. Some looked at him with awe and admiration, a sensation he wasn't accustomed to experiencing. 

The master guided them through various exercises, emphasizing the importance of precision, speed, and control. Wooden swords clashed in the air as the disciples practiced their forms, seeking to improve their technique. Furaya, despite his restriction on using his full strength, moved with remarkable finesse and accuracy, setting an example for the others. The sound of wooden swords meeting and the occasional shout of the master echoed through the dojo, creating an atmosphere of discipline and focus.

As the training continued, each disciple paired up, and with wooden swords in hand, they engaged in controlled sparring. Furaya, paired with an older disciple, exhibited remarkable control over the fight. Despite being restricted from using his full strength, he moved with the grace of an innate swordsman, effortlessly defeating his opponent. Unbeknownst to the other disciples, the Qi that Furaya had cultivated had already enhanced his body, heightening his senses and reflexes.

*Bang!*

The resounding noise of the flung-open dojo door echoed through the training hall. All eyes turned toward the unexpected interruption.

In the doorway stood two burly men, their imposing physiques accentuated by black tank tops that showcased well-defined arms. They flanked a child who seemed out of place among these intimidating figures. Intricate tattoos adorned their arms and chests, unmistakable marks identifying them as members of the notorious Yakuza!

The atmosphere in the training hall grew tense as all eyes focused on the unwelcome visitors.

If the menacing presence of the Yakuza members wasn't enough to instill fear, the visible firearms holstered at their sides certainly emphasized the perilous situation they were in. However, what truly captured the attention of the young disciples was the familiar figure standing amid the men.

"What is the meaning of this?" the master exclaimed angrily. This was his dojo, and he wouldn't tolerate any disrespect. Even if that meant confronting these Yakuza thugs.

"Oh, is he the master who has the mysterious book you talked about, kid?" one of the Yakuza members sneered.

"Yes!" answered the kid, who couldn't have been older than fourteen, with contempt. Ever since Furaya found the mysterious book and was accepted as a direct disciple, he had harbored envy. Why wasn't he the chosen one?

"Shoda, why?" The master's eyes reflected a mixture of disappointment and hurt. He had invested time and effort in shaping these young minds, and Shoda's betrayal cut deep.

You traitor!" The kids, less composed than their master, shouted in unison when they discovered Shoda's betrayal.

"Becau-" Shoda began to explain, alarmed at the hatred directed toward him.

"Enough!" one of the thugs interrupted, striding forward into the dojo. "Enough with this bullshit drama. He did it because he will earn a lot of money and become one of us. Now, hand me the book!"

As the tension escalated, one of the thugs swiftly pulled out his gun, directing it at the master. The second thug mirrored the action, targeting the terrified kids who cowered in fear.

Furaya Reizo paled at the sight of the cold, metal barrels aimed at him. Despite the palpable fear, he steeled himself, swallowing hard as he stood his ground. In fact, he was the only one who knew where the book was.

"Shit, it ain't here…" the master muttered through his teeth, uncertain of what to do. The book wasn't present, and he was aware that they might not believe him, which would only worsen the already precarious circumstances. Additionally, with the kids present, he felt constrained. "Let the kids go, and I'll tell you where I hid it!" He lied, attempting to buy some time and protect the young disciples.

"What!? Do you take us for fools? Why don't you just spill where the book is, and then maybe we'll consider sparing these little chicks here?" The first thug said, with a smile on his lips.

The master showed an impassive face but said nothing, biding his time. Fortunately, the wooden sword was still in his right hand, seemingly deemed not a threat by the thugs.

"I'll see what I can find inside," stated the second thug as he walked over the hall towards the nearby door.

[My sword and technique!] Furaya couldn't help but remember the valuable items his master had given him, which were left in the next room.

The hall was tense, and no one dared to move. Aside from Furaya and his master, the kids had no idea if the book was inside the dojo or not. Furaya Reizo was dripping in cold sweat. He looked at his master, and their eyes met for a second; the older man shook his head slightly, signaling for him not to act rash.

Minutes later, the thug returned and held in his hands the swords and an old parchment.

"The book ain't here, only found this second-rate katana and this old paper with a useless sword technique." The second thug stated, displaying both items in his hands as if they were worthless trash. Furaya Reizo felt a surge of anger welling up in his heart at the disdainful treatment of his precious gifts.

"Shit!" the first thug exclaimed, taking a menacing step closer to the master. "Tell me where it is, or I'm going to explode your head!" The threat hung in the air, palpable and unsettling.

"Oh, I want that sword and that old technique too." Shoda chimed in, looking devilishly at Furaya, trying to provoke him. "Well, if it ain't here, I think I know where the book might be located!"

The second thug shifted his gaze toward the boy.

"Tell me, and that will be yours. But you better not be wrong a second time!"

Shoda nodded, raising his hand and pointing directly at Furaya. Both thugs swiveled around, their attention fixed on the young swordsman.

In a sudden burst of movement, his master seized the opportunity! Utilizing the subtle distraction, he stepped forward, launching an upward strike with the wooden training sword. The swift attack cut through the air, aimed at catching the thugs off guard.

"Run Furaya!" The master shouted.

*BANG!* The sharp crack of a gunshot echoed through the dojo, waking Furaya of his stupor.

In that critical moment, Reizo harnessed every ounce of energy within him and propelled forward with Qi. In a second, the boy rushed and appeared just in front of the hug who had grabbed his newest sword. With a speed unnatural for his age, the boy delivered a powerful punch straight into the thug's stomach, even before the man could raise his gun.

*BANG!* 

Another gunshot echoed through the dojo as the thug, propelled by Furaya's powerful punch, crashed into a wall approximately 2 meters away. Seizing the opportunity, Furaya swiftly retrieved the sword and the aged parchment before they could hit the ground. Without wasting a moment, he sprinted toward the door.

Shoda, attempting blockFuraya's escape, stood in front of the door.

"How do you dare to-" the younger ex-disciple started to complain but~

*PACK!*

A resounding slap echoed through the dojo as Furaya, without breaking his stride, delivered a powerful blow with his left hand. The boy, who hadn't even reached the First Stage of Body Tempering, experienced the raw force of real strength for the first time, causing his head to spin.

"Traitor!" Furaya sprinted past Shoda, only sparing a glance a few meters away to see a scene he would remember for his life: His master was on the ground, a small puddle of blood forming around him. The thug he had punched was getting up, and the other kids were fleeing in panic. 

"YOU BETTER RUN, KID! I'LL FIND YOU!" shouted one of the thugs while helping his companion to get up.

Tears streamed down Furaya's face. Guilt and sorrow engulfed him as he ran, his heart heavy with the realization that he couldn't save the one who had given him so much.

It appeared that his master wasn't faster than a bullet.