Chapter 34

Chapter 34: "Congrats, You're Now an Unpaid Punching Bag!"

In which Naruto inherits the greatest gift a master can give: a boot to a better dojo.

You ever have one of those moments where you realize your teacher might actually be a certified maniac?

Yeah. I had one of those.

It started with me casually punching the life out of a training bag at the local karate dojo, the thud-thud-thud of my fists echoing like music through the gym. Shogo was lifting weights like a beast, and Kenichi was practicing stances with Honoka cheering him on with a water bottle and motivational death threats.

Everything was peaceful. Calm. Normal.

Then Master Gonzui stepped into the gym with that glint in his eyes.

The crazy glint.

"Issei," he said, all serious and intense like an anime rival. "We're going dojo hunting today."

I stopped mid-punch. The bag swung back and hit me in the face. I blinked. "I'm sorry, we're what now?"

"Dojo hunting," he repeated, like that was a phrase normal people used. "You and me, we're going to visit other dojos. Challenge them. Fight their strongest students. Possibly leave on a stretcher."

I blinked again. "That… doesn't sound like a great Tuesday."

"It's the only way to get stronger," Gonzui declared, pumping a fist. "No more training wheels. You're not just a big fish in a small pond anymore—you're a shark, and it's time we let you swim with the whales."

"Do sharks swim with whales?" I asked.

"Metaphor," he replied, waving a hand. "Besides, you've gotten taller, stronger, and somehow cooler in just a few weeks. If I don't throw you to the wolves, I'm a bad teacher."

"And what happens if the wolves eat me?"

"Then I avenge you," he said seriously.

"Oh good, that's comforting."

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You know that feeling when you step into a place and instantly think, Yep, this is where I die?

That was me at the gates of Ryozanpaku.

We'd just pulled up in Master Gonzui's suspiciously loud car, which coughed and sputtered like it had survived one too many illegal races. The street was quiet, the breeze was gentle, and I should've taken that as a warning.

"Issei," Gonzui said in the most dramatic tone ever, "this place is known as the pinnacle of martial arts. It is where legends live. Where monsters are forged. Where men become demigods… or pancakes."

"...So we're here to challenge them?" I asked, hoping he'd say no, or just to look around, or to deliver pizza.

"To take their name and surpass it," he declared, puffing his chest out. "We shall become the new pinnacle!"

Great. He was in one of those moods again.

I followed him past the old wooden gate with the words RYOZANPAKU carved into the sign like something from an ancient kung fu movie. The whole place felt like it had been built before electricity was a thing. Old wood. Stone paths. A heavy air of you're not worthy.

Before I could get a good look inside, a girl with blonde hair and sharp eyes stepped out from the entrance and blocked our path.

"That'll be 3,000 yen per challenger," she said.

I blinked. "Wait, we have to pay to get beat up?"

"It's for the repairs," she replied calmly. "And medical expenses. Mostly yours."

Honestly? Fair.

Now, I'm used to strong people. Heck, I am a strong person. But when I laid eyes on the man that Gonzui wanted to fight—Sakaki Shio—my fight-or-flight reflex tried to activate both at the same time. The guy was huge. Like, pick-up-a-motorcycle-and-use-it-as-a-toothbrush huge.

He was sitting casually on the steps of the dojo, drinking sake like he had nothing better to do—like he didn't radiate murderous aura with every relaxed sip.

I watched him carefully. The way he held the bottle, the relaxed posture, the complete absence of tension in his body. That wasn't laziness.

That was confidence.

"I'll take him," Gonzui muttered, practically vibrating.

"Master," I whispered, "I just want to remind you that you have a family. Or at least students. Mostly me."

But Gonzui was already walking forward like he was Goku and this was a dramatic showdown.

Sakaki stood, stretched a little, and said, "One punch. Let's make this quick."

I would like to say Gonzui lasted more than a few seconds.

I would like to, but I try not to lie.

Boom.

One punch.

Gonzui flew. I mean airborne, ragdoll, Team Rocket's blasting off again levels of airborne.

He crashed into a tree. The tree fell. I think a bird on that tree said its final prayers.

I stood there blinking like a goldfish, watching Master groan in a pile of splinters and broken pride.

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"My name is Issei Hyoudou," I said, bowing politely even though my brain was screaming WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! "And I wish to test myself… so please go easy on me."

Yeah, right. Like that was going to happen.

Standing across from me was Sakaki Shio, the 100th Dan Street Brawler and all-around walking muscle mountain with fists forged in the fiery pits of every street fight ever. He was tall, tan, and shaped like a bulldozer. His hair was short and purple (because of course it was), and he had this long scar across his nose that basically screamed I've seen things, kid.

"Hmm, interesting," Sakaki said with a smirk, cracking his neck like it was the opening act to my funeral. "You got guts, boy. Let's see if you got skill."

And just like that, the match began.

He didn't attack first, which was honestly more terrifying than if he had. He was just there, radiating calm doom, giving me the first move like I was some sort of big shot. How thoughtful.

"Thank you," I muttered, because my mom raised me right, even when I was inhabiting someone else's body in another dimension.

I took a stance. Gentle Fist? No. Taekwondo? Too flashy. Rasengan? Illegal and not helpful here. My brain ran through every possible combo like I was button-mashing in a fighting game and still losing.

Just do it! screamed the little fox in my head.

I charged in, looking like I was going for a classic right hook or maybe a high spinning kick to the temple. But at the last second, I dropped down and pulled a sneaky move—low spin kick to the shin. Textbook sweep-the-leg, dojo edition.

And—I hit!

Well, sort of.

My foot connected with his leg. Like a pebble gently tapping a tree trunk. His stance didn't budge. The man didn't blink.

And then came the punch.

From above.

Like a meteor.

Like divine judgment.

I looked up just in time to see his fist descending. It was beautiful, in a I'm-going-to-die-now kind of way.

But instead of cracking my skull like an egg, the fist stopped—an inch from my face.

No aura. No dramatic wind gust. Just stillness. And power.

I looked at the fist. Then at the man. Then back at the fist.

"Thank you for your time," I said, standing up like my legs weren't spaghetti and my soul hadn't tried to flee my body five seconds ago.

Sakaki raised an eyebrow and chuckled. "You didn't flinch. Got more spine than most."

I nodded, swallowing the terror and pretending I was cool. "Well, you know. Training. Meditation. Internal screaming."

Truth be told? I had no chance. None. But I had stood my ground. I had taken the swing, landed a hit (kinda), and stared down death in the face of a tan martial arts god with purple hair.

I didn't win.

But I earned respect.

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"Issei," Gonzui said, standing tall like a proud sensei-shaped mountain. "I've taught you everything I can. It's time for you to move on to a higher level."

Naruto blinked. Wait, what?

Gonzui had always been the goofy, tough, borderline-deranged gym teacher turned karate master who liked watching guys headbutt refrigerators for training. But now, there was… sincerity in his voice? Emotion?

Who replaced Gonzui with an anime dad?!

"Please, Master Sakaki," Gonzui said, bowing toward the human bulldozer with the scary face and terrifying muscles. "Accept this boy as your disciple. He has the talent… and the heart to be the best."

Sakaki blinked, sake bottle halfway to his mouth. "…Did I just walk into a shounen manga?"

He wasn't the only one.

Because right then, the rest of the Ryozanpaku death squad—sorry, masters—started appearing one by one like a fighting game character select screen had just been opened. Naruto took a slow breath as he took in the sheer amount of raw danger now within five feet of him.

There was Akisame the philosophical judo ninja, Kensei the pervy Chinese grandpa of doom, Shigure the adorable weapon-wielding silent killer, and Apachai the Muay Thai gorilla-man with the soul of a toddler. And then, towering above them all with the aura of someone who sneezes mountains into rubble, stood Hayato Furinji, the Elder.

Naruto, still technically playing the role of "Issei Hyoudou: Super High Schooler", straightened his back, summoned his best confident face, and said with his chest:

"I'm willing to give my all to this art. Please accept me as a disciple of Ryozanpaku. If I fail to show the right attitude or commitment, kick me out within a week."

Their collective smiles could've been used as horror movie posters.

"Are you willing to do anything for the art?" Akisame asked calmly.

"Anything that doesn't involve hurting innocents or, y'know, murder," Naruto replied, with the smallest of nervous chuckles.

"Why do you want to be strong?" Hayato Furinji asked, eyes sharp as a blade.

"To protect what's important to me."

"And do you think strength alone can do that?" Akisame followed up, like this was a job interview with punches.

"No," Naruto said honestly. "But without it, we can lose everything. Strength isn't the only thing, but it's the foundation. Like ramen broth."

That made Kensei nod appreciatively. "Ah, he speaks the language of the wise."

"Then we accept you," Hayato said at last, nodding. "For one week. Survive, and we'll call it official."

Naruto let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Thank you! I won't disappoint. Let me just say goodbye to my old master first."

He walked back toward Gonzui, who looked weirdly misty-eyed for a man who usually measured progress in bruises.

"Master, thank you for this. I know why you did it. I'm sorry I forced your hand."

"Silly kid," Gonzui laughed, ruffling his spiky hair. "It's a master's job to get booted out of the top spot by his student. I've done my job. Now it's time for you to become something even greater."

Naruto grinned. "Don't get lazy, old man. I'll be visiting to make sure you're still punching things."

"Ha! Just try and stop me."

With that, Gonzui turned and walked back to his car like a proud dad at graduation, driving off into the sunset—or at least toward the nearest ramen shop.

Naruto turned back toward the dojo.

One week. Seven days. Multiple ways to die.

But hey—nothing worth having ever came easy.

And Ryozanpaku was the perfect place… to become a legend.