Chapter 33: The Completion of Training with Hayato

[ March 15, 1973 ]

The quiet spring morning was once again shattered by the noise of explosions and the sharp claps of strikes. If not for the sound-dampening barrier around Ryozanpaku, the neighbors would have long since called the police about the dojo where everything seemed to explode on a daily basis. 

Three men — a stern, elderly, gray-haired Englishman in a suit, a tall, muscular youth, and a short Chinese man in a green suit — watched the battle, sometimes nodding in approval, sometimes shaking their heads. But to an ordinary person, the mess of flashing silhouettes and erupting earth would have been pure chaos.

If you looked through their eyes, you'd see a muscular, two-meter-tall giant in a green kimono with a long beard and blond hair fighting a teenager who looked about thirteen or fourteen. Thanks to his athletic, but not over-muscled build, even in a loose white kimono, no one would mistake him for a girl anymore, despite his pretty face and long hair.

If you watched closely, you'd see the opponents using only three techniques, constantly combining them — steel spirit barrier, iron shirt, and shield-breaker, as Arthur had named the Elder's technique. Of course, they weren't equals, but sensei never expected his student to match him in half a year — that would take decades. That's why he used no more strength than Arthur had, and was pleased that the fight was ending in a draw.

Hayato attacked Arthur with a sweeping kick, but Arthur, as if predicting the move, jumped just enough to avoid it and countered with a kick in midair, colliding with sensei's steel block.

 He immediately pushed off to avoid a grapple, increasing the distance. Furinji almost instantly closed the gap and unleashed a hail of strikes, which Arthur received on the shimmering barrier of his palms.

"Stop," Hayato called, raising his hand. Arthur stopped at once, removing the dense black blindfold he'd worn the entire time. "Now attack me with everything you have."

"Yes, sensei." Summoning his wand — which seemed to appear in his hand out of nowhere — Arthur unleashed dozens of charms: fog, earth liquefaction, sound waves, blazing shields, ethereal armor, invisibility, muffled steps — everything to protect himself and complicate the fight for his opponent.

But Arthur knew Furinji was holding back. If he fought seriously, Arthur would already be unconscious. Hayato demonstrated this by instantly appearing before Arthur and striking… an illusion. The real Arthur had already blinked away, covering his former position with a wall of fire, compressing it around the Elder. But with a single clap, Hayato dispelled it all.

"Excellent, student, excellent! Now your training with me can be considered finished," Hayato laughed thunderously.

"Why are you shouting out here? You woke up Miu," an annoyed Shizuka came out of the house, rocking the now-grown little girl in her arms, her blonde hair already matching her father's and grandfather's.

"Oh, sorry, goddaughter." Arthur approached, cleaning himself with nonverbal charms out of habit, forgetting his wand was still in his hand. The girl immediately fell silent and laughed joyfully.

"Amazing. As soon as you take her in your arms, she calms down," Shizuka said. But there was nothing surprising about it — Arthur used his aura to soothe the child.

"You just need to know how to handle children," he smirked, passing the girl to her grandfather and asking, "Why do you think I've finished training? I still couldn't touch you."

"To touch me, you still have a long way to go, but I'll be stronger by then, right?" The happy grandfather made faces at Miu. "But the main thing is, you managed to deceive me with your illusion — that's already a master's sign."

"I never once touched my father," Saiga said, approaching with a smile, watching his usually stern father turn into the gentlest man in the world at the sight of Miu.

"But don't think I'm kicking you out, student. You can come to Ryozanpaku as if it were your home and continue training as you grow. It's just that right now, I have nothing more to teach you — stronger techniques you can't handle yet, and weaker ones don't suit you or you've already outgrown them."

"Thank you. I'm grateful for your teaching and your kindness," Arthur bowed not only to Hayato, but also to Shizuka, Saiga, Phineas, and even Ma Kensei, that old pervert. Each of them had helped Arthur in some way, showing him techniques or giving advice. Over half a year, he'd become "one of them," not just because he'd resurrected Shizuka, but because of his kind nature and cheerful spirit.

"Oh yes, I almost forgot." The Elder disappeared and reappeared almost instantly, as always, absolutely silently. In his hands were red steel bracers, made of overlapping metal strips. Blowing dust off them, he said:

"Here, take these. My gift to you as my student."

"Oh, sensei, you shouldn't have," Arthur said, embarrassed.

"Take them, take them. I found them in some ancient samurai cave anyway."

"Let me guess, he was a living dead? Or an immortal mummy?"

"No, they were just lying around," he waved a hand dismissively, and Arthur was left speechless. "But even I couldn't break them, so they're valuable."

"Thank you, sensei." If the world's strongest martial arts master couldn't break them, what were they made of? Adamant?

"Tonight we'll have a festive dinner, and then you can decide whether to stay or travel on," the Elder said, whistling a tune as he went inside, passing Miu to his daughter-in-law. Arthur went to his room to pack.

***

"Pixie, we're packing," I said, entering the room. The little fairy, sitting in her dollhouse in funny glasses, immediately gathered her tiny papers — each smaller than a fingernail — and put them in her equally tiny desk.

The dollhouse wasn't simple, either. It was a masterpiece of artificing, with a working office, kitchen, living room, bathroom, attic, and bedroom — all perfect miniature copies of the real thing.

Of course, it would be easier to enlarge her with Engorgio, but she didn't like that. Flying out, she touched the rune carved on the house's outer wall with her wand and shrank it to suitcase size.

In general, Pixie had changed the most — not just her strict secretary costume and glasses, but her intelligence, especially after Phineas performed the familiar binding ritual. Now I didn't have to strain to hear her thoughts or worry about burning out her little brain. We could communicate mentally at any time. Plus, I could share energy with her and always knew where she was.

"Pi-pi!" she said proudly, sending me a mental image that she was ready for anything.

"I'm proud of you, my girl," I replied, gathering my things and tidying the room, removing transfigured items and packing my small artificer's kit. The large kit takes up a whole room, and when I suggested buying one, Phineas said I should make it myself — especially since we'd just covered spatial enchantments.

"What, student, don't want to leave?" Phineas knocked and, waiting for my approval, entered. Black didn't like rudeness, and that's why, even though he had every right to barge in, he always knocked and waited for permission.

"Both yes and no," I sighed. "I know sitting in one place won't get me far, and I want to see my mom more than just on weekends, but… I've grown attached to them."

"You know how to make long-distance portkeys — there's your practice," he smirked. I grimaced. I could do it, but splinching still happened two times out of ten. But Black was right — it's not enough to know in theory; you need to get close to perfection in practice.

"By the way, teacher, you said you'd explain why you help me more than is proper for a student." We'd had that conversation half a year ago, but he'd brushed it off.

"Since I promised, I'll tell you." Creating a comfortable Victorian chair from air, Black sat and activated the dome of secrets in his ring — which, to my shame, he'd mastered faster than me. But how many years of practice does he have? "As you know, I was expelled from the family, but that doesn't mean I feel bad about it. Yes, I don't like their politics, but I'm not ready to forget all the good they gave me. And I see that if things go on like this, in ten or twenty years, the family will simply disappear."

"Why?" I wasn't afraid to interrupt — I'd long since learned when questions were allowed and when they weren't. I'd learned the hard way, walking around in a pink dress on those days and making everyone laugh.

"Because they're… too stubborn, too conservative, too pureblooded. Not ready to accept the new, not ready to retreat, compromise, or lie low for the sake of survival. A storm is coming in England's magical world — even I can see it, though I haven't lived there in years.

 Purebloods are oppressing Muggle-borns more and more, and there are more of them every year as bloodlines degenerate. In response, Muggle-borns under Dumbledore's banner are oppressing purebloods in return. One spark is enough, one new Dark Lord, and everything will ignite."

"And one such has appeared, right?" I guessed.

"Yes, he has, and he's actively recruiting. Honestly, I don't care about the old generation of Blacks — it's long past time for them to retire and practice magic or live out their last years in their manors. But I feel sorry for the young ones. I don't want to suddenly be the last Black on Earth."

"Then why don't you help them yourself?"

"I can't. They're too proud and unyielding — they won't let me near the young ones, not even at cannon shot distance. And fight my own family by force? I won't go that far."

"So you want me to help the Blacks?"

"I'm only asking, not ordering as teacher to student. In the future, you'll have enough strength and intelligence to, if not save my family, at least not let it die out." I thought about it. My teacher was giving me much, much more than any master gives a student.

 Was it worth agreeing and sticking my head in the lion's mouth, especially since I suspected who that Dark Lord was? "Naturally, I won't send you unprepared, especially since there's no active conflict yet. And of course, you can refuse, and we'll forget this conversation."

"I see you're honest with me, and I appreciate that. Do I have to fight?"

"If it can be avoided, I'd be glad. It's up to you." I knew I could refuse. I knew that even after this, Black would teach me just as well — that's the kind of person he is. But I still agreed.

"I'm in your debt," Black bowed to me and left. I stayed, thinking about why he didn't just hire mercenaries to back up his family. And then I understood — he didn't need just a fighter, or rather, not only that. He needed someone who could change his family's opinion.

Someone who could sway at least some of the Blacks to his side, since they respect strength. He wasn't telling me to climb the barricades and shield the Blacks with my chest — he only spoke about the family's survival, and that's an achievable task. Most importantly, now I understood why Phineas was making a monster out of me and spending so much effort on me. That meant I could work with him.

After that important question was closed — or opened — I thought about what else had changed in my life, besides receiving the title of martial arts master, though I didn't consider myself worthy of it yet. My mom and Ludwig finally matured and, embarrassed, announced their wedding to me, which would take place in two weeks. Jacqueline and Alain had already married quietly.

But with friends… with friends, there were problems. Or rather, a natural but no less sad process was happening, one that had started long ago. Apolline and Patrick had their own friends now, people they found more interesting than me. While we studied together, it wasn't so noticeable, but during my training at Ryozanpaku, I realized I was growing more and more distant from them.

I wanted to talk about new runes, charms, spells, or techniques, and they wanted to talk about grades, girls, boys, and school jokes. I just wasn't interested in being with them, and they weren't interested in me, especially now that they had choices. Maybe later, when they mature, things will change, but I'm not a little boy anymore, and I know things won't be the same. 

And did I ever really treat them as friends? Probably not — more like my children. Is that sad? Yes, but that's life's poetry. Friends and lovers must be sought among those you consider your equals.

"Pi-pi," sensing my mood, the fairy hugged my nose and began stroking it.

"Yes, yes, Pixie, I love you too," I said.

***

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Thank you for the help with the power stones!!!