Chapter 43: The Kendo Passport
Akishin could roughly guess the identities of the three individuals approaching him, but he maintained a layer of cautious doubt as he spoke. "And you three are...?"
"Ah, my apologies. I forgotten to introduce myself."
The middle-aged man, sporting gold-rimmed glasses, pulled a business card from his pocket and presented it to Akishin with both hands in a practiced, formal gesture. "I am Hirata Manabu, Chairman of the Chiba Prefecture Kendo Federation. These two behind me are Kiyohara Naru-san and Ito Yamato-san."
After introducing himself, Hirata gestured to his colleagues. Following suit, the other two handed their cards to Akishin with polite smiles. Akishin glanced down at the cards; the top line displayed their official titles within the Federation, followed by their names and a string of contact numbers.
It was a classic Japanese scene. People in this country had an almost obsessive fascination with exchanging business cards—it was estimated that around 40 million were consumed annually. In the professional world, meeting someone for the first time without an exchange of cardstock was practically a social sin. These small rectangles weren't just paper; they were a roadmap of social hierarchy, listing affiliations, titles, and ranks so everyone knew exactly how much bowing was required.
The vertical society of Japan was rigid, and the boundary between superior and subordinate was carved in stone.
"So, it's Chairman Hirata. Hello to you all. I'm Chishima Akishin. Um... I'm sorry, I don't actually carry business cards with me."
Akishin greeted them with a perfectly measured, polite demeanor. As for the cards, he couldn't care less. He had zero intention of climbing any social ladders or currying favor. Being a "weak" PE teacher at school was a comfortable enough mask for him.
"Think nothing of it," Chairman Hirata replied, waving off the apology with a dismissive shake of his head. "Chishima-san, do you intend to participate in the All-Japan Kendo Tournament?"
At the mention of the tournament, Akishin's expression shifted to one of seriousness. "I do. However, I don't possess a Kendo Passport yet, so I haven't been able to register."
"You don't have a Kendo Passport?"
The three men exchanged surprised looks. They had originally come out because they'd heard rumors of Tsuyoshi dueling some nameless stranger, and curiosity had gotten the better of them.
"That is easily remedied!"
Hirata Manabu, a man well-versed in the administrative gears of the sports world, turned toward Yuko, who was standing nearby. "Ogura-san, please assist Chishima-san in processing his passport immediately."
"Understood, Chairman."
Yuko stole a cautious glance at Akishin before answering with a respectful bow.
Hirata looked like he wanted to say more, but Tsuyoshi approached at that moment. The tall officer greeted the three officials and quickly stepped in to explain Akishin's situation. He emphasized—repeatedly—that Akishin was stronger than himself and stood a genuine chance of taking the championship if he entered.
Now, what does a man in charge of a sports association like Hirata Manabu care about most?
Results. Plain and simple.
Results led to fame, fame attracted participants, and participants drew in advertisers. More importantly, it made the bureaucratic process of requesting government funds a whole lot smoother. In short: fame equaled status and money.
Their goal in approaching Akishin was clear: they wanted to invite him into the fold. A Kendo master capable of besting Suzuki Tsuyoshi deserved the utmost respect and a VIP seat at the table.
With Tsuyoshi acting as the bridge, Akishin quickly reached an agreement. Once he cleared the preliminaries, he would officially represent Chiba Prefecture in the All-Japan Kendo Tournament.
Five minutes later, Manabu and his colleagues departed, wearing satisfied smiles. Akishin had achieved his goal for the day. All that remained was to follow Yuko and finalize the paperwork.
Akishin noted how hard Tsuyoshi was pushing to help him. His opinion of the tall man ticked up a few notches, and he mentally logged this as a debt of gratitude to be repaid later.
He also learned that his match with Tsuyoshi could be scheduled for the final day, as only three representatives would ultimately head to Tokyo. It turned out Akishin had slightly misunderstood the timeline; the "real" competition only truly ignited on that final day. While it was still technically part of the qualifiers, the level of scrutiny was entirely different.
The first few days were essentially a filter—a place for amateurs and hobbyists in Chiba to test their mettle. The final day, however, was the main event. Journalists would be crawling all over the place, TV stations would send crews, and there would even be a limited live broadcast.
Apparently, there was prize money involved for winning, though the "honor" was the part everyone talked about in public.
(Author's Note: Cries. Does winning a Japanese Kendo tournament actually pay well? I couldn't find specific numbers anywhere, though I did find out that winning at Go makes you a fortune...)
This explained why the gym was relatively empty today. Tsuyoshi was only there because the police force had granted him a week of leave, and he'd come by to check on the progress of his juniors since he had nothing better to do.
Akishin exchanged phone numbers with Suzuki Tsuyoshi and chatted about Kendo for a few more minutes. Tsuyoshi offered to take him out for lunch, but after noticing Shizuka standing a short distance behind them, he simply nodded knowingly and took his leave.
The other people in the gymnasium watched Akishin with a mix of awe and hesitation, clearly wanting to introduce themselves but lacking the nerve. Only a few older men dressed in traditional gofuku, similar to Tsuyoshi, approached to make his acquaintance.
Akishin navigated the social minefield with a practiced smile, collecting a few more business cards in the process.
Finally, Akishin changed out of his Kendo gear and led Shizuka to follow Yuko to collect his Kendo Passport. He handed over his driver's license for the data entry, and Yuko processed the documents with impressive speed.
The passport was a small, palm-sized booklet with a light blue cover. In the center was a stylized silhouette of a swordsman, embossed with the words: Chiba Kendo Federation. Akishin's name was printed clearly at the top.
Below the symbol, the words 'Kendo Passport' were joined by a registration number: 66731, which had been perforated through every page of the booklet. The first page held his personal details, his registered club, and the official red ink of the Federation's seal.
The following pages were mostly blank—empty slots waiting to be filled with records of his victories.
Akishin gave it a brief glance before tucking it into his pocket. It was a mere formality, but a mandatory one nonetheless.
By noon, the sun was at its peak, casting a brilliant glare over the city. Akishin and Shizuka stepped out of the Kendo Federation building, with Yuko escorting them all the way to the front gate.
In a rare moment of chivalry, Akishin reached out and took the sword bag from Shizuka's hand.
"Where to next?" Shizuka asked.
Truthfully, she wanted to go home—not because she wasn't enjoying herself, but because the lingering awkwardness was starting to weigh on her. However, considering Akishin had invited her out so many times, she couldn't bring herself to say it.
Akishin glanced at her. Seeing her quiet, composed smile, he said, "It's already twelve. Let's get some lunch first."
"Fine. Your treat, though."
"Of course. After that... shall we head to the amusement park?"
"No way. Hm... I want to go to the beach. It's been a long time since I've been there."
"Alright. To the beach it is."
Akishin took the initiative to climb into the driver's seat this time. Shizuka hesitated for a second but eventually relented. She had never seen him drive before, but since he had a valid license, she figured it couldn't be that bad.
Akishin had never actually been on a "date" before—though in Japan, the term was used loosely for any outing between opposite genders—and he certainly didn't know the first thing about "pleasing" a woman. But he intended to take it seriously. He had spent the previous night researching the topic online, even if most of that information seemed useless now.
He maneuvered the van out of the Federation's parking lot, driving slowly as he scanned the surroundings. He soon found a bustling commercial district known as "Usagiyama Shopping District." The sign was undeniably cute, featuring a pink cartoon rabbit.
After finding a parking spot, he left the sword bag in the car, and the two of them stepped into the vibrant atmosphere of the district.
The moment they entered, a wave of noise and energy hit them. People were smiling, giving off the impression that this was a place where happiness was a local commodity. A thick, sweet aroma hung in the air—the scent of fresh Dorayaki and Crepes.
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