Aoto looked at Kondō and Okita in the distance.

“Kondō and Okita are as close to that Hijikata Toshizo as real brothers… No wonder they were arguing about whether Kondō should visit Hijikata alone or if they should both go together…”

“You’ve already mentioned four of the ‘Five Pillars.’ Who’s the last one?”

“The last ‘Pillar’…” Suzuki’s face twisted into a bitter expression. “The last ‘Pillar’ is the most troublesome and terrifying person in our Shieikan.”

“That person is our master’s wife—Kondō Fude.”

[Note: In Japan, women take their husband’s surname after marriage. For example, “Mai Shiranui” would become “Makoto Mai” after marrying “Makoto Soji.”]

“The master’s wife?” Aoto exclaimed softly.

“Yes. The mistress’s temper is truly something else.”

Suzuki shrank his neck as if recalling some unpleasant memory.

“Let me tell you something well-known in our dojo—Master is quite afraid of his wife. Despite his age, she still has him firmly under her thumb.”

“Young Master is also afraid of his mother.”

“So father and son often get scolded mercilessly by the mistress, not daring to even breathe loudly.”

“That’s why we often say privately: The real master of Shieikan isn’t the master or the young master, but the mistress.”

—Afraid of his wife huh… It seems no matter the country or era, there are always henpecked husbands…

After this mental comment, Aoto silently noted down the names Hijikata Toshizo and Kondō Fude that Suzuki had mentioned.

At this moment, Kondō and Okita’s argument finally ended.

Kondō looked as usual.

Okita wore a sullen expression.

Their faces clearly showed who had won the argument.

Kondō led the unhappy Okita back to where Aoto and the others were standing.

“As you all just heard, Toshi got injured in a fight. I need to visit him in Tama.”

Kondō didn’t know Aoto had already learned about Hijikata Toshizo from Suzuki, so he specially explained:

“Toshi is one of our Shieikan members and also my close friend. He got injured in a fight—I can’t just ignore him.”

“I won’t be back until tomorrow at the earliest.”

“Until I return, I’ll leave Shieikan temporarily under Sōji’s care.”

Aoto’s peripheral vision suddenly noticed—after Kondō’s words, Suzuki and the others’ expressions changed slightly, their faces showing traces of bitterness.

“Sōji.” Kondō now turned his gaze to Okita. “I leave Shieikan in your hands temporarily. I’ll return as soon as possible.”

“I still want to go see Hijikata with you…” Okita clicked his tongue.

“Sōji.” Kondō’s face hardened. “Don’t be willful.”

“…Understood.”

After giving some more instructions to Okita and Aoto’s group, Kondō briskly strapped on his sword and left Shieikan in quick steps with the burly man named Rokuro.

Watching Kondō leave, a faint regret flashed in Aoto’s eyes.

He had originally planned to properly spar with Kondō today to see if he could replicate any talents from him. Who knew such an accident would happen?

The more capable a person, the greater the possibility they possess special talents.

Aoto believed—compared to ordinary mediocre people, Kondō, who at a young age had become acting instructor of a sword school, undoubtedly had a much higher chance of possessing special talents.

—No helping it.

Aoto consoled himself internally.

—I’ll just have to wait until next time I come to Shieikan to practice swordsmanship before properly sparring with Kondō. Hopefully next time Kondō won’t coincidentally be away from the dojo for some reason…

As Aoto was silently thinking this, Okita kept pursing his lips, gazing at the direction Kondō had left with somewhat resentful eyes.

Only after a long while did Okita slowly withdraw his gaze and turn to Aoto and the others.

“You all heard what Kondō said just now, right?”

Okita placed his hands behind his back. His petite stature made this pose strangely comical.

“Shieikan is temporarily under my management.”

“That means—until Kondō returns, I’ll be the one instructing everyone!”

“So without further delay, let’s begin today’s practice!”

“Ahh…” Suzuki, wearing a bitter expression, twitched his lips and muttered, “To be instructed by Okita…”

Suzuki’s voice was very low—Okita didn’t hear his murmur.

But Aoto standing beside Suzuki did.

“Is Okita not a good teacher?” Aoto whispered back. “Why did all of you change expressions upon hearing he’d temporarily manage Shieikan?”

“No…it’s not that Okita is a bad teacher,” Suzuki replied quietly. “If anything, it’s the opposite—he’s very good at teaching. It’s just that he…can be somewhat…overly strict in swordsmanship instruction…”

“Overly strict?”

“Mmm…you’ll understand what I mean by ‘overly strict’ soon enough…”

Just as Suzuki’s words trailed off—

“Suzuki!”

“Yes!” Suzuki immediately stopped talking and stood straight.

“After watching your match with Aoto earlier, I noticed many areas needing improvement.” Okita spoke methodically. “For example, your sword grip.”

“You still haven’t properly mastered Tennen Rishin-ryu’s basic stance—Hira Seigan.”

“So today you’ll mainly practice Hira Seigan.”

“Get a sword. And bring me a bamboo sword too.”

“Yes!” Suzuki quickly took two bamboo swords from the nearby rack, handing one to Okita and keeping the other.

“Show me your Hira Seigan now.”

“Yes!” Suzuki immediately complied, raising his bamboo sword into a rather peculiar stance.

“Don’t press your right foot down so hard! And don’t grip the sword so tightly! Relax more!”

“Yes!”

“Your hands are still too tense—relax them further!”

“Yes!”

“Why did your left foot suddenly lift?” Okita lightly tapped Suzuki’s left calf with his bamboo sword. “Lower it, lower it more! I said lower it!”

Whack!

Okita struck Suzuki’s left calf again, this time slightly harder.

“Yes!”

“Why did the sword lower when your left foot did?”

“Yes! Sorry!”

The three students who came to practice with Suzuki seemed accustomed to this scene, casting sympathetic looks at Suzuki being “trained” by Okita.

Meanwhile, Aoto, witnessing this for the first time, couldn’t help staring dumbfounded at Okita who seemed like a completely different person.

The previous Okita had been a cheerful pretty boy with a refreshing smile always on his face.

But the current Okita…

For some reason, looking at Okita now reminded Aoto of his driving instructor from his past life—a gold-chain-wearing, ever-sunglassed bald coach…

(You damn idiot, can you stop touching the handbrake with your damn stupid hands?! Yes! Lower the handbrake! Damn! Are you brainless?!)

Even after transmigrating, the bald coach’s sincere teachings in standard Cantonese-accented Mandarin still rang clearly in his ears…

The only difference between Okita and that coach was—Okita didn’t swear.

At this moment, Suzuki’s earlier words resurfaced in Aoto’s mind—

(You’ll understand what I mean by ‘overly strict’ soon enough)

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep