It had been a few days since I began what could be vaguely called training with my mother, studying the anatomy book together. I could feel myself becoming smarter, absorbing all the previously vague or completely unknown knowledge about the human body.

However, I still hadn’t been allowed to practice “Shijutsu” for healing.

The reason was simple: if I messed up using “Shijutsu” for healing magic, the recovery would be challenging. So, the plan was to gain more knowledge before attempting it.

Of course, I continued my close-combat training with my father without fail during this period.

My daily routine, which involved physical training with my father in the morning, lunch, and studying with my mother in the afternoon, had settled into place over the past two weeks.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked.

It was unusual for my father not to be around when I woke up in the morning.

When I asked my mother, who was carrying a load of laundry, she told me, “Your father left early this morning. He said he had work.”

“Oh, I see…”

Now that I thought about it, he had taken quite a long break recently to train with me. He must have made time for me despite being busy. I was truly grateful to him and hoped I could repay his kindness soon.

But it was strange, wasn’t it?

He said he would take a month off to teach me close combat, but it had only been two weeks. Maybe he ran out of leave time. Do exorcists even have paid leave?

“Your father went to work crying, saying he was breaking his promise to you,” my mother said.

“Wait, really…?”

I hoped that my mother was exaggerating. I didn’t want to imagine my father, with his imposing appearance, crying as he went off to work. I loved my father, but the image of him sobbing on the way to work was not something I wanted in my head.

But our household relies on my father’s efforts alone. It’s thanks to his work that we have food on the table. Even if he had to break a promise due to sudden work, I could only feel sorry for him, knowing how hard work can be. There was no way I could blame him.

“Don’t be too mad at him; he’s been very busy,” my mother advised.

“I’m not mad!” I replied.

I wasn’t angry; in fact, I was just grateful that he had spent two weeks training with me.

Feeling appreciative of the family’s breadwinner, I grabbed my child-sized practice sword and went out to the garden.

Even without my father, the training must continue.

In fact, training alone is my specialty. From the time I was a baby, I started with the “Magic Power Increase Training”, the “Unmentionable Training”, then moved on to solo practice with “Kaijutsu” and “Shijutsu.” Those memories are still fresh in my mind.

Though, to be fair, I owe learning “Shijutsu” to Renji-san.

As I thought about these things, I looked at the wooden mannequins my father had set up. Practicing sword techniques on these stationary dummies was fine, but it left me unsure about my readiness for actual combat.

After all, my father always said that close-combat training only mattered when done in real combat. That’s why he went through the trouble of using “Silvate” to move the dummies, making the training more realistic.

If that’s the case, then I also need my opponent to move, even when training alone.

…Let’s give it a try.

I extended my “Silvate” and wrapped it around the mannequin. I knew exactly how to make it move, having watched my father’s magic.

All that was left was to try.

Sure enough, I made the mannequin take a step forward while it was suspended by “Silvate.” The movement was awkward, to say the least, but it moved forward.

“…Oh!”

If I could move its feet, then I should be able to make it charge at me. Elated by my first successful attempt at puppet manipulation, I decided to move the mannequin’s arms next.

I made it bring the sword down in a straight vertical slash.

It was still awkward, but somehow, it worked.

“…Alright!”

If it can move its feet and arms, then this is more than enough.

Feeling a sense of accomplishment, I quietly made a fist in celebration.

“With this, I can train by myself…”

But of course, since no one else was around, there was no reaction. Usually, my father would be there to praise me when I accomplished something, but even without that, the training had to continue. After all, I started this to avoid dying. Stopping just because there’s no one to praise me would be missing the point.

Besides, the best part of training alone is that I can train however I want.

So, I shook off the cold, unresponsive air around me and manipulated the mannequin to attack me. It kicked off with its right foot, shifted its weight forward, and brought the sword down.

“…Hmm.”

I parried the slow, clumsy strike with my sword.

“It’s too weak…”

Of course, this was inevitable. I was the one controlling the mannequin, so I knew exactly how it would move and how strong the attacks would be. This isn’t good training.

“…This won’t work.”

I thought it was a great idea, but this isn’t cutting it.

I’d seen in manga how characters would create imaginary opponents to train against, so I was sure this would work. I never imagined it would turn into such a dull practice session.

“Ugh…”

I can’t train alone like this.

Isn’t there a better way?

I stared at the mannequin in frustration, thinking about what to do.

This training… I should name it something like “Real Image Training.”

It feels like if I could refine this more, it could become a proper training method… What’s wrong with it? Is it that I, an ordinary person, can’t do image training? Or is image training just something that only works in manga?

No, but I remember seeing on TV that even real-life fighters and athletes do visualization training.

…In that case, is it my lack of skill in image training?

I extended my “Silvate” again and stood the mannequin back up.

Then, I decided to focus on truly visualizing the movement.

But my brain wasn’t advanced enough to recreate realistic movements without a model.

Who would be a good model…?

I guess my father.

Imagining the wooden mannequin in front of me as my father, I made it step forward.

“…Hmm.”

It was a clumsy movement that even an amateur could see was bad. The movement I imagined in my head and the actual movement were completely different…

But that was true for my swordsmanship as well. How many times had my father pointed out that my form wasn’t right? But each time, I corrected it and corrected it until I could fight at a decent level, despite being uncoordinated.

It should be the same with moving this mannequin.

“Alright, one more time…!”

I moved the mannequin’s foot again.

Step forward, accelerate, and slash upward from a diagonal angle!

“…!”

Even though I was the one controlling it, I was surprised by how well the movement turned out. I quickly brought up my practice sword to parry.

Clash! The heavy sound of wooden swords striking echoed as I collided with the mannequin. But the mannequin used its large frame to press down on me and then suddenly released its strength. No, I was the one who made it release the pressure, but since I had been fully focused on defense, I lost my balance and stumbled forward.

“Whoa!?”

I didn’t let the opening go to waste.

The mannequin pivoted on its left foot and delivered a roundhouse kick to my chest!!!

“Gah!”

I was blown backward, bounced off the ground, and ended up lying flat on my back.

…I overdid it. Totally.

I wasn’t expecting my close-combat skills to be this weak, so my magic ended up overwhelming me. I don’t quite understand what I’m saying, but I do know that my image training was successful.

And I must say, this training is excellent at revealing my weaknesses…

You might wonder how I can see my own weaknesses when I’m attacking myself with my magic. But the truth is that the difference in skill between “me the magician” and “me the close-combat fighter” is so vast that when “Magician Me” looks at “Close-Combat Me,” countless weaknesses become apparent.

“…Let’s do it again.”

Which means…

If I systematically address these weaknesses one by one, I can become stronger.

The foundation my father taught me is in place.

…Now, it’s just a matter of repeating the process.

I stood up and faced the mannequin.

And just as I was about to engage in another round with the puppet I was controlling, my mother called out to me.

“Itsuki! That’s enough for today.”

“Huh? Why?”

It was the first time she had ever stopped me from training, so I couldn’t help but look at her in surprise. My mother wasn’t the type to say such things.

But she continued.

“Why? Today’s the day we’re going to buy that thing, remember?”

“That thing?”

“A school backpack.”

A school backpack…?

Oh, right! A school backpack!!!

I completely forgot!

I’m starting elementary school next year!!!

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