Chapter 7: Manuals, Muscles, and the Birth of a Training Pact
From the probably-too-excited brain of Ren Kisaragi
Okay, so here's something nobody tells you when you jump to another world:
Knowing what something is and actually knowing how to use it are two completely different things.
I knew about televisions, phones, computers, cars, bikes, electricity—all that Earth stuff Sage Yun Che had introduced back home.
But nobody had ever taught me how to use a PlayStation.
Let me explain before you think I hit my head again.
It all started when I visited the Fujimoto family house, which was just a regular house with enough books inside to make me wonder if Haruki secretly planned to become a scholar.
Haruki invited me over after training, saying something like, "Wanna hang out?"
I thought that meant more badminton.
Turns out, it was much cooler.
Their house was normal-ish—comfy couch, smell of dinner in the air, a TV, and... books.
I mean, the dude had more books than some instructors back at the Veiled Moon Sect, and they weren't about history or Sect regulations either. They were about martial arts styles, pressure points, famous fighters, and even a book that looked like it should've been called The 100 Deadliest Moves That Will Probably Get You Expelled from School.
Okay, maybe not the actual title.
But it should've been.
Anyway, Haruki showed me around his room, and that's when I saw it.
The holy grail.
The sacred shrine of teenagers everywhere.
The PlayStation.
I knew what game consoles were.
Actually using one?
Different story.
"You've never played PlayStation?" Haruki asked like I'd said I'd never eaten noodles.
"Not really."
He stared at me.
"Seriously?"
"My parents are... strict."
Technically, Kaito's parents weren't.
But my childhood definitely hadn't involved video games.
Haruki looked sympathetic. "Oh."
I nodded solemnly.
Much easier than explaining that I'd grown up throwing knives, learning assassination techniques, and carrying an ancient death creature inside my body.
Haruki handed me a controller and showed me how to use it. Left stick moves, right stick controls where you look, buttons punch, kick, jump, and... I forgot what triangle did because my thumb kept mashing everything at once.
Enter: Hana Fujimoto, Haruki's little sister.
Now, I've fought spirit beasts, enemy ninja, rogue cultivators, and people who could probably punch buildings apart.
But I'd never been so thoroughly destroyed by a small child.
We played Street Fighter.
I picked Ryu.
She picked Chun-Li.
I thought I was doing pretty well—I landed a few kicks, managed one fireball, even did some spinning move by complete accident.
Hana?
Hana transformed into a button-mashing demon princess.
Her fingers moved so fast I swear I saw smoke coming off the controller.
"Hadouken!"
"Spinning Bird Kick!"
"KO!"
My Ryu collapsed.
I didn't even know what hit me.
Haruki groaned beside me. "She does this to me too..."
We bonded over our shared defeat.
That's what real warriors do when the smallest and most dangerous person in the room annihilates your confidence.
After our gaming humiliation, Haruki introduced me to something called YouTube.
I knew the internet existed.
I knew computers could access information.
What I had not understood was how ridiculous the amount of information actually was.
Haruki pulled up videos of martial arts fights—karate, boxing, aikido, Muay Thai, Judo, kung fu.
I stared at the screen.
"This has everything."
"Pretty much."
"Training styles?"
"Yeah."
"Techniques?"
"Yeah."
"Cooking?"
"Obviously."
I think I almost cried.
Back home, if I wanted to learn something new, I needed a teacher, a manual, permission to access Sect records, or someone willing to demonstrate it.
Here?
One search.
Boom.
Knowledge explosion.
It was like having an enormous library inside a screen.
So yeah.
I lost a video game fight to a little girl, discovered an endless collection of training videos, and realized Earth's greatest weapon might not be Ki.
It might be the internet.
And if I ever got back home...
I was definitely asking Sage Yun Che why he hadn't introduced PlayStations.
You ever meet someone and think:
Wow, why didn't I meet you earlier?
That's how I felt about the Fujimoto siblings.
One day.
That's all it took.
Just one day, and I was already getting comfortable around them. Okay, maybe not officially family-level comfortable, but Hana had already tried to make me help with her homework, and Haruki let me borrow a martial arts manual.
That counted for something.
We spent most of the afternoon talking.
Not boring "Hi, how are you?" conversations either.
Important discussions.
Like:
"How do you throw a punch without looking like you're trying to swat a bug?"
Or:
"What happens if you try a flying kick off the sofa?"
Answer:
You destroy a lamp.
Sorry, Mrs. Fujimoto.
I didn't have many normal things to talk about, honestly.
Most people here talked about school, hobbies, games, or shows.
Me?
I normally had Ballom, Master of Death, sealed inside me and spent my childhood learning how to kill people from shadows.
Not exactly dinner-table material.
So I stuck to what I understood—
becoming stronger, fighting better, and not dying.
You know.
Normal teenager stuff.
And Haruki?
That guy lit up.
"I've read a lot about martial arts," he said, flipping open a notebook with so many tabs it looked like a porcupine. "I've got manuals on Muay Thai, Judo, Karate, even some Chinese Kenpo."
My jaw dropped.
"Wait—you read martial arts?"
"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly. "I mean, I don't actually know them. I've never really trained. I'm kinda... weak."
I looked at him.
Not in a judgmental way.
More like how I used to look at myself and wonder if someday I'd finally become strong enough that nobody could leave me behind again.
"You know," I said, leaning forward, "we could work on it together."
He blinked.
"Huh?"
"Things are easier with friends." I grinned. "I know how fighting is supposed to work, even if this body can't actually do half of it yet. You've got manuals, school knowledge, and a PlayStation."
I pointed between us.
"We'd make a great team."
Haruki stared at me.
Then he smiled.
Like, really smiled.
"Yeah," he said. "Let's do it."
And just like that, a pact was formed.
No blood oath.
No ancient contract.
No sacred Sect ceremony.
Just two boys who wanted to get stronger, sitting in a room surrounded by martial arts manuals, video games, snacks, and ridiculously big plans.
I didn't say it out loud.
But for a little while...
I didn't feel quite so lost.
So here's the situation:
I'm Ren Kisaragi.
In Kaito Hoshino's body.
Hanging out with two siblings—Haruki, who's got the heart of a warrior but the fists of a floppy fish, and Hana, who somehow manages to be more terrifying than people twice her size.
And the three of us had just formed a sacred bond forged through video games, mutual embarrassment, and the shared desire not to get beaten up.
We were sitting around the living room surrounded by books, snack wrappers, and controllers when Hana crossed her arms and stared at us with tiny-big-sister energy.
"Okay, hold on. You two want to become stronger... by yourselves?"
"Pretty much," I said.
Haruki looked like he wanted to disappear into the couch cushions.
"And you think just making things up as you go is going to work?"
"Uhh..."
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"We were gonna follow some books and maybe punch a tree?"
Hana groaned and flopped backward dramatically.
"You guys are gonna end up in the hospital."
She stared at the ceiling for a moment.
"If you're actually serious, you should join a dojo."
"Dojo?"
Then I remembered the flyer.
"Oh! Right. Like the Shinomiya Dojo!"
Haruki immediately looked uncomfortable.
"I... I don't know."
Hana sat up, her expression softening.
"You told me those kids at school were giving you trouble during judo class, right?"
Haruki looked away.
That got me right in the gut.
I knew that feeling.
Being ignored.
Being left out.
Being pushed around because somebody thought you were weak.
Different world.
Same garbage.
"But a dojo isn't school," Hana continued. "And Kaito—"
She pointed at me.
"—is clearly insane, but also kinda inspiring."
"Thank you?"
I wasn't sure whether I'd just been complimented.
"And," she added, standing like some tiny general preparing for war, "I'm joining too."
Haruki blinked.
"What?"
"I'm not letting you get bullied again. If anybody tries anything weird, I'll bite their kneecaps."
I stared.
"That's oddly specific."
"She's bitten me before," Haruki whispered.
Honestly?
I was impressed.
Hana might have been small, but you could tell she genuinely loved her brother.
I smiled.
"She's right. A dojo is a good idea. We shouldn't try learning everything from books. We find a teacher, train properly, and become awesome martial arts bros."
Hana frowned.
"And me."
"And Hana."
She nodded approvingly.
Haruki hesitated.
Then Hana gave him the world's smallest but somehow most powerful thumbs-up.
"Okay," he said.
"Let's do it."
So there I was—Kaito's body, Ren's brain, and a living room that had suddenly transformed into my personal dojo of awkward grunting and half-finished kicks.
The moment we got back from the bookstore, I went straight for the manuals: one on Taekwondo—basically the art of having more kicks than common sense—another on Judo, and one on Karate.
Haruki had gone to grab snacks.
Hana was doing homework nearby, occasionally yelling at me to stop making so much noise.
And me?
I was sweating through a high kick in front of a paused YouTube video featuring a cheerful guy with a black belt and the smile of someone whose legs apparently never hurt.
"Okay. Combo one," I muttered, flipping through the Karate manual. "Step forward, punch, twist, elbow, back kick, yell dramatically. Got it."
I attempted it.
The punch?
Not bad.
The twist?
Half-turn followed by stumble.
The elbow?
Almost murdered a lamp.
The back kick?
Destroyed a suspiciously placed laundry basket.
The dramatic yell?
Perfect.
Ten out of ten.
"Man," I groaned, rubbing my shin. "I miss Master Jin..."
At least when Master Jin made me suffer, he actually knew what I was doing wrong.
Right now, the only wisdom I had was:
"Remember to like and subscribe for more martial arts tutorials!"
Not exactly legendary ninja instruction.
I sighed and paused another video titled something like Five Easy Judo Throws for Beginners.
"I'd even take one of the Academy instructors right now," I muttered. "At least they'd yell at me properly."
But no.
No Master Jin correcting my stance.
No Sect instructor pointing out every mistake.
No Ki to make things easier.
Just me...
A weak teenage body.
Three martial arts manuals.
And an internet connection.
Still, I couldn't quit.
I had a goal.
Get this body stronger.
Learn enough to protect Kaito's life.
Help Haruki become stronger too.
And maybe figure out what I was supposed to do with this strange second life while Master Jin found a way to bring me home.
I flipped the book open again and took a deep breath.
"Alright. Take two. Combo one."
I looked nervously toward the lamp.
"This time without murdering any furniture."
And so began round two of my personal training montage.
Sure, it wasn't glamorous.
Sure, I tripped over my own foot.
Sure, Hana laughed when I accidentally shouted the name of one of my old techniques during a spinning kick.
But I kept going.
--------------------------
The warm water from the shower hit me like a friendly waterfall after a week in the desert. I swear I could hear angels singing when the steam fogged up the bathroom mirror. After an afternoon of self-taught martial arts mayhem, I was bruised, sore, and convinced that spinning kicks were invented by someone with a grudge against normal human hips.
Dinner was a welcome distraction. Kaito's mom had made something amazing—some kind of grilled fish with rice and a miso soup that practically hugged my soul. I tried not to shovel it in too fast, but my stomach was basically rioting at this point.
"Did you have fun at Haruki's?" his dad asked, looking genuinely interested, which threw me off for a second.
"Yeah," I nodded. "He's got this insane book collection—like, every martial arts manual ever. And his sister Hana? Better at games than both of us combined."
Miki chuckled. "Sounds like you made good friends."
I grinned. "Yeah. They're cool."
The weird thing was… I meant it.
Back in the Veiled Moon Sect, I had friends too, but it had taken me years to build that trust. With Haruki and Hana, it was fast. Maybe because they were kind. Maybe because they didn't expect me to be some great Ninja or the vessel of Ballom, Master of Death. I was just a boy named Kaito who wanted to get stronger.
And they got that.
Dinner ended, dishes were washed—not by me, thank goodness—and before long I was back in my room with a still-damp head, pajamas, and a Karate Beginner's Manual open on my lap.
Bad idea.
Like, legendarily bad.
Because here's the thing: the body of a teenager who had done push-ups, practiced kicks, mimicked judo throws, and got emotionally invested in a sibling bonding moment does not want to study forms and stances under a warm reading lamp.
But I tried.
I really did.
I propped myself up against the wall, book in hand, determined to figure out the difference between zuki and geri, and what in the world a kiba-dachi was supposed to look like.
"…so the power comes from the hips," I mumbled, eyes blinking in slow motion.
My head drooped. Snapped up. Drooped again.
"Must… learn… reverse punch…"
The words on the page started blurring together like some ancient forbidden manual protected by an illusion art of exhaustion.
And then…
Bonk.
The book slipped from my fingers and landed with a soft thud on the futon. My head leaned against the wall. My breathing slowed. Somewhere in my dreams, I was arguing with a cartoon bear about correct kicking posture.
I had officially unlocked a new martial arts form:
Sleep-Fu.
Highly advanced. Only usable by those with no remaining energy and too much ambition.
---------------------
I've had a lot of weird dreams in my life.
Once I dreamt I was stuck inside a noodle bowl and the noodles were alive. Another time, I was chased by a thousand copies of Master Jin holding explosive tags.
But this?
This took the cake.
Possibly the whole bakery.
I was standing on clouds.
Not fog, not mist—literal clouds. All fluffy and squishy like marshmallows, except they didn't taste like anything.
I checked.
Above me, the sky shimmered like one of those fancy paintings hanging in the Sect Head's chambers that you definitely weren't supposed to touch. Off in the distance, a huge palace floated among the clouds. Like, actually floating. There were mountains growing out of the clouds, a tree so enormous it probably had its own weather system, and stairs leading upward into even more clouds like whoever designed this place had a personal grudge against legs.
"What a weird dream…" I muttered, scratching the back of my head.
Except…
I didn't feel dream-y.
I wasn't floating around like a ghost or randomly turning into a fish or anything. Everything felt too real. I could feel the breeze. Smell the clean air. See clearly.
Seriously, who dreams in 4K?
"Am I supposed to be this aware in a dream?" I muttered, narrowing my eyes suspiciously.
And that's when I saw him.
Another person stood a short distance away, looking around with the exact expression of someone who had misplaced both his shoes and his entire universe.
He turned toward me.
I looked at him.
And we both shouted.
"KAITO!"
"REN!"
We froze.
Then I looked down at myself.
Myself.
Not Kaito's skinny arms.
Not Kaito's body.
Mine.
My real body.
I touched my face, my hair, my arms.
Everything was back.
At least here.
Kaito was himself too—tall, spiky brown hair, and wearing an expression that screamed please don't make me exercise.
"Do you know how this happened?" Kaito asked, walking toward me across the squishy clouds.
I shook my head. "No idea. I was reading about karate, blinked once, and woke up here. I figured this was one of those 'mysterious master appears and gives you wisdom through nonsense' dreams."
"Honestly," Kaito said, sighing, "same. I went to sleep after Master Jin nearly trained me to death, and now I'm here."
I immediately perked up.
"You met Master Jin?"
Kaito stared at me.
"You know, that probably should've been the first thing we talked about."
"Probably."
"He's fine. Your Sect's fine. Everyone is looking for you."
Some of the weight in my chest disappeared.
"Really?"
"Yeah."
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Good."
Kaito dropped onto a puffy cloud with a tired grunt. "We've swapped bodies, trained in completely different worlds, and now our dreams have become co-op multiplayer. I can't tell if this is a blessing or a curse."
I flopped down beside him.
"Let's call it a blessing with mood swings."
"Fair."
For a while, neither of us spoke.
We just sat there watching the enormous floating palace shimmer in the distance.
Eventually, Kaito pointed toward it.
"Do you think we can go there?"
I stared at the palace.
Then at the giant tree.
Then at the ridiculously long staircase disappearing into the clouds.
"I mean…" I shrugged. "If this really is a dream, what's the worst that can happen?"
"We wake up?"
"Exactly."
Kaito stood.
I stood beside him.
And just like that, we started toward the floating palace, ready to explore Dream World Level Two and fully expecting to encounter a talking animal, a mysterious old master, some ancient secret...
Or, if the universe was feeling generous—
a plate of dream noodles.