After exchanging several more combinations and discussing various techniques, the conversation naturally drifted toward the dōjō’s history.
Noah found himself genuinely curious about the lineage behind such exceptional instruction.
"Your technique," Noah said, wiping sweat from his forehead.
"Where did you learn it? Is it really from the legendary swordsman Miyamoto Musashi?"
The master’s expression carried pride mixed with reverence for tradition before he gave a soft nod.
"My family has preserved these methods for sixteen generations. We are direct descendants of Miyamoto Musashi."
Noah’s practice sword nearly slipped from his fingers.
The legendary swordsman who’d revolutionised Japanese martial arts, whose techniques had influenced combat philosophy for centuries, this man standing before him carried that bloodline.
Miyamoto Musashi. The actual legend. His descendant is teaching martial arts in a dojo in the US.
"You’re serious," Noah managed, his voice carrying disbelief that bordered on awe.
"Completely serious. My ancestors’ teachings have been passed down through our family line and preserved."
"Most people don’t believe such lineages exist outside Japan."
I didn’t think the Japanese legend would have a descendant who’d learned his techniques, much less in the USA.
He wasn’t just training with some skilled instructor—he was learning from someone whose fighting knowledge traced directly back to one of history’s greatest martial artists.
"How did your family end up here?" Noah asked, genuinely fascinated.
"My grandfather emigrated after World War II. He believed Musashi’s teachings could benefit anyone dedicated enough to learn, regardless of nationality."
The master gestured around the dōjō with obvious affection.
"This place represents that philosophy—authentic tradition adapted for modern students."
Other students had begun gathering around their conversation.
"The techniques you demonstrated show a remarkable natural affinity to the sword. With proper guidance, you could master concepts that take most students years to understand."
Noah felt excitement building in his chest—not just for the training opportunity, but for the chance to learn from someone whose knowledge connected directly to historical greatness.
"When can I start regular training?" he asked.
"Tomorrow, if you’re available. But I warn you, if I find you slacking or coming late. I will not be responsible for teaching you again. I only like to put in the effort for those who put the effort themselves."
"I’ll be here." Noah nodded with a serious expression on his face.
After his training at the dojo, Noah left the place and made his way back to his house.
The delivery personnel had sent him a message telling him that the delivery would be made in the next hour slot.
At his apartment door, Noah found himself face-to-face with a delivery driver and three massive boxes that dominated the hallway.
"Need help getting these inside?" the driver asked, already moving toward the first box.
Noah nodded gratefully, helping manoeuvre the equipment through his doorway. The boxes took up a significant floor space in his modest living area.
The delivery driver pulled out his phone with an embarrassed smile. "Sorry, sir, but I’ve got to take a picture of the boxes inside for proof of delivery."
"Of course, of course."
There had been many fraud scams of people claiming they did not receive their goods, and it was understandable.
After taking the pictures as proof, the man turned towards Noah.
After documenting the delivery, the man turned toward Noah with professional courtesy.
"Sir, your purchase qualifies for a full professional setup. Would you like that service?"
Noah scratched the back of his head with a wry smile. Whilst he wanted the man to set it up and everything, there was one small issue.
I’m planning to move houses in the next few days, and there’s barely room here for all this equipment.
"I would love a professional setup, but I’m planning to relocate soon. Is it possible to schedule that for later?"
The man responded immediately.
"Absolutely, sir. You have three months to schedule installation. Just call us with your preferred time and location."
"Perfect! Thank you for the help." Noah smiled.
After the delivery driver departed, Noah arranged the boxes in his apartment’s corner, creating as much open space as possible.
His phone buzzed with an incoming message after he was done.
"It seems like Ethan has already completed his setup." He muttered, staring at the picture of the new set-up.
The setup looked like a professional streamer’s setup.
The kid kept sending him messages and Noah smiled through all of them.
"He’s going to start streaming soon...huh?"
Noah gave him a quick reply with a thumbs up and good luck.
"Make sure you send me your username on the streaming app, I will watch you when I’m free." He muttered as he typed out his message.
Hitting send, Noah sat on his chair. He didn’t have much to do; everything seemed so...boring.
"I’ve already spoken to dad, hit the dojo, done some grocery shopping and collected my parcel. There is nothing much I can do here..."
A thought appeared in his mind.
Since he was bored on Earth...why not go back to the Magical World of Esta?
"Maybe I should come out of my cocoon, perhaps go slay some monsters and level up my strength. It’s always fun to do that. Just like the old days in DnD..."
He knew for a fact that Ethan would, without a doubt, wish he had the opportunity to go to another world where monsters existed.
"Maybe some other time...perhaps when I become strong enough."
Stepping into the portal, Noah returned back to the medieval world.
Inside his shop, Noah’s stock had once again replinished, although not fully. His shelves were still half empty.
"Since I’m going out on an adventure, I suppose I need some supplies in case things go wrong. So...I’m going to take two loaves of bread in case I get injured and one iced-tea bottle." He muttered, whilst taking the supplies from his shelf and stuffing them inside his coat.
His bread was wrapped, and his glass bottle was sealed, so he didn’t worry about spillage.