The coarse, thick fabric of the snow-white keikogi pleasantly cooled his skin.
Standing in the small men's changing room, which smelled of wood and incense, Rain faced a tall floor mirror. In this life, he was wearing such clothing for the first time, but his muscle memory worked flawlessly. His hands themselves, without the slightest hesitation, wrapped the left lapel of the jacket over the right. His fingers routinely grasped the long cotton belt, wrapped it twice around his waist, and pulled it into a perfect, flat knot, the ends of which turned out to be of absolutely equal length.
The youth ran his open palm over the thick collar. The fabric responded with a familiar, dry rustle. A long-forgotten, warm feeling stirred in his chest—a mix of nostalgia and a strange, aching coziness. As if after a long journey, he had finally put on a garment tailored exactly to his measurements.
The sliding door rolled aside with a soft clack.
Ouka stepped into the changing room. The stocky adventurer had already managed to take off the upper part of his armor, remaining in a simple linen shirt. Seeing the guest, frozen before the mirror fully ready, he slowed down slightly, blinking in surprise.
"Ah..." Ouka awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, breaking the silence. "Our god asked me to come in, to see if you needed help with the ties. This uniform can be unfamiliar for those wearing it for the first time. But, as I can see..."
He fell silent expressively, evaluating the perfect fit of the clothes on Rain's figure.
The youth turned to him, a light, calm smile touching his lips. He took the ends of the tied belt and gave them a slight pull to the sides with a characteristic snap, checking the tension.
"Thank you for your concern. But I think I've got it figured out."
Realizing his services weren't needed, Ouka nodded and walked to his locker. The changing room plunged into silence, broken only by the rustle of clothes being taken off and the creak of wooden floorboards.
Rain, folding his everyday clothes, cast a passing glance at the changing guy. And mentally gave him his due.
At almost two meters tall, Ouka Kashima possessed a figure forged by heavy physical labor and constant training. Broad shoulders, a massive barrel-like chest, dense knots of muscles on his back and arms—all this gave him away as a man used to taking the main hit and holding the line at any cost. The body of a true, steadfast vanguard.
"Impressive shape," Rain stated calmly, without a drop of flattery, sliding his locker door shut. "Maintaining such a muscular corset with frequent descents into the Dungeon requires colossal effort."
Ouka, who was just pulling the white jacket over his head, froze. His face appeared from under the collar, rapidly flooding with thick color. The stern, almost bear-like appearance of the youth completely clashed with this sudden boyish awkwardness.
"Uhm... thank you," he grumbled, hurriedly wrapping the fabric and looking away. "We train a lot."
Rain nodded, preparing to head for the exit, but then Ouka, having dealt with his belt, took a heavy step to intercept him.
"Wait."
His voice sounded lower than usual. Rain stopped, raising an inquiring eyebrow. Ouka stood before him—huge, tense, shifting from foot to foot. He was looking somewhere around Rain's collarbones, clearly gathering his thoughts.
"What do you..." the giant swallowed, "what do you think of Chigusa?"
A pause hung in the locker room. Rain tilted his head slightly to the side, genuinely trying to catch the essence of such a sudden question.
"In what sense?" he clarified.
Ouka frowned even harder. His massive fists clenched involuntarily, and he looked as if he was being forced to solve an incredibly complex mathematical problem.
"Well... yesterday... at the table," the youth squeezed out, struggling to find the words, and his ears took on a bright crimson hue. "You two talked. I just... wanted to know your opinion."
Looking at this monumental guy, who was burning with embarrassment over the simplest act of politeness toward a girl, Rain couldn't restrain himself. The corners of his lips crept up, forming an overtly readable smirk. The situation was so transparent that it required no further explanation.
"We didn't talk all that much," Rain replied in an even, soothing tone, hiding his hands in the wide sleeves. "But she seemed to me a very quiet, well-mannered, and undoubtedly good girl."
Ouka exhaled noisily, with noticeable relief. His tense shoulders dropped.
"Yes. That is exactly what she is," he nodded seriously, with deep internal agreement. But then his head shot up, and uncertainty flashed in his gaze again. "Is that... all?"
Rain had already turned to the exit. Sliding the latticed door open, he tossed over his shoulder:
"For now, yes."
The door slid gently shut, leaving Ouka alone. The stocky adventurer wiped the sweat that had broken out on his forehead, feeling an invisible spring release in his chest. But the joy was short-lived. The meaning of the last phrase reached his mind.
"'For now'?" he asked the emptiness aloud, staring at the wooden door. Anxiety began to flare up in his eyes once more.
The spacious dojo hall was already filled with people.
The morning warmup began with basic stretching and joint-warming exercises. Rain performed the routine along with everyone else, moving synchronously and smoothly. His partner in the paired exercises was Ouka, who, to Rain's mild amusement, aligned his movements with astounding tactical stubbornness so as to constantly remain between the guest and the female half of their squad.
He especially tried to shield the space around Chigusa, who, clad in her training uniform, looked completely different. Finding herself in a familiar environment, among people she trusted, the girl seemed to have shed her invisible shell of timidity, demonstrating surprising flexibility and lightness of movement.
Finishing the warmup, Takemikazuchi gave the command for paired drills.
Rain stepped back to the edge of the wooden floor, crossed his arms over his chest, and immersed himself in observation. It was critically important for him to understand exactly how the god built the foundation for his children.
The first thing that caught the eye was the mechanics of their movements. Their stances were fluid, their center of gravity lowered. When receiving an attack, they didn't put up rigid blocks, but tried to deflect the opponent's force tangentially, throwing them off balance.
Rain carefully analyzed everyone.
Mikoto was the undisputed leader. Her attacks were precise, and her reaction was frighteningly sharp. Her Level Two status, multiplied by perfect schooling, made her a formidable opponent. Ouka held his own through impenetrable stability and short, powerful intercepts. But the biggest revelation was Chigusa. Working in a pair with Mikoto, this quiet girl used her friend's momentum with such softness and precision that Rain gave a mental nod of approval.
However, all his attention ultimately focused on one person.
Takemikazuchi moved between the pairs, occasionally pointing out mistakes or acting as an opponent.
Rain watched him, and his analytical mind registered the unthinkable. A god possessing no Falna, whose physical stats were equal to those of an ordinary—albeit trained—mortal, playfully tossing around adventurers with a blessing.
Here, Ouka throws a straight punch. The speed and mass of the attack are capable of smashing through stonework. Takemikazuchi makes no sudden movements. He simply takes a sliding step to the side, gently places his palm on his ward's wrist, and adds a slight, almost imperceptible circular impulse to the vector of the punch itself.
The massive youth loses his footing and crashes into the wooden floor with a thud. On the God's face—not a drop of strain. No heavy breathing, no beads of sweat on his forehead. Absolute control over space, distance, and another's kinetic energy.
Pure art, Rain noted with deep, professional respect.
When the basic drills came to an end, Takemikazuchi clapped his hands, calling for attention. The adventurers stepped aside, clearing the center of the hall. The God of Martial Arts turned to Rain, waving him over invitingly.
The youth pushed off the wall and stepped into the middle of the dojo. The floor creaked slightly beneath his bare feet.
"Well, what are your impressions?" Takemikazuchi asked, looking at his guest with interest.
"What else was to be expected from the God of War," Rain replied calmly, without breaking eye contact. "You don't rely on strength. You use redirection. You break the opponent's structure, forcing their own momentum to work against them. Throws, unbalancing, control over the opponent."
Takemikazuchi laughed in satisfaction, crossing his arms.
"You get right to the root of it, lad. We call it Aiki and Judo."
Rain's eyes twitched imperceptibly. He masterfully kept his composure, but inside, that feeling of the unreality of what was happening stirred again. The terminology of his old world sounded so natural coming from a local deity, as if these concepts were born right here.
"These styles were created for self-defense," the god continued, not noticing his interlocutor's internal reaction. "They teach how to use the opponent's internal energy. Softness overcomes hardness."
Rain exhaled slowly. He spread his feet shoulder-width apart, bent his knees slightly, rooting himself to the floor, and smoothly raised his open palms to chest level. No aggression. An absolutely relaxed, open stance.
"I practice a very similar approach," the youth said. His voice sounded quiet, but echoed through the hushed hall. "And it would be a great honor for me if Lord Takemikazuchi would agree to share this experience with me in a bout."
The god froze. His gaze slid over Rain's figure. Takemikazuchi had never seen this guy fight before, but the way he was standing right now... The lack of tension in his muscles, the perfect balance, the deep breathing.
A spark flared in the God of War's chest. An excitement he hadn't felt in a very long time rolled through his veins in a hot wave.
"With pleasure," Takemikazuchi took a step forward, assuming a similar stance.
The air in the dojo grew dense. Mikoto, Ouka, and Chigusa, holding their breath, retreated all the way to the walls.
The fight began without shouts or sudden dashes.
They stepped toward each other. Their open palms touched. From the outside, it looked strange: two grown men standing in place, slowly rotating their locked forearms. Rain would apply a slight forward pressure—Takemikazuchi would softly yield, shifting the pressure to the side in an arc, and immediately return the impulse back. Rain would accept it, rolling the energy through his core, and return it to the God.
It was a continuous, kinetic cycle. An exchange of intent.
Gradually, second by second, the speed began to increase. The smooth rolls of the arms were replaced by short, whipping pushes. The cycle tightened. The movements became faster and faster until their hands turned into blurred white smears. The silence of the hall was broken only by the dry, rhythmic slaps of flesh against flesh and the creak of floorboards.
They stood in place, but the tension between them reached critical mass. The energy they were tossing back and forth was accumulating, like in a compressed spring.
At some point, Takemikazuchi attempted a sweep, redirecting the guest's weight. But Rain, whose perception was currently at its absolute peak, caught the intent a fraction of a second before the movement began.
The youth didn't resist. Instead, he abruptly broke the closed loop himself. Pushing the God's left arm away a bit harder, he took a lightning-fast, deep step forward.
Concentrating all the kinetic energy accumulated in the cycle, Rain thrust both palms straight into his opponent's chest. The release of power was short, explosive, and lacked any wind-up.
Smack!
The strike didn't cave in his chest, but the impulse transferred into Takemikazuchi's body was colossal. The God of War was literally lifted off the floor. He slid backward on his back for a good two meters before he managed to brake, digging his heels into the boards.
A dead silence hung over the hall. Ouka dropped the wooden bokken he was leaning on. Mikoto covered her mouth with her hand.
Takemikazuchi stood, his arms lowered. His eyes were wide open. He stared at Rain, and for a moment it seemed the god was bewildered. But a second later, his face contorted.
A wide, predatory, and absolutely happy smile split his face. It was an expression of pure, primal delight. The facial expression of a true God of War who had finally met a worthy challenge.
Rain, not breaking his calm stance, looked him straight in the eye.
"I look forward to the continuation," the youth said softly.
And all hell broke loose.
No more feeling each other out. Takemikazuchi bolted from his spot at a speed inaccessible to an ordinary human. Rain stepped in to meet him.
The hall filled with a roar. They traded strikes, grapples, and throws at a transcendent speed. Rain slipped past a chopping palm strike, grabbed the fabric on the god's shoulder, and attempted a hip throw. Takemikazuchi twisted in mid-air, landed on his feet, and instantly answered with a sweep.
The floor shuddered. The wooden boards groaned beneath their bare feet.
For Takemikazuchi's children, what was happening shattered all paradigms. Their mentor-god, who had always acted as a monolithic, unreachable wall, was now fighting in earnest. What's more—he was laughing! They had never seen such wild, thrilling happiness on his face. And the guy opposite him, the captain of another Familia, was matching him in kind. Rain's face, usually so impenetrable, now glowed with genuine, martial joy.
The pace intensified. The strikes became harder. Blocks echoed with the loud crack of fabric. They circled the hall like two hurricanes locked in one room, intertwining in an endless dance of power and balance.
Takemikazuchi grabbed Rain's wrist, preparing to execute an amplitude throw. Rain, anticipating this, had already begun shifting his center of gravity for a counter, when...
Into the center of the hall, right between the two combat machines flying toward each other, leapt a miniature figure in a white dress.
"Stop!"
A ringing shout cut through the tense atmosphere of the dojo.
Rain and Takemikazuchi froze. The reaction of both warriors was phenomenal. The youth killed his body's momentum, slamming his bare foot hard into the floor, while the god abruptly stopped his arm raised for a strike.
Takemikazuchi's fist froze ten centimeters from Hestia's left temple. Rain's palm stopped a centimeter from her right shoulder.
In the hanging silence, only their heavy, hoarse breathing could be heard.
Hestia stood between them, arms spread wide like a mother hen protecting her chicks. Her chest heaved heavily, and righteous anger blazed in her eyes.
"I said, stop!" the Goddess of the Hearth repeated, shifting her fierce gaze from one to the other. "What in the world are you two doing here!?"
Rain, breathing heavily, slowly lowered his hands. He looked at Takemikazuchi. The God of War also lowered his fist, wiping his sweaty forehead with his sleeve. Their eyes met over Hestia's head, and both of them, without a word, let out a short, satisfied laugh.