What followed was half an hour of utter domination, yet every time Shiraishi Shin dodged or struck Kisaragi Gentaro he offered a concise explanation, leaving Gentaro far richer for it—learning how to expose fewer openings and how to handle sudden shifts in a fight.
In the end Kisaragi Gentaro could no longer keep his rider armor materialized. He lay on the ground gulping air; put simply, he was too green. Even after Henshin into Fourze granted him some built-in combat protocols, they still felt like foreign tools he couldn't wield effectively.
Today, facing the Unicorn Zodiarts, without his equipment edge he honestly would have lost.
Eternal armor dissolved into countless shards that drifted off Shiraishi Shin's frame. He stowed his driver and said, "All right, special training's over. Go rest up, and remember the drills I showed you—they'll build your foundation."
"Yes, sir. Thank you, senpai."
Kisaragi Gentaro stood and bowed to Shiraishi Shin, gratitude written all over his face.
"Mm."
Shiraishi Shin accepted the thanks without ceremony.
Gentaro grinned. "I'll head off then. Shiraishi-san, Sensei—see you later."
Watching him leave, Okada Yuriko sighed. "An ordinary student becomes Kamen Rider and instantly reaches heights I'll never touch in my life."
Claiming she wasn't jealous would be a lie. She'd trained relentlessly for over a decade, yet a normal schoolboy could fight Monsters as Kamen Rider, surpassing her lifetime of effort in a day.
Shiraishi Shin heard her and replied, "If you became Kamen Rider, Sensei, you'd rank among the strongest."
Okada Yuriko huffed. "Me? Forget it. Denpa Ningen Takkuru is my ultimate dream."
If she really could Henshin and battle Monsters, of course she'd choose Kamen Rider—but ideals are ideals, reality is reality, and fate hadn't given her the chance.
"Come on, Sensei, I'll take you home."
"Sure."
She didn't refuse. Shiraishi Shin flicked out the eternal Bike Memory and rode her back on the motorcycle.
Minutes later they were at her door. Yuriko glanced skyward. "No wonder it's so dark—no moon, no stars tonight."
Shiraishi Shin looked up too. "It's been overcast since afternoon; looks like rain."
The instant he finished, drip-drip—raindrops fell, swelling from a sprinkle to a downpour in three seconds flat.
He dismissed the eternal and stepped under the eaves of Yuriko's house.
Whoosh!
In a blink it was a cloudburst, the ground soaked instantly.
Shiraishi Shin muttered, "Great, my mouth's a weather charm—say rain, get rain."
And not just rain; the wind picked up, sending chilly drafts and howling gusts that sounded almost menacing.
"Why'd it turn so fierce so fast?"
Okada Yuriko eyed the storm. "If you hadn't seen me home you'd be dry by now. Don't leave till it lets up, Shin."
"Looks like I'm stuck."
He wasn't about to refuse. He could Henshin and ride off untouched, but walking out now would feel like forfeiting a winning lottery ticket.
Only a blockhead would bail—transported into a mash-up world yet skip the chance to charm some beauties?
Handsome, 1.8 m tall, top scorer with a pen, Monster-pulverizer with his fists, witty and sunny, he could both flirt and fight—and Henshin into a mighty Kamen Rider to boot.
As they'd say back in China Country: "Among mortals, jade-like grace—none but Shiraishi Shin."
With stats that maxed, what girl could stay immune?
Inside, the door shut behind them yet the drumming rain remained loud.
"Place is tiny; make yourself at home," Yuriko said.
She rented this sub-seventy-square-meter flat—perfect for a singleton.
Shiraishi Shin replied, "For a solo teacher it's ideal. Bigger just costs more and feels empty—no real upside."
"I'll change and grab a bite. Want some?"
"Already ate; any more and I'll bust my macros."
"Fair—channel-surf if you like."
"I'll scroll my phone."
He settled on the sofa and unlocked it. Ten minutes earlier Shiina Mahiru had messaged: "Good night, Shin-nii."
Since they'd swapped contacts on Monday she texted him every bedtime, and he always answered.
"Good night, sweet dreams."
Across town Mahiru lay in bed staring at the ceiling.
"Why hasn't he replied? Asleep already… or busy?"
She reached for her phone—sixth check in ten minutes—still nothing. Sleep was hopeless.
Just as she set it down, it buzzed.
"Good night, sweet dreams."
A smile bloomed; she brushed the cheek he'd pecked earlier, set the phone on her nightstand, and finally drifted off.
Done replying, Shiraishi Shin opened a short-video app. The first clip auto-played: "Denpa Ningen Takkuru crushes Shocker Bandits."
An hour earlier Yuriko had trounced some convenience-store thugs; a bystander had filmed and uploaded it.
Shiraishi Shin called toward the kitchen, "Yuriko, you're trending—Takkuru's gone viral."
"Really? Lemme see!"
She hurried in, glasses off, brown hair pinned up, wearing a beige sundress under a cooking apron—pure domestic charm.
That up-do made the young teacher look dangerously alluring—way more than any rookie could handle.
"Haha, I really am on the hot list—awesome!" Okada Yuriko beamed.