Practical Classroom: Kaoru Hanayama's Classroom of Merit

Judo Club's private changing room.

It was the heavy space belonging only to men, a mixture of sweat accumulated over the years and the pungent smell of anti-inflammatory analgesics.

"Please, have a seat. I'm so sorry to put you in such a cramped place."

Judo club captain Oki urged Hanayama to sit down on the folding chair and handed him a cup of hot water poured from the water heater in the corner, in a paper cup.

"Please have some. This is cheap, coarse tea bought from the ministry; I'm so sorry."

This is nothing compared to the elegant and mellow matcha meticulously prepared by the graceful third-year student in the tea ceremony club.

It is a cheap product in the literal sense.

However, Huashan didn't even flinch; he simply swallowed it quietly.

"They specifically brought me into the locker room, which means the topic of that class's points isn't something we can discuss in the hallway, right?"

As Hanayama got to the point in a deep voice, Daiki nodded solemnly.

"You should have seen the surveillance cameras all over the school, right? The school doesn't allow us upperclassmen to proactively reveal the school's real rules to freshmen."

Daiki sat backwards on the folding chair, arms crossed.

"You freshmen probably think you'll receive 100,000 personal points every month unconditionally. But you're sorely mistaken. Terribly wrong. This school is meritocratic. Points don't just fall from the sky."

Daiki's words echoed heavily in the quiet locker room.

"The school has been using a system called class points to evaluate each class. Attentiveness in class, quiz scores, tardiness, and absenteeism are all accumulated and deducted from the class points at the end of the month. The most alarming part is that the amount of individual points deposited into a student's account on the first of each month is determined by multiplying the previous month's class points by 100."

In Huashan's mind, the abacus was being manipulated at an astonishing speed.

(We first-year students are currently given 100,000 points. That means each class starts with 1000 points. But what if we get carried away and skip classes like crazy, and our class points are reduced to zero in the end-of-month evaluation?)

"Zero × 100... equals zero."

Huashan muttered something under his breath, and Daiki nodded heavily.

"That's right. There's no guarantee of basic living. Once the points run out, all that awaits is a hellish life of surviving on freebies. But for a club like our judo club, achieving results in competitions is one of the few ways to regain lost class points or widen the gap with other classes."

Da Mu leaned out and gazed once more at Hua Shan's enormous body.

"Your extraordinary physique is a weapon. If you practice judo, you'll definitely shine in the national competition and bring a huge number of points to your class. What do you think? That's not a bad thing, is it?"

Huashan still didn't take his hands out of his pockets, but just quietly looked up at the fluorescent lights on the ceiling.

(Individual desires and laziness can strangle the entire class; I see, that's quite interesting.)

However, precisely because of this—

"Senior, I understand what you want to say. I thank you for sharing this valuable information with me."

Huashan slowly stood up, his massive body looming over the narrow locker room.

"However, I refuse to join the club."

"W-why!? I've told you about all the risks, all for the sake of the class..."

"Just to earn points, you'd throw a clueless peer onto the mat? That's against my rules. Food earned by bullying the weak is worthless. That's all."

Since one is born strong, that power is not meant to be used to oppress the weak.

However, the moment I heard those words...

Thump, a sound.

The amiable and persuasive demeanor that had been on Daiki's face just moments before had completely vanished.

What emerges instead is the quiet, yet fiery anger of martial artists who dedicate their lives to the rigorous training and blood-soaking repetition of day after day.

"...Bullying the weak, is that it?"

Da Mu's voice was so deep it sounded like he was crawling on the ground.

"I admit, your physique is ridiculously strong... But, freshman."

Daiki tightened his belt again and slowly lowered his waist.

"Don't underestimate judo!"

judo--.

Founded by Jigoro Kano, this martial art, which now boasts a large number of competitors worldwide, is far more than just a simple contest of strength.

The principle of softness overcoming hardness lies in the application of the lever principle and physics to completely eliminate the center of gravity.

No matter how strong your muscles are, as long as you are human, you stand on the ground with two feet.

The essence of judo technique lies in shifting the center of gravity, the point of balance, by millimeters, transforming the opponent's own weight into a weapon against themselves, and then throwing them down.

"You are indeed very strong. However, you are just an amateur in martial arts. You don't know how to use the immense mass of power. To a judo practitioner, you're nothing more than a giant roly-poly toy that's fun to throw around. Let's try it and see if my technique works on you!"

That was a challenge issued by a martial artist, a challenge that risked his pride.

Hanayama looked at Daiki and a slight smile appeared on his lips.

"Can."

They moved to the judo club's dojo.

In the center of the empty, spacious tatami room, Hanayama simply stood there quietly.

As usual, his feet were shoulder-width apart, and his arms hung casually at his sides. The posture was far from a proper stance; it was simply standing upright.

Facing his Ōki, he rolled up the sleeves of his judo uniform, tensing all the muscles in his body like springs, confronting Hanayama with extreme concentration.

(I wasn't planning on competing with him in strength; I was only aiming at his center of gravity. No matter how huge his body is, if his balance is disrupted, he'll fall like a tree!)

"drink!!"

The large log shot out like a spring.

A single step is the lightning-fast approach of a top athlete weighing 80 kilograms, unleashing their full power.

Daiki's hands gripped the collar and sleeves of Hanayama's uniform tightly and accurately.

(Got it! First, use the fishing hand and the guiding hand to disrupt the upper body's posture—!)

Daiki pressed his own weight backward, trying to use all his strength to twist and pull up Hanayama's upper body.

The lever principle uses one's own ankle as a fulcrum, mobilizing the back muscles and latissimus dorsi muscles to produce a "thump" motion.

Under normal circumstances, the opponent's body would float up lightly, shifting their center of gravity forward, and then strike with a footwork. This is the basic principle of judo.

however.

「!?」

Daiki's face was contorted with shock.

Not moving.

Huashan's body did not lean forward even a millimeter.

Moreover, the force that Daiki tried to pull was completely annihilated within Hanayama's body, as if swallowed by a black hole.

(How is this possible!? The leverage... isn't working!?)

For the leverage principle to hold true, the opponent's body must allow for a certain degree of bending or joint mobility.

However, Kaoru Hanayama's body is different.

The density of those muscles and the strength of those bones are no longer within the realm of living organisms, but are equivalent to titanium alloy pillars embedded in concrete.

Whether it's pulling or pushing.

The center of gravity will always reign supreme at the very center of Huashan's feet.

"Woohoohoohoohoohoohoo!!"

Daiki roared desperately, throwing, ripping, and thrusting, trying to apply all the techniques he had mastered.

He hooked his foot on Huashan's foot, trying to use the elasticity of his whole body to throw him away.

Thump! Bang! Crack! Crack! Crack!

Oki's judo uniform creaked as if it were about to be torn apart, and his muscles groaned in agony as they endured the extreme strain.

However, Huashan.

I was just standing there.

He remained expressionless, without even taking his hands out of his pockets.

It was as if it were a giant elephant looking down at puppies playing around its feet, offering no resistance and bearing the full force of the giant tree on its own.

"Haa...haa...haa...!!"

A few minutes later, Daiki put his hands on his knees, panting heavily as if his lungs were about to burst.

His hands, clenched from the effort of gripping so tightly, were spasming, his fingers were raw and bleeding, a testament to the skill, strength, and mental power he possessed.

However, the man in front of her only had his uniform slightly disheveled.

Huashan's breathing was exactly the same as before the competition began. Not a single drop of sweat had fallen.

"Is this the end, Judo Club captain?"

Huashan spoke for the first time.

There was neither anger nor mockery in that voice; it was simply confirming a fact, echoing with a chilling and cruel tone.

"Monster...! What's wrong with that body?! It doesn't even move...!!"

Just at the moment that Daiki let out a groan.

Huashan finally pulled his hands out of his pockets.

It was as if a dormant volcano had suddenly become active again.

In the instant that Huashan's thick arms moved, Daiki had the illusion that the air in the dojo was being compressed on a physical level.

Hanayama's hands casually gripped the shoulders of Oki's judo uniform.

"What...!?"

The next moment.

Daiki's body floated up into the air.

That's neither a judo throw nor a wrestling tackle.

Huashan didn't lower his waist at all, nor did he bend his knees, and he didn't even use the elasticity of his back.

Using only the strength of his outstretched arms and the grip of his wrists, he completely detached the 80-kilogram man from the Earth's gravity and lifted him horizontally to chest height.

(How...how is that possible!? Lifting an 80-kilogram person like doing a front raise using only shoulder joints and arm muscles!? How could human bones possibly do that!!)

The heart of the large wooden structure, suspended in mid-air with its feet dangling in the void, was utterly broken at that moment.

The overwhelming, absolute, and despairing power of the individual.

After tens of thousands of practice runs, the rich theories and techniques were shattered, just like a child's sandcastle, as the name suggests; it was the crystallization of pure violence.

Daiki closed his eyes tightly, bracing himself for being slammed hard onto the tatami mat.

If it were to be smashed to the ground like that, it would undoubtedly break several bones.

However--.

Lightly.

Unexpectedly, Oki's body was placed on the tatami mat as quietly and gently as a baby being put into a cradle.

"...Huh?"

When Daiki opened his eyes, Hanayama had already put his hands back in his pockets, turned around, and was walking towards the exit of the dojo.

"Commander, I have truly witnessed your skill."

Without turning back, Huashan left only these words in a low voice.

That's not pity for the loser.

Rather, it is the greatest respect for martial artists who do not distort their own beliefs and do their utmost to challenge themselves.

Oki slumped on the tatami mat, staring blankly at the receding giant figure.

What welled up in his heart was not the humiliation of defeat, but only the deep peace of returning alive, and a pure awe for the unfathomable power of the strong.