Laid-Back Life in Tokyo: I Really Didn't Want to Work Hard
Chapter 152 - 146: The Arrow that Knocks on the Heart’s Door

Chapter 152: Chapter 146: The Arrow that Knocks on the Heart’s Door

Bang, bang, bang.

Each shot pierced through the bullseye of the soul, firing out from the released arrows.

Every hit landed with a beautiful string sound emerging from the seventh step of the shooting technique, "Release."

The resonating string vibration rippled through the air, invigorating the brain with the sound’s joy, prompting blood to boil with the extraordinary sound of each bullseye hit.

Hit after hit, the atmosphere of the venue grew increasingly boisterous and lively.

Kanai Hideyoshi meticulously raised his bow, finely tuning every ounce of drawing force.

The more he pulled open the bow, the four-foot bamboo bow under his control displayed its beauty exquisitely.

He constantly reminded himself of the breathing method trained by Ogasawara Fan Shi.

—Hold the bow’s left hand level with the eyes, extend the left arm straight out, inhale gently letting the air sink down, expand slowly and evenly in the abdominal cavity, and exhale slowly and steadily.

Repeat this cycle, continuously.

The arrow folding vine on the bow partially obscured the target on the target mound.

Correct posture and a stable mindset achieved what’s called "Seisha Hicchu."

With a "click," the arrow released, the arrow did not disappoint, piercing into the target, embedding straight into the mound behind.

Then he breathed a light sigh amid the audience’s applause, removed the secondary arrow from his right ring finger and pinky, placed it on the bowstring, and faced the dojo brushed by the green breeze, readying himself for the next shot.

Mizuki High School was as formidable as ever.

It seemed they learned from the previous round, speeding up their shooting pace—a team’s rhythm and speed must be controlled by its own members.

The wind blew across the faces of the five competitors in turn.

The bowstring sounds rang out in succession, their resonant shooting sounds carried by the wind, making the audience’s hearts follow its beat.

Shimokawa Binro of the Martial Archery Department stepped forward with his left foot toward the target field, stabilizing his mindset while pressing the bow with his left hand, simultaneously pressing and raising the bow.

The emphasis of the Martial Archery Department is force; a strong and swift arrow can bring extreme accuracy.

With the bow ready, raised, drawn, and opened, the motions were already skillful.

The taut bowstring released a deep and harsh hum with the release of the kake, and the string sound could not be considered beautiful, but the arrow that pierced the air had a resounding noise that dispersed into the sky upon hitting the bullseye.

Shimokawa Binro suddenly tightened his heart and lungs, his narrow squinting eyes wavered.

It hit the bullseye, but the hearts of the Mizuki Kyudo Club were not particularly pleased.

—The arrow had penetrated the ground from the target’s outer side.

Such arrows shot from the target frame don’t count as hits, so on Mizuki High School’s scoreboard, there was a big "X."

Mizuki unexpectedly fell behind by one point.

The audience who always supported this prestigious school sighed in disappointment.

Why did it happen this way?

Putting down the bow, the bewildered Shimokawa Binro couldn’t help but glance at Uesugi Sakura, who returned to his place.

His primary and secondary arrows hit the mark, the emerald green arrow feathers flown with the sweat marks on his cheek were more dazzling than anyone in the venue.

Even though he tried not to glance at him from the corner of his eye, the beautiful string sound and crisp noise entered his eardrums, inevitably tugging at his heart and lungs.

He recalled mocking him at the opening ceremony for only having two months of Kyudo experience and courage to compete, making his narrow squinting eyes tremble unconsciously.

Two months, no matter what, he wouldn’t believe that he was supposedly a two-month novice in Kyudo.

That stance under the Triple Cross, that never-missing, breathtaking first arrow, how could that be something a supposed novice could display?

Even the celebrated Kyudo genius Sugita Shuhei achieved his current skill and status through childhood immersion and diligence.

Like Fuya Nanori, they were unparalleled geniuses among their peers.

And myself, having grown up in such an atmosphere, with countless teachers and refiners praising my moves and accuracy, should have unlimited prospects.

I am merely a freshman; in the future, I should exist on par with them in skill.

But why do I now suffer consecutive setbacks?

Hesitant steps retracting the shooting stance, he returned to his place, glancing at Uesugi Sakura at the neighboring range retrieving a secondary arrow.

Am I actually weaker than someone I once looked down upon?

The bow—the most detestable emotion is the persistent desire to be strong.

In the second position, Yagi Ruijin already anticipated this outcome, and Kyudo’s "Seisha Hicchu" had long explained his mistake.

However, as a teammate, he could only take on this moment of error, using his best condition to make up for the loss this arrow caused.

The audience fell silent for a moment.

"It seems Mizuki indeed has internal issues," Ogata Asaka said, "It’s noticeable they sped up their shooting to break free from the tempo dominated by Uesugi and Sugita, but unfortunately, it intensified the anxiety of their front-positioned archer."

Chitose Mai glanced at him, "I always felt that squinty-eyed guy is weird, hmm... indescribably strange, like the sudden words he said last time seemed ill-intentioned."

The competition was heated, the bustling crowd’s discussions noisy and chaotic.

But when Kamigoe Kyudo Club suddenly missed a target, the atmosphere abruptly shifted, becoming silent, people’s attention focused on the one who missed.

In the lead position, Hirata Masanobu felt the pressure of the gazes, put down the bow, his right hand tightly pinching the secondary arrow yet to be nocked.

His Adam’s apple moved, instinctively wanting to say a word of apology.

Crack...!

From beside him came Sugita Shuhei’s usual stable and balanced string sound, like a brass section within a symphony orchestra, carrying a gentle warmth when transitioning to a soft tune.