Ch.40My Mom Was Awesome (5)

“It’s a 3-round match, best of 2, but I’ll specially let you keep challenging until you either win one round or give up, Doyoung.”

The conditions were extraordinary.

One point. If I could score just once in this match,

it would immediately count as my victory, and I could even double the money I was originally supposed to receive.

Of course, I was a bit intimidated after hearing about her impressive background as a national youth representative.

Who wouldn’t be? It’s human nature to feel fear just by looking at someone holding a weapon.

When that person with a weapon is a master who has spent their entire life honing their martial art,

how many people would boldly challenge them?

I could tell that Dad wasn’t lying about Mom’s credentials just by looking at her stance as she held the bamboo sword.

Even as someone completely unfamiliar with kendo.

Even now, through the gaps in the face mask that completely covered her face,

it felt like red light was emanating from Mom’s eyes.

It approached like the gaze of a predator stalking its prey in the darkness.

It’s frightening enough to have a tiger appear before you,

but this tiger was standing on two legs and holding a sword.

If I had a pet dog nearby,

I’d immediately send it to fetch a kitchen knife for suicide.

“Phew…”

-Tremble

My hands holding the bamboo sword began to shake.

Ban Doyoung’s body, having already experienced Mom’s strength,

was responding before my mind, which had yet to experience that power.

Perhaps the reason Ban Doyoung’s body was becoming frightened before I was at each of Mom’s words

was the result of 17 years of discipline that I knew nothing about.

“No need for discussion. Deduct 10,000 won each time Mom scores a point, and don’t add any other conditions.”

“Why would I add such conditions? Mom wants to give you allowance out of love for her daughter. If we do as you say, you’d end up giving Mom an allowance instead.”

That meant she was confident of scoring at least 20 points easily.

It was also absolute proof of her confidence that I could never win against her in an official 3-round, best of 2 match.

“I won’t just get beaten up for nothing, right? With all this protective gear on, it’s okay to hit someone aggressively, even if it’s Mom.”

“It’s called ‘hogu,’ not ‘Dohamin.'”

“Same difference.”

There wasn’t zero possibility.

Ban Doyoung’s talent for kendo must have been inherited from the sword-wielding tiger before me and the brave young man who married that tiger.

If I stayed calm, didn’t overthink things,

and let my body move according to this talent’s instincts, there would surely be an opportunity.

One point—I just needed to land one hit to win this game.

The opponent is my daughter’s HP. I can retry infinitely as long as my stamina holds out.

Theoretically, it’s practically a game I cannot lose.

“Haaah!”

Confidence in victory naturally translates to morale on the battlefield.

With a powerful shout, I charged at the tiger holding a sword with my bamboo sword.

“Good. You still remember the proper form well.”

-Tuck

Mom’s unwavering bamboo sword subtly twisted, deflecting mine to the side.

Not a large movement, just a slight shift.

With that small deflection,

her bamboo sword was positioned in a straight line with the crown of my head, without any obstacles.

“Hap!”

-Thwack!

By the time my eyes met that bamboo sword,

a sound like a cannon falling on my head was already ringing out.

“One round!”

“So it’s 1-0 for now?”

Just two seconds after the match began,

Mom had already crushed the crown of my head.

.

.

.

Whether parents are good or not

can be determined by how they respect both their children and their children’s friends.

Father Ban Doche,

and Mother Cheok Junsook both.

They were mature adults who knew how to respect and care for their child, Ban Doyoung, and Dohamin, who was still just a friend for now.

I couldn’t judge them carelessly when I’d only met them face-to-face for less than half a day,

but at least from what I’d seen so far, that was the case.

Neither of them were parents who inflicted indiscriminate violence on their children.

There might be disciplinary corporal punishment for wrongdoings,

but they didn’t take out personal frustrations or use the rod for trivial reasons.

So why did Ban Doyoung feel fear in front of Cheok Junsook?

The only answer I could come up with was this:

Mom wasn’t a bad parent, but she was a strong one.

“One round!”

“Haa, haa… Doyoung’s dad, what’s the score now?”

“…39 to 0.”

And she was fucking strong at that.

“Haa… I thought I’d succeed before the 20th try.”

Crown of head: 6 rounds, left side of head: 4 rounds, right side of head: 8 rounds,

left wrist: 2 rounds, right wrist: 6 rounds,

left waist: 4 rounds, right waist: 7 rounds,

and throat thrusts: 2 rounds.

The result was devastating.

My ability was beyond pathetic,

it was completely shattered.

If I exposed my crown just a bit more,

I might be able to communicate by emitting high-frequency sounds like a dolphin.

“Doyoung’s mom, that’s enough. The kid’s going to collapse at this rate.”

“Hmm… that seems unlikely. Doyoung isn’t giving up yet.”

Mom caught her breath and turned her head toward me again.

“Doyoung, how about it? Still want to challenge me? It’s been two hours since we started.”

“Haa… haa. Of course. Grinding hard for two hours and getting 200,000 won is a great deal.”

“What if I just give you the original 100,000 won I promised and we end it here?”

“Huff, no way.”

I immediately rejected Mom’s offer.

Before entering the match, I might have accepted.

It would have been much more beneficial to just take the allowance without any hassle.

But after entering the match,

and getting my head hit about 10 times by Mom, I became stubborn instead.

“Then what if from now on, I deduct 10,000 won from your allowance each time I win?”

“…Go ahead and do that.”

“I thought you’d give up if I said that.”

The allowance was no longer my concern.

Just once, even just once would be fine,

I wanted to land a hit on the tiger before me.

Perhaps Ban Doyoung’s body, trembling before Mom,

also harbored such thoughts deep in its unconscious.

“Haaah!”

“Hap!”

Two bamboo swords clashing amid our shouts and footwork,

I put all the strength of both arms into maintaining my movement so Mom couldn’t quickly deflect my bamboo sword and counterattack.

After exchanging blows for nearly 39 rounds,

I finally began to see the flow of Mom’s attacks.

While Ban Doyoung’s body possessed the talent for kendo,

it was ultimately my mind that had to move it,

so it took some time to learn what the attacks I saw were.

Yes, enough time to be shattered about 39 times.

“Ngh…!”

“This time I won’t be pushed back…!”

All the rounds Mom had won from me

were counterattacks after blocking or deflecting my initial attacks.

So I needed to prevent Mom’s bamboo sword from pushing mine away.

In terms of pure physical strength, I shouldn’t lose to Mom.

With that thought, I deflected Mom’s bamboo sword as if pushing it away with force.

“Haaah!”

And as I expected,

I won the test of strength against Mom, causing both our sword hands to bounce upward.

As quickly as possible, before Mom’s eyes could find my opening,

I thrust my bamboo sword toward the left side of Mom’s chest, aiming for her heart area.

“…!”

Mom, who was about to retreat, momentarily hesitated as if caught on something.

As if she hadn’t expected me to approach so quickly after being pushed back in the strength contest.

I couldn’t miss this opportunity.

-Thwack!

“I hit it!”

“…Ah!”

For the first time, my bamboo sword touched Mom’s chest protector.

“Haa… haa…”

“Phew…”

With my bamboo sword still touching Mom’s chest,

Mom and I remained in that position for a moment, as if time had stopped.

“I hit it, I hit it…! That means I won, right?”

-Tweet!

At that moment, Dad, who was refereeing, blew the whistle around his neck.

It was a warning signal for a foul.

“Ban Doyoung, chest thrusts are not counted for safety reasons.”

“What? Throat thrusts and head strikes are allowed, but chest thrusts aren’t? How does that make sense?”

“You should have aimed for the head from the beginning.”

-Thwack!

With Mom taking the final point to the crown of my head,

the match with Mom ended at 40 to 0.

.

.

.

“Ah, kendo is such a bullshit game.”

I clicked my tongue at the bullshit game ruling,

and removed my face mask, which was full of heat.

After having my head wrapped up for nearly two hours,

the inside of the mask was already filled with a sour and damp musty scent from the mixture of sweat and leather.

A smell I definitely wanted to make that Dohamin guy sniff someday.

“Good job, my daughter.”

Mom sat down beside me and removed her sweat-soaked face mask.

“That last one was a bit unfortunate. You could have won if you’d done better. Want something to drink?”

“Ooh, how thoughtful. Thank you.”

-Swish

I caught the drink bottle Mom threw with my right hand.

I’m not sure why she threw it instead of just handing it to me when we weren’t that far apart,

but it doesn’t matter since I caught it.

“…My daughter, your skills haven’t died yet.”

“Is that so? I can’t really tell.”

When the match result is 40 to 0 in dissatisfaction,

it’s hard to know whether I have skill or not.

“From Mom’s perspective, it’s very good. Your movements have become much more bold and agile, I’d say. Though your technique has dulled slightly.”

Mom said, pushing back her wet hair that had been under the headgear.

“Using your right hand, isn’t it uncomfortable now?”

“Huh? Why would it be uncomfortable? I’m using the hand I’m used to.”

“…I see.”

“What’s wrong, Mom?”

“Nothing. Nothing at all. Doyoung’s dad, can you clean up the dojo?”

“Uh, sure. What are you going to do…?”

Mom stood up, loosening her uniform.

“I’m going to take a shower.”

“…Okay.”

Dad looked at Mom going up to the house and, as if already giving up, unzipped his jacket.

I should avoid going to the master bedroom until tomorrow morning if possible.