Of course, I couldn't eat without help. Both of my arms were pretty much useless.

I cursed at my past self.

Tomoe and I were sitting at the kitchen table. Luckily the fridge had some home-cooked pre-prepared easily heatable meals. What a godsend the old man truly was.

After Tomoe finished helping me.… I decided to ask her. Very reluctantly about training.

“What do you mean exactly?”

“Well, I train right?”

“I assume so.”

“You've seen me fight at least?”

“Yes, it's more raw and instinctive than any actual fighting style.”

“Actual?”

“Disciplined and developed, I mean. Not to say that it's bad.

You fight better than most trained people. Well, except for earlier, why did you let your guard down like that?”

A guy with no training beating up trained people? Ridiculous but typical. I moved on.

“I'm not sure I understand. He did attack me out of nowhere.”

“Surprise attacks have never been your weakness,” she said thinking.

“Right. Well, I've been feeling.…off ever since I started having visions.”

“So, you're serious about these visions then?”

“Yes,” I said simply.

“Ok, but how does having visions make you suddenly bad at fighting?”

“I.… I.…don't know.”

Tomoe glared at me.

“I was hoping that you could help me out with it,” I asked hesitantly.

“How?”

“You're pretty good at fighting. So could you show me the basics?”

“The basics? You’ve lost all of your ability?”

“Maby.”

“How are you going to fight that guy tomorrow?” She asked, expression turning worried.

“That guy? Jason?” I asked.

“I don't know his name. But if Jason is the guy from earlier then, yes. He challenged you.”

Great. I wish I could have facepalmed.

“You’ll still help me right?”

“If you wake up earlier, yes,” Tomoe said, standing up and getting ready to leave.

Was this the right time to bring up her behavior? Yes.

“About that. I'm sure I won't be able to.”

She glared at me.

“I’ve tried. Honest,” I said defensively.

“So, if you wouldn't mind waking me up earlier and.… not as violently.”

Tomoe huffed at me.

“Thanks, for everything. I really appreciate it,” I said as she left.

I sat in silence, contemplating the day. The plot had finally kicked off.

Tomorrow I would find out if I had inherited any of the main character's fighting abilities.

By all accounts, I should have been feeling at least slightly better. But instead, I still felt utterly lost and overwhelmed. I closed my eyes and waited for the emotion to pass.

I stood up in less pain. My body had recovered somewhat, at least.

The doctor did say that I'd be fully healed by morning.

Which would normally be absurd. But it seemed like super-healing was apparently a thing in this world.

It was kind of obvious if I thought about the manga.

Characters would walk around with a few bandages after battles. And those bandages and injuries would disappear by the start of the next arc.

Which didn't seem like all that long a time in world.

Not to mention some of the gag injuries that would vanish within the span of a few panels.

I had to keep super-healing in mind along with other tropes and oddities that only occurred in fiction. I groaned.

----------------------------------------

Tomoe Miura woke up early as per her usual routine. The sun had not yet graced the sky.

She started off by getting into her workout clothes and then proceeded with her daily stretches.

“Morning,” Tomoe’s mother greeted her as she came downstairs.

“Morning,” Tomoe replied.

“I'll be taking the train later to go visit Grandma and Grandpa. So I'll be home late. Will you start dinner when you get here?”

“I could make dinner,” Tomoe’s father said as he entered the kitchen.

Tomoe’s mother gave him a questioning look. “After what you cooked last time?”

“Sure, I’ll start it when I get home. Why are you going to go visit them?” Tomoe asked.

“Grandma’s been feeling ill and I just want to make sure everything's going well.”

Tomoe’s father grabbed a piece of bacon still cooking in the pan.

“Can't you wait for all of us to sit down,” Tomoe’s mother said, punching him in the side.

“Actually, I said that I would help Akato with something.”

“Oh.” Tomoe's mother gave her a sly smile.

Tomoe blushed and looked away.

Tomoe’s father snatched another piece of bacon from the pan. Tomoe’s mother turned and glared at him. He smiled back at her innocently.

A few minutes later Tomoe exited her house and jogged over to Akato’s place, which was just a few blocks away.

With a running jump, she reached the second-floor balcony.

She didn't bother trying to use the balcony door; instead, she walked over to the window, opening it with ease by sliding a thin wire underneath the frame and unlatching it.

She watched Akato for a few seconds, getting annoyed at the fact that he hadn't woken up earlier.

He did say that he tried but I don't believe him.

Tomoe was about to kick him in the side before she remembered his injuries and that he had asked her not to wake him up violently.

She crouched down and shook his shoulders.

She waited. He didn't wake.

She shook his shoulders again.

Akato mumbled something unintelligible and rolled onto his side.

Tomoe’s anger rose. She stopped herself from slapping him and walked into the bathroom instead.

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I sputtered awake, trying to catch my breath. I looked down at my clothes.

Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

I was soaked. Turning around I laid eyes on the culprit. I said nothing, just stared at her.

Had she really just thrown a bucket of water on me?

“Good, you're awake. Get dressed and come outside," Tomoe said, placing the bucket on the desk and walking out of the room.

I remained quiet. Was this a better outcome than getting attacked? Yes. But it still wasn't ideal though. I would have to keep chipping away at her behavior.

After removing my bandages I flexed my arms.

It was strange as if I had never suffered any injuries, to begin with.

I got dressed and met Tomoe outside.

"Why are you in your school clothes?” Tomoe asked, looking me up and down.

“What?” I said confused.

“If you train. You're going to get all sweaty.”

I imagined Tomoe forcing me to run a marathon or do ten thousand push-ups as training.

Something like that would make a perfect gag. I shuddered.

“You're not going to force me to do anything intense right?”

“No.”

“Good,” I wasn't really relieved because for Tomoe some insane training regime might seem completely normal.

If things got out of hand I was going to use my injuries as an excuse.

“This is the only outfit I have.”

“What? You only have one set of clothes?”

“It would be more accurate to say my wardrobe consists entirely of copies of this exact same outfit.”

That outfit being a black blazer with a diamond emblem on the collar. A button-up white shirt. Dark jeans that had a thin chain, and sneakers.

The outfit, no doubt, broke school guidelines.

“Ah,” is all she said in response.

I found her response strange.

Didn't she know that? Why would she think of that as a weird thing? We’re in a manga world. Wasn't everyone always dressing the same way a normal thing? I tried to think back to the manga.

I was decently sure that characters were always wearing the same outfits.

If I was wrong? Then the main character should have had other clothing. No?

We arrived at Tomoe's house.

It had an expansive backyard and a second building-training dojo.

We walked over to an open space.

"The basics," she said, lifting a single finger and taking on the expression of a teacher.

"First is the stance."

"The way you stand ?" I asked dumbly.

"Yes."

As you could have guessed, the first and unofficial magic system that this world had was different types of martial arts.

Martial arts. That allowed you to perform superhuman-level feats like punches that could break through brick walls. Slaps that could temporarily paralyze you. Kicks so strong they created blades of air and tons of other things that didn't have any basis in reality.

In the manga, this wasn't explained in any great detail. Characters were just capable of pulling off crazy fighting moves. With each character having their own style.

“Show me your stance,” she said.

“Ah.” I tried to remember the way the main character stood in the manga and as expected I couldn't remember anything. Who pays attention to that kind of thing?

Tomoe looked at me puzzled, “You don't even know that much?”

“Afraid not.”

She entered a stance. One foot forward, knees slightly bent, and leaning backward.

"This is your stance."

I tried to mimic her. Tomoe walked over to me.

"Don't lean too far back. Relax your muscles," she said, as she corrected me.

The stance felt strange and kind of natural.

"Good."

"So now what?" I asked.

"It is your stance. Nothing coming back to you?"

"No."

"The stance is the foundation of your fighting style. Every one of your other moves is built on it," she lectured.

A loud crash echoed from the house.

I looked over. Tomoe didn't react; she just kept looking at me expectantly.

“I'm not sure what you want,” I said.

“Maybe if you practice what you're best at, it will come back to you,” she said more to herself than to me.

This wasn't looking good. Tomoe was somewhat understandably more focused on trying to get me to remember things that I simply wasn't going to rather than teaching me how to fight.

She turned and walked towards the dojo building mumbling something that I couldn't make out. A man holding a steaming mug stepped out of the main house.

He had black hair and a mustache but most prominent of all was a large red bump sticking out of the side of his head.

I was immediately worried for him.

But then I remembered that I was in manga land and that the bump was probably nothing to be concerned about. The man who I assumed was Tomoe’s father walked over to me casually. He had not been in the manga at all.

“Hey, there Akato. How have you been?”

“Fine sir….” I trailed off. How was I supposed to interact with the man?

Tomoe brought out a training dummy.

“There. Now punch it,” She said, standing off to the side. Her father went to stand next to her, he sipped from his mug as he watched me intensely.

I took a step forward and raised my arm.

“No, No, you have to attack from stance,” Tomoe lectured.

I entered the stance and Tomoe shouted out corrections.

Once she stopped I tried to hit the dummy again.

Tomoe glared at me. “No, that's just a normal punch. You have to do it like this.”

She demonstrated exactly how I was supposed to do it.

Ah, it was the spirit punch I realized. The move the manga was named after.

It was pretty much the only martial arts technique that the main character possessed. Aside from some variations of it that were only ever used a handful of times.

Big fights were almost always resolved by the main character punching his opponents with the technique.

I followed Tomoe’s instructions and punched the dummy a few times.

My punch was .… well, it was shit. There had to be some trick to it right, it wasn't just an ordinary punch. Whatever the secret to the signature move entailed it was beyond me at the moment.

I tried it a few more times with Tomoe shouting out corrections.

“I thought for certain that if you used your main attack.…”

“So, you've lost your skill hey?” Tomoe’s father spoke up. “Always a tragedy.” His face broke out into a picture of grief.

“Have you seen something like this before Dad?”

“Yes, it happened to a Mak-tai weapons master at a mountain temple I visited once. First things first we'll have to see just how far it goes.” He handed his mug to Tomoe and then strode towards me.

I could see a subtle change in the way he walked, then his arm shot out toward me.

I moved back narrowly missing the swing.

“Reaction speed has regressed as well.” He stretched his arm out fully.

His hand easily reached where I would have been.

And from that display, it was made clear to me that I hadn't inherited any fighting prowess. Great, I cursed inwardly.

“Is there any way to fix it?” Tomoe asked.

“Mmm.” Tomoe’s father thought. “The stance does suit you at least. So we won't be starting from the very bottom. Tomoe take notes.”

Tomoe rushed back into the house, quickly returning with a small notebook in hand.

“First is reaction speed. He'll have to build it back up. The stance can only be utili-” he strolled into the dojo.

Tomoe followed him, taking notes as he continued speaking.

Tomoe came back with a wooden practice sword. I was surprised at the choice.

“Akato, avoid the attacks as best you can,” Tomoe’s father said. And with that, she charged towards me. I wasn't able to react in time.

I rubbed the side of my head. Tomoe's expression looked apologetic at the very least.

“Yes, this can be excellent training for you both.”

Tomoe glared at her father.

“I didn't plan on it being training for you as well, it just happened to align that way,” he said, his arms raised up defensively.

Tomoe considered then turned back to me, anger coloring her expression. I felt dread.

----------------------------------------

I dodged another attack. “Return to stance,” Tomoe’s father called out to me.

I was struck again due to my attention being split.

Trying to avoid hits and forcing your body to fall back into a specific pose was hard.

This continued for what felt like hours. Halfway through Tomoe’s father started giving her advice as well.

Judging by her facial expression and the harder hits she delivered. The advice was not welcomed.

We paused taking a break.

I sprawled out on the floor not due to exhaustion but because of all the new bruises I had gained.

As I rested, I contemplated my terrible luck. Of course, I have to do hellish training well in the manga, the only training the main character ever underwent was minimal at best.

I shouldn't have expected anything else. Wasn't getting sent to other worlds supposed to be an easy peasy dream where everything fell into your lap with zero effort? If only I had been reading an Isekai instead.

Tomoe’s mother stepped out of the house. I guessed it was her mother because she looked exactly like Tomoe only older. She marched towards us.

“Honey, what are you doing?” She said.

“Just helping out Akato. He’s lost all of his fighting ability,” Tomoe’s father answered.

“Is that so?” she asked, shocked.

I was again forced to demonstrate my signature move, the punch. I felt nervous as Tomoe, her mother, and her father, all watched me intensely.

I moved into the stance and punched the dummy. Again nothing special.

"It's as if he's lost all his fuel," Tomoe's mother said.

"It's true. All of the explosive power. Gone," Her father added.

"He did get attacked yesterday. Could that have something to do with it?" Tomoe asked

Both of her parents shook their heads.

I frowned.

"Both of you should finish up or you'll be late," Tomoe’s mother said looking at her watch.

“I have to go too,” she said, then kissed her husband on the cheek.

Tomoe ran into the house and I walked towards the exit hoping that I'd have enough time to take a quick shower.

"Trust in the training," Tomoe's father patted me on the shoulder as I left. "You'll be whole again, don't give up."

I just thanked him for the help and rushed home. The rest of the day was going to be a chore to get through I was sure.