A Sermon at the Dojo?
One day, after finishing his kenjustu practice, Yakagi Suimei was taking a break on the veranda of the Kuchiba residence. The sun had already set and a refreshing night breeze was blowing against his face.
While lazily sitting on the edge of the wooden veranda in his gi, he fanned himself with the folding fan he had in his breast pocket and gazed at the moon that had gotten big on the horizon. It was around then that a voice called out to him from further down the veranda.
“Suimei.”
“Hmm?”
His gaze was naturally drawn towards the source of the voice that tinkled like a silver bell, and when he looked, he spotted his childhood friend, Kuchiba Hatsumi. She’d been wearing the same gi he was before, but now she’d changed into comfortable-looking sweats.
“So this is where you were.”
“Yup, right here. I finished up, so I was just taking a little break. After loafing a bit more here, I’ll go on home.”
At that, Hatsumi looked and sounded somewhat dissatisfied.
“It’s not like I came here to tell you to leave. Really, the opposite. It’d be problematic if you just left on your own.”
“Why’s that?”
“Mom said she’s making dinner for five—that means you included.”
“That’s... Sorry ’bout being a bother all the time.”
“Nobody thinks of you as a bother. Truth be told, we’d rather you not be so reserved and come over more often. You’re not eating proper dinners, are you?”
“It’s not like I’m...”
Hatsumi eyed him, looking half self-satisfied and half exasperated. Suimei started to deny her claim, but...
“I bet it’s instant noodles.”
“Ugh...”
“Microwave dinners, mostly curry.”
“Er...”
“Canned mackerel with just salt on it. I could keep going—do you have anything to say for yourself?”
When she gave him an unrelenting scowl, Suimei capitulated. Raising both hands above his head, he admitted his neglect for his own health.
“Sorry, sorry, my bad. I was lying.”
“See? You don’t eat properly on your own after all.”
“It’s not always like that, you know? When it’s time to eat, I do so properly.”
“I wonder about that.”
Suimei tried to smooth things over in a fluster, but Hatsumi remained prickly. It was plain as day that she didn’t believe him. But she let it go there. She sat down next to Suimei and changed the subject.
“Suimei, about your training...”
“What about it?”
“You know what. I’m telling you to take it seriously.”
So that’s what it was. Suimei gave her a bitter smile. However, he had a proper defense on that point.
“I am taking it seriously, you know? Even when it comes to the practicing swings and forms, I’m not holding anything back, you hear?”
“That’s true, but... can you really say you’re taking your training seriously when you only come to the dojo two or three times a week? Lately, we’re lucky if you come by once.”
“That’s... I thought I told you that I have things to care of. I’ve been busy.”
“Things to take care of...? Is it really something that takes up that much time?”
“That’s precisely why I haven’t been showing up. Regarding that, Instructor Kiyoshiro already knows what’s going on.”
“So what are these things? Even when I ask, you never tell me.”
“It’s a secret.”
“That again... Won’t you just tell me already?”
“One day.”
“That’s all you ever say.”
With that, Hatsumi puffed out her cheeks in a pout. Normally she was quite serious, but every once in a while, a more childish side would shine through. Suimei thought she might be a little old for that, but because it was so cute, he hesitated in pointing that out. As such thoughts were going through his head, Hatsumi spoke up again in a somewhat disappointed tone with her eyes cast downward.
“At this rate, Suimei, you’ll be left behind, you know? Everyone who joined in the beginning has gotten stronger, and even the newer children have been improving.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
“No, it’s not a maybe. Even though you’ve been here all along, you’re the only one who still hasn’t reached the intermediate level.”
It was exactly as she said. When Hatsumi’s father, Kiyoshiro, set up a dojo in the neighborhood, Hatsumi and Suimei were his first two students. Other children joined on afterward, and as time passed, each and every one of the other students surpassed Suimei with the sword.
Of course, if he abandoned the fundamentals of the Kuchiba school and fought like a magician as he usually did, Suimei likely wouldn’t lose in a sword fight with any of the other students. Apart from Kiyoshiro and Hatsumi, he could easily see through the moves of the others and counter them.
But since he couldn’t use his magic in a normal fight, he didn’t have much to show in the way of results when it came to matches. Suimei now primarily came to the dojo so that he would never forget the basics of the blade. But if he went too far in his training, he would be drawn in by the way of the sword. Both his father, Kazamitsu, and his uncle Kiyoshiro had explained to him in detail that a magician shouldn’t become completely absorbed by the sword.
So in that respect, when he thought about it, Hatsumi was right. He wasn’t taking his training seriously. She had seen through him.
“Suimei... It’s not good for the first student to remain weak, right? It sets a bad example for the others.”
“It’s fine as long as you’re strong, right? You’re really the first student.”
“I’m the daughter of the dojo’s master. That hardly counts.”
It didn’t seem like Hatsumi was about to change her mind anytime soon. Suimei weakly knit his brow.
“Back then, you used to complain about me being strong. But now you’re complaining about me being weak. Which is it, really?”
“That’s... Isn’t it obvious that it’s better if you’re strong?”
“Huh?”
“Nothing!”
Suimei couldn’t hear her quiet voice. He asked her about it, but she firmly planted her feet on the ground, stood up, and marched off down the veranda. Watching her go, Suimei slumped his shoulders.
“Instructor, isn’t it about time that we tell Hatsumi and Haseto the truth...?”
His unheard, idle complaint was directed at Kiyoshiro, who was likely having a quiet drink in the living room.
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