Two months of relentless, repetitive training had transformed Kofi. The clumsy, awkward boy who could not stand still without losing his balance was gone, replaced by someone with a quiet, centered confidence. His body was leaner, stronger, his movements more economical and precise.
Tanaka-sensei had been a patient, and at times, terrifyingly demanding teacher. He had drilled Kofi in the fundamentals of kendo until the movements were second nature, until the shinai felt like an extension of his own arm.
He had still not trained with Yuna. Their lessons were always separate, a fact that was both a relief and a source of a quiet, nagging curiosity. He knew she was training. He would sometimes see the evidence of her presence in the dojo—a scuff mark on the floor, a forgotten water bottle—but she remained a ghost, a silent, unseen partner in his new, strange journey.
The day finally came. He arrived at the dojo for his usual Saturday lesson, and she was there.
