The early morning sun streamed through the shoji screens, casting soft golden patterns across the wooden patio floor. A light breeze stirred the leaves of the nearby maple tree, and the gentle chirping of birds served as the only sound in the quiet of dawn.
Keiko and Kairi sat side by side on tatami mats, legs folded in lotus position, eyes closed. The silence stretched long and thin between them.
Kairi cracked one eye open. Then the other. She groaned softly.
"Ugh... it's been forever."
Keiko didn't move. "It's only been thirty minutes."
"Thirty?!" she hissed. "I thought it was at least an hour. My legs are turning into rocks."
Keiko exhaled through his nose, calm and unmoved. "Stillness is strength, Kairi. If you can't quiet your mind, you can't master your body."
She puffed her cheeks, but sighed and closed her eyes again, giving it another try.
Another thirty minutes passed.
When they finally opened their eyes and broke from meditation, Kairi flopped back onto the wooden boards, arms spread wide like she'd survived a battle.
"That was officially tougher than any fight I've ever had."
Keiko smiled faintly. "Then it did its job."
Kairi sat up, brushing red strands of hair from her face."Y'know, when I was eight, my mom signed me up for karate. I hated it at first... but it got better. I felt stronger — like I had some kind of control, y'know?"
Keiko glanced at her, his expression softening. "I know exactly what you mean."
She tilted her head. "Wait—you did karate too?"
He nodded slowly."After my parents died, I wandered for days. I had no home, no one. Then I met a man who ran a tiny dojo. He saw something in me... or maybe just couldn't let a kid fall apart. He took me in. Trained me."
"Is that how you got so good?"
Keiko's gaze grew distant for a moment. "That's how I survived."
Kairi grew quiet, watching him. Her playful energy dimmed, replaced with something deeper—respect.
He stood and offered her a hand. She took it.
"These next few days," he said, "we're going to rebuild your foundation. We'll strip away bad habits, sharpen your instincts, and strengthen everything you already know. Once that's solid..."
He turned slightly, the sunlight catching the crimson streaks in his hair.
"...I'll show you the other paths. The deeper branches of what I've learned."
Kairi's eyes lit up. "Like... other fighting styles?"
"You could say that."
She grinned. "Okay! But only if we eat lunch after. I'm starving."
Keiko chuckled quietly, already heading toward the kitchen. "Discipline and appetite... You really are my daughter."
Later at the tsugikami house
The afternoon sun painted soft shadows across the old countryside path as Keiko and Kairi stood outside a traditional wooden home nestled among tall trees and flowering bushes. The air smelled of pine and sakura petals.
Kairi tilted her head."So, who lives here again?"
"My oldest friend. Harusso. He's one of the few who knows what I really am. His family carries that truth too."
Kairi blinked. "So... they're like cousins?"
Keiko gave a faint nod, eyes on the front door. "You could say that."
He knocked twice, a low thud echoing behind the wooden frame. Moments later, the sliding door opened with a familiar creak.
Standing in the doorway was Harusso — his once-black hair now a storm of gray, his face lined with decades of laughter, hardship, and wisdom. Beside him stood Mizuki, his wife, equally aged, but warm-eyed and graceful.
Harusso squinted, then broke into a wide grin."Keiko! Look at you. And this girl...?"
Keiko stepped aside slightly."This is Kairi. My daughter."
Kairi blinked. He said it simply — no pause, no doubt. Just... certainty.
Harusso and Mizuki were both left speechless.
Then Harusso laughed, clapping Keiko on the back."She's like a little version of you!"
Kairi stepped forward and gave a small bow. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Tsugikami."
Mizuki's eyes sparkled. "Oh, how polite! And adorable. Well, come in. Any family of Keiko's is welcome in this house."
—
Later that afternoon, the garden echoed with laughter and chatter as Kairi played with the Tsugikami grandchildren, darting between them with speed and strength that made them cheer — or gape.
Keiko sat beneath the shade of a cherry tree with Harusso, sipping tea and watching quietly.
"So..." Harusso said, his tone now more grounded after hearing the full story of Kairi's origin. "A daughter, huh?"
"I know," Keiko murmured. "I'm all she has now. Her only family. I've taken on responsibility before —I've carried a lot — temples, samurai, yakuza, mercs. I've been in more battles than I can count..."
He glanced down at his cup.
"But this? She came to me for comfort... and I don't know what to do.No scroll, no mountaintop training prepares you for it."
Harusso leaned back with a sigh. "That's because it's not about strength or discipline. It's about presence."
Keiko looked over. "Presence?"
"Just be there for her," Harusso said. "Forgive her. Laugh when her jokes are terrible. Watch when she says, 'Dad, look what I can do.' Let her know — every day — that she's the most important thing in your life."
He paused, watching Kairi attempt to lift something from the edge of the garden.
"She chose you. Doesn't matter how or why. She's here. And she needs her father."
Keiko didn't speak, simply listened.
"You've given everything to Japan," Harusso continued. "You deserve this. To watch a small part of yourself grow... and become something extraordinary."
A long silence followed. Then Keiko said softly, "You speak like a truly wise man."
Harusso snorted. "Shut your mouth."
They shared a quiet laugh.
Then Keiko's eyes narrowed."Wait—"
Across the yard, Kairi was lifting a massive garden rock over her head.
Keiko stood instantly."Kairi! Put that down now!"
"But it's not even heavy!"she shouted back, already wobbling.
Keiko was already halfway across the yard.
Harusso chuckled behind him. "Ah yes... presence."