⛩️ Chapter 1 – The Broken Sign and the Blade
The sun beat down on the city of Kagami, a concrete sprawl that swallowed tradition whole. For Hakuji, who was eighteen and perpetually broke, the heat was just one more layer of miserable. He'd spent the morning hauling crates of questionable fish for a grumpy merchant, and now his stomach was rumbling a symphony of protest.
He had exactly 37 Yen. Not enough for a decent rice ball.
He passed a derelict street that smelled of dust and old wood. Tucked away in an alley was an ancient building—a Dōjō—that looked like it was losing a slow, quiet battle with time.
Taped to the sliding wooden door was a sign, hand-painted on faded parchment. Hakuji squinted at it.
"WANT TO LEARN THE WAY OF THE SWORD? LESSONS AVAIL—"
A chunk of the plaster above the sign fell, knocking away the last few characters.
"WANT TO LEARN THE WAY OF THE SWORD? LESSONS FREE!"
"Huh," Hakuji muttered. He scratched his head. "Well, that settles it."
He'd always figured martial arts were for movie heroes or rich kids. But 'FREE' was a powerful word. It was a word that outranked 'tired,' 'sore,' and even 'is this a total scam?'
He slid the door open.
The Master of Mustaches
The interior was cool and smelled of beeswax and age. The floor was a smooth, polished tatami mat, empty save for a single, small man sitting cross-legged in the center.
The man had a face like a grumpy bulldog and a truly spectacular gray mustache that looked like two fluffy clouds fighting a duel. This was Master Genzō.
"You," Genzō barked, without opening his eyes. "You're late." "Uh, late for what?" Hakuji asked, fiddling with the frayed strap of his backpack. "I just saw the sign. It said free lessons."
Genzō finally opened one eye—it was sharp and utterly unimpressed. "The sign said 'Available,'" he corrected, pointing a single, gnarled finger toward the door. "But the city keeps knocking the last letters off. It was a test. And you failed the reading comprehension part."
Hakuji's face fell. "Wait, so they aren't free?" "They are," Genzō sighed, shaking his head. "To the worthy. And judging by your posture, you're only worthy of a spine transplant."
The Unspoken Agreement
Hakuji was about to turn around and leave. Free or not, this guy was going to be a pain. But then, Genzō did something strange. He stood up, and from a wall rack, he pulled down a Katana encased in a simple wooden scabbard. The sword itself was plain, but as Genzō handed it over, Hakuji felt an immediate, inexplicable pull.
The weight was perfect. The balance was natural. It was as if his hand knew the shape before his mind did.
"Hold it," Genzō instructed.
Hakuji did, gripping the hilt with a surprising intensity. For a moment, the dull ache of his muscles vanished, replaced by a strange, humming energy.
Genzō watched the boy's easy grip—the unconscious way his feet had adjusted his stance. The old master's face remained stern, but a spark of something bright and dangerous lit his eyes.
"The lessons are free," Genzō said, finally. "But the price is your sweat, your tears, and maybe a few broken bones. Do you accept the terms, boy?"
Hakuji looked from the sword to the master. He wasn't sure why he agreed. Maybe it was the strange feel of the blade, or maybe it was the promise of something more than hauling fish.
He nodded, a grin spreading across his face. "Deal. Where do I find the practice sword?" Genzō pointed to a pile of sturdy wooden bokken. "You don't start with that. You start with this. And you'll learn the first rule of the sword: Respect."
✨End of Chapter 1✨