OFA In The World of Honkai

The gym was barely awake when Kenji pushed open the door, the air inside thick with the lingering scent of leather, sweat, and just a hint of chalk.

It was still dark outside, the streetlights casting faint halos across the empty streets. He took a quick look around. The place was almost empty, save for Daichi, who was busy adjusting some of the equipment in a corner, his back turned to the door.

Kenji cleared his throat, a grin on his face as he stepped inside. "Morning, Daichi."

Daichi turned, one eyebrow arched as he spotted Kenji, his eyes narrowing in amusement. "Morning? More like night, kid. Classes don't start for another hour," he said, tossing a towel over his shoulder. "You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Kenji replied, scratching the back of his head. "I, uh… thought maybe I could get a head start. Figured I need all the help I can get."

Daichi's lips quirked up into a smirk, and he crossed his arms. "Is that so? Alright, tough guy. But if you're serious about starting early, I hope you're ready to work for it." He gestured toward a set of mats near the wall. "Start with a stretch and warm-up. No shortcuts, or you're just setting yourself up to get hurt."

Kenji nodded, already moving toward the mat, his heart pounding with both excitement and nerves. He ran through the stretches he knew—hamstring pulls, shoulder rolls, a few deep lunges, trying to shake off the stiffness in his limbs. The early hour seemed to weigh down on him, but he pushed through, rolling his shoulders and hopping lightly on his toes to keep his blood moving.

Daichi watched him, eyes keen. "Not bad, but don't just go through the motions. Feel it. Loosen up every muscle," he said, walking over with a jump rope. "Here. Start with five minutes. I'll get things ready."

Kenji took the rope, nodding, and began to jump, trying to find a rhythm. He stumbled a few times but quickly adjusted, his body falling into a steady beat. The rope whirred beneath him, his feet landing light but solid on the mat.

He'd always thought of warming up as a formality, something to get out of the way before the 'real' workout. But today, he was already feeling his heartbeat rise, his breaths coming faster as he focused on keeping the rhythm.

By the time Daichi returned, Kenji's forehead was damp with sweat, and his arms were starting to burn. Daichi tossed a set of gloves at him, which Kenji caught with slightly shaky hands.

"Alright, hotshot," Daichi said, pulling on a pair of mitts. "Today, we're breaking you down to basics. Your agility, reaction time, accuracy—all of it. It's not just about being strong. If you can't move right, if you can't react under pressure, you're just a big target."

Kenji swallowed, slipping the gloves on and tightening the straps. "Got it," he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

"Good," Daichi replied, stepping back and holding up the mitts. "First drill: footwork. Ever heard of ladder drills?"

Kenji shook his head, watching as Daichi pulled a rope ladder out of a bag and laid it across the floor in a straight line. The rows looked simple enough—just small squares formed by the ladder's rungs. Daichi stepped into it, demonstrating a quick series of steps, his feet moving almost too fast to track, tapping each square with precision as he moved forward, then back.

"Fast feet, light taps. Keep your eyes up, not on your feet. Go."

Kenji took a deep breath, stepping into the ladder. He hesitated, unsure, and tried to mimic Daichi's movements, his feet tapping into each square. His rhythm was awkward, his footing clumsy. His legs felt stiff, his mind racing to keep up as he struggled to keep his balance. He could feel his focus slipping, his thoughts tangled in trying to get each step right.

"Stop overthinking," Daichi said, his voice cutting through Kenji's frustration. "Just keep moving. Trust your body to follow your lead."

Kenji nodded, feeling the sweat start to bead on his forehead as he reset his stance and tried again. He moved through the ladder, this time faster, his mind relaxing into the rhythm. He stumbled a few times, but the flow felt a little smoother, the coordination less forced.

"Better," Daichi said, nodding. "Now, get back to your spot and start again. Thirty seconds on, ten seconds off. Repeat until I say stop."

The drill continued, Kenji's legs burning as he shuffled forward and back through the ladder, Daichi's steady voice pushing him to keep going. By the end, his legs were shaking, his breaths coming fast and shallow. He stepped out of the ladder, panting, his muscles aching with a fatigue he hadn't felt in a long time.

"Now, reaction time," Daichi said, already setting up for the next drill. He walked over with a tennis ball, tossing it lightly in his hand. "Hands up, guard your face. I'm going to throw this, and you're going to dodge. But don't overdo it—small movements. No ducking out of the way like a comic book hero."

Kenji raised his fists, trying to focus as Daichi took a step back, his gaze intent.

Daichi tossed the ball, aiming for Kenji's shoulder. Kenji flinched, leaning to the side as the ball whizzed past him. Before he could fully recover, Daichi threw another, this time to his right, and Kenji barely managed to move his head out of the way.

"Good," Daichi said, smirking. "Again."

The ball came flying at him in quick succession, each throw forcing Kenji to react faster, his muscles tightening as he tried to keep his movements small and precise. Daichi kept the pace steady, his eyes sharp, watching for every slip, every twitch that threw Kenji off balance. By the time they were done, Kenji's arms were trembling from holding his guard, his shoulders burning.

"Alright, let's move on," Daichi said, lowering the mitts. He gestured toward the heavy bag hanging nearby. "Now, let's see that punch. Controlled power, don't just throw it blindly."

Kenji approached the bag, his fists clenched tightly. He drew in a breath, setting his feet as he recalled Daichi's earlier words—balance, control. He brought his arm back and threw a punch, his knuckles connecting with the heavy bag with a solid thud. The impact reverberated through his hand, but he felt the lack of precision, the absence of the control Daichi had been drilling into him.

"Stop swinging it like a hammer," Daichi said, shaking his head. "The power's there, but if you don't control it, you're just gonna hurt yourself." He took up position next to Kenji, demonstrating with a quick, sharp jab that sent the bag swaying gently.

"See that? Snap the wrist, keep the movement tight. It's about accuracy, not just brute strength."

Kenji nodded, his focus sharpening as he reset his stance. He mimicked Daichi's movement, snapping his wrist at the last second as his fist connected with the bag. This time, the punch felt cleaner, more controlled, though his hand stung from the impact.

"Good. Now, keep that up. Ten solid jabs. Let's see it."

Kenji threw each punch with intention, feeling his muscles tighten and release in sync with each strike. The bag absorbed the blows, his punches gradually becoming more focused, each hit resonating with a satisfaction he hadn't felt in his solo workouts.

By the time they finished, Kenji's arms were leaden, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. Daichi took a step back, giving him an approving nod. "Not bad, kid. You're starting to get it. But remember, this is just the start. You're working on foundation—no foundation, no fighter."

Kenji wiped his forehead, his chest heaving as he managed a grin. "Foundation. Got it," he muttered, feeling the weight of the word settle over him.

Daichi clapped him on the shoulder, his smirk widening. "Tomorrow, same time. I expect the same effort."

Kenji nodded, feeling a strange mix of exhaustion and exhilaration as he unwrapped his gloves. As he left the gym, his arms and legs felt like they were made of lead but he was hopeful.

Tomorrow, he'd be back. And he'd be stronger.

---

Kenji adjusted the strap on his shoulder, wincing as he lifted a heavy box onto his scooter's cargo rack. His muscles screamed in protest, each movement a sharp reminder of the morning's workout with Daichi. It felt like every fiber of his body was on fire, and he still had a full day of deliveries ahead of him.

"Alright, guys, take it easy on me today," he muttered to himself, stretching his arms with a grimace. The soreness pulsed with every move, his shoulders especially tight from hours of drills and jabs.

A colleague, Hiro, sauntered by and shot him a smirk. "You look like you've been hit by a truck, Kenji. Rough night?"

Kenji chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Something like that. Just started training this morning—figured I'd get in shape. Didn't know it'd feel like someone took a sledgehammer to every muscle I have."

Hiro laughed, adjusting his cap. "Good luck, man. All those bruises'll be worth it if you're trying to impress someone."

Kenji rolled his eyes, smirking. "Nah, just trying to stay fit you know. Besides, if I wanted to impress someone, I'd try not to look like I'm walking on stilts."

Hiro gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, which made Kenji wince again. "Hang in there. But maybe save some energy for tomorrow, huh?"

Kenji laughed, but as Hiro walked away, he glanced down at his delivery list for the day and let out a low groan. "Gotta get through this first…"

He started up his scooter, ignoring the twinge in his arms as he gripped the handles, and headed out onto the city streets. The morning light had settled into a mellow midday sun, casting a warm glow over Nagazora as he weaved through traffic, making his way to his first delivery.

With each stop, Kenji felt the soreness deepening, his limbs protesting each time he climbed off the scooter and hefted a package to someone's doorstep. He tried stretching between deliveries, but it only seemed to make the ache more noticeable. By the time he'd reached his fifth stop, he was moving at a snail's pace, muttering under his breath as he rang another doorbell.

An elderly lady answered, her face breaking into a smile as she took the package. "Oh, thank you, young man. You must be very strong to carry all these heavy boxes."

Kenji grinned through the soreness. "Strong? I'll take that as a compliment, ma'am." He tried not to let his wince show as he waved goodbye. "You have a good day now."

"Take care, dear! And don't strain yourself too much!" she called after him.

Kenji walked back to his scooter, rubbing his sore shoulder and sighing. Only a few more hours. Just push through it, he thought, trying to mentally brace himself. Every now and then, he'd think of the kendo class waiting for him in the evening. As much as he looked forward to it, he was starting to worry that he'd show up barely able to stand, let alone swing a sword.

By the time the sun began its slow descent, the sky taking on shades of pink and orange, Kenji had made his last delivery and was cruising back toward his building, the cool air a small relief against his aching muscles.

As he parked his scooter and locked it up, he leaned against it, taking a deep breath and stretching his arms out as far as they would go. Alright, he thought, his eyes drifting to his watch. Just about an hour until I have to head to the dojo. I can rest for a bit before tackling whatever the dojo has in store.

He started making his way up to his apartment, each step up the stairs a reminder of the morning's training. The soreness had settled into a dull throb, and he rubbed his shoulder as he climbed, the thought of kendo lesson looming in his mind.

Let's hope they go easy on the new guy, he thought with a wry smile, unlocking his door and tossing his bag onto the floor.

With one last stretch and a sigh, he began mentally preparing himself for another round of training.

---

Kenji stepped into the dojo, the wooden floors gleaming under the bright lights, and was greeted with the familiar hum of muffled voices and the soft sounds of wooden swords clashing. After a quick nod from the receptionist, he made his way toward the changing rooms. As he passed by the main hall, his gaze caught on a sparring drill in progress. Mei stood at the center, poised, her bamboo sword held with perfect ease.

Around her, a few trainees took turns lunging forward, attempting to land strikes on her. She moved gracefully, weaving and sidestepping, her shinai darting out with small, precise taps that stopped each student in their tracks. Kenji couldn't help but watch in awe. She blocked every swing, every strike, barely needing to exert herself as her opponents scrambled to adjust, trying to keep up.

After the last trainee stumbled back, defeated but grinning, the surrounding students broke into applause. Mei gave an embarrassed smile, bowing slightly as her cheeks turned a soft shade of pink.

Kenji felt a surge of excitement. Man, she's incredible, he thought, clenching his fists as he felt the anticipation build. He was ready for this.

After changing into the dojo uniform, Kenji made his way toward Mei, who had just finished rehydrating and was gathering the students around. She noticed him and gave him a nod. "Kenji, right? From the other day?"

He grinned and nodded back. "Yep, that's me."

She reintroduced herself formally. "I'm Mei, as you already know. Just want to make sure we're both set here." She straightened, crossing her arms lightly as she regarded him. "Alright, before we dive in, let's cover a few basics of kendo. Kendo is about more than just swinging a sword; it's about discipline, precision, and knowing when to strike. Our goal isn't just physical strength—it's control."

Kenji nodded, listening closely. The way she described it reminded him of what Daichi had told him earlier that morning. "Sounds good to me. I'll admit, my fitness could use some work, but I'm up for it."

Mei gave him an approving nod. "Good. We'll get you there. Let's start with some foundational drills to get you used to the basics."

...

She gathered the few students around and gestured for them to spread out. There weren't many tonight—only a small group of dedicated evening trainees, their focus evident in their quiet attentiveness.

"All right, everyone, let's start with suburi," Mei announced, her voice carrying a calm authority that silenced the small group of students around her. She lifted her shinai with practiced ease, demonstrating a smooth, vertical strike aimed at an imaginary opponent's head.

"This is the men strike," Mei explained, her posture steady, the bamboo sword tracing a precise arc as she struck downward. The strike was fluid, her movement a seamless blend of control and power, her stance unwavering. "The goal here is balance, precision, and control—three things that might feel simple but take time to master. Kendo is about more than just strength. Every strike has a purpose."

Kenji watched, transfixed, trying to absorb every detail. He hadn't realized how nuanced a single movement could be. It was as if Mei's whole body was connected to the strike, her muscles working in unison to drive the sword down in a way that seemed both relaxed and powerful.

Mei stepped back, turning to Kenji with a patient smile. "Now, your turn. First, show me your grip."

Kenji held his shinai up, awkwardly adjusting his hands to match her demonstration. Mei shook her head slightly, stepping closer to adjust his hold. "Loosen up a little," she instructed, her hands guiding his fingers with a light touch. "You're gripping too hard—you'll just wear yourself out that way. Think of it like… a handshake. Firm but relaxed."

Kenji nodded, letting his grip relax, and instantly felt the sword feel lighter in his hands, less like a heavy club and more like an extension of his arm.

"Good," Mei said, stepping back. "Now, let's work on the motion itself."

Kenji raised the shinai over his head, mimicking Mei's stance. He took a breath, feeling the weight of the sword, and then swung it downward in a tentative strike. His feet shifted unsteadily, and his arms felt rigid as he tried to replicate Mei's fluidity. The sword wobbled slightly as it completed the arc, and he winced, feeling the strike fall flat, awkward.

Mei gave him a thoughtful look. "Not bad for a first try. But remember—kendo isn't just about hitting the target. It's about controlling your entire body in every strike. Think about where your feet are, where your shoulders are. Feel how the sword moves, but don't let it drag you off balance."

Kenji nodded, trying to absorb her words. He readjusted, taking a firmer stance, and swung again, slower this time, focusing on his shoulders and feet. The movement felt more controlled, but still unsteady, like trying to drive a car for the first time.

Mei watched him closely, her eyes never missing a detail. "Better. You're getting the hang of it. But don't be afraid to use your wrists, too. It's not about brute force. Let the sword do the work."

Taking another breath, Kenji focused on her advice, picturing the motion in his mind before attempting the strike again. This time, he could feel a bit more rhythm, a connection between his arms, wrists, and the sword's weight. His shinai traced a smoother arc, landing with a soft thud against the mat beneath him.

"There you go," Mei said, nodding approvingly. "Now, repeat that same motion. Ten times, nice and steady. Focus on each strike."

Kenji gritted his teeth, settling into the rhythm. Each time he lifted the shinai and swung, he focused on keeping his arms loose, his wrists steady, letting the weight of the sword flow naturally. His arms ached after a few repetitions, his muscles straining from the unfamiliar movement, but he kept going, determined to get it right.

Mei circled around him, watching his form. "Relax your shoulders. Don't let them bunch up with each strike. Breathe with the motion, not against it."

Kenji adjusted, trying to breathe in sync with the swing. The strikes became smoother, though he could feel his grip slipping as the sweat started to bead on his palms.

"Good," Mei said, her tone encouraging. "Now, once more. Let's make this one count."

With a final deep breath, Kenji raised the shinai above his head, feeling the alignment of his shoulders, arms, and wrists. He brought it down in a controlled arc, his focus intense, the swing landing with a quiet but satisfying impact.

He glanced at Mei, catching a hint of a smile on her face. "Not bad. It's rough, but you're starting to get the feel for it. Keep practicing that, and soon enough, the movement will come naturally."

Kenji nodded, the thrill of small progress in his chest. He wiped the sweat from his brow, looking down at the shinai with newfound respect.

...

After a quick adjustment of her grip, Mei straightened and addressed the students. "Next, we're moving on to kihon waza—basic techniques that target specific points," she explained, her voice clear and steady. She demonstrated a swift, precise strike to her own wrist. "These strikes each have a purpose and a designated target. You have men for the head, kote for the wrist, do for the torso, and tsuki for the throat. Each one requires its own stance, angle, and timing."

As she spoke, Mei guided Kenji to a designated practice area, where she positioned him in front of a target. She stood beside him, her posture the picture of calm focus as she raised her shinai to shoulder height. "Let's start with kote, a strike aimed at the wrist. Don't just swing at it—think about the motion. A sharp, precise strike, not a heavy blow."

Kenji nodded, feeling a flicker of anticipation. He adjusted his stance, positioning his shinai in line with Mei's instruction, and took a breath. He swung, aiming for the target, but his strike landed off-center, the motion clumsy and lacking the snap he'd seen Mei demonstrate.

Mei watched thoughtfully, then stepped forward. "You're swinging too wide. In kendo, distance and precision are everything. You don't need to wind up. Imagine there's only a short space between you and the target, and use your core to direct the power there."

She repositioned his stance, tapping his wrist lightly to adjust his grip. "It's less about power, more about control. A quick snap of the wrist at the end, and follow through with your focus, not just your strength."

Kenji took her advice, steadying himself. He held his breath, focusing on the space just beyond his hand, imagining the target narrowing to a single point. He swung again, this time keeping the motion tight, his wrist snapping with a sharper, cleaner motion. The strike landed closer to the mark, the impact more defined, though still shaky.

Mei gave a small nod, her eyes trained on his hands. "Better. Now, try that again. Let's make sure you're hitting it consistently before moving on."

He took a steady breath and repeated the strike, then another. Each time, he felt himself adjusting, his arms settling into a rhythm, the tension in his shoulders easing as he focused. The strikes were still far from perfect, but he could feel a difference, a gradual control beginning to build.

After several repetitions, Mei moved on to the next target area. "Now let's try do, the torso strike." She demonstrated a diagonal slash to the target's midsection, the angle precise, her shinai gliding through the air in a smooth, unwavering motion. "With do, the movement is broader, but the same principles apply. Keep it steady, and aim directly for the center."

Kenji mirrored her stance, lifting the shinai and bringing it down toward the target's torso. His angle was off, the swing veering too far to the right, and he felt the strike falter.

Mei stepped up beside him, positioning her shinai parallel to his. "Relax your grip a little, and aim for the core. Imagine your strength coming from your center, not your arms. Try again."

He adjusted, loosening his hold slightly and allowing the weight of the shinai to settle. He swung again, this time feeling the motion come from his torso, not just his hands. The strike was closer, more aligned with the center, though still a bit wobbly.

Mei watched him with a steady gaze. "Good progress, but don't let the blade waver. Confidence in every movement, even if you're still getting used to it. Trust your aim, and don't hesitate."

Kenji swallowed, refocusing. He could feel the frustration creeping in, but he pushed it aside, determined to get it right. He practiced the do strike again, the repetition starting to smooth out the roughness in his form, each swing coming a bit easier than the last.

Finally, Mei introduced the men strike again, this time in a specific pattern to bring all the techniques together. "Now, I want you to try them in sequence. Kote, do, and men. Remember each movement's purpose, and keep your stance steady. We'll go slow at first."

Kenji took his position, mentally lining up each target. He performed the kote strike, his wrist snapping as he aimed for the wrist. Then he shifted to the do strike, angling toward the torso, feeling the movement extend from his core. Finally, he finished with the men strike, lifting his shinai and bringing it down in a clean vertical motion.

The sequence was far from perfect—his timing was slightly off, and the transitions between strikes were still awkward. But he could feel a rhythm beginning to form, a connection between each movement.

Mei stepped back, crossing her arms as she watched him repeat the sequence, her expression thoughtful. "Not bad, Kenji. Your movements are rough, but you're adapting. Precision will come with time, but remember—each strike should flow into the next. Kendo is like a river, not a series of separate splashes."

He took her words to heart, focusing on the transition between each strike, letting the shinai guide his hands rather than forcing the motion. The repetition began to settle into his muscles, each technique a little smoother, a little less strained.

As he completed the final sequence, Mei nodded approvingly. "Good work. Let's take a short break, and then we'll move on to the next drill."

Kenji breathed out a sigh of relief, feeling the fatigue set in but also the faint thrill of progress. The strikes still felt awkward, but he was starting to see the discipline and focus behind each one, the purpose Mei spoke of in every movement. This was more than just swinging a sword—it was the beginning of something that felt both daunting and exhilarating.

....

Kenji collapsed onto the floor with a huff, crossing his legs and letting out a long, relieved sigh as he unscrewed the cap on his water bottle. Every muscle in his arms and shoulders felt tight and sore from the drills, and as he took a long drink, he could feel the burn lingering in each one of them.

"Man… how do pros make it look so easy," he muttered to himself, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. His uniform clung uncomfortably to his skin, damp from the workout, and he resisted the urge to stretch his legs out entirely and just lie back on the floor.

Just as he was mid-gulp, he felt a sharp smack on his back, and he choked, almost spitting out his water. "Ack—!" He sputtered, barely managing to keep the bottle from slipping out of his hands as he whipped around, finding himself face-to-face with Mei, who stood there with a slight grin, her shinai resting against her shoulder.

"Easy there," she teased, her grin widening as she watched him recover. "You're supposed to hydrate, not drown yourself."

Kenji coughed out a laugh, clutching his water bottle a bit more securely. "Yeah, thanks for the heads-up. That tap felt like a warning from the universe," he joked, rubbing his back with a rueful smile. "Or maybe I just wasn't built for grace."

Mei chuckled, setting down her shinai and sitting beside him, a relaxed air about her. She took a sip of her own water before glancing over at him. "So, how's it feel? Not as easy as it looks, huh?"

He shook his head, taking another sip and swallowing carefully this time. "Not even close. I thought I was doing alright with the basic stuff, but… turns out I've got zero control over a sword. It's like I'm trying to dance and my feet are two steps behind me."

"Pretty normal for a beginner," Mei said, nodding. "You're actually doing better than most people your first time out. Lots of new students swing the shinai around like it's a baseball bat." She smiled, a glint of amusement in her eyes. "But you… you're catching on. Kind of rough, but you have the right instincts."

Kenji grinned, feeling a bit of pride in her words. "Well, that's something, at least. If rough instincts count as progress, maybe I'll be halfway decent by the end of the year."

"Halfway decent?" Mei raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. "That's ambitious. Might even be aiming high."

He laughed, leaning back on his hands. "Thanks for the confidence boost, Mei. Really appreciate it."

She nudged his arm lightly with her elbow, clearly joking. "Hey, I'm just preparing you for the long haul. Kendo isn't about quick results; it's more of a marathon than a sprint. I spent years getting the basics right, and I still mess up sometimes."

Kenji looked at her, surprised. "You? Mess up? You were practically floating through those strikes when I walked in here earlier. How could you possibly mess up?"

Mei's cheeks tinged with a slight blush as she laughed it off. "Well, what you saw took a lot of work. And trust me, there were plenty of awkward falls along the way." She paused, her eyes thoughtful. "Guess that's just part of learning. You'll get used to it… if you're willing to stick around."

Kenji leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "I think I am. Even though my shoulders feel like they're on fire and my wrists probably hate me, I can tell this is the real deal. I've done training on my own before, but… nothing like this. I can see why it's worth it."

Mei nodded, her expression softening. "That's the spirit. A lot of people don't get past this stage because they expect it to feel good right away. It doesn't. At first, it's just you and the basics, struggling to make them click. But once it does, even a little… it's like all the effort suddenly makes sense."

Kenji took in her words, nodding along as he gulped down another sip of water. "Guess I'll just have to get used to fighting with my own limits, then." He chuckled, looking at his sore hands. "Though right now, my limits are fighting back pretty hard."

Mei laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned back a bit. "Sounds like you'll fit right in. Most people who come in here just want to learn a few flashy moves, but you seem serious about it." She glanced sideways at him, a hint of curiosity in her gaze. "So, what's your story, anyway? I mean, most people who train here are in school, but you don't exactly look like the high school type."

Kenji shrugged, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Yeah, you're right. I just graduated last year, actually. Didn't exactly have the funds for college, so I'm working as a delivery guy for now. Kendo's something I wanted to try because… I don't know, I thought maybe it could help me figure out what I'm good at. Or at least keep me from landing on my face next time I'm in a fight."

Mei nodded, giving him an understanding look. "Hey, nothing wrong with that. You're here, you're putting in the effort—that's what matters." Her face softened slightly. "And for what it's worth, you're doing pretty well for a beginner. Just… keep that sense of humor handy; it'll come in useful."

Kenji laughed, feeling the tension ease in his sore shoulders. "I'll keep that in mind. It's either humor or tears, right?"

"Exactly," Mei said, smirking as she stretched her arms. "Oh, by the way… I'm only 18 myself. Still in high school, just about to graduate, actually."

Kenji blinked, surprised. "Wait, you're a high school student? Now I'm the one whose ego's bruised. Here I am, getting my butt handed to me by someone younger."

Mei chuckled, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "It's not like I've been doing this forever. Just a lot of practice, that's all." She glanced at him, a bit amused. "And hey, you don't look that much older."

Kenji shrugged, grinning. "I guess 19 isn't exactly ancient. Just feels weird getting my form corrected by someone younger and… well, leagues better. But I can roll with it. It's kind of cool, actually."

She gave him a smile, one that seemed genuinely pleased. "Thanks, I think. Don't worry—if you stick with it, you'll get there. It just takes time, like anything worth doing."

Kenji raised his water bottle, giving her a mock toast. "To sticking with it. And to you not hitting me too hard when I mess up."

She smirked, raising her own bottle in response. "I make no promises."

A loud clap broke through their exchange, and Mei turned to check the time. "Alright, break's over, everyone!" she called, standing up and gathering her students around.

Kenji sighed, stashing his water bottle with a grin. "Well, no one said it'd be easy."

"Nope," Mei replied, giving him a nod. "But that's the best part, right?"

He felt a spark of motivation as he got to his feet, nodding back at her. "Bring it on Mei Sensei."

"No."

"Damn, alright..."

...

After the break, Mei gathered the students again, her shinai resting at her side as she explained the next drill. "Alright, we're moving on to footwork now. In kendo, a strong strike depends on strong footwork. Without proper balance and movement, your strikes will be weak or leave you off-guard. So, we're going to practice ashi-sabaki, or footwork drills, to build up that foundation."

She took a step forward, sliding her feet smoothly across the floor. "This is called okuri-ashi, the sliding step. In kendo, you don't pick your feet up like in a normal walk; instead, you keep them close to the ground. Your back foot pushes you forward, and your front foot slides, but always controlled. This allows you to stay grounded and ready to strike or defend."

Kenji and the other students watched closely as Mei demonstrated, her feet gliding in a subtle rhythm, her body low and steady. The movement looked deceptively simple, but he could tell there was a lot more to it than just sliding his feet.

"Alright, give it a try," Mei instructed, stepping back to observe them. "Keep your stance low, center your weight, and focus on staying grounded. Don't bounce or lift your feet—think of it as gliding."

Kenji adjusted his stance, trying to lower himself as he slid one foot forward. His first attempt was awkward, his back foot dragging too heavily. He felt off-balance, his movements jerky rather than smooth.

"Not bad," Mei said, stepping up beside him. "But remember, your back foot is pushing, not dragging. Think of it like… a controlled push from your heel, so your front foot can move freely." She demonstrated again, her feet moving effortlessly.

He tried to mimic her, pushing off his back heel gently, feeling a slight difference as his front foot slid forward. The movement still felt unnatural, and he struggled to keep his balance as he repeated it.

Mei noticed his struggle and nodded encouragingly. "It's okay. This takes time. Just keep your center steady and imagine your legs as a single unit, moving together."

Kenji gave it another go, this time focusing on keeping his weight evenly distributed. He slid forward, feeling the flow between his feet, though his back foot still felt a bit sluggish. The rhythm was slow to come, and his legs began to ache with the unfamiliar motion, but he could feel a faint improvement with each step.

After a few more attempts, Mei raised her shinai, signaling the next part of the drill. "Now, let's add direction changes. Forward, backward, left, and right. In a real match, you won't always be moving in one direction, so learning to switch fluidly is essential."

She demonstrated, sliding forward with okuri-ashi, then shifting her weight back, her stance never faltering. She stepped to the left and right with the same fluidity, her gaze steady as she moved. "Remember, each movement should be smooth and controlled. Keep your balance, and focus on shifting your weight seamlessly."

Kenji took a breath, preparing to follow her lead. Forward felt manageable now, but the backward slide threw him off, making him feel like he was about to tip over. Moving sideways was even trickier; his weight wobbled as he attempted the lateral step, his body struggling to keep the motion steady.

Mei observed him closely, her eyes sharp but understanding. "You're thinking too much," she advised, stepping beside him. "Let the movement come naturally. Imagine you're just shifting without breaking your stance."

Kenji nodded, trying to loosen up. He stopped overthinking, allowing his body to fall into the rhythm Mei had shown him. Slowly, his movements began to smooth out, his steps feeling less forced. There was still an awkwardness, but he felt a sense of progress with each attempt.

The ache in his legs grew as they repeated the steps across the dojo floor, and he could feel his calves and thighs protesting with each slide. Mei's voice rang out, calm and encouraging. "Good! Keep that stance low, stay grounded. Footwork is everything."

Finally, they moved on to combining footwork with strikes. Mei demonstrated a basic step forward with a men strike, her motion flawless. "Your foot should land with your strike, not before or after. Everything needs to be in sync—foot and hand moving together."

Kenji tried, stepping forward with the shinai raised, aiming for the target and focusing on the timing. His first attempt was clumsy; his foot hit the floor a split second before his strike landed, disrupting his balance.

Mei stepped up beside him again, her tone patient. "It's all about timing. Think of it like a single action—foot and hand as one. It'll feel awkward at first, but once you find the rhythm, it'll start to click."

Taking her advice to heart, Kenji slowed down, concentrating on keeping his movements in sync. He stepped forward, his foot and hand moving together, and finally felt a bit of the flow she had described. It was far from perfect, but the improvement was enough to keep him going.

After several more repetitions, Mei clapped her hands, signaling the end of the drill. "Good work, everyone. I know footwork can be tough, but it's the foundation of kendo. Keep practicing, and it'll start to feel natural."

Kenji's legs throbbed with exhaustion, his body protesting as he straightened up, but there was a sense of satisfaction beneath the fatigue.

He had only scratched the surface, but even this brief lesson had taught him more than he could have imagined.

End of Session

As the class wrapped up, Kenji gathered his things, feeling both drained and invigorated. He wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve, glancing over at Mei, who was busy helping another student with their grip. She was focused, her instructions clear and steady, and he couldn't help but feel grateful for her guidance.

As she finished with the other student, Kenji walked over, bowing slightly. "Thanks for the lesson, Mei. I know I'm a long way from getting it right, but… I think I'm starting to get the hang of it."

Mei returned the bow, her eyes warm with encouragement. "You're doing well, Kenji. Just keep at it. Kendo takes patience, but you've got the right attitude. Most people don't push themselves like you did today."

He grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah, well, I guess I didn't really know what I was getting into… but I'm glad I did. I'll be back in a couple of days, ready for more."

Mei smiled, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. "Looking forward to it. Rest up, and keep practicing what we went over. You'll be surprised how much it'll help next time."

He gave her a nod, slinging his bag over his shoulder. As he headed toward the exit, he felt a deep sense of fulfillment—more than he'd expected from his first day. He was tired, sore, and still had a lot to learn, but this felt like the first real step toward something meaningful.