Clang! Clang! Clang!
"Keep your guard up! Don't close your eyes for even a second!"
"S-Slow down, Claire-sensei! Didn't you say we'd be doing light sparring toda—AUGH!"
My wooden blade struck him straight in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He folded almost immediately onto the ground, gasping for air.
I rested the tip of my shinai on the floor, and smirked triumphantly.
"Hmph."
I twirled a finger around mockingly, "How do you expect to ascend to a green belt like this? You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, y'know."
"Ugh," my student groaned, rolling onto his back with a wheeze. "Next time, I'll definitely get a hit on you, sensei."
"You are getting closer than you'd think, though."
I let out a small smile, and offered a hand. He stared at it for a moment, then took it with a grin on his face.
"Good work today, sensei."
"Yup, good work today."
I dusted my palms against my gi, relaxing. Not like I needed much of it, actually.
"Next Monday, I'm making you go through some new drills, got it? We have no classes tomorrow, so it's gonna be a long weekend," I said, putting my shinai back into the rack. "What are'cha going to do in your free time?"
"Well... I'm probably going to spend it going out with a few friends. Maybe play some soccer, since I haven't played in a while."
"I see, I see."
"What about you, sensei?"
D'oh!
I-I thought he wouldn't ask me back, what do I say?!
"Uh, well, um..." I said sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. "...I'll be busy managing the dojo????"
"That's so boring, Claire-sensei. You must do something else besides that in your free time, right?"
Crap.
Abandon the mission, abort! I need to change the subject somehow!
He gave me the look. The kind of look that said I know what you are.
"You're hiding something, sensei."
"I-I'm not, okay?" I said defensively. "You can go home now, no need to worry about what I'm doing on the weeke—"
"A colleague of yours told me you like that cartoon stuff. Anime. You watch it?"
My soul felt like it left my body, and I instantly shook him by the shoulders like a maniac.
"WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!"
///
Sigh.
It really is difficult to handle my students.
He did somewhat make it up to me by giving me a little Tanjiro keychain, though. That's the only reason I spared him from doing twice the work next week.
The only reason.
I'm Claire Satou, twenty-seven years old, third-dan black belt in Kendo, and a full-time instructor at Yuki Martial Arts Dojo in Japan.
I was born in Canada to my japanese parents.
It's not like I didn't fit in, in fact, the people around me thought it was cool that I had a background different from theirs. Pretty normal childhood, dare I say.
...Aside from how strict my parents were when it came to school. That sucked.
Grades had to be high, be on good behavior at all times, keep my room clean, no boyfriend until I finished school (I'm still lonely, somehow?!), all that yadda-yadda.
Other than that, it was fine!
Until I picked up a sword for the first time.
I was eleven. Was doing god-knows-what while going out for errands, and before I knew it, I'd wandered off to a community center class, drawn by the sound of clashing wood.
Just a small peek through the door wouldn't hurt, right? I thought at the time.
It almost makes me want to cry, remembering those days. Time really flies by, doesn't it?
The 'dojo' wasn't even a proper one, but at least it wasn't one of those, uh, what do you call it? 'McDojos'? Where you would have to pay tons of money to earn a fake black belt. Gosh, no.
The equipment might have been worn down, the room a little uneven, but what mattered was the spirit inside of that room.
I remember it clearly. Tens of teenagers sparring against each other in that same place, parrying each other's attacks, the sound of kiai (shouting, you would do this to manage your breathing, focus your mental energy, and plenty of other things), their footwork...
It was all so magical.
I stood there like a deer in headlights mesmerized by their moves, almost like a dance. The old man, Kensei—the instructor from there—noticed me probably a minute in.
"Would you like to join?"
From there, everything just... happened, I think?
I grew to love the sword, despite my parents thinking it wouldn't ever help getting a good paying job. I kept visiting that place, at least thrice a week, getting my basics down.
I enrolled into a proper dojo after searching on the internet (and bugging my parents for weeks about it, heh), and that was when my journey really started.
White belt. Age 12.
Three months later, I got ascended to a yellow belt.
For my orange belt, it took a little longer. Around seven months, I believe? 13. By this time, I was already going through puberty, and everything felt like it was changing all at once—my voice, my body, even the way I saw the world.
The dojo still remained as my constant, though. A little after I turned 14, I ascended to a green belt. I was getting better.
Another year later, the blue belt was now mine.
It was starting to get hard by that point, but it was all so wonderful. Each time I struck swords with another, it felt like a conversation, instead of just another spar.
17, and I ascended to a brown belt.
By then, I had spent five years in that dojo. I started partaking in other forms of swordsmanship, to see what lay beyond just the bamboo shinai, such as the tanto.
Oh, and I also got my first job. The pay wasn't low nor high, but it was fun. The people there treated me nicely.
I graduated highschool a few months later.
The time passed, and when I turned 20... I couldn't believe it, and I still can't believe it.
I earned my black belt.
Eight full years of dedication. Of sore arms, bruised legs, waking up early even on the weekends for practice, struggling to balance school, work, and martial arts.
I was ecstatic, but I knew that wasn't the end.
Earning the black belt only meant the beginning of your journey, after all.
Shortly after what was arguably the biggest achievement of my life, I traveled and moved to Japan with my parents, thanks to a decent fund I'd managed to save up from my job.
The other reason was simple: I couldn't keep progressing by practicing and sparring alone. There were other aspects I needed to work on, and that's why…
I chose to become a teacher myself.
It both gave me the opportunity to live comfortably, and to understand the art deeper than I had before. To help others find their own path. It brought me joy like no other!
I broke myself down, my own techniques, rediscovered myself over and over again like a puzzle... Hell, I felt like sometimes my own students taught me more than I taught them, haha.
Seven years I've spent adapting and living in Japan, and now I'm 27, sitting at a third-dan black belt. Not as far as I'd liked to get, but I'm satisfied.
Currently, I am living in a one-man apartment, while my parents were away on a trip to Italy.
What was I doing, you may ask...?
"Go beat his ass, Naruto! Sasuke's got nothing on you!"
I wouldn't ever say this or admit it to anyone, but,
...I'm a closet otaku, as you've unfortunately seen.
And heard, actually.
If anyone saw their stern sensei in such a shameful state, it would definitely ruin my image as a strict teacher. Completely.
I'm going to have to beat someone's ass, because apparently they thought it was a good idea to tell one of my students about my little secret.
Whichever one it was of my colleagues, I'm going to bury them alive!! It better not be Yamada-san, because that prick has been getting on my nerves for months now!
When I get my hands on him...!!
Ah, it's not worth it. As long as I don't start getting teased about it by everyone in my class, I'm fine.
Still, though. There's plenty of stuff in my apartment that I've collected throughout the years: anime figures, art posters, manga books, novels, special limited-time anime-themed empty cups...
My little treasure trove, which I've never dared to show anyone.
And probably never will. It's only mine, you hear?! This is my sanctuary! No one sets foot onto this place!
...Anyway, I like watching a lot of stuff. Shounen, shoujo, rom-coms, isekai, you name it. As long as it's good, I'll watch it. It's a hobby that stuck with me since I got access to the internet—I don't remember when, honestly. It's partly what made me want to take up swordsmanship.
Probably a small addiction too, but that's besides the point. It's fun, okay?
If I had to choose between swordsmanship and anime, it'd be insanely close...
...but I'd still choose the sword.
They weren't exactly complementary, but each one filled in something the other lacked in a weird way that still fit.
In other words, they clashed like oil and water, yet somehow managed to coexist without overshadowing each other out.
One let me lose myself, and the other forced me to find myself, almost like a Yin-Yang.
So, my life was good. Excellent, even.
...At least, that's what I thought, before what happened to me on this late thursday night.
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