Akio sat in the wooden training hall, where children took their first steps on the path of the samurai. In front of him, two boys from his class clashed with blazing eyes and tight grips on their bokken, the wooden swords clattering with all their strength. The sound of wood striking wood echoed like a muffled drum, sweat dripping down their foreheads as they fought a draining match.
Akio watched in silence, his golden eyes following every move. He didn't laugh or chat during training—he was planning, imagining how he would use these techniques when his turn came.
Beside the ring, the teacher stood rigid like a wall of iron, his sharp eyes scanning every motion, measuring each strike and mistake.
At last, one of the boys knocked his opponent's sword away and sent it clattering to the ground. The teacher raised his hand and announced in a firm voice:
"Well done… victory goes to Rabo!"
Rabo's eyes sparkled as his name rang out. He jumped with excitement. The hall filled with applause and cheers from the children, praising him before he returned to his seat, head held high like a champion.
The teacher's sharp gaze shifted to Akio, who sat quietly apart from the noise. He pointed and ordered:
"Next!"
Akio rose slowly and stepped into the center of the ring, his golden eyes glowing with determination. Today will be my victory! I'll prove to everyone that I'm the strongest in this school!
He met the teacher's eyes, and the man said sternly:
"Akio… choose your opponent."
A bright smile spread across Akio's face. He turned toward where Kora was sitting and pointed without hesitation:
"Kora… will be my opponent!"
The room burst into loud laughter, as if they had heard a silly joke. Kora smirked arrogantly, stood, and walked forward with slow, heavy steps, his hands still in his pockets. Taller and broader than before, he looked like a giant standing before little Akio.
Kora bent down, picked up a bokken, and gave it a light swing to test his grip. Across from him, Akio was already in position, feet firm, golden eyes locked on his rival. His sharp stare blazed with resolve—and a spark of childish passion that refused to fade.
The teacher raised his hand, his booming voice filling the hall:
"Begin!"
Kora charged first, not giving Akio a moment to breathe. His brutal strikes fell without mercy, wood slamming against wood, the impact echoing off the walls.
Akio lifted his bokken with difficulty to block the first blow. His arms shook under the pressure, his grip nearly slipping. He stepped back once, then again, while Kora pressed forward with strike after strike, a mocking smile on his face.
Inside Kora's mind, thoughts burned:
Three years… and this fool still smiles as if nothing changes. Every day I see him, every day I laugh. Today… I'll make him stop at last. I'll make him cry and beg me for mercy!
Kora's bokken came down savagely from above, slicing the air. Akio backed away, golden eyes fixed on the blade's path. Inside, a storm raged:
I'll make them all recognize me as a true warrior! Then I'll become shogun! I'll never fall to you, Kora!
A sudden side strike smashed against his shoulder, pain stabbing deep into his bones. His small body staggered, but his feet held firm. Slowly, he raised his head, face twisted with pain, yet still carrying a confident smile no one could understand.
Kora snarled and tightened his grip until veins bulged on his hands. He threw himself forward with his whole body, unleashing a relentless storm of strikes. Each blow rattled Akio's bones, each step back pushed him closer to the ring's edge.
Then, with one swift move, Kora's side strike cut through Akio's weak guard and slammed into his side. The boy bent in agony. Kora swept at his legs, stealing his balance. Akio crashed to the floor, the hall shaking with the impact of his frail body.
Gasps and laughter filled the room. But Kora wasn't finished. He raised his bokken high above his head, eyes shining with cruel excitement. He aimed to deliver a final strike to Akio's face, even though the match was already over.
Akio's eyes widened as he stared at the falling wood, his unshakable smile finally breaking.
But before the blow could land, a voice thundered:
"Stop!"
The teacher's whistle pierced the hall as his strong hand clamped around Kora's wrist. The bokken froze in the air, just inches from Akio's face.
Kora trembled as he turned, meeting the teacher's cold, steel-like stare.
"The match is over… you crossed the line."
Akio lay on the ground, breath ragged, golden eyes staring at the ceiling—without a smile this time.
The teacher extended a hand. Akio hesitated, then grasped it and stood slowly, every muscle protesting. He gave a small nod, said nothing, and walked back to his seat with heavy steps. He sat apart from the others, golden eyes glinting with a shadow no one else noticed.
Akio left the hall with slow steps. Outside, the evening sun spilled between rooftops, and the cold air stung his sweat-soaked face. He stayed silent on the way home, as if hiding another battle inside him.
At his door, he rested his hand on the wooden handle, took a deep breath, and pushed it open.
He entered quietly, removed his shoes, and set them by the door. In the kitchen, his father sat at the table with a small plate in front of him. Two pieces of soufflé steamed gently, the scent of melted chocolate filling the room.
The moment Akio's eyes landed on the plate, everything else vanished—his aching shoulder, his classmates' laughter, his fall in the ring. He leapt forward, golden eyes sparkling like twin stars, shouting:
"Souffléee! I'm starving!!"
He dove at the table without hesitation, devouring the soufflé greedily, not even leaving his father a share. Vanco watched from the side, a faint smile hiding a quiet laugh. It seemed enough for him that his child could still find comfort in chocolate after every defeat.
When Akio finished, he wiped his mouth on his sleeve, his body brimming with new energy. He jumped up, dashed to his room to change, and returned to the door like a storm.
Snatching up his shoes and coat, he waved and shouted, voice bursting with life:
"Dad! I'm going to the forest!"
From the kitchen, Vanco's deep voice answered, still tinged with laughter:
"Alright, but don't be late… a storm is coming tonight!"