The Nationals
The ceiling of the Nippon Budokan was built like a geometric dome, so foreign that Elyna felt like she’d stepped into a reality game. The entire place smelt of industrial wax, and the stands were already packed. The uniforms of Sakura Seishin were clustered halfway to the top.
Elyna and Satsuki climbed the steps, apologising to anyone inconvenienced, only to land face to face with the Haruki fan club. Venomous glares were sent their way, hidden between heavy lashes.
Too much mascara, Elyna internally snorted.
“Let’s find your class, they will be better company,” she suggested, steering Satsuki away from the clawed kittens.
They joined the second years a few rows above, finding a spot between a set of kendo nerds and two of Satsuki’s classmates. They were chattering excitedly about techniques and competitors. That policeman from Osaka, and this student from whichever university that came all the way down from Sapporo…
“Over there,” Satsuki’s classmate pointed down at a towering silhouette.
“Oh! That’s Haruki-senpai!” she exclaimed.
Elyna followed her gaze to the flooring area; the VIP section sported their favourite teachers.
The whole kendō family was there, bristling in anticipation of Haruki’s next match.
Sōhma-san sat with her usual elegance, leaning towards an unfamiliar man with salt-and-pepper hair.
Without her lab coat, she seemed almost approachable.
And on the row behind her… Sano Kazuki. His casual clothes—dark jeans and a simple grey sweater—emphasised his delicious build. By his side sat Fujimoto, engrossed in an animated conversation with his colleague.
In this moment, Elyna realised how little she actually knew about her supervisor. His mannerisms, his voice, his patience and humour were all things she experienced on a daily basis. But the rest—affinities, friends and hobbies—remained a mystery.
Who were his parents, his grandparents, when did he start practising Qi Gong? What was his favourite food? What kind of movies did he enjoy?
That depressing truth hit her like a cold wave; she forced herself to watch the proceedings instead. The whole kendo family is here. Katayū bounced along the perimeter like a caged animal, dark hair escaping the usual strict ponytail; people gave him a wide berth.
The announcer finally rose, breaking the tension. “Senda Haruki, Sakura Seishin Kōtōgakkō, Tōkyō-to.” From her seat, Elyna heard the cries of his fan club. Today, he represented the whole Kōkō.
No pressure, Haruki-kun.
A moment passed between student and master, Katayū’s hand landing on the taller youth’s shoulder in a gesture of encouragement. Of trust.
His opponent’s credentials were announced with equal ceremony—a student from Tōkyō as well—and the two men advanced on the gleaming floor. Referees stood at all angles, red flags at the ready. Elyna spared an ironic thought to their occidental suits in this very traditional setting.
The crowd fell silent when Haruki positioned himself.
This is it!
Elyna felt her heart squeeze, until a sharp “Hajime!” cut through the silence. The crack of bamboo against armour was immediate. She found herself leaning forward, caught in the rhythm of attack and counter-attack, holding her breath when the contestants danced against each other.
The tension was so thick, a taut anticipation, shinai at the ready; the first few exchanges allowed them to measure the other’s style. Now the real game began.
If not for Haruki’s greater height, she was ashamed to say she wouldn’t have recognised him underneath the competition gear; the dark attire blended completely with the armour. Discipline-man’s movements were controlled, brutal, even, but Elyna could see the tension in his shoulders.
Haruki feinted right, an imperceptible shift in balance; the other contestant responded at once, only to receive a clean men strike.
Yes! Above them, the fan club went wild.
The match was beautiful, and so intense that Elyna wondered how she was going to survive more rounds. Haruki demonstrated amazing skill; his technique was flawless, even after seven long minutes of constant fighting.
Experience won in the end—a common enough occurrence—but it didn’t diminish her student’s performance.
When the final point was scored against him, she couldn’t help but feel disappointed.
In the higher stands, the girls seemed ready to commit murder.
Perhaps the most courageous one would attempt a seppuku.
Katayū was beside Haruki instantly, hand landing on his student’s back in a gesture of both comfort and congratulations.
“Exceptional work,” he exclaimed, the natural thunder of his voice carrying the compliment way beyond the VIP seats.
“Exceptional!” The pride displayed on his face was unmistakable, the emotion palpable in the slight wavering in his tone.
When Haruki disappeared in the changing rooms, Satsuki jumped in her seat. “Oh,” she exclaimed, fishing her phone from her pocket. “Shūji-senpai wants us to join them.”
“Join them where?” Elyna absentmindedly responded, watching Sano exchange fast paced words with Sōhma-san.
“In the VIP section, with the teachers…”
Wrenching her attention away from Sano, Elyna finally spotted Shūji; he was waving frantically, showing the free space around the teachers’ section. She rolled her eyes, but the boy did not relent as Satsuki’s phone kept vibrating with more incoming messages.
Shūji-senpai: There is space for my fan club. Come on!
There was little time to hesitate; Shūji wasn’t the patient type. He was already bounding up the stairs towards them, heedless of his hakama. The fierce determination rolling off him didn’t bode well.
When did I become friends with such a nightmare?
The young man almost bowled over a set of students; they parted like the Red Sea. Fear or admiration?
“Come on!” His chest heaved from the reckless climb. “I need some nice faces to cheer me on,” he added, sending a glare to Haruki’s fan club that caused them to wilt like poorly watered flowers. “And the view is much better down there.”
Elyna really didn’t want to intrude; the Vice Principal seemed on the verge of explosion. But his dark eyes were fixed on their little group with the furious intensity of someone restraining the urge to bellow get down there already!
Elyna sighed, gathering her things in haste—Katayū’s heart depended on it. As they stood, she couldn’t help but slide a glance to Haruki’s fan club. They looked disgusted; she gave them a cheerful thumbs up and laughed when the nearest girl almost died of apoplexy.
Bitch.
Elyna tumbled after Satsuki, savouring the moment. Ten years dreaming of Japan never came close to this. Who would have known that she would attend the kendo nationals, be friends with an almost finalist and included in a VIP section?
Shūji took the stairs two at a time, Satsuki scrambling to keep up behind him. Elyna followed, mindful not to block the others' view of the stage.
A rope barrier greeted them on the ground floor, two ushers in navy uniforms marking the boundary of the reserved section. Shūji exchanged a few words with them, bouncing on his heels; his attire told them everything they needed to know.
And Katayū was watching them from the other side. One of the officials bowed and unclipped the rope for them. Elyna didn’t hesitate.
They were greeted by the Vice Principal, storm clouds at his brow. “Good,” he stated. “Now you got your soothing girls, so shut up and concentrate. You’re up next.”
Elyna took a seat, puzzled. Why do I feel like a pacifier?
Restless energy infused the teachers’ section; those people lived and breathed kendō! Haruki was waiting for them, looking as dignified as ever, despite his earlier defeat. He’d shed the armour, but not the heavy gi underneath.
Just as another round of quarter-finals started, Elyna greeted Fujimoto with a silent nod. He responded in kind, gaze focused underneath the heavy frame of his glasses. From behind him, Sano leant slightly forward; he froze.
Their eyes locked; the world narrowed. An unreadable expression bloomed on his face, eyebrows knitting.
He looked… conflicted. Yet his gaze wouldn’t leave her, even though he rubbed the back of his neck in clear discomfort.
The intense scrutiny unsettled her; Elyna gathered the neckline of her soft cashmere jumper to cover her shoulder.
His eyes followed the movement, zeroing on the titbit of exposed skin.
Is he…?
Elyna felt her blood rush, helplessly trapped in his gaze. As if he’d invited her in a temporal hole where time did not matter. Seconds passed, points were called, yet Elyna couldn’t escape the thrall of that warm gaze that diffused into her very core.
Her hand tightened on the hem, fingers spasming from the sheer pressure of his attention. He was—
Around them, the crowd erupted.