It couldn’t be.
No!
The man’s face was gaunt and scarred, weathered by hardship into something barely recognizable. His body was lean to the point of emaciation, muscles standing out like rope beneath skin.
But Iknewhim.
I knew the shape of his jaw and the set of his shoulders. I knew the way he stood—exhausted but refusing to fall.
He looked around the boulder, then he turned back and looked up. He squinted and shielded his eyes. I couldfeelwhen it happened.
Recognition flared in his face.
Shock followed by disbelief.
His mouth opened, one word slipping free, echoing throughout the park.
“Kaneko?”
Chapter 27
Yoshi
Thebokkenslipped from my fingers again—and not because my grip failed or because the weapon was poorly balanced or the wood too smooth. It slipped because my arms shook with exhaustion, trembling like leaves in a storm.
“Again,” Master commanded, his voice flat and unwavering as stone.
I bent to retrieve the wooden blade, my back screaming in protest. Around me, the other students flowed through their forms.
I was the weakest.
Still.
Always.
My fingers closed around thebokken’s worn grip, and I forced myself upright. The morning sun beat down on the training yard, turning the packed earth into a furnace. Sweat stung my eyes, and every muscle in my body felt like it had been beaten with hammers.
Despite Nawa’s words, nothing had awakened. Nothing had changed.
The dragon had spoken to me, called me by name, had told me the gods knew me, had promised that I should prepare for something greater. Those words had echoed in my mind for months now, a constant whisper that kept me awake at night and distracted me during the day.
Why speak to me and then abandon me to this?
I raised mybokkenand attempted the strike sequence again. My form was technically correct—I’d memorized every angle, every shift of weight, every breath. In my mind, I could see the perfect execution as clearly as our master had demonstrated it. But my body refused to follow through on the promise of my mind. My strike was too slow, my follow-through lacking power, while my stance wobbled as fatigue pulled at my legs.
“Yoshi-san,” Master called, approaching with measured steps. His weathered face showed neither disappointment nor encouragement, only patient neutrality he’d maintained since we’d first met a year earlier. “You still think too much.”
“I’m trying to remember the correct form, Master.”
“Thatis your problem.” He tapped his temple, then his chest. “The mind remembers, but the body mustknow. You have not yet learned the difference.”
I wanted to scream. I’d heard variations of this lecture a hundred times.
Trust your instincts. Let your body move without thought. Feel the strike rather than plan it.
It was a beautiful philosophy, but it also required a body capable of moving without thought, instincts worth trusting. I had neither.
The master studied me for a long moment, then nodded toward the edge of the training yard. “Rest. You are no use to anyone when you cannot hold your weapon.”
