Akujunkan
aku-junkan: (n) vicious circle
A martial arts instructor. That was what he was. At least for now, at least for today, for this moment.
He was not Akamatsu Koji, not the sole survivor of the Sekihou-Tai, not the friend of Souzou Sagara, a Japanese revolutionary caught and punished nearly two and a half centuries ago by the very fledgling government he had worked so hard to assist.
He was not two hundred and thirty-nine years old. And he was not lonely.
He was a martial arts instructor.
"No," he gazed down at the little boy looking expectantly up at him. "No, you cant use it yet. But soon; you are doing well for your age."
His student was still a small boy a Chinese boy whose father was a top general in the growing New Chinese armed forces and he had felt that his son should learn to protect himself, among other things. And so Koji taught him not only the Chinese but the Japanese arts as well. Kong Wei was a smart boy with a perfect pale complexion and sharp onyx eyes that missed nothing, whether he was training in the arts or studying his lessons.
Koji was also Weis tutor. In fact, he was more than that: he was his bodyguard. It was only one of so many jobs that he had had, in this lifetime of his. He had grown sick of war before the end of the nineteenth century and had vowed never to get involved again. Not after the betrayal at Shimo-suwa. He could no longer trust the promises of the politicians and generals. So instead he hid himself along the sidelines whenever the skies grew cloudy and crackled with the call of violence. He was still interested in the conflicts. He was just no longer interested in becoming a part of them.
The skies had become cloudy a little less than three years ago; no declarations of battle had yet been announced, in that time, but Koji could see them coming. He could see the generals hands twitch with the need for bloodshed whenever he attended the armed forces forum with Kong Wangyu, Weis tall and proper father.
This would be the fifth war he had seen in his lifetime of over two centuries, and the desire to participate was still far from Kojis mind. And so he was content to live in the Kongs large estate in the northern part of New China, a place far south of what used to be northern China itself less than seventy years ago.
How quickly things could change. How fickle these borders were just as fickle as the minds of the men that occupied them.
"Why not?" Here and now, Wei was pouting, eyeing the polished sheath tucked safely into Kojis sash with obvious envy in his dark eyes. The katana was one of his few surviving possessions from the revolution. "Im big enough!" Wei pointed out.
Koji looked down at his student again that he was, he supposed. Nearly as tall as Koji himself, up to his shoulder already. How they grew, he thought to himself. The years passed so quickly, no matter how many of them were behind him. But Wei was still too young. He may be tall for his age, but Koji himself was not a tall man. His mouth twisted into a half-smile at that thought, for although he had lived this long, he looked no older than the mere boy of nineteen that he had been that night in Shimo-suwa. It had taken an all-out match between himself and Wangyu in this very gym for the Chinese general to hire Koji as his sons tutor and master.
And Koji was hesitant to give the child a blade. He always had been hesitant to do such things perhaps that was a weakness, a flaw, but he would not do it. He could not bring himself to take away a childs innocence so soon. Not even during this time when war threatened New China with its overcast skies. No, especially not during this time.
"You are big enough," he told Wei, "but you havent completed enough training. Soon you will be better prepared. Then you may use a real sword. Until then, the bokken." He pointed to the wooden practice sword sitting in the corner beside the boys shoes.
Wei crossed his arms over his chest, looking rather unhappy about the whole ordeal. He was a stubborn one as well, Koji mused; he always had been, and he had a feeling that he always would be. But he was still a student. And the master could be much more stubborn than the student. He had years of practice on the boy.
"Hush, no more about it from you today. Let us begin," he said, pulling the sword out of his belt and placing it on the floor before him, positioning himself for the first set of katas that would warm them up for the lesson ahead. Wei immediately dropped into position beside his master, mirroring the movements exactly, and they began.
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