"You did well, Wayne-san," Yuro Sensei congratulated.

"I failed, Sensei," Bruce corrected between gasps for air after his strenuous run of the course.

"Not so," Yuro Sensei denied.

"I didn't finish before the hourglass emptied," Bruce pointed out.

"I told you two things before you started," Yuro Sensei explained, calmly clasping his hands behind his back. "First, I said you needed to complete the course. Secondly, I said you would be timed. I never said completing within the time limit was required to pass this challenge. This test was designed to examine your heart and mind as much as your physical prowess. All of the students you competed against have run this course before, even the one you assisted."

The injured student Bruce had helped across the finish line suddenly stood up, showing no sign of injury. He offered Bruce a bow of thanks before walking away.

"He hindered you in the challenge," Yuro Sensei went on, his voice cutting through the confusion in Bruce's mind. "You showed a moral righteousness by helping your opponent when a lesser man would have left him behind either in retaliation or in the selfish pursuit of one's own interests. You demonstrated respect, loyalty, and benevolence to him who had made himself your enemy. You knew it might cost you, but you acted with honor and a selfless courage, assisting your opponent to the finish. Even when told you passed, you denied it in honesty, thinking the timing of the course was an issue. In this trial, you have proved you not only know the teachings of Bushido, but they are a part of you and your actions. This is the essence of what it is to be a warrior. As I said, you passed this test."

Yuro Sensei said nothing more, simply walking past Bruce and leaving him alone to consider what had happened and what had been said.

                                                                                          ***

Bruce ducked under the swing of the bamboo cane, dodging the attack. A second strike came from his left, and he raised his forearm to block, striking back with a kick. His attacker performed a backwards roll to avoid Bruce's kick, but it didn't give Bruce any time to rest as there were a total of three opponents.

The two remaining in range struck simultaneously from both sides. Stepping back and to the side, Bruce closed the distance between himself and the opponent on his left. Seizing the man by the wrist of his weapon hand and by his neck, Bruce pulled and shifted his attacker into the path of the other bamboo staff, blocking the attack while inflicting damage on his held opponent. A solid kick drove the injured foe into the one who had inadvertently struck him. Bruce focused his senses on the third man as the other two would be out of the fight for a moment or two more.

The strikes from the bamboo staff came in fast and strong, but Bruce dodged and weaved, blocking whatever he couldn't evade entirely. A horizontal swing at his head from the left side presented a perfect opportunity. Ducking under the weapon, Bruce reached across his chest and grabbed the staff with his left hand after it had passed, pulling the staff back toward him. Raising his right hand, he smashed his fist down on the center of the bamboo staff to shatter it at the midpoint. With the weapon broken, Bruce shifted his stance from defensive to offensive, unleashing a flurry of blows on his opponent, forcing him back to the edge of the arena where they were sparring.

The other two combatants had managed to get up and were prepared to get involved in the fight again, so Bruce had little time to spare. He hit his weaponless rival in the ribs before a strike to the knee unbalanced the man. A punch to the chin staggered the man, and Bruce finished him with a kick to his chest, launching him out of the arena to land in the impact absorbing sand between the ring and the benches where the other students were observing the contest.

The final two charged in an attempt to catch Bruce unprepared. Spinning around, Bruce blocked a strike against his right forearm while catching the bamboo staff of the foe on his left. Bruce used the weapon he held to hit the staff down and out of the hands of the attacker on his right. Bringing the staff back up and connecting with the weaponless man's face, Bruce flipped him over to land hard on his back and reduced the number of opponents to one.

Still holding the staff of bamboo, Bruce spun in a circle, as if trying to rip the weapon away from his foe. The man held on but was dragged along at the full reach of his arms. Bruce abruptly changed directions, bringing the staff back the other way to clothesline the man.

Bruce was victorious. He dropped the staff and returned to the center of the arena, bowing at the waist in the direction of his instructor.

"Well done, Wayne-san," Yuro Sensei commended. "You may remove your blindfold."

Bruce did as he was instructed, taking down the strip of black cloth wrapped around his head, restoring his ability to see.

"During these many months, you have mastered the ability to fight with your senses impaired," Yuro Sensei said, climbing the steps to join him in the center of the square arena. "Relying on one sense, such as vision or hearing can prove crippling if it were taken. This elite level of training, teaching you to expand and hone your other senses, has removed this weakness. Rest tonight, tomorrow we will begin a different lesson."

"Hai, Sensei," Bruce acknowledged in Japanese.

                                                                                           ***

Bruce returned to his room, sliding the shoji screen closed behind him. His forearms were only mildly sore from deflecting the bamboo during his training challenge as he'd endured such things enough times to build up a tolerance.

"How did you fare, Master Bruce?" Alfred questioned as he entered from another room with a steaming kettle held by a folded towel. "Tea?"

"I passed," Bruce answered. He did a few stretches to loosen up before settling into a kneeling position in front of a low table. "Thank you, Alfred."

The butler performed his duty, pouring the scalding hot brew into a cup for Bruce before filling a cup for himself.

"Pardon my asking, Master Bruce," Alfred began hesitantly. "But, exactly how long do you intend to continue your lessons here?"

"I don't know, Alfred," Bruce admitted. He lifted his cup from its matching saucer and blew gently on the surface of the tea to cool it slightly before taking a tentative sip. "There is still so much to learn. Getting homesick?"

"Not at all, Master Bruce," Alfred denied. "Our time here has been delightful. Speaking of home, this did arrive for you today."

Alfred reached into the suit jacket he wore and produced an envelope from the inside pocket. Bruce took it from Alfred and opened it, pulling out the folded paper inside.

"We may need to leave sooner rather than later," Bruce said after reading the letter. "It's from Zatanna. Her father is missing."

                                                                                       ***

"Sensei?" Bruce questioned from the doorway to announce his presence and request entry.

"Come in, Wayne-san," Yuro Sensei bid to him, sweeping a hand from the door to a position on the floor opposite where he knelt. "How may I be of service?"

Bruce came in, sliding the shoji screen closed before kneeling on the floor with his instructor. He didn't know how to begin, but Yuro Sensei patiently waited in silence for Bruce to compose his thoughts into words.

"Can you tell me how close I am to completing my training?" Bruce asked.

"Training is like gathering wealth," Yuro Sensei explained. "It is a continual process, and no one can have it all. There is always more to learn, greater gains to be made. The question you need to be asking is if you have enough to accomplish your purposes."

"I came here to learn how to defend myself if attacked," Bruce explained. "I still think I could learn more, but a friend of mine needs help. I think her situation is more important."

"It would seem your decision is already made," Yuro Sensei commented.

"I guess it is," Bruce agreed. "I wanted to thank you for everything you've taught me."

"Since there are always new things to learn, you are welcome to return when your business is taken care of," Yuro Sensei replied. "I wish you well in your efforts to help your friend."

Bruce bowed low in deepest respect for his sensei.

                                                                                              ***

Alfred had everything packed by the time Bruce returned to his room. A white T-shirt and a pair of jeans were set out for Bruce to change into before they departed.

"Zatanna left her phone number on the letter," Bruce explained as he shrugged out of his training apparel and into the casual clothes Alfred had readied for him. "We'll call her from the plane and get instructions on where to meet."

"I took the liberty of contacting the airport," Alfred informed him. "Our private jet will be ready by the time we arrive. Also, a rental car is on its way here to pick us up."

"Thanks, Alfred," Bruce replied. "Let's go."

                                                                                              ***

The ride to the airport was quiet and uneventful. Tension hung in the air, filling the interior space of the rental car even with the windows down. The fresh air of late afternoon couldn't clear away the uneasiness both of them felt. Bruce and Alfred had been good friends with Giovanni and his family, and neither one wanted anything bad to befall the magicians.

The car pulled up to the waiting jet on the airport pavement. Bruce climbed out, thanked the driver, and paid him for the swift and safe trip. Alfred attended to their luggage, getting most of it out of the trunk before Bruce was finished with the driver. Bruce walked briskly toward the rear of the car and collected his bags while Alfred carried his own.

Boarding the jet, Bruce and Alfred stowed their luggage and buckled into their seats in preparation for takeoff. The noise of the engines was mostly muted by the efficient insulation of the aircraft as the jet taxied to the runway.

Bruce waited until the plane reached cruising altitude before pulling out the in-flight phone and dialing the cell number Zatanna had written on her letter to him.

"Zatanna," he said. "It's Bruce. Alfred and I are airborne. Where are you now?"

Bruce took the phone away from his ear momentarily to impart instructions to Alfred. "Tell the pilot to head for Keystone."

Alfred nodded, unbuckling from his seat and heading for the cockpit to relay the instructions for their new destination.

"Don't worry, Zatanna," Bruce assured her. "We'll be there shortly, and we will find your father."