Short of breath, Lana took off her shoes in the entrance of the dojo. She put down her bag and hurried to kneel and bow to the portrait of O'Sensei, the Founder of aikido, and the small shinto altar affixed on the opposite wall. "Good evening," she told the group of aikidoka who were busy cleaning up the mats.

To her acute relief, their chief instructor wasn't on the tatami yet. She darted to anarrow and smelly locker room to put on her dogi. More a broom locker than anything else, it was the only place with a closing door, and so the women used it to change themselves. The men were doing it in the open, next to the tatami area.

The building itself was old, built in the fiftiesjust after the war, and was one hundred percent made of wood. Without any form of insulation and no actual windows but only mosquito nets, it was freezing cold inside during winter but felt like an oven during summer.

They were next to the huge park of the Jindai-ji Shinto shrine, and with the wildlife that came to life at night on the other side of the walls, it felt like they were in the middle of the jungle, not in one of the largest cities in the world. 

Lana loved the place's timeless feel, and the atmosphere was a big part of the pleasure she found in training. It couldn't get much more Japanese than this. It was a good dojo, with good people training hard to improve themselves at all levels, led by an outstanding instructor. It'd take an earthquake or a near-death experience to make her miss a class.

Not a weak man like Richard nor despicable office politics.

"Ahhh, samuiiiiiiii, it's soooo cold," Naomi complained while dressing up as quickly as possible. One of Lana's kohai, a fellow aikidoka with a lower grade, they had started together. She had gone through two tests over the previous two years, making her a fourth kyu. "I heard it's going to snow tonight, I'm sure inside here as well!"

With a chuckle, Lana tied her white belt, the signshe was still a mudansha–a 'no-rank'practitioner. Shrieking 'samui' all day long was the Japanese national anthem every year whenever temperatures dropped below 15°C. But with its high humidity levels, February in Tokyo was brutal. "Yep, it must be what, 8 to 10°C in here, tops? I can't wait for spring!"

After a double-check of her belt knot, Lana nodded in satisfaction and relief; the flatter, the better... and the safer. Let's not do a repeat of last week. What an embarrassment!

A pair of large pants, a white jacket and a belt – that was all the gear they needed. A martial art based on redirecting an attacker's kinetic energy to throw them or immobilizing them, aikido didn't require special equipment. It also meant no head, chin or chest protection. Getting thrown face-down on the ground could turn extra painful if a hard and unforgiving ball of cotton tried to drill through your navel. Something Lana had found out the previous week. 

The two women jogged back into the main room. The next exam session was coming up, so the mats were crowded in spite of the numbing cold. She sat next to her friend Tim; they exchanged a nod and a warm smile. This wasn't the time for chit-chat but rather for light meditation to clear their minds and center themselves, something she was in critical need of. Silence settled down on their group.

At 7:30pm sharp, Honda sensei stepped upon the tatami. Lana threw him a discreet glance. Broad-shouldered, tall and fit, he looked younger than his fifty-odd years. The traditional aikido uniform worn by practitioners holding a dan rank -- flowing black hakama trousers tied at the waist -- suited him particularly well. Not that Lana would ever confess it aloud.

She quickly looked down to hide her frown. If possible, his mood seemed more somber than usual. While he always favored a scowl, there was no sign of a smile tonight. Fists clenched and unclenched on his lap while he sat in front of them for his usual welcome speech. Something was up. 

Her ability to pick up on those subtle clues wasn't a surprise: they weren't total strangers. She could rely on more than two years of aikido practice together, and she was good at reading body language in any case. Being a foreigner with no native mastery of the local language necessitated extra sensitivity to the non-verbal clues of people she interacted with. Especially in a country like Japan that praised corporal self-control.

She snapped back to attention when Honda signaled the start of the warming-up. After fifteen minutes, they began a special pre-exam session, focusing on free sparring to give everyone taking their test the chance to review their waza -- their techniques. 

Lana partnered up with Tim; after the ritual salutations, they rose to their feet. Lana attacked him right away by grabbing his jacket at shoulder level. In a blink, he defended himself with the proper technique, but his pivot to her side wasn't perfectly timed and he didn't take her balance well enough.

"Argh, katadori menuchi  is my bane!" Tim muttered when his hand landed on Lana'sshoulder and he pulled her down, putting too much strength into the move tocompensate for his lack of technical precision. She grinned and jumped to her feet, eager to roll again as quickly as possible to get her blood pumping, build some heat, work on that shape of hers, and above all, ride herself of her work-related tension. 

"I hear you, it's one of the worst, but lucky me, I'm not the one going for second dan four weeks from now!"Lana grabbed his left shoulder; right away, she blocked his strike to her head with her free forearm. For a couple of seconds, they remained face-to-face, each of them trying to unbalance the other, using their arms like swords. Nasty bruises, here we come!

This time, Tim's timing and movement were better. Pivoting on his side to make her stumble forward thanks to her own momentum, he ended up behind her, one wrist pushing down her attacking hand. He moved his arm in an upward spiral until his hand was right in her face while the other grabbed her collar. Unable to keep her balance, Lana stopped resisting when he flung her on the ground. She broke her fall with a backward roll. 

"Johnson san! Your hip move! Wider now! Martin san, such a weak attack, push him back as if you mean it! Volleyball is on Saturday afternoon!" Honda's booming voice startled them, and wiped their smiles off their faces.

"Yes, Sensei!" Tim and Lana replied as one. She couldn't help a shudder, and straightened up without even thinking about it. How does he even do it? We're more than thirty tonight and still, I always manage to light up his radar. Do I suck so badly?

"Well... you heard the boss! Fire away!" Tim said, rolling his eyes discreetly. "Seriously, can the guy be any scarier?"

Lana went again at Tim with a more powerful strike. Her friend caught her, and this time his general body movement was perfect. He grabbed her neck and she didn't see anything coming. She found herself again on her back in a blink, winded. Wow, his irimi nage is so smooth and fast now! Can't wait to be able to do it like this.

Jumping back to her feet with a dangerous grin, her next attack was a frontal punch to Tim's stomach. He sidestepped, caught her wrist at the same time and twisted it backward, the proper form for a kotegaeshi. Lana let herself fall down immediately to protect her joint and limb.

For the next attack, she grabbed both his wrists. "You know how he is..." she whispered under her breath. "Old school and all."

To be honest, Honda's attitude did make her blood boil. He was right to demand efforts and dedication from everyone, but her Western upbringing rebelled against his unforgiving way of teaching. So Japanese. Such a strict hierarchy. But he had one thing for him that she would never give to a spineless guy like Richard: her respect. The single bolt of steel that kept her anger in check where he was concerned. 

Tim pinned her on the ground, flat on her back, right arm in extension. Despite the pain shooting from her shoulder, elbow and wrist, she mock-punched him in the face from below, showing him he had leaned forward too much. He rolled his eyes at his rookie mistake and muttered something unintelligible.

Honda wasn't done with his scolding, far from it. "Martin san, on your feet! Attack him faster, faster! Your timing is wrong, do it again, again, again!" Later, in his coldest and most terrifying voice : "Your feet! Again! What kind of fall is this? Wrong, correct it!"

Bruises started showing up everywhere on her forearms where they collided with Tim's. Despite the cold temperatures, sweat burned her eyes; her breath came out short and ragged, and there was no break in sight. Her comrades, and Tim in particular, were now glancing at her, not bothering to hide their worry.

"Are you okay? What's wrong with the guy?" Tim panted, getting more and more agitated. "That's not how mudansha are treated!"

Lana ground her teeth and shook her head, looking for her breath. Her burning lungs felt as if she had run a marathon. "Hush, no worry, it's hard but fine!" Being on the blunt end of his criticism strained her nerves. But if she wanted to be truly honest, it bothered her more when he ignored her completely than when he ground her down. Need for attention much? Grow up girl. You ain't fifteen anymore.

Back on wobbling feet, she grabbed Tim's arm with both hands; he pivoted next to her and threw her away. Lana rolled forward and landed on her feet again, right in front of their instructor. Uh, did he beam himself over here or what?

Winded, she straightened up and craned her neck, meeting his eyes; Honda had a good head on her. His sheer physical presence played a role in the overall sense of respectful and fearful awe he generated. That and his impeccable technique, which sent the heaviest and most skilled students flying, and made the reputation of their dojo.

Something flashed on his unlined and tanned face. He held her stare longer than expected. Puzzled by his scrutiny, slightly out of breath, the shivers running down her spine startled her. But the impulse to reach out to touch his face was even more surprising. Out of nowhere, a blush creeped on her cheeks before she remembered dojo etiquette and offered him a belated, yet respectful bow. Thank goodness I'm already purple, with any chance he missed that.

"Martin san," Honda growled, and the fuzzy moment was gone. "Stop talking, or leave and don't come back. This is not a coffee shop. You and Johnson san are not focused enough. His technique is messy, and your roll was... barely passable."

Before she could react, he invaded her private sphere like he was more and more prone to do. He extended his hand for her to grab, and she obeyed out of pure reflex. His skin was warm to the touch; there were only hard muscles, sinew and bones under it. Despite the rock-hard sensation, she couldn't help but appreciate the softness of his skin. Until now, such contact hadn't sent sparkles shooting to her core. Careful, careful, slippery road here!

She didn't have time to reflect on her reaction. Quick as lightning, he passed under her arm, turned, crouched down, took hold of her collar, and pressed her lower back with her own twisted arm before thrusting her away from him. A roll broke her fall, but it was another poor one, and she landed too hard on her back. It hurt like hell, but she gritted her teeth and stood up, hiding her irritation at his brusque way of proving his point.

"Your shoulder is still breaking your fall, when it is your arm that should take it. Go over there. You will do forward ukemi until the end of this class." 

Anger washed over Lana at what amounted to punishment in her eyes, but she did her best to hide it. "Yes Sensei, thank you very much for your explanation," she said, her voice as cold as ice. Cool down. Keep it together. You know how it works. No place for your ego on the mats. No talking back. Smooth face. Emotions under a tight lid.

Still tense, she bowed to Tim to thank him for their intense sparring session and jogged to where Honda had pointed. Thankfully, there were only ten minutes left.

Honda walked up to her side of the tatami. His looming presence couldn't be ignored, but the nice sensations flowing from her string of smooth rolls were a relief. A bit more work. Next on her to-do list: the spectacular high falls, the trademark of aikido. She'd get there. Eventually.

She got up at his feet, and threw an upward look to check if her self-appraisal was correct, but rod-straight, he was staring in the distance, checking on other people. Her burst of annoyance was quickly clenched when she caught his minute nod of approval. The man truly never missed a thing.

By the time the session came to a close, her head was buzzing and her stomach queasy. She darted to the restroom, and threw up bile out of sheer exhaustion. Washing her mouth and face, she stared at her reflection in the mirror after brushing her dark blond hair matted with sweat from her brow. She didn't know whether she wanted to cry or laugh. That was... intense all right. But I survived! I didn't give up despite all he threw at me! I'll show him, he'll see I can take it! 

As she left the restroom, a commotion outside the entrance of the dojo caught her attention. To her dismay, Tim and Honda were locked in tense confrontation. "Sensei, please! You need to calm down with Lana, she has done nothing to deserve this treatment!"

"Enough! This is none of your concern."

"Of course it is! She is my friend and kohai! It is also my duty to look after her, and you are putting her through hell!"

Honda stepped closer to the younger man and towered over him. "I do not have to explain myself to you. This is for her own good."

Tim threw up his hands. "What?! Oh, that's just a joke!"

Lana couldn't stand it any longer. Making sure nobody else lurked around, she stepped outside and joined them. "Tim, calm down, there is no problem here," she said in English, putting a calming hand on her friend's shoulder.

But he shrugged her off. "Have you even looked at yourself? You're white like a sheet, and your legs and hands are shaking. You don't have the level yet!"

Lana gave him a happy and confident smile, switching to Japanese. "It's tough, but I can handle it. I... need this kind of conditioning to make real progress."

Tim stared at her, bewildered. "You're mad!" He turned to Honda. "Sensei, you should know better!"

Honda reached the end of his patience. Clearly trying to reign in his anger at the other man's lack of respect, he narrowed his eyes at Tim. "Everything falls well within her limits. I welcome her strong desire to progress."

Lana bowed with gratitude. "Thank you very much, Sensei. Tim, everything is fine, okay?" Tim seemed surprised but convinced by her calm attitude. He grumbled, bowed to their instructor in a less than stellar fashion, and left them behind.

To her surprise, Honda made eye contact. Although his face was the usual blank mask that he favored, once again the intensity of his glare took her aback. "Stay behind for a while. There is something we need to address, you and I," he said with a tone that left no place for discussion.

Even though she longed for a hot shower and was more than a little hungry, Lana nodded, curious as to what this was about, and a bit anxious to clear the air.  

*** Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Don't forget to click on the little star to show your appreciation, it would mean the world to me. Have fun!***