From the day I took my first suburi, I started going to the local dojo. Naturally, my father was the instructor there. At that time, my father was still an object of fear. Whenever I put on the mask, I was forced to practice until my legs gave out. If I was caught playing around, I was thrown outside and told not to come back into the house until I had completed 1,000 suburi. If I slacked off even a little during practice, I would be hit with a powerful hit. When I was hit with my father's mask, my eyes would flicker and I would sometimes instinctively drop to my knees.

The first time I won a tournament, I was in sixth grade. It was a prefectural inter-dojo competition, and I was the captain of the team that won. I showed my father the small gold medal, but he just said "Oh," and didn't say anything praising me. That seems to be his way of raising children.

Even when I became a junior high school student, I naturally continued to go to the dojo. The kendo club at my junior high school was weak, so I mainly practiced at the dojo. I took my classmates who were club members to the dojo a few times, but because of my father's harsh treatment, none of them ever wanted to go again.

"We're all beginners. Go easy on us."

When I accused him of this, my father looked genuinely confused and said, "I was just trying to be nice."

Certainly, he was much gentler than when he was dealing with my son. He cut short the grappling practice in a third of the time. Even in the ground practice, he didn't corner the opponent against the wall or slam them into the ground, sending them flying two meters. Still, it was not something an average middle school student could endure.

"I was about to be killed by Kensuke's dad."

Because one of my classmates spread this word, the members of the junior high school kendo club stopped coming to the dojo.

Although he was unable to win in the team competition during his junior high school days, he participated in the national tournament for the first time in the individual competition. He became a famous player in Kagoshima Prefecture, but lost in the first round of the national tournament. His father still regrets that the men he hit in that match did not go in, and he insists at every opportunity that "the men he hit that time definitely went in."

After graduating from junior high school, there were no other schools available to him other than Satsuryo High School. Being Coach Kikuchi's son was nothing but a hindrance in his school life. He was often annoyed by his classmates' constant irritation. However, the seniors were reserved, so he found it easy to get along in the kendo club.

Before I entered high school, I had always thought that my father would be extremely strict with his students. I honestly thought that he might even hit a student over the head with a bamboo sword he had brought with him when he fell asleep. However, when I actually attended his classes, I found that he was a surprisingly mediocre teacher. He read aloud from the textbook with a bored look on his face and copied the words printed in bold onto the blackboard.

"Pay attention to this. It will be on the test."

None of the students responded to his monotonous call. His first impression of his first class as a high school freshman was that it was boring. The only exception was the kendo club member in his class, who listened to his father's talk with his eyes wide open.

"If I sleep, I don't know what will happen in practice."

That classmate would often say this with a frightened look on his face. At the time, he still called him by his last name, but before long, he started calling him Shinya. In the end, Shinya made it through his first year without incident, but in his second year, he fell asleep. After practice that day, Shinya crawled on the floor of the club room and wrote, "I died three times."

The training at Satsuryo High School was much tougher than what he had received in junior high. He had the best track record among his six classmates, but he sometimes felt anxious when he saw the weaker members of the club rapidly improving their skills. The only way to calm himself down was to train himself. Even after returning home, he silently devoted himself to practicing and training.

Thanks to his hard training, he felt that he had grown even more in high school. Until middle school, he had only been thinking about hitting the ball, but in high school, he began to vaguely become aware of "attacking."

When I won the prefectural tournament in my second year of high school, I was able to win both practice matches and official matches with ease. No matter how I hit it, it was going to be a hit. That's the feeling I had. I remember telling Shinya this the day before we went to the national tournament.

"If I win as a sophomore, what should I aim for?"

I had intended to refrain from saying such arrogant things, but at this moment I blurted it out. That's how good I was.

He made it to the fourth round of the tournament, where he faced Kota Fujinami, a star player representing Fukuoka, but at the time, he didn't feel like he could lose to anyone.

The result was a two-point loss. The match lasted less than three minutes. Fujinami continued to win, eventually finishing in third place. At that point, he finally realized how arrogant he had been, and has since refrained from making statements that could be interpreted as self-confidence.

In terms of the number of participants, the three major high school kendo tournaments are the Senbatsu in March, the Gyokuryu-ki in July, and the All-Japan High School Athletic Meet, commonly known as the Inter-High, in August. Of these, only the Inter-High has an individual competition. Qualifying tournaments are held in all prefectures from May to June, with the winning team and the top two individuals advancing to the main tournament. However, Tokyo, which is in charge of the tournament this year, will be able to send two teams and four individuals to compete.

This year's tournament will be held over four days. The brochure states the competition schedule as follows:

Day 1: Opening ceremony, public demonstration

Day 2: Women's team qualifying league, men's individual rounds 1-4

Day 3: Men's team qualifying league, women's individual rounds 1-4

Day 4: Men's and women's individual quarterfinals to finals, men's and women's team final tournament first round to finals, closing ceremony

After the opening ceremony, my father and I had dinner. We chose a restaurant outside the hotel because we didn't want to talk about kendo at the restaurant inside the hotel. Tomorrow's opponents and other school officials were also staying at the same hotel.

As soon as we entered the restaurant, I ordered the miso-braised mackerel set meal. After much deliberation, my father chose the mixed fried set meal. Eating fried food in front of the players the day before a game can only be perceived as insulting. Fried food is hard to digest, so you can't eat it right before a game, even if you want to. My father must know this, but when it came time to order, he completely forgot and ordered what he wanted. I was ashamed of my inconsiderate parents.

We were both silent throughout the meal. I was concentrating on carefully picking out the small bones from the mackerel and collecting them on a tissue. Meanwhile, my father poured so much Worcestershire sauce over his fried food that it started dripping. I wonder why he was consuming so much salt. The sauce that had pooled at the bottom of the plate was staining the accompanying potato salad black.

I wouldn't be able to tell him once we got back to the hotel, so now was the time to tell him. With that in mind, I waited until my father had finished eating before I brought it up.

"I've made up my mind."

I swallowed the saliva in my mouth. I couldn't help but feel nervous about actually tasting it. My father looked puzzled.

"If I make it to the quarterfinals, I'll quit kendo."

My father first raised his eyebrows, then said "Hmm?" and his brows creased.

"What are you talking about?"

"If I make it to the top eight, I want to quit kendo."

My throat was extremely dry, so I drank a glass of cold water and cleared my throat.

"Stop it..."

"I've already decided."

"Wait a moment."

"No. I'm going back to the hotel."

I got up and walked over to the register. I tried to pay for both of us without asking, but was stopped. While my father was paying for dinner, I walked out the door and started walking away.

"Hey Kensuke."

My father stood next to me and spoke to me.

"What happened suddenly? I'm not going to quit kendo."

"It wasn't that sudden. I'd been thinking about it for a while."

"But even if you suddenly quit..."

"So, I'm saying I'll quit if I make it to the top eight."

I knew that this was a half-hearted statement. I wasn't going to quit, nor was I going to continue, but I would quit if I made it to the top eight or better. I also knew that this condition was a sign of indecision.

"I want to do something else."

Dad asked as he drove alongside, stopping alongside him at a red light.

"I want to paint."

"The painting, is that the painting?"

"That's the picture. The painting."