August. On the day of the inter-dojo competition, I felt nervous for the first time in a long time. I realized I was more nervous than I was during the semi-finals of the Inter-High School Championships, or even the first time I went to a client's office alone.

"You're stiff, Urabe-san. Relax, relax."

Nakakura, who was sitting next to me on the left, tapped me hard on the shoulder.

"Should we face it now?"

Minato, who was sitting on the opposite side, called out to me and I put on my mask. The first and second players must wear their masks before a match. As I fastened the men's strings and stood up, I was overcome with a sense of tension that gave me goosebumps. As soon as the previous match ended, Suzuki clapped his hands and stood up.

"Okay, let's go."

I glanced at the space beside the court. Children and their parents were cheering with banners. Five names were written on the banner. First player: Sensei Daigo. Second player: Sensei Urabe. Middle player: Sensei Nakakura. Vice-captain: Sensei Suzuki. Captain: Sensei Morita. I couldn't let the children see a disgraceful match. I steeled myself and stepped onto the court.

Minato's opponent in the opening match was also a corporate athlete. Before the match, Minato said, "He's a pretty strong athlete, but I think it'll be okay." When I asked him, "Really?" Minato laughed fearlessly.

"The true sword is the strongest."

Minato, true to his word, took the opposing men early on, showing he was "okay." He then followed up with his signature pull-men technique. In all the training he'd done with Minato up until then, he had never used a pull technique. That was how skilled Minato was at tactics in close combat and his skill with pull-techniques.

At the moment the vanguard and second vanguard switched positions, Minato whispered in his ear.

"I'm counting on you."

My opponent looked to be around university age. His kendo skills weren't pretty, but he had a lot of stamina. At first, I took a high stance and tried to attack slowly. But my opponent didn't seem to care and started striking quickly. My pace was thrown off by his opponent's hopping movements, and I ended up accidentally hitting his men. My opponent calmly swept his bamboo sword and struck straight at my men.

"With face"

A big sigh was heard from the cheering squad. It was easy to understand the reaction of the children.

The match ended without any highlights. When it was time to switch positions, Nakakura encouraged him instead.

"It's okay. I'll get it back."

Contrary to his words, Nakakura struggled. His opponent was a skilled fifth-dan player, and when Nakakura lost patience and struck, he responded well. In the end, Nakakura was caught with a kaeshi do and a dekote, losing two points. As Nakakura turned back with his head hanging, Suzuki struck him powerfully. His gestures seemed to say, "Leave it to me."

Nakakura came back, took off his mask, and slammed his fists against his knees. I heard him mutter, "Damn, damn." I stole a glance at his profile and saw that he was clenching his teeth. He looked frustrated, which was hard to believe for an elite company employee.

Suzuki's opponent was tough. His bamboo sword never moved from the midline. During the match, Minato tapped him on the shoulder.

"I thought I'd seen them somewhere before, and it turns out they're riot police officers from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. I used to train with them when I was a student."

The riot police officer landed a powerful thrust on Suzuki. Screams rang out from the cheering squad. If Suzuki lost, the team's defeat would be confirmed at that point. The riot police officer seemed convinced that the thrust had landed, and he lowered his sword. However, only one flag was raised.

Seizing the opportunity, Suzuki jumped at the men. The opponent frantically tried to defend himself, but it was too late, and Suzuki's bamboo sword caught the opponent's men. A cheering woman's cry arose from the cheering squad. It must have been one of the parents who shouted. Suzuki is popular not only with children, but also with mothers. Suzuki successfully blocked the opponent's counterattack and defended the point to the death. Minato muttered.

"This is no side."

Up until this point, the number of winners and points won were both tied. The team that won the final match would be victorious. As Suzuki was about to take over, he whispered something in Morita's ear. Morita nodded gravely and walked onto the court.

"What did you just say?"

When asked, Suzuki answered calmly.

"My opponent is a seventh-dan player, you say."

"Really?"

"here we go?"

Perhaps Suzuki's words were effective, as Morita gained the upper hand from the beginning of the match. Morita's movements were hard to believe he was in his fifties. His steps were strong and his swing was fast. He was a little self-taught, but it was easy to see why Minato was so competitive.

In the middle of the match, when the opposing captain jumped to the men, Morita hit the kaeshido and the cheering squad erupted in a roar like never before.

"Morita-sensei, just a little bit more!"

"Hold on, hold on!"

As the cheering crowd got more excited, the opponent's strikes became sharper and sharper. He was like a different person from before he was taken, delivering precise strikes. Within a minute, Morita had his men back. His opponent seemed to be gaining momentum, and he took more men from Morita. The match ended all too quickly.

After the five of them left the court, Minato received a pamphlet from the cheering squad and checked the opposing team's roster.

"The opponent's general is definitely not a seventh-dan. Look at this."

Minato opened the pamphlet and showed it to me. The words "Hanshi 8th Dan" caught my eye.

After the match, a drinking party, called a "reflection meeting," began again at an izakaya. Some female parents were hoping to come, but reluctantly left because they had to take care of their children. It was clear that they wanted to drink with Suzuki.

"Morita-san is amazing, as expected. He can make even an 8th dan Hanshi take him seriously."

"No, that's not true."

Morita, however, was in high spirits at Minato's praise. Minato had told him that his grandson had come to the tournament to support him, and that after the match he had received the compliment, "Grandpa, you're so cool." In contrast, Nakakura was dissatisfied and making excuses.

"The floor of that venue was really slippery. A regular gym floor is much less slippery, so something just threw me off."

"Let's do our best next time, next time."

Suzuki tilted the bottle and poured beer into Nakakura's glass, then pointed the tip of the bottle into the other glasses as well.

"Thank you for your hard work, Urabe-san."

"No, not at all. It was my fault that we lost the match."

In response to those words, Nakakura turned around.

"If I said that, I wouldn't have a position to play."

"No, that's not what I meant..."

"If I had at least lost by submission, there would have been no need for Morita to take on the challenge."

Nakakura slammed his fist into his knee, just as he had done immediately after the match. His subordinates at the company may not know how frustrated their division manager is. For some reason, this made him happy.

"It's good enough that five people were able to participate."

"Until now, I've lost two points unconditionally, for one person."

Minato spoke as if responding to Morita's remark. Suzuki loudly declared, as if to sum up the situation.

"Today's disappointment is the source of tomorrow's victory. Let's do our best next time!"

Suzuki has a certain cheesiness to him. While thinking so, I also found his deliberateness comforting. No one else in the company can say such cheesy lines so confidently.

"Daigo, did your dad come today?"

"Oh, you found out?"

Minato answered Nakakura's question with a bashful look on his face.

"Actually, it was the first time my father came to support me at a game. He said, 'I want to see your game at least once before I die,' and came all the way from Sapporo."

"It's a tearjerker."

Morita pretended to wipe away tears.

Suzuki declared loudly as he received a refill of beer from the waiter.

"So, let's have a toast to the future of us and Daigo's father!"

They continued drinking until the third party that day. When Nakakura said, "The last train will be leaving soon," everyone stood up and parted ways, promising to meet again at the dojo.

I was sitting on the crowded last train, enveloped in a pleasant feeling of fatigue. The lights of the houses outside the window drifted by, trailing behind them. The next time I returned to Hiroshima, I would drop by the dojo. I decided as I stepped off the platform at the nearest station.

The last Saturday of August.

As I headed to the gym with my bamboo sword and protective gear as usual that morning, Minato came rushing out from the entrance wearing his hakama and karate uniform. I thought with a wry smile that this was just like the first time I came here, but Minato was grinning as well.

"I have a surprise for you today."

"A surprise?"

"Well, come on."

Following Minato, I stepped into the gym. It was still early, so there were no children or parents there. However, there was a figure practicing in front of the mirror. It looked like a man, but he didn't look like Suzuki, Nakakura, or Morita. The speed and sharpness of his swing were incomparable to those of those three.

There was a bamboo sword bag leaning against the wall next to it. Wondering if it was the bag, I read the words embroidered on it. "Myoho Gakuen" was sewn in beautiful handwriting. Minato was no longer in my sight.

I was back in the summer ten years ago. It was the semi-finals of the men's individual kendo tournament at the Inter-High School Championships. After landing a one-handed thrust, he said to me after the match, "Let's practice together next time."

It seems that this promise is finally coming true today. It's been a long wait.

The man stopped swinging his bamboo sword and turned around. He no longer had the short haircut he had in high school. He approached me. I put down the bamboo sword and protective gear I was carrying and walked towards him.

"It's been ten years."

I couldn't help but smile at Ishizaka's words.

(completed)