Ethan woke up to the annoying buzz of his electric alarm. He groaned and shifted in his bed, its wooden frame creaking under his bulk. He moved to turn off the clock with a gesture, accidentally knocking it off the small wooden bedside table.

Dammit, he thought as he looked at the device, its batteries scattered around it. He pried the other eye open and got blinded by the morning sun shining through the only window his room had. He groaned again and sat on the bed facing the grey carpeted floor. He brushed his eyes and blinked.

He took the light woolen blanket in his hand and winced at the pain from his calloused hands, still pained after yesterday’s training session. Then, he shook off the last bits of sleep, pulled off the blanket, and finally stood up to face the day.

His head spun for a second, and he steadied himself, leaning against the wall, shaking off vertigo, as he ran his hand through his short hair. I guess the diet is not doing me much good, he thought, remembering that his debut cruiserweight fight was soon, which meant he would be allowed to snack again.

As his fight was getting closer, Ethan worried that he would flop his debut on the big stage. Well, big was a relative, given that Reykjavik was not the world hub for boxing. Nor training the next world champions en masse. That did not deter him, though, as he joined the sport at twenty-one after watching too many Youtube videos.

The coach liked Ethan and his work attitude the instant he saw him, as Ethan was a relatively large man for his age, reaching almost two meters in height. His frame gave Ethan a good reach over his opponents, while his work ethic and dedication helped him catch up quickly.

He looked around his messy room and started the long search for his equipment. Who came up with all these pieces to protect yourself, he thought as he crouched down and looked under the bed, finding his headgear.

Ethan remembered the countless times he had packed his duffle bag since his first lesson with Mr.Yashida. His violent outbursts had long been tamed, but the memories of classmates mocking his American ancestry stayed.

Like many Americans, Ethan’s parents searched for happiness early in their lives. But, unlike many, they fled from the American dream and found their own in the nineties Iceland. It was a peaceful time, as his mother described it to him; however, it did not last as long as she had hoped. Ethan never understood his father’s motive for leaving and ended up with his mother, the two of them starting fresh in the capital.

Soon she met Jorge, a local man, who was kind enough to take them in. After that, time flew by, and Ethan’s sister Emily was soon born. She was everything to him while they were growing up in a small two-bedroom apartment near the center of Reykjavik.

As Emily grew up and left, Ethan still stayed with his parents, living in the same room he had been in before. Now he noticed that it had not changed much over the numerous years. Still messy as ever, he thought as he packed the last piece of his kendo gear. Jorge will not be happy, he sighed at the mess.

Jorge took his stepfather's role seriously and recognized that Ethan needed a father figure who taught him important matters, such as being a tidy person who appeared on time. He also understood the importance of character, and instead of feeding Ethan sob stories that it would be all right in school, he took the ten-year-old boy to the local dojo.

Damn, I am going to be late at this pace, he thought, cutting his daydreaming short. He quickly found the jeans he threw in the corner last night, pulled on a sweater, and ran downstairs to get breakfast before another long day.

---

“You are late, kozo!” An angry voice shouted behind a white paper screen separating the dojo and the simple dressing room, where Ethan was quickly adjusting his protective gear. A few minutes later, he exited the room with a few wooden lockers and a stool, walking into the spacious dojo, meeting the glare of his master sitting on the tatami, cross-legged and dressed in his usual dark training garb.

Ethan bowed and apologized, “I am sorry, sensei!” Mr. Yashida waved him off without a second glance as Ethan raised his head from the bow and got into the warming-up routine. His morning fatigue went away as he went through light stretches and then moved on to katas that had been driven into him over the years. Minutes melded into hours as Ethan practiced before he was interrupted by Yashida-sensei.

“That is enough for today, kozo,” the old man said, cutting off another of Ethan’s strikes aimed at the simple training dummy. “I see that something is troubling you today.” Ethan nodded, taking off his helmet and wiping his sweaty brow. He sat down on the tatami to face the older man and sighed, looking at his hands folded over his thighs.

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“Mr.Yashida,” he began, “you remember how I came to be in your dojo all those years ago, right?” The old Japanese man nodded, “Yes, boy, I recall how troubled your spirit was. That big oaf Jorge brought you to me, hoping to show you how to calm your inner self.”

Ethan was silent for a moment before continuing, “And I found it, thanks to you, sensei. I finally could understand what a spoiled brat I was. Throwing fits and tantrums, always mad at the world but not at myself.”

Ethan looked up from his knees and into Mr.Yashida’s eye. “It helped me understand why my parents were always fixated on getting a good education for me and focused so much on my grades. I know they meant well, but sometimes it is still hard…,” Ethan trailed off.

After a pause, he continued, “I will be frank, sensei. I am not sure if what I am doing is the right thing. Trying to split my focus between sports and getting a degree as my parents always wanted. I have my debut fight coming up, but I am not sure I will make it, and Jorge keeps pestering me about university….”

“Then you must choose,” Mr.Yashida said. “Choose what type of man you want to be. The one who is troubled and indecisive, taking orders from others, or the one who paves his path ahead, no matter what the others say.”

Ethan shook his head, “I know. You have told me this. A good sword does not bend or break. Instead, it cuts a path ahead. However, my parents… they do not understand. They see a boy who has spent years training to fight and nothing else. For them, an office path is better than none.”

Mr. Yashida looked at Ethan before responding in his thick Japanese accent, “Ethan, boy. You know how important it is to be content with yourself. To understand yourself fully. That is the first thing we did when you came to the dojo. Calm your inner turmoil. Are you calm now?”

Ethan nodded in answer, “Yes, sensei. You taught me to focus on what is right in front of me. To protect myself, my family, and those dear to me.”

“Then you must understand that Jorge wants what is best for you. You will not always be as green as you are now - able to move with vigor and have the gift of time. So sometimes you must choose and do what feels right,” Mr.Yashida said.

“Say, do you love kendo? Or this bokushingo that you have picked up lately?” Mr.Yashida asked.

Ethan thought about it and responded, “It keeps me calm. Organized. Do I love it? I cannot say, Mr.Yashida. It is something I am good at, given my build and all. But, unfortunately, it will not help me make money if I am not lucky. And you know how lucky I am.” Mr.Yashida chuckled, shaking his head.

Ethan continued, “You know that Emily has already found her way. One that parents approve of, right?”

“Oh? Has the little brat grown up already? How old is she? Last I saw her, she was just a babe,” the old man responded.

“Yes, she is already looking to become a doctor in London, attending a college on a scholarship. Emily is everything my parents ever wanted—focused, driven, ambitious, with the tenacity to make it work. Me? I am still looking where I fit in,” Ethan said, his shoulders slumping.

Mr.Yashida sighed and decided to preach for the last time, “I know it is frustrating, but you must stop comparing yourself to others. You have your own life and your own way of living it. Remember that when the time comes. Not everything is about planning and being sure to succeed. Sometimes you have to fight against all odds, hoping for the best. Use what you know and whom you know, and make it work. I remember you and your friends started working on that little, what do you call it? Starto-upo? You should put more focus on that. Surely Jorge would approve.”

Ethan relaxed and laughed for the first time in a while. “Yes, sensei, that is exactly what you call it,” he smiled, got up, and bowed. “Thank you for listening to me. And for the training today,” he quickly added, remembering that he was late for a meeting with his friends to work on the project that could come as the answer his parents were seeking for him.

Mr.Yashida took one last look at him and nodded, “Good. I see that your head is in the right place now. Go!” He shooed him off, seeing Ethan nod and quickly exit the dojo. Ethan changed and quickly shuffled things in his duffle bag before running out of the dojo.

Ethan ran through the narrow Reykjavik streets, avoiding glum office workers returning from their desk jobs, not envying them in the slightest, even if Jorge made his days more challenging by continuing to persuade him to get a mundane profession.

In Ethan's opinion, getting one would mean stopping the work on the animal shelter app with the potential to raise funds for shelters in third-world countries, a goal that would change the lives of many. A smile crept on his face as the cold autumn wind blasted in his eyes while he turned another corner to meet up with his childhood friends in their favorite pizza place.

Ethan knew that Mr.Yashida was right after all. He needed to focus on what was essential and stop relying on luck. It would all come with time, and he would be there to grasp the opportunity. He was so close now. I should tell Jorge that I will take him up on his advice. He was right. It is the right time to turn my life around after my debut, regardless of how it will go.

Coming up to the familiar street crossing where his favorite pizza shop was located, Ethan looked up to the sky, deep in his thoughts. Then, he looked down toward his friends sitting inside by the only big window the place had - their favorite seat.

He took a step to cross the street and felt sudden vertigo, everything spinning around him. Then everything went dark.