Aiko’s head throbbed as her heart pounded. She had been planning this for weeks and now has had her chance. She removed the thin strip of metal that used to be the butcher’s knife and slid it between her bedroom window and the sill. It was a tight fit, but she pounded until the crack of the aging wood frame echoed through her room. She dug her fingers under the window and pulled. It didn’t budge. She clenched her jaw, frustration bubbling up in her chest. She wiped the sweat off her palms on her pajama pants and tried again, putting her entire weight into it. The window creaked open with a satisfying groan. She could feel the cool night air brushing against her cheeks, giving her a sense of freedom she had been craving since being confined to this house.
I’m but a ghost in the night.
Aiko glanced at the digital clock on her nightstand. The glowing numbers read 1:48 AM. She knew Paige would be asleep, ensnared by her nightly cocktail of wine and sleeping pills. A soft smile played on Aiko’s lips. The one silver lining was that Paige was a profound sleeper. Ever so quietly, she tiptoed across her room and changed into the dark clothes she’d hidden underneath her bed. The black hoodie swallowed her tiny form, making her almost invisible in the dark. It was a piece of clothing she’d taken from Hiroto during one of his previous visits—it felt like wearing armor. As silently as a shadow, Aiko slipped out of the window. The raw sensation of rebellion filled her veins as she pressed herself against the brick wall of the house, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. She didn’t have much time—she had to disappear before Paige woke up. The air smelled of damp earth and rain that had fallen hours before. She started moving, her feet light on the dew-soaked grass. Behind the overgrown bushes, she found her hidden escape tool - an old, rusty bike Hiroto had helped her repair a few summers ago. She pulled it onto the path and swung her leg over the seat. A ghost of a smile flickered across her face as she thought about how Hiroto always encouraged her independence.
Here goes nothing.
With a deep breath, she pushed off the ground; the wheels crunching on the gravel driveway. The wind whipped against her face and tugged at her hoodie, but she didn’t care. She was finally free from Paige’s oppressive regime. Her destination was clear, Uncle Hiroto’s dojo in the heart of the city–the only place she felt truly safe and understood. The journey was long and arduous by bike, but Aiko didn’t mind; every pedal stroke brought her a step closer to freedom. The rhythmic whir of the bike’s chain punctuated her thoughts. The cool night air filled her lungs and steeled her resolve. She knew there would be no turning back once she made it to Hiroto’s dojo. This was her chance to break free from Paige’s clutches and finally pursue her passion for martial arts. She knew it wouldn’t be easy; her chosen road was uncertain and dangerous. But at that moment, it was a risk she was more than willing to take. Her thighs burned with exertion as she pedaled harder. Against the early dawn sky, the city’s skyline had become a silhouette. The buildings loomed in the distance, growing in size every minute. The bike’s old wheels rattled underneath her. Still, Aiko pressed on, her thoughts clinging steadfastly to Hiroto’s reassuring smile and warm eyes. The city began to wake up as she neared its edge. Early morning vendors set up their stalls, joggers enjoyed the crisp morning air, and the faint hum of traffic built in the distance—life was stirring again. Aiko veered onto the familiar path that led to Hiroto’s dojo. Her heart pounded in anticipation as she cycled down the quiet side streets, their familiarity comforting her.
I hope you know what you’re doing, Aiko. I will not let my uncle turn me away, not when I’m so close to freedom.
Even from a distance, she could make out the dojo’s traditional architecture among the sea of modern buildings—a testament to time standing still amid chaos. Its wooden facade seemed to glow under the morning sun’s first light. Before reaching the dojo’s door, she hopped off her bike and took a moment to breathe. Her gaze roved over the familiar structure, her heart swelling with relief and nostalgia. The dojo was as she remembered it. The identical worn wooden beams and ancient tiles that Hiroto took pride in maintaining, the kanji characters painted sleekly against the entrance signboard, proud and vibrant. A single cherry blossom tree stood to the side, its delicate petals fluttering in the morning breeze like a lullaby from home. Aiko walked towards the dojo’s entrance, her hand shaking as she reached for the brass knocker adorning the weathered wooden door. She knew this was a point of no return, so she knocked twice and waited, her heart hammering inside her chest.
What am I doing? Uncle will be angry!
She held her breath as the approaching footsteps neared, growing louder with each passing second. The old wooden door creaked open, revealing a surprised Hiroto. His eyes widened at seeing his niece standing on his doorstep at this early hour. But before he could say anything, his gaze shifted to her tear-streaked face. Hiroto stepped aside, offering a silent invitation into his world. A rush of warmth greeted Aiko as she stepped into the familiar scent of polished wood and lingering incense. Hiroto’s dojo was a sanctuary, embodying discipline and tranquility - virtues Aiko sought amidst the chaos of her life. The dojo seemed untouched by time. Ancient calligraphy decorated the walls, tatami mats aligned on the wooden floor, and Hiroto’s prized katana stood in its stand at the far end. As she looked around, memories swarmed her—tales of brave warriors Hiroto used to tell, lessons of perseverance and courage echoed within these walls. Echoes turned into reality as Hiroto led her to the center of the room. He bowed in silence, offering his respects before beginning their training. The sight was almost surreal for Aiko - it felt like home. Despite her exhaustion from the night’s escape, adrenaline coursed through her veins as she mirrored his gestures, bowing low to show her respect.
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Hours passed under Hiroto’s watchful gaze as Aiko practiced primary martial art forms—punch after punch, kick after kick - perfecting each move under his guidance. Her muscles ached, but she refused to relent. The pain, if anything, demonstrated her determination to survive and reshape her future. Morning turned into afternoon, the sun’s rays filtering through the dojo’s windows, casting long shadows on the floor. Hiroto paused their training, eyeing Aiko as she gasped for breath.
“Aiko,” he whispered, breaking the hour-long silence. “You’re driven by your anger and desperation. However, it’s not enough to be just strong. To master martial arts, you need balance, self-control... tranquility. You need to harness that anger and channel it.”
Aiko nodded, understanding his words, though she found it hard to contain the fire burning inside her. Paige’s influence had dominated her life for too long; it was time for a change. Her uncle sat on the floor, palms raised.
“I’m not finished with the lesson?” Aiko demanded.
Is your guardian aware of your whereabouts?”
Aiko’s heart clenched at the mention of Paige. “She won’t bother us,” she stated with a defiant shake of her head. Hiroto studied his niece, his eyes aging with each passing moment. “I will not let you put yourself in danger, Aiko, but I also understand why you came here,” he exhaled.
The sun dipped beneath the horizon, and the dojo took on a serene glow from the fading light. Hiroto rose to his feet, his hands clasped behind him while he addressed his young niece. “Do you remember your mother’s teachings about balancing life and strength, Aiko?” he asked.
Aiko nodded as she recalled her mother’s soft voice, speaking of balance, strength, love, and determination. Her mother had taught her that strength wasn’t just physical prowess, mental fortitude, and resilience.
“Paige might have taken you away from me,” Hiroto continued. “But she can never take away your mother’s and my teachings.” He gestured towards the looming cherry blossom tree outside the dojo window. “Spring always follows winter, Aiko; life always continues.”
His words hung in the air as he moved across the room, silent but for the rustle of his clothing against the tatami mats. Approaching the ancient katana on its stand, he paused before reaching for it. Its polished blade gleamed in the fading light of the dojo, casting a long and solemn shadow.
“Your mother,” Hiroto began, above a whisper, “was not just my sister but my best friend. She was strong... beautiful.” He held the katana, turning to face Aiko. His eyes reflected his dedication and respect towards his sister’s memory.
He approached Aiko and held out the katana for her. It was a profound moment, silent save for the hushed whispers of the wind outside and the faint sounds of city life beyond the walls of their sanctuary.
“Take it,” he said.
Aiko reached out with trembling hands to grasp the weapon’s hilt. Its weight was surprising yet reassuring, and in holding it, she could almost smell the cherry blossoms that filled their old home garden, where her mother practiced with it each morning. It was a tangible piece of her past—her mother’s legacy—which Hiroto had entrusted to her now.
“I can see why you like it?” Paige said.
Aiko’s heart sank like a sack of rocks thrown into a deep lake.
“How?”
“I called her child. I want to train you in the way, but I cannot when you dishonor your guardian,” her uncle said.
His words hurt more than a katana through the heart.
“Yes,” Aiko gritted out, turning to face Paige. The woman stood at the dojo’s entrance. “I dishonored my guardian by seeking strength instead of words. But tell me, Paige... Who dishonored my parents? Who stole their lives?”
It was a direct challenge. Hiroto stiffened, but didn’t intervene.
Paige’s calm exterior faltered for a moment under Aiko’s fiery gaze. “Your parents’ deaths were a tragedy, Aiko,” she said, her voice veiled with forced sympathy. “But that doesn’t justify rebellion.”
Aiko’s grip on the katana tightened. “And what justifies your manipulation, Paige?”
Paige didn’t answer; she surveyed the room from under her lashes, her gaze landing on Hiroto. He met her stare head-on, holding his ground.
With a sigh of resignation, Paige turned her attention back to Aiko. “I didn’t come here to fight,” she whispered. “My purpose is to bring you home.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Aiko declared, unyielding.
A heavy silence hung in the dojo as the sun’s last rays faded into darkness. Silence lingered until Hiroto abruptly grabbed Aiko’s katana.
“You shall not have this until you have shown your guardian your respect.”
I never want to return to that house.”
“Aiko, I know my methods have been strict, but I’m not an evil taskmaster. I will allow you to train here once a week, but only after you’ve finished your homework and chores,” Paige said.
Aiko nodded.
“Thank you, uncle, for your sage wisdom.”
She nodded and then followed Auntie Paige out of the dojo.