Prologue
IT’S just past four in the morning.
I rub my tired eyes, wring out the wet cloth I’m holding, and glance around the large dojo.
Every morning I clean it before the students arrive for martial arts lessons. My father trained me here since I was little, and I inherited the dojo one year ago—when he passed away in a car accident.
It happened on our way home. I’d been accepted into high school and, to celebrate, we took a trip with my friend Kazuya and his parents. We both lost our parents that day.
The dojo was meant to go to my uncle, who was named my legal guardian. But I insisted on running the dojo as-is, and luckily got my way.
While scrubbing the wooden floor, I sense a familiar presence behind me.
“Morning, Kazuya,” I greet him. “You’re early, as always.”
“Morning,” Kazuya replies with a bleary expression.
The two of us go way back. He’s a year younger than me, in his first year of high school. We were orphaned together. Before that we were neighbors, but now he lives with relatives one suburb over.
He was one of the dojo’s students, too, but he quit and no longer trains here. Despite that, and the fact that he lives further away now, he still comes every morning to help me out at this ungodly hour.
“Kazuya, you’re not our student anymore. And even if you were, you wouldn’t have to show up ’til morning practice starts,” I tell him.
“You know it’s my job to watch over the business side of things.” He yawns, grabs a cloth, and starts wiping the floor alongside me.
I was happy that I inherited this old dojo and didn’t have to go live with my uncle, but I suck at wrapping my head around things like taxes and how to actually manage the place. When I got overwhelmed, Kazuya offered to step in. He’s smart, unlike me, so I leave that stuff to him. Honestly, he’s a huge help, even before mentioning how he gives me a hand in the mornings like this.
We get things ready for the morning in silence as students show up in drips and drabs. I say “students”, but there’s a wide variety of people; some who come for strength training, elementary school students who are learning the basics, grandparents who are trying to manage their health, and middle-aged women who want to lose weight.
Funnily enough, since Kazuya began helping this year, the number of body-conscious older women has shot up.
He’s quite a handsome guy with glossy hair, a well-proportioned face, and a real honor student look. You can tell he kind of gets an ego boost when people say he’s hot. To me, he’s like a little brother I’m proud of. He was popular when we were in elementary school too, but weirdly enough, he’s never introduced me to any girlfriends. Maybe he’s hiding them from me?
Honestly, if he does have a girlfriend, I’d probably be a bit put out…because of my pride. I haven’t even started dating yet; I don’t want him to get ahead of me. Yeah, that’s it.
I know that’s wrong. I want to be the kind of friend who’d congratulate him if he has a girlfriend.
Still, though. A boyfriend… What I wouldn’t give to have a boyfriend… It’s all I wish for. I mean, I’m a passionate seventeen-year-old high school girl! I’d love a romance of my own, but that’s easier said than done.
I’m kind of notorious around here for being “too strong”. One glance at me, and local boys bolt in the other direction. There were times I thought a guy wanted to talk to me, only for him to turn out to be a delinquent picking a fight. With me! A quintessential high school girl!
Nevertheless, I try my best to wow guys, from my hair to my clothes. Hence my long black hair and habit of buying magazines every month to keep up with what’s trendy. Yet Cupid’s never once deigned to so much as glimpse at me.
Is it so bad to be good at martial arts?
When I was in middle school, for whatever reason, there was this group of bullies who were always starting fights with me. If only I hadn’t kicked all of their asses without a second thought…
I like martial arts. I like sports. And now that I’ve inherited my dad’s dojo, I don’t plan on quitting them. But if I ever get the chance to be reborn, I want to come back as the kind of girl people feel compelled to protect. Someone as delicate as the characters you see in shoujo manga, who make guys say stuff like, “I’ll save you!”
“Earth to Sakurako.” Kazuya’s face pops up in front of me.
Oh! There’s a kid in uniform waiting for a lesson. I glance at my watch and see it’s time for the early morning practice to start!
Earth to Sakurako, indeed! I should never let petty things distract me in our sacred dojo!
“S-Sorry! Um, okay, let’s start this morning’s training!” Flustered, I commence practice as usual.
Because a lot of the people in attendance are long-term students, they smile and forgive me with nothing more than a “Sure, sure.”
Still, I need to get my act together!
The morning session starts with warm-up exercises, then karate kata in pairs, followed by sparring in pairs. There’s an odd number of students today, so I get to take on the lucky one left. Meaning my partner is… Tsuyoshi, a college sophomore. Tsuyoshi’s pretty nice-looking and has a good, strong name.
Too bad he’s so weak, I think, batting away his fists. He’s struggling to push power through to his hands. Doesn’t he know he needs to use his whole body?
But I’m not gonna lie, I get a kick out of watching him strive with all his might. And the mole right beside his eye is kind of hot. Perfect boyfriend material—but whoops, he’s left his side wide open. The moment he attacks me, I strike.
“Geez, you’re strong, Sakurako-sensei. You look so cute and dainty, but I’m no match for you,” Tsuyoshi chuckles, his backside flat on the floor.
“What?! Did you… Did you just call me cute? You find me cute?!” I stammer, jolted by the compliment that came way out of left field.
“Sakurako’s a prodigy. By the time she was ten, she was already stronger than her dad,” a middle-aged gentleman, one of our regulars, pipes up next to us in a joking tone.
It’s true that I never lost to my father since I was about ten, but that was just because my father would pretend to fall down on purpose.
“Aw, no, my dad was always just playing around. You know, like when you’re playing superheroes with your father, and they’re the monster, and they lose on purpose?” I smile.
Hmm, it doesn’t look like he believes me. Actually, he’s squinting at me sort of critically… Maybe I’m being paranoid.