Sensei's Dojo

The wooden floor creaked softly beneath them as the five disciples stood frozen, caught in the act.

Sensei stood there, arms crossed, his piercing gaze holding them in place. He didn't look angry. He didn't even look surprised. His face remained unreadable—calm, controlled, but weighted with something they couldn't quite place.

The silence stretched.

Mono exhaled quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

Raiba stiffened. "Sensei."

Josei folded her arms, her expression unreadable.

Hito shifted slightly, debating whether to speak. Tokira, as usual, remained silent.

Sensei's eyes settled on Mono. "Why my room?"

Mono glanced at the door, then back at him. "Just curious."

Raiba sighed. "That's all you've got?"

Mono shrugged. "Well… yeah."

Sensei didn't react. "Step aside."

The disciples exchanged glances, then moved out of the way.

Sensei walked up to the door, adjusting the bags in his arms—fresh rice, bundles of dried fish, a packet of green tea, and a small cloth-wrapped box that smelled faintly of spices.

He placed his hand on the handle and turned it.

The door clicked open without resistance.

Mono frowned. "Seriously?"

Raiba crossed his arms. "It was stuck."

Josei narrowed her eyes. "Sensei, did you—"

Sensei stepped inside, placing the food down onto the desk beside a neatly stacked set of scrolls.

Mono eyed the door again. "That doesn't make sense."

Sensei ignored him.

Instead, he picked up the packet of green tea, inspecting the tightly wrapped leaves before setting them aside.

Then, finally, he looked at them.

"When the time is right," he said simply, "you will know."

The disciples stood still, processing his words.

Mono tilted his head slightly. "Right."

Raiba nudged him.

Sensei's lips curved slightly—almost a smile, but not quite. "You will understand it when you are ready."

The weight behind his words lingered.

Tokira was the first to turn away. Hito followed, exhaling as he rested his hands behind his head. Raiba rolled his shoulders, thinking but choosing not to push the subject further.

Mono hesitated for half a second, then let it go.

Whatever was inside—Sensei had decided they wouldn't know today.

And somehow, that felt heavier than any punishment.

---

The large hall of the dojo center buzzed with movement. Scrolls stacked on tables, ink-stained hands worked through calculations, and the quiet murmur of strategy filled the air. The Universal Dojo Committee (UDC) had gathered, marking the final stages of preparation for the Seventh Tournament.

At the head of the long table sat Chairman Rikuto, his expression calm but calculating. His sharp eyes moved over documents detailing match schedules, security protocols, and guest lists.

"The registrations are complete," spoke Kenji, the logistics overseer, adjusting his spectacles as he reviewed the latest figures. "Fifty combatants from twenty-three different dojos. Some returning names, some new contenders."

Rikuto nodded. "And the favorites?"

Kenji flipped through another page. "The reigning champion, Sato Renji, will be defending his title. Several skilled fighters from neighboring territories have entered as well, including a few with unexpected reputations."

At the mention of Renji, murmurs rippled through the room. He had dominated the past two tournaments, defeating his opponents with surgical precision.

Maeko, the tournament's senior strategist, leaned forward. "Renji might be unbeatable, but I'm more concerned about the outliers. There are names on this list that raise questions."

She spread out a second document—fighter profiles, each neatly detailed with statistics, history, and known techniques.

Rikuto scanned them carefully.

"One in particular," Maeko pointed to a dojo name underlined twice, "stood out."

The group leaned in.

A name unfamiliar to many but carrying an undeniable weight to those who knew.

A newly registered competitor.

Sensei's Dojo.