Ash training with Kenshiko

The next morning, Ash stood in the dojo, still feeling the weight of the Keiretsu invitation in his pocket. The noise of the outside world faded as Kenshiko's voice echoed in the otherwise silent room.

"Posture," Kenshiko began, her voice calm but firm. "You can't appear weak in the Keiretsu. Confidence is the foundation of power in that world. You must embody it, no matter how much you want to rip someone's throat out."

Ash nodded, adjusting his stance, trying to internalize her words. The polished floor beneath him seemed to reflect his every movement, amplifying the pressure he felt. He wasn't used to this. Not used to pretending. Not used to games. But the reality was clear: if he was going to navigate the shark tank of Keiretsu's elite, he needed more than just fists and firepower. He needed to learn how to blend in, to move with the grace of a predator in a room full of others who were always watching.

Kenshiko watched him closely, her eyes sharp as a hawk's. "You look like you're thinking too hard. You have to feel the space. Feel the eyes on you, feel the room's rhythm. You need to walk in there knowing you're already in control."

Ash stood straighter, attempting to adjust. His mind raced between training for combat and this entirely new world of social warfare. This was something he'd never prepared for—something that felt completely alien to him.

Kenshiko stepped forward, closer than Ash expected, and raised a hand to adjust his collar. "When you're in a room full of elites, posture isn't just about physical strength. It's about positioning. How you present yourself can dictate how others see you. The more confident you are, the more they'll doubt themselves." She continued with a glance at his expression. "Even if you have to fake it."

Ash gritted his teeth. He wasn't used to faking anything. But the way Kenshiko spoke, the certainty in her tone—it made him realize that maybe faking was the only option here.

She took a step back and motioned for him to follow her to a small table near the edge of the dojo. On it, a selection of clothes lay neatly folded, each piece clearly chosen with care. She picked up a suit and held it out for him to see.

"This," Kenshiko said with quiet authority, "is the first impression you'll make. The clothes don't make the man, but they do help the man make his way through the maze of that party. Look at it like armor."

Ash took the suit with an almost reluctant hand, inspecting the fine craftsmanship. It was pristine—tailored to perfection. This wasn't just clothing. It was a weapon in a battle of perception.

"Don't worry about how it feels. Worry about how they feel when they see you wear it." Kenshiko's voice was calm but edged with a certain intensity. "Every piece, every color, every detail, they will be scrutinized. Make sure that every choice you make projects the image you want them to see."

Ash felt his mind slipping into a trance. It was hard to reconcile this world of smiles and suits with the battlefield where he thrived. He had to learn to be something other than a warrior. He had to become a ghost in the crowd—a spy. And that meant learning how to read everything.

Kenshiko seemed to sense his unease, and she began to pace around the room, explaining in a steady rhythm. "You need to understand people. You need to read them, Ash. In a room full of strangers, how do you know who is your ally and who will sell you out for a higher price?"

Ash raised an eyebrow, his mind sharp despite his discomfort. "How?"

Kenshiko stopped pacing and turned to face him. "You watch their body language, their eyes, their hands. People can't hide everything, not truly. If you learn to see it, you can predict their next move before they even know they've made it."

She moved toward a large mirror at the far end of the room and beckoned him over. "Watch me."

She stepped in front of the mirror and adopted a relaxed stance, her arms loose at her sides. "This is neutral. No threat. No invitation. But now, watch how my body tenses when I'm annoyed." Kenshiko shifted, her shoulders stiffening ever so slightly, her posture becoming more rigid.

"Notice how my expression doesn't change much," she said, "but you can see the difference. It's subtle. But it's there."

Ash watched intently. His gaze shifted from her posture to her face, studying every nuance. His sharp eyes picked up on the slight tension around her jaw, the way her hands clenched ever so slightly at her sides.

"Now," she continued, turning to face him directly. "When you're at that party, you will see those same signs. Subtle shifts. If someone's too still, they might be hiding something. If they're fidgeting, they're likely nervous about something. If they can't hold eye contact, there's a lack of confidence or a hidden agenda."

Ash absorbed every word. It wasn't just physical. It was a mental game—a battlefield of minds.

"How do I know who's telling the truth?" Ash asked, his voice low.

Kenshiko's lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Simple. You don't. Not at first. But if you're paying attention, the lies will always have cracks. A hesitant glance. A shift in tone. A hand that touches the face too often. The more you pay attention, the more the truth reveals itself."

She turned away from the mirror, moving back toward him. "Now, you need to understand what's important at the Keiretsu party. They don't care about your strength. They care about your position. If you're seen as weak, you'll be discarded. But if you can show them you're a threat or an asset, you will carve out your space in that room."

Ash exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. He wasn't sure how he'd ever be able to pull this off. But he couldn't afford failure.

Kenshiko's gaze softened for a moment, a rare flicker of empathy. "It's not just about blending in, Ash. It's about manipulating the situation in your favor. You can't just react. You must control the narrative. Make them think they have the power, but in reality, you're always ten steps ahead."

Ash nodded slowly, his mind racing with all the new information. The training was grueling—so different from what he was used to. But he had no choice. He had to learn.

"One last thing," Kenshiko added, her voice low. "Remember that a party is never just a party. It's a battleground where the stakes are higher than you think. And if you want to survive, you have to become the ultimate weapon. Not with your fists. But with your mind."

Ash straightened, now more determined than ever. "Understood."

Kenshiko's lips curled into a slight smile, but there was no humor in it. "Good. Now, let's work on your social skills."

Ash groaned inwardly. This was going to be a long week.