The Art of Juggling
It was 5 PM, and the dojo was quiet. Most of the students wouldn't arrive for another half hour, trickling in after work or school. But as I scanned the room, I saw that I wasn't alone.
Mikasa was there, pounding away at a heavy bag like it had personally offended her. Her strikes were lightning fast, her kicks powerful enough to make the bag swing wildly on its chain. She was in the zone, lost in her own world of combat and self-improvement.
"Oh? You're here again?" Sensei's voice cut through the rhythmic thud of Mikasa's strikes. "Once a day wasn't enough?"
I turned to see him watching me from the doorway of his office, his arms crossed over his chest. He had a knowing smirk on his face, like he'd expected me to come back begging for more.
"What can I say, Sensei?" I grinned, dropping my backpack and starting to stretch. "I'm a sucker for punishment."
He snorted, uncrossing his arms and walking over. "More like a sucker for my brilliant teaching."
"That too," I agreed, bending down to touch my toes.
He nodded, satisfaction glinting in his eyes. "Good. Because today, we're going to crank it up a notch."
I glanced over at Mikasa, who was still assaulting the heavy bag with single-minded intensity. Her form was flawless, her movements fluid and precise. She was a force of nature, a perfect storm of skill and strength.
And I was just a guy who'd gotten his ass kicked by Takeshi.
Sensei caught me looking and chuckled. "Admiring Mikasa's technique? Don't worry, you'll get there. Someday."
I dragged my gaze away, focusing back on Sensei. "I'm not here to admire anyone. I'm here to work."
He slapped me on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of me. "That's the spirit. Now, let's get to it."
The next hour was a whirlwind of sweat and burning muscles. Sensei ran me through a gauntlet of exercises, each one more punishing than the last. Lunges, burpees, push-ups, squats... my body screamed for mercy, but I gritted my teeth and pushed through.
All the while, Mikasa kept training, her focus unwavering. It was like she was in a trance, completely tuned in to her own body and its capabilities.
I envied that focus, that razor-sharp concentration. In my past life, I'd had it. The ability to shut out everything else and zero in on my objective, my purpose.
But here, in this new reality, with all these new complications... it was tougher. My thoughts kept straying, to Hina, to Natsuo, to Chizuru...
"Concentrate, Kazuya!" Sensei snapped, jolting me back to the present. "Where's your focus?"
I shook my head, forcing my mind back to the here and now. "Right here, Sensei. My bad."
"Don't apologize," he said, his tone stern. "Just do better."
I nodded, clenching my jaw and throwing myself into the next round of drills. He was right. I couldn't afford to be sidetracked, to let my thoughts wander. Not if I wanted to reach my goals, to tap into my true potential.
By the end of the session, I was drenched in sweat, my muscles quivering with exhaustion. But beneath the fatigue, there was a sense of satisfaction. Of forward momentum.
As I chugged water and wiped the sweat from my brow, I noticed Mikasa looking at me from across the room. Her expression was inscrutable, but there was an intensity in her gaze that made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
I met her eyes, holding her stare. For a moment, we just looked at each other, two fighters taking each other's measure. Then she blinked, turning back to her own training.
Sensei approached. "Nice work today, kid. You're making progress."
I nodded, gulping down more water. "Thanks, Sensei. But I've still got a ways to go."
He laughed, patting me on the shoulder. "Don't we all? The way of the warrior is a lifelong path. There's always room for growth, for improvement."
I stepped out of the dojo into the cool evening air, my muscles still buzzing from the intense workout. The sun was setting, painting the sky in shades of orange and pink. It was a nice view, but my growling stomach quickly reminded me of more pressing concerns.
Dinner. I needed food, and I needed it now.
I considered my options as I walked towards my apartment. I could grab something from the convenience store, maybe some instant ramen or a pre-made bento box. It wouldn't be gourmet, but it would be cheap and easy.
Yeah, that sounded like a plan. 7-Eleven, here I come.
I popped in my earbuds, letting the music drown out the background noise. By the time I reached my stop, my stomach was practically eating itself.
I hit up the 7-Eleven, grabbing a couple of instant yakisoba boxes and a bottle of iced green tea. The cashier rang me up with a bored expression, and I was on my way, plastic bag swinging from my hand.
As I climbed the stairs to my apartment, I heard a door open on the second floor. I didn't think much of it at first. People were always coming and going in this building, especially around dinnertime.
But as I rounded the corner, I stopped dead in my tracks.
There, standing in front of the door to apartment 204, was Chizuru. But not the Chizuru I knew from college, with her braided hair and nerdy glasses.
No, this was Chizuru in full rental girlfriend mode. She was wearing a short, flowery sundress that showed off her legs, with strappy sandals and a cute little purse. Her hair was loose, falling in soft waves around her shoulders. She looked... stunning.
For a moment, we just stared at each other, eyes wide. It was like time had frozen, the world narrowing down to just the two of us in this dingy hallway.
Then Chizuru blinked, her expression morphing into one of pure panic. She glanced around wildly, like she was looking for an escape route.
I finally found my voice. "Chizuru? What are you... I mean, I didn't know you..."
"Shh!" She hissed, darting forward and clamping a hand over my mouth. "Not here!"
Chizuru lives in my building. Chizuru is in her rental girlfriend outfit. Chizuru is currently manhandling me towards the stairs.
"What are you doing here, Kazuya?" She demanded, her voice low and intense.
I blinked, holding up my 7-Eleven bag. "Uh, I live here? In apartment 203?"
Her eyes widened, realization dawning. "You... you live next door to me?"
"Looks like it. Small world, huh?"
She groaned, pressing a hand to her forehead. "This can't be happening. Of all the apartment buildings in Tokyo, you had to live in mine?"
I shrugged. "Hey, don't blame me. Blame fate, or coincidence, or whatever cosmic force keeps throwing us together."
She glared at me, but there was less heat in it than before. "This isn't funny, Kazuya. You can't tell anyone about this, okay? If word got out that I was living next to a client..."
I held up my hands, the plastic bag rustling. "Relax, Chizuru. Your secret's safe with me. I promised, remember?"
She searched my face, looking for any hint of deception. Then she sighed, her shoulders slumping. "Fine. But we can't be seen together, okay? If anyone asks, we're just neighbors who barely know each other."
I nodded, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment in my chest. "Got it. Strangers in the hallway, classmates on campus."
She gave me a sharp nod, then turned to head back to her apartment. But before she could take more than a step, I called out.
"Hey, Chizuru?"
She paused, looking back at me over her shoulder. "What?"
I held up the 7-Eleven bag, a peace offering. "I bought way too much yakisoba. Want to come over and share? Strictly as neighbors, of course."
For a moment, she just looked at me, her expression unreadable. Then, to my surprise, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"Maybe some other time, Kazuya. I've got a date tonight, remember?"
"Speaking of, about our date..."
"What about it?"
I grinned. "I was just thinking, it might be easier to plan if we had each other's numbers. You know, so we can coordinate and stuff."
She hesitated, and for a moment I thought she was going to shoot me down. But then she sighed, pulling out her phone. "Fine. But this is strictly for date planning purposes, got it? No funny business."
I held up my hands in surrender, the plastic bag rustling. "Scout's honor. I'll be a perfect gentleman."
She snorted, but there was a hint of amusement in her eyes. "Somehow, I doubt that. But here."
She rattled off her number, and I quickly added it to my contacts. "Great. I'll text you later to figure out the details for Saturday."
"Saturday?" She raised an eyebrow. "Who said anything about Saturday?"
"Well, I figured the weekend would be best. You know, so we don't have to worry about classes or anything."
She considered this for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, Saturday works. But remember, Kazuya - this is a one-time thing. Don't go getting any ideas."
I held up my hands again, the picture of innocence. "Wouldn't dream of it. I'm just in it for the yakisoba, remember?"
She rolled her eyes, but I could see the smile tugging at her lips. "You're impossible."
"I prefer 'charming,' but I'll take impossible."
She shook her head, turning back to the stairwell. "Good night, Kazuya. And... thanks. For keeping my secret."
"Anytime, Chizuru. What are neighbors for?"
At that I unlocked my door and stepped inside, kicking off my shoes. The apartment was quiet, the only sound the hum of the fridge.
I plopped down on the couch, tearing open one of the yakisoba boxes. The smell of salty noodles and mystery meat filled the air, and my stomach growled in anticipation.
As I slurped down the first bite, I couldn't help but grin. Life was getting pretty interesting these days. Between my training, my new friendships, and now this thing with Chizuru...
It was a lot to juggle. But I'd always been good at keeping multiple balls in the air. In my past life, I'd balanced warfare and politics, alliances and betrayals. Compared to that, college drama was a cakewalk.
I polished off the first box of yakisoba and reached for the second, my chopsticks already digging in. I had a feeling I was going to need all the energy I could get.
Because if there was one thing I'd learned, it was that life had a way of throwing curveballs when you least expected them.
And I was ready to swing for the fences.
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone