Danny sat bent over a writing desk with a calligraphy brush in his hand, a bottle of India ink to his right, and a piece of rice paper and a scroll of kanji before him. His hand shook slightly as he secured his pencil-like grip and dipped the tip of his tool into the inkwell and set it down upon the paper once more. He had just begun to move the brush downward when sweat and nerves let it slip from his grasp, leaving a long black smear across the paper that made the total number of such marks reach thirty-two.
"Dangit!" the boy cried out, slamming his head down onto the desk. Too late did he realise that this meant putting his skin against the fresh blotches of ink that lay on the table, and as he slowly lifted his head back up, the paper remained attached to his forehead. He peeled it away, reavling two large marks over his eyes.
Sam and Tucker stood with Katou at the other end of the room, watching. They couldn't help but smile at their friend's appearance.
"Look at it this way: if stopping the end of the world doesn't work out, you can be a make-up artist for goths," Sam quipped.
Danny groaned, sinking back into his chair. He had been at this for three hours straight. He was working with regular script, the simplest of fonts for this sort of writing. He had been shown the proper way to sit, the proper way to hold the brush, the proper way to keep the paper steady, and the proper way to move his hand. Every single time his hand had shook, he had held the pen the wrong way, and in place of beautiful kanji a black blob appeared.
At first, Katou had stepped in to correct Danny's technique when this occurred. But, after repeated attempts with no sign that his notes were having an effect, the samurai had stayed by the wall with Tucker and Sam, looking at his pupil with eyes full of pity.
Danny was trying. He really was! He knew what he was doing wrong and kept telling himself to correct it. But no matter how hard he tried, he just could not focus. So much was in his mind. His rib, though healed, still pained him. Lancer had given out a substantial amount of homework, his parents were on his case about chores, and Dash was acting up again. His best friends were standing just a few feet behind him, watching him fail. Learning calligraphy hardly seemed like an appropriate way to train for Tá eagla orm, no matter what Katou said.
More than anything else, though, he was still too nervous to think straight.
"I give up," he sighed. "I give up! There's no way I'm going to get this!" He sank down lower in his chair, crossing his arms in a sulk. He really felt like he meant it this time. He couldn't write this language, and he couldn't get the message that Katou intended it to have.
Danny expected to hear Sam and Tucker offer some words of encourgement, but instead he heard Katou addressing them.
"Would you two mind stepping out of the room for just a minute?" he asked.
"Huh? Why?" was Tucker's response.
"Please. I'd like a word with him."
After a beat, Danny heard his friends begin to depart. Footsteps became fainter as they passed up the stairs, and in a moment, Katou sat beside Danny, having created a green ecto-chair. The samurai stared at the wall before him, not looking down at his pupil.
They sat side by side, not speaking. In this silence, it occurred to Danny that he and his instructor had not been alone once since Katou had come into his life. At least one of his friends had always accompanied them. Because of that, Katou had never really seemed to be fully "there." He was just another ghost involved in their lives. With neither of his two companions around, Danny really felt Katou's presence. He seemed an actual member of the group.
"You're nervous," Katou said simply, breaking the calm. There was nothing to add, and no need to respond.
Katou sighed. "As am I."
Danny raised an eyebrow. "You?"
The samurai nodded. "As a young man in feudal Japan, I learned my arts well. I followed my master faithfully, and performed my duties well. But once, when I had become a true samurai, a man I once called friend began to behave dishonourably. I say again he was my friend; I could not betray him in time to stop his actions.
"Later, I entered The Ghost Zone and helped found the Order of Afterlife. The fall of that body could have been prevented. The signs of twilight were made clear long before our end. And I was the one who saw them all. But the ghost who eventually did us in was…was…"
Danny's worn expression softened as he saw Katou hesitate. The choke in his throat could be strongly felt, and pain seeped from his one eye. Suddenly, Danny's own frustrations seemed so petty. What had this ghost gone through?
"…was someone I knew," Katou let out with a shaking breath. "And again, I could not bring myself to speak against him. At least, not in time to save the Order. And, when they fell…I was the last of the Order. I had to face the…the ghost. And, when I did…" the samurai's eye began to glisten. "He…he gave me these scars, and turned me over to Walker, rather than let me go on to the next plane and attempt to restore my honour."
With a sigh Katou leaned forward, shutting his one eye tight and putting a hand to his brow. Danny looked on, looking as though he'd been hit in the face with a weight.
"I'm…I'm sorry," he offered, putting a hand on Katou's shoulder.
The samurai gulped, and soon regained his composure. "As I said when we met, it's in the past. The point is this; I hesitate, a flaw of age. You, on the other hand, can be impatient, a flaw of youth. And we both have uncertainty, an affliction common to all. These weaknesses haunt us, and in the process feed themselves. We don't trust ourselves fully to the tasks assigned us." Katou let out a slight chuckle and smiled, finally turning to look his apprentice in the eye. "And yet here we are, chosen by the Master of Time himself to prevent the end of the world. It is too late to challenge his decision, and we've already become involved. What can we do?"
His smile was infectious, and Danny found himself letting out a slight chuckle. Indeed, he was right. Why worry so much about a choice made that could not be taken back?
"Now, besides that, what troubles you about this?" Katou asked.
"It's just…Katou, I'm gonna have to fight the Fright Knight, Aragon, Plasmius, my evil self, and Pariah. Learning how to write all of this really seems like a waste of time."
"Were we focusing on the kanji alone, you would be right," Katou nodded. "But as I have explained, the calligraphy itself is not important. Concentration, patience, and detail are what you should be coming away with from this. And think, Danny. How much of your focus is needed for kanji as opposed to your lettering system?"
The point began to come through. "OK," Danny conceded, smiling again.
"Anything else?" the sage inquired.
"Well…Sam and Tuck watching me mess up wasn't helping, but they're gone…but I've got a ton of homework, and my parents are on my case again, and my ribs still hurt –"
"I understand the problems you face in balancing two lives," Katou interrupted, putting a warm hand on Danny's shoulder. "But you must look at the larger picture. That work you have for school needs to be done, and if this business with Tá eagla orm stops you from completing that work, then your teacher will not understand. But look at it through his eyes. He doesn't know what you do, and it is his job to make sure you finish your schooling. He will give you opportunities to do other work, and you can keep up if you balance your time. As to your parents…again, they don't know what you face. Your sister knows of your secret and is willing to help you; ask her to help with your chores. But don't abuse that power, because if you do, you're on your own, and all I'll have to say is that I warned you."
Master and apprentice shared a laugh, and Danny felt all of his tensions slipping away. His muscles were relaxed, and his mind felt clearer than it had in days. He felt capable. He felt prepared. He felt…confident. And this training finally seemed to make sense.
Katou seemed to sense the change. "Ready to try again?" he offered. Danny nodded. "Good. Let's try this one," the samurai pointed to one kanji towards the bottom of the scroll. "Umi," he read. "'The sea.' Whenever you wish to begin, Danny."
The ghost-boy inhaled through his nose, and let the breath out slowly through his mouth. With it went all distractions. He sat up straight and planted his feet firmly on the floor. His hand took the brush and gripped it as Katou had shown him to. He waited until his posture felt natural, and then straightened out his rice paper and dipped his pen into the inkwell. The tip came down upon the paper, moving smoothly across and leaving an elegant black line. Danny kept his eyes on his work, not looking up once. Steadily he moved the brush up and down, crossing lines as needed. He made sure not to go to quickly or to apply too much pressure.
A minute and a half were taken, but he finished. Slowly he set the pen down. He looked up.
There was the kanji on the scroll before him…and, on his paper, was the very same character, perfectly formed.
Danny looked back and forth several times, to assure himself that his eyes told the truth. Outwardly he kept his posture, but he struggled immensely not to transform and somersault in the air.
He had done it.
He had really, finally done it.
With eyes like a young boy's he looked towards Katou. The master smiled back, placing arm around Danny once more.