Chapter Two
When my father of my past life had passed away, my mother had not been the same. Being the oldest of my siblings, I had taken on the responsibility of making sure there was always food to eat, clean clothes to wear and a warm bed to sleep in for them. It's one of the reasons why I never finished high school and why I had tried my best to make sure my very own children had the education and love I never received from my mother.
Sometimes I would wonder if I had ever pushed Rosemarie, if she would have come back to us - been the mother I had wanted. What if I had confronted her? Told her to grow a pair and come take care of us... would it have been any different?
Is that why I always pushed for my children to stay by their father's side even when we had divorced?
Is that why I'm pushing myself onto Koshiro right now?
"Are you sure, Kuina?" For once, I cannot meet his opened eyes and instead focus on the strand of hair that isn't pulled back in his ponytail.
"I would like to learn, Otou-san." My voice does not betray me, and I take comfort in it while my eyes stray away to my hands that are clasped in my lap. "This is something you love. I would like to learn more about it."
The room is silent, and I fidget in my seat awaiting Koshiro's answer.
"I'll let you join the dojo on one condition," Finally, I feel like I can meet his gaze. Looking up I find that his eyes are firm as they regard me, lips set in a straight line. "Being perfunctory is not an option, Kuina."
That one statement has me sitting up straighter, my facial expression more than likely copying that of the man who is biologically my father.
"I will do my best, Otou-san."
For some reason, the sword that sits behind me comes to the forefront of my mind. I can feel its cool steel against my back even though it's a good way from me.
A smile spreads across Koshiro's face.
"I know you will make me proud, Kuina."
During my sixth autumn, I began school in conjunction with my classes at the dojo. It is quite easy in school as subjects are not of heavy thinking and problem solving just yet, so I take advantage of this and quickly settle for first in class. In the dojo, however, right away I know I have a lot to work on.
The students though do try their best in helping me in every way they could.
"Girls don't usually want to join the dojo," States ten-year-old Chris as he gives me a wooden sword from the ones that are held against the wall. He had been among the first to approach me upon my introduction by Koshiro and has been a great help so far. "It's actually kind of cool you want to learn."
"Yeah! You're nothing like those other girls, Kuina-chan!" Anthony, a rather cute six-year-old with bright blue eyes and dimpled cheeks that barely reaches my shoulder in height, exclaims.
"Thank you." My eyes close as I give them my best smile.
The way of the sword is not what I expected at all;
"To mold the mind and body," Koshiro begins, after ordering everyone to take the Chūdan-no-kamae stance. Looking to Anthony, I try to imitate. Placing my left foot slightly behind my right with my left heel raised a bit off the wooden floor, I find that the stance feels a bit forced.
"To cultivate a vigorous spirit and through correct and rigid training," Father now turned Dojo master begins to asses everyone, correcting mistakes quietly. "To strive for improvement in the art of Kendo."
I do not even notice when the man comes to my row and when his hand is place on my shoulder.
"Relax a bit and make sure your hips are straight." Breathing out a bit, I do as I am instructed and find that I am more comfortable especially when Koshiro's hands guide my own a bit lower with the wooden sword. "That's better."
"To hold in esteem human courtesy and honor," His voice returns to address the rest of the room as he walks on to his next student. "To associate with others with sincerity. And to forever pursue the cultivation of oneself."
Sharing a smile with Anthony, I return my attention to the front mouth forming a thin line as I do my best to try and memorize this stance for future training.
"Thus, will one be able: To love one's country and society; To contribute to the development of culture; And to promote peace and prosperity among all peoples." Concludes Koshiro as he returns to the front. "That is the purpose of kendo, I hope you all remember this."
The way of the sword is loud – the constant shouting you find yourself releasing why copying Koshiro will make your ears ring.
It is also not just about how to wield the sword itself, but how the wielder should conduct and carry themselves. These times we often sit around Koshiro as he explains certain morals a swordsman should follow or should keep in mind. We were allowed to raise our hands and ask questions and Koshiro often gently tried to clarify things that seemed a bit outrageous to us, but he could also be rather firm if we behaved ignorantly on understanding something.
Not only that, but there seems to be so many different layers to Kenjutsu itself. Like today, we look at Kendo and then Koshiro might surprise us with something a month later like Iaido. It really all depended on him and when he thought you were efficient enough to move on.
All like for beginners such as me and Anthony, it was a bit different. Beginners came to the dojo on different days as the older ones, excluding Chris as he most times liked to hang around a bit. He had dubbed himself as Koshiro's assistant, which the man had ruffled his hair fondly upon hearing him state to us.
Beginners moved a bit slower and the first year is spent studying the different stances of the different styles of Kenjutsu. There was no actual fighting, not even practice ones.
"Katas are really what you guys look at for at least year and then Koshiro-sensei evaluates to see if you're ready to move on." Chris had explained.
"Do we really look at all the styles of Kenjutsu?" I ask, helping the older boy in picking up the discarded towels as Anthony helps some other students in the cleaning of the floor.
Another thing Koshiro is very serious about is the keeping of the dojo clean. It also helped us students in learning of responsibility, so I didn't complain as much as my other fellow members of the dojo.
"Of course not," laughs Chris, turning to face me. "There are advanced levels of Kenjutsu that not even the katas are looked at by beginners. Another thing is there are boundless styles of kenjutsu, it's really hard to do all if you're not committed."
In a way, I find that I do understand what Chris says.
Kenjutsu is something that you must be committed to for the rest of your life if you wanted to master it – if you wanted to be a true swordsman.
It's not some game a curious old lady can pick up on just to stay close to her dad.
Like I said earlier, I know I have a lot of work to do if I wanted to stay here.
"You did well for your first try, little bird." His hand ruffles the dark blue strands of hair on top of my head and I can't help but beam at his words.
'A sixty-two-year-old woman getting all worked up by the words of a man that is half her age... I never thought the day would come.'
.
.
In the new year, I find myself settling into the life of not having Maiko around and adjusting to having to include school once more. Growing up as Kimberley, I was never one that had wanted to stand out and had left that to my younger siblings. I was shy and had few friends that really knew me. When I had left school at only fifteen, I think everyone was surprised - quiet and smart Kimberley dropped out of high school? Why, what could have made that happen?
As Kuina, I had no patience to be such a person. This could be due to my development over the years as Kimberley who had grown out of her shell and who had taken the world by storm. It could also be because Anthony had no intention of just letting me sit in class unnoticed.
"This is my friend Kuina-chan, and she's also training at the dojo." His chest is puffed out as the other children around us ohhed and ahhed. He looked mighty pleased with himself.
"Are swords really that interesting, Kuina-chan?" Asks one of the girls, expression rather dubious at the thought.
"It is to me." It wasn't really a lie, as I really am interested in what could have made Koshiro dedicate all his life to something such as kenjutsu. Is it like how I can't stay away from sewing? I've already acquired cloth with needle and thread and have been thinking of surprising Koshiro with a scarf for the upcoming winter
...which means I need knitting supplies.
'Would he be suspicious if I did-'
"Well it sounds boring to me." Huffs the girl and the other young females behind her nod their heads vigorously. Coming from my thoughts, I just give the small group of girls and give them a thin lip smile. They didn't stay around longer after Amy, the girl I figure is the ring leader, states this and I honestly don't mind. Although the boys seem to find me fascinating.
"You're really Koshiro-sensei's daughter?" Asks one boy who is rather tall with shaggy black hair and grey eyes. Later, I find that his name is Chen and he wants to be a fisherman just like his dad.
"Yep." He shares a look with two boys before turning back to me with a grin.
"Do you think you can show us a few moves?" His voice is hopeful and so are the two boys that stand around him if the jumping from one foot to the other that one does, and the squirming of the other, is anything to go by.
"Sorry guys, but no can do." Anthony's arm loops awkwardly around my shoulders seeing as he is shorter, but he doesn't let go and instead leads me away. "Only us of the dojo get to see our moves."
I refrain from doubling over in laughter at Anthony's clear lie but lets the boy pull me away from the now pouting group of boys.
"If you're going to be lying so much I might not want to be friends with you, Anthony." I couldn't help but say as we come to sit in the green lawns that sprawls all around the small school house of Shimotsuki village. Other children of varying age groups run along playing in the fields and I relish in the sound of squeals that holds so much delight coming from them.
Children will always hold a soft spot in my heart, no matter if I was Kimberley or Kuina.
"W-wha... you don't mean that, Kuina!" The look of utter shock that crosses the young boy's face has me throwing my head back in peals of laughter. "D-don't laugh! Kuina!"
It hadn't taken long for the boy to become attached to me and me him. It just feels so nice teasing him constantly, and almost every child just to see their reactions.
Days in school pass normally and time in the dojo passes as normally as I think it should in a dojo. I make friends and I get to be closer with my father, and just like that, days turn to weeks that moves to months before finally two years pass in complete bliss. It really couldn't get any better.
Only that it did.
It comes in the form of a grumpy old man and maybe just as old sewing machine that lives on the edge of Shimotsuki village.
"What you staring at, girl?" The voice nearly startles me out of my skin, my hands flying away from the object in front of me and grip at my chest. My eyes immediately find the person that has caused me such a fright to find a very unpleasant expression on a wrinkly face that doesn't stand very much taller than myself.
"I-I... Is this f-for sale?" Pointing at the machine behind me.
The said machine is none other than a Vintage singer sewing machine (I know those anywhere! It's the first machine I had ever sewn with as Kimberley!) and I had seen the black with gold accented machine by just a passing glance.
In the store that seems to mainly sell antiques, the machine sits on a glass case near the window I had seen it through from the road. My hands had been trembling, ready to be placed on the cool metal of the machine just to feel how it felt but had been interrupted by the glaring old man.
"It is."
"How much?" I ask right away, excitement growing in my chest. I had been looking for a sewing machine for about a month now, ever since starting to enter the village by myself. Koshiro didn't let me stray too far though and would be expecting me home any time now, but the thought of finally getting a sewing machine...
"I'm not selling this to you." The old man says, somehow offended. "Do I look like a stupid man that would just give this machine that has been in my family for generations to a little girl of all people?"
Just like that the excitement popped like a burst balloon and is replaced with rising anger.
"Little girl? Have you seen your height, old man? You're barely two inches taller than me!"
"Why you little-!"
.
.
Hamilton Greene is almost sixty-nine and has been around more longer than Koshiro and some of the villagers – even being the man that baby sat some of them including my father. The thought has me staring incredulously up at my amused father as he nods his head rather dramatically.
"Sorry to say, little bird, but your supposed 'arch nemesis' is an old family friend that can be considered your grandfather from how much he has been around in my childhood." Although he tried to make his tone sound apologetic, I narrow my eyes at the twitching of his lips. "Hamilton-san won't let me buy it for you knowing that you're my daughter."
"What? Why not?" That's just crazy. Why wouldn't he let Koshiro purchase it?
"He's kind of-"
"Petty." I mutter and Koshiro laughs, ruffling my hair while my mouth sets into a pout.
"Tell you what, what if I talk to him and see what I can do?" His words have me perking up a bit and I cannot contain my excitement as I tackle him into a hug, nearly throwing us both unto the wooden floor of our home.
"You're the best, Tou-san!"
Although Koshiro when he comes back from his visit of the evil shitty old man, they had come to a compromise where the old man would supervise me in the use of the machine until he thought I was fit to have it.
This leaves my eye twitching because the thought that I; the woman who had once been known as Kimberley Omari - the famous fashion designer of more than six decades -, who had sewn each and every piece of clothing ever produced by her company, who had been called by many famous people as the goddess of the needle...
Need I go on?!
It is rather insulting.
Taking a deep breath, I realize that I'm no longer Kimberley. I'm no longer the owner of a company, I don't even think any of the famous people I had once called friends even existed here due to how different this entire place is –
"So, you wanna buy my sewing machine, eh?" I refrain from glaring as the old man gives me a once over before scuffing. "We'll see if you're worthy for ol' Anastasia!"
"Are you like this with your other customers, old man? No wonder this place always looks so deserted."
"You better watch yer mouth!"
"I'll watch it when you're not the same height as me!"
"I'm taller!"
"By that piece of hair that looks like an antenna stuck to your head, you are."
"Why you-!"
Our days pretty much goes like this every time I come over to the old antique store, even if it's only every Saturday morning the old man agrees to. He critiques everything I do, and my pieces never seem to be 'adequate' enough for him, and I might have thrown a newly sewn shirt at him once in his face. Although I didn't complain when Hamilton started to lecture me on some things like what type of cloth would be more suited to make a certain piece of clothing, because everything was so different.
Shimotsuki village is different, and for some reason I have reason to believe that the outside world is no different.
The feeling of certain materials of cloth are different to what I remember, and some I have never heard of. It's rather scary.
But not as scary as coming into the dojo to find an unfamiliar kid beating the living shit out of one your friends.
.
Well, not scary... more like tense. And I might have been dramatic in the 'beating the living shit' part.
Chris kneels on the floor, sweat pasting his dark shirt to him and his head is bowed as a wooden sword is pointed to him signaling his defeat at the hands of the small green haired kid.
Everyone surrounding the duo are quiet and some even look a bit beat up which leaves me a bit suspicious as to what had transpired before I had entered. I didn't have classes today and had only come in in search of Koshiro to let him know I was home.
"Kuina," My father's voice has me looking to find that he doesn't stand too far from where the two boys have just finished their what can only be a... battle?
"Otou-san..." Eyes have turned to me by now with the gaze of the green haired boy included. My eyes narrow on him for a second before flicking back up to meet Koshiro's gaze. "I just wanted to let you know I was home. I'll leave now."
With Koshiro's nod of consent, I let the door slide close before walking to our home.
Never once have I remembered ever seeing that boy before - I think I would remember someone with green hair! - and he looked to be barely six at the most with how small his body seemed.
But he had somehow been able to take down Chris – someone who his twice his age...
I find myself growing curious, which doesn't surprise me one bit.
I have always been someone who can be a bit nosy.
Curiosity killed the cat... wonder what it would do to the bird?
.
.
Okay so we finally up to date with some editing. Just a note: I know nothing of the way of the sword and most of that stuff is from Wiki and me bullshitting lol. Hope you guys enjoyed! Do review! :)