Pt. 1

Life sucked.

Life sometimes had those rough patches where it seemed like everything wasn’t going your way but as people say, it isn’t how hard you fight to get back up or something like that.

Whoever said that clearly never got fired from a job on short notice.

Not just any job, either, it was the job. The one you built your entire routine, self-respect, and sleep schedule around. It was more or less the only job for someone who grew up learning how to fight other kids and staying at the back of school with a bunch of other delinquents.

You sat back up from what seemed like hours of looking at the blank ceiling of your cramped up apartment. Grabbing the letter from the coffee table, you reread it again and again until you felt reality hit.

You were fired.

There it was in perfect, polite corporate phrasing

“Your services are no longer required.”

No thank-you for the late nights, the near-misses, or the time you took a thrown water bottle to the face from a drunk fan. Just a signature at the bottom and a cold stamp from the agency.

You snorted.

“Professional restructuring,” they called it. That was a fancy way of saying, you’re disposable.

The pay had been good. The schedule? Miserable. The person you guarded? …complicated.

She was every kind of trouble wrapped in expensive perfume and late-night filming schedules. The kind who smiled at the cameras like she was born for it, but left her phone in every dressing room known to mankind.

And you were the one who picked up after her.

Until you weren’t.

You tossed the letter aside and rubbed your eyes. The ceiling hadn’t changed, and neither had your bank balance. You were out of a job, out of options, and two weeks away from being out of rent.

Then you heard your phone ring and vibrate against the table.

A part of you wished it was the company calling and saying that they’ll take you back but another part didn’t exactly agree. Maybe this was a blessing in disguise.

You looked at the screen and groaned, it was only your sister.

Rei is calling!

Staring at the screen for another second, you finally swiped on the green button and pressed it against your ear.

“What do you want?” You said, trying to not sound as miserable as you already were.

“Jeez, what happened to you? You sound grumpier than usual.”

“I got fired,” you said bluntly, letting the words hang in the air like wet laundry.

There was a pause on the other end. Then, your sister sighed, long and exaggerated. “Figures. Figures it had to be that job. Honestly, you were probably too good at it. Agencies hate competent people.”

You raised an eyebrow, even though she couldn’t see it. “Too good? I got tossed aside like yesterday’s leftovers.”

Her laugh echoed through the speaker, warm and teasing. “Well since I’m sure you have nothing else to do today, why don’t you head over to the dojo? Dad has been looking for you, y'know. Says you’ve been ignoring his messages again.”

You groaned, rubbing your face with the heel of your hand. “The dojo. Right. Because getting hit by strangers with a wooden stick is exactly what I needed in my day.”

“You say that like you didn’t do it for fun back then,” She teased. “Anyways, while you’re at it, maybe swing by the diner too. I’m short on delivery staff, well delivery man and honestly, you moving around a bit beats lying on the couch looking miserable.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Delivery man now? Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously!” She said, her voice sharp with that unmistakable mix of sisterly nagging and amusement. “You can still use your…unique skills. Think of it as still being a bodyguard. Only instead of protecting someone’s life, you’re protecting miso soup and bento boxes from falling on the street.”

You leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling again. From bodyguard to food courier. Fantastic.

“Fine,” you muttered. “I’ll do it. Happy?”

“Ecstatic!” she said, laughing. “I knew you’d see reason. Now go before I come over there myself and drag you out.”

“But.” You said into the phone, standing up from the couch slowly. “As long as I still get pay.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll reward my younger brother handsomely, whatever. Just come over once you’re done with Dad’s place.” Rei replied before the call beeped and ended in his hands.

By the time you finished your morning routine, if you could call it that, the sun had finally risen high up in the sky. You squinted your eyes as you stepped foot outside and tapped your foot on the floor to fit in the old pair of sneakers you wore.

The trip wasn’t that long, just a brisk walk through the city and a stroll through quiet neighborhoods and you finally reached the wooden building that stood out like a sore thumb between houses.

You pushed open the sliding door, and the familiar scent of tatami mats and polished wood hit you immediately. The dojo was quiet—too quiet—and for a moment you wondered if your father had gone on one of his legendary early-morning walks without telling anyone.

“Oi! You finally decided to show up!” a gruff voice called from the back. Your father emerged from the shadows, wooden practice sword in hand, clearly looking far too enthusiastic for this hour.

“Morning, Dad,” You muttered, trying to sound casual while secretly questioning every life choice that led you here.

“Didn’t think you’d actually come by again. Last I heard you were really busy. Is it your day off today?” He said, jabbing the air with his sword.

You gulped, nodding your head reluctantly. “Guess you could say that.”

He snorted, clearly unconvinced, and waved you toward the back room where some of your old sparring partners were warming up. You took one last deep breath and reminded yourself this wasn’t the worst part of your day. That honor still went to the pile of delivery orders waiting at your sister’s diner.

By the time you finished your half-hearted practice, dodging, blocking, and occasionally taking a deliberate hit to your ribs just to get it over with, you were drenched in sweat and vaguely miserable. But at least the dojo portion of your day was done.

You sat down on the floor, heaving in and out breaths of air that came in heavily. You felt someone sit beside you and looking over, it was your father who sat down cross-legged.

“I got fired today. Just got the letter in the mail earlier.” You said, in one breath.

Your father didn’t respond right away. He simply let out a low hum, eyes fixed on the floorboards ahead, the kind of silence that filled every inch of the dojo. For a man who could break a shinai over your head without blinking, he was oddly careful when it came to words.

“Welcome to life.” He said, stifling a laugh.

You turned your head, unsure of what he just said.