Chapter 2

Kenji sits at the steps of the great hall, gripping the decorative fabric around Ichiro's bento. He looks behind him at the elaborate building in the center of the town square. Somewhere inside, Ichiro sits through another one of those boring council meetings. 

Today's meeting is supposed to have ended already, but it seems as though Ichiro might come out later than usual. On the bright side, it is no longer snowing, and a few clouds dot the midday sky. 

He puts the bento box down next to him before unsheathing his sword. Kenji examines the sharp edge of his blade as it catches a glint of the sun. Smiling to himself, he imagines it slicing through enemies with only the slightest effort. 

Kenji knows without a doubt that with this weapon, he can help with whatever they are talking about in there. He can be there for his brother and the village. Gone are the days of him loitering around at home doing simple katas and breathing exercises. Once Ichiro sees him with this sword, he is going to take him on missions for sure!

He perks up when the double doors open, watching the stream of councilmen walk past him and down the steps. They spare him little more than a glance, deeming him unimportant. He sheaths his sword and takes the bento box before moving out of the older gentlemens' way. 

The young boy searches for his brother's tall frame amongst the group. Just when his hope begins to wane, Kenji spots Ichiro: he is one of the last people to step out of the great hall. Ichiro approaches a wall and leans against it, massaging his temples. He whips out a pen, takes off its cap with his teeth, and jots a note down on his forearm.

Meanwhile, Kenji weaves his way through the crowd, stopping in front of his older brother. Kenji tilts his head, wondering what could have Ichiro so zoned out. In fact, he is so distracted, he gives no visible reaction to Kenji's presence.

"Hey, Ichiro!"

Ichiro finishes writing before stowing away the pen and rolling down his sleeve. His demeanor completely changes as he looks up at Kenji, lips curling into a small smile.

The younger brother snickers, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

"You still haven't bought a diary?"

Ichiro adjusts his sleeve again. "This is more convenient."

"Auntie told me to bring you lunch today!" Kenji sings, presenting the bento box.

"I'll thank her tomorrow."

Ichiro smiles as he accepts the lunch. His gaze lowers to look at the sword on Kenji's waist and his smile morphs into a frown. Kenji follows his brother's eyes and nervously chuckles. 

"Is there anything you want to tell me?" Ichiro asks, lifting a brow.

Stalling for time, Kenji clears his throat.

 "Auntie made me a sword," he croaks, pretending to not hear his voice crack. "Doesn't it look cool?!"

"Yeah, it's a well-made sword. Now come on, let's go home."

Descending the steps and starting down the familiar dirt road, Ichiro leads the way. Kenji turns around and hurries after him, short legs struggling to keep up with his brother's longer strides.

After a few minutes of silence, Kenji probes, "Y'know, I'll be twelve next Monday."

He stares at his brother's back, waiting for him to reply. Ichiro only nods, saying nothing. Kenji clutches the fabric of his haori, gulping before getting to the point.

"You'll take me with you, right? To the Wind Daimyō?"

"No."

The words hit him in a flat, unforgiving tone. All of his dreams about going on a mission with his brother shatter in an instant, making tears sting his eyes. But he doesn't cry. He can't. Sucking in a breath, Kenji stops in the middle of the road and stares at his brother's back. 

"Why?"

In response to the emotional plea, Ichiro offers him a brief glance. 

"Kenjiro, we've talked about this before." 

Kenji's eyes narrow. "No, we haven't! Not really. You always just tell me I'm not ready." He grits his teeth. "I'm ready! I've already learned the Watanabe style, and I'm old enough!" 

He takes a step forward for emphasis, beating his chest.

"You aren't ready!" Ichiro snaps, shaking his head. "No matter how many times you say it, you're not."

Still not backing down, Kenji looks up at his brother, eyes wide. He realizes he can't remember the last time Ichiro yelled at him. Still, he knows that if he can't convince him now, he might never. Kenji's expression brightens when an idea comes to mind.

"So let me prove it!" the determined boy says, blocking his brother's path. "Spar with me!"

"Absolutely not. You know I don't have time."

Ichiro nudges Kenji out of his way and attempts to keep walking, but before he can take another step, Kenji gets in his way again.

"It's been so long since we last sparred, and you're usually free after those meetings, right?"

No answer. Emboldened by this, Kenji continues. Silence wasn't a yes, but it also wasn't a no.

"If I win, then you have no excuse to keep me here."

Ichiro lets out a puff of air. "Kenji, please cut it out."

"No!"

A moment of silence stretches between them. 

"Why do you keep holding me back?" Kenji cries. 

Ichiro looks at him for what feels like an eternity. Kenji can tell he is thinking something, but he has no idea what is on Ichiro's mind.

"Fine," the agitated older brother relents.

Kenji shouts in excitement and gives Ichiro a hug, which he doesn't resist. His brother gently pats his back.

"Thank you!" he says. "You'll see, Ichiro. I'm ready, I promise!"

"Yes, yes. Hold on a sec. Let me eat my bento first."

Ichiro resumes his walk while Kenji hums a tune at his side. He opens the bento box and takes a bite of rice without breaking stride. 

Ichiro leads Kenji toward the dojo, wiping stray rice off his cheek and closing his now empty bento.

Kenji giggles excitedly to himself as he slides the door open, determination burning in his veins. He rushes inside, stopping in front of a rack of wooden blades known as bokken. Pinging with nervous energy, he snatches up one of the blades and almost trips on his way to the sparring mat.

"Slow down! You might fall."

Ichiro chuckles, shaking his head as he deposits his empty lunchbox and other belongings against the far wall. Indifferent to his brother's advice, Kenji barrels over to the opposite side of the dojo and takes an offensive stance. Ichiro picks out a bokken of his own and stands across the mat from his brother. Kenji watches Ichiro fall into the standard Watanabe style stance, his eyes almost closed.

"If you land one clean hit. I'll consider taking you with me. Deal?"

Kenji's stance falters.

"That isn't how we normally spar." he objects "You sure that isn't too easy? You're not tricking me, are you?"

Ichiro maintains his stance, scoffing at the accusation. "I would never." 

Kenji snorts. "Yeah right."

Ichiro offers a sly smile. "We gonna do this or what?"

Kenji shakes himself back into focus and falls into the stance he knows all too well. Uncle Benjiro drilled the technique into him every morning for the last few years, after all. Without a word, Kenji lunges, a gust of wind following in his wake.

Their swords collide with a resounding crack. Meeting resistance, Kenji grits his teeth and applies pressure against Ichiro's guard. His brother's blade refuses to budge. Kenji's balance is thrown off by a parry from Ichiro that's so strong, it sends him skidding backward.

Closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye, Ichiro chops Kenji on the back of the neck and he collapses to the floor. Determined as ever, Kenji hisses in defiance and opens his eyes to the sight of his brother's blade pointed squarely at his face. The initial shock of realizing he's been bested causes him to flinch for a moment. Then he bats away the bokken and charges in with his own.

Water chakra coats Ichiro's free hand and converges on the oncoming blade, catching it in midair before twisting the weapon with considerable force.

Kenji stumbles, but doesn't let go even as the water jostles him around. He has only just found his footing when Ichiro's blade touches his neck.

"Is that all?" Ichiro taunts. "You've lost twice."

Kenji stays silent, unbothered by the provocation. He takes a breath and settles back into his neutral stance.

"This time I'll hit you for sure," he says while coating the soles of his feet with water chakra. The age-old words associated with this special technique come to mind in an instant, filling him with conviction.

'Watanabe Style, Act 2!'

Zipping around his brother, Kenji takes a swipe without giving him time to analyze his movements. The determined youth despairs as his elder brother casually backsteps, just enough that the bokken only grazes his white kimono.

"Does a graze count?" he calls over his shoulder while sliding out of range.

"I said a solid hit, Kenjiro. Besides, I wouldn't even count that as a graze." 

Kenji frowns at his dumb brother. "You're just going to say everything doesn't count, aren't you?"

Ichiro gives a mocking smirk and shrugs.

The sparring continues. Every time Kenji attacks, Ichiro either blocks or dodges. The afternoon wears on with Kenji becoming progressively more out of breath. 

"I…hate…you…" he rasps, resting both hands on his knees. He glances up at his training sword, which is tucked under Ichiro's arm.

"Just…just one last try!"

Kenji tries to rise, but stumbles and falls. For a moment, he thinks that he sees his brother trying to catch him. Then he hits the floor, his outstretched arms absorbing some of the impact.

Ichiro stares down at him with a blank expression. "With what sword?"

"I'm…I'm gonna leave, and you can't stop me."

Kenji glares at Ichiro, holding back his tears as he focuses on the frustration building up inside him.

Ichiro sighs as the swords clatter to the ground. He crouches to look Kenji in the eyes. "You aren't a prisoner here." He wipes a tear from his cheek.

Kenji lets out a wry chuckle, pushing the comforting hand away. "Sure, whatever. It's not like I can leave." 

Ichiro's expression softens, and he hesitates for a moment, his half-lidded eyes studying his younger sibling. "Kenji, it's…it's not like that."

"But it is!" Kenji's words stop his brother as his vision blurs with tears. "After mom and dad's…" He swallows. "I've done nothing! Y-you're busy all the time, and all I can do is watch!" He shies away from his brother's gaze, "The stupid council controls you and you…you don't even have time to paint anymore!" He fails to slow his breathing or stop his tears from falling, shaking with raw emotion. "It's my fault! If I wasn't so–"

Ichiro lays a firm hand on Kenji's shoulder. "Kenji, no! You aren't a burden. Never."

The dejected boy looks into his eyes and feels a new sense of determination welling up in him. "I'm not sitting around. Not anymore."

"Kenji," he hears his brother speak, the voice soft but powerful, "I know where you're coming from."

"You do?"

Ichiro nods, but his expression hardens. "Still, going out there is suicide. I don't want to lose you."

Unconvinced, Kenji's resolve to resist crying crumbles–he laughs through a messy flow of tears. "You're awful, Ichiro."

"I know."

A wistful chuckle is all Ichiro can manage as he hugs his brother. Kenji relaxes into his powerful, sturdy chest. Some of the emotions roiling within Kenji subside, thanks to the familiar sensation of resting against the high-quality fabric of Ichiro's uniform.

"Let's go home," Kenji whispers into the fabric, his voice muffled.

Nodding, Ichiro scoops his little brother up and carries him back to their house.

The next morning, silence fills Kenji's empty bedroom.