Chapter 9

"Hey, your footing’s wide open."

"Kh…!?"

The instant I stepped forward to strike at Shindō-sensei, he swept my leg out from under me. I twisted my torso to avoid falling flat on my back, landed on all fours, and jumped backward at the same time. Just then, his foot grazed past my head and struck the floor, sending a deep thud reverberating through the dojo.

"Ohh, you dodged that pretty well."

"If that had landed, my head would’ve been sandwiched between your foot and the floor. My face is my livelihood as an actress, you know—please go easy on me."

We’d been sparring for about an hour now. It was nonstop practice with no time to catch my breath. Sweat glued my training gi to my skin, my heart pounded furiously, and my throat was so dry I felt like I might collapse any second.

Meanwhile, Shindō-sensei stood there calm and composed, not even breathing hard. Well, he hardly had to move.

I charged in, he shifted slightly, and I went flying. Over and over again, that was the pattern.

"I am going easy on you, look."

"Waah—!"

This time he attacked. From his relaxed stance, his hand suddenly shot out toward my collar. Caught off guard, I stumbled back, only to have my foot swept again. My body lifted into the air, and before I could recover, he grabbed my wrist and slammed me down on my back. I barely managed to break my fall with one hand, but in the very next moment his heel pressed lightly against my throat. If this were real, he’d have snapped my neck. But this was training—of course he stopped just short.

"—Cough, cough!"

"If I didn’t hold back, this would’ve been over instantly. Well, good timing anyway. Let’s call it for today."

"Thank you very much… cough."

I bowed to him and ended the session.

I usually trained with Shindō-sensei in the evenings, whenever he wasn’t tied up with work, up until around nine at night. There had been a period when I couldn’t come much because I crammed in too many other lessons, but lately I didn’t have anything else I especially wanted to pursue, so I’d been coming regularly again.

For an actor, the body is your foundation. And honestly, the things I’d learned from Shindō-sensei were what proved most useful in the end.

The other students usually stopped by after work, so the dojo’s real classes hadn’t even started yet. Until then, it was just me and sensei one-on-one—a very concentrated training session.

So concentrated it made me feel like my stomach acid was about to come up.

"Good work, Nana-chan. Want some water?"

"Ah, thank you, Yamashiro-san."

I accepted the cup from Yamashiro-san, another student who had arrived earlier and had been watching our sparring. A water jug was set up in the corner of the dojo so students could drink freely during breaks. Setting it up was also the students’ job—unspoken rule was that whoever arrived first prepared it. Since I was the first one here today, I’d been the one to set it up.

"Aah, that brought me back to life. Thanks for the drink."

"You’ve been putting in a lot of work lately. Got another action film lined up?"

"Not exactly. There was just something I wanted to learn from Shindō-sensei."

"Ah, but isn’t that technique still too early for you? Nobody can really do it except sensei, after all."

"Oh, I can already do it now."

"…Wait, really?"

"Seriously. Though it’s useless in an actual fight. It only works if I focus really hard. …Want me to show you?"

I steadied my breathing and focused. Shutting down my presence, I added subtle rhythm and variation to my movements to distract the eyes, then suddenly slipped around behind him! I reached for Yamashiro-san’s belt from behind—but before I knew it, my wrist was caught, and I was the one thrown.

"H-huh?"

"That’s amazing. You actually pulled it off."

My vision spun as Yamashiro-san flipped me over. I felt myself rotate once, then land softly, gently set down instead of slammed. I’d meant to throw him, but he turned the tables on me.

"Yeah… totally useless in real combat. I can’t do it on the move like sensei, and if I have to stand still and focus that long, I’ll get hit first."

"True enough. But if someone doesn’t see it coming, it works as a surprise attack."

"Maybe… Either way, it served its purpose, so I’m satisfied."

"You got to use it in filming, then?"

"Yes, perfectly. I really looked like I vanished. The dusk lighting helped too."

"…Though, not to be rude—couldn’t they just have used CG?"

"Well, I half-jokingly asked Shindō-sensei if it was possible to make me look like I disappeared. I never imagined he’d actually make it happen. That man’s not normal."

"I don’t think you’re one to talk, Nana-chan."

"I’m perfectly normal."

"Haha, that’s a funny joke."

"I’m perfectly normal."

"Haha, that’s a funny joke."

Right in front of me, the far-from-normal girl Hanamura Nanami-chan pouted, convinced for some reason that she was ordinary.

Nanami-chan was known as "the child actress of the century," starring in countless movies, dramas, and commercials—so much so that there wasn’t a day you wouldn’t see her on TV. She was Japan’s most famous elementary schooler, better known by her stage name: "Hanasaki Nana."

I first met Nana-chan about five years ago, back when I was helping teach a swordfighting-for-kids class run by Shindō-sensei. Among the group of little boys swinging practice swords, one tiny girl, not even school-aged yet, stood out as she earnestly swung her own.

Shindō-ryū kobujutsu was a practical martial arts style, developed by Shindō-sensei who had studied and refined various schools to make them combat-ready. He also ran swordfighting classes for actors at the request of acquaintances, teaching them flashy stage combat only after drilling in the basics. Without fundamentals, accidents happened. For that reason, most girls interested in stage fighting went to much gentler schools, not one like this.

But Nana-chan had trained diligently, drawing attention from everyone. Talented and hardworking, she quickly grew stronger and earned sensei’s favor. One day, she begged him, "Please teach me ninjutsu." Apparently she had landed a ninja role in a movie, and since her co-star boy was incredibly skilled at action, she didn’t want to drag him down.

Even back then, Nana-chan was already far beyond ordinary kids her age. It was hard to even imagine someone more skilled than her.

"Hmm, I don’t know any ninjutsu. But I can teach you acrobatics that look like it."

And then, sensei ran up the wall and clung upside down from the ceiling. Looking closely, he was gripping a protrusion with his toes to keep from falling. It wasn’t something a human should be able to do.

"Amazing! Please teach me that!"

Before filming began, she seemed to have thrown herself into short-term intensive training with sensei. She would show up at the dojo in the morning and by night be so exhausted she’d fall asleep in the corner.

And then, about a week later, when I happened to see her, she and sensei were having an aerial battle in the thicket behind the dojo.

Nana-chan and sensei leapt from tree to tree, each gripping a practice sword modeled after a shinobi blade. Nana-chan used the spring of a branch to slash down at him from above, but sensei deflected her strike, caught her arm as they passed each other, twisted her body up, and slammed her against the trunk. Just as she began to slip, he grabbed her by the collar and carried her back down to the ground.

"Well, if you can do this much, people will think you’re a ninja."

"Th-thank you very much…"

"But what I’ve been teaching you is just flashy acrobatics, nothing more. Don’t get the wrong idea. …Oh, right. You were one of the kids from the stage combat class, weren’t you? Forgot about that."

With a laugh, sensei slung Nana-chan over his shoulder and carried her back to the dojo. When he set her down on the veranda, she was already fast asleep, worn out enough to be breathing peacefully.

"Hmm. Anyway, today’s the last of the special training… though really, there’s nothing left I can teach her in the kids’ swordfighting class. Guess I should start training her properly."

"You mean, at night?"

"Mm, that’s not very realistic with her schedule. I’ll just teach her whenever I have free time."

Free time meant one-on-one with sensei. That was rare. He was in demand from martial artists who came from all over seeking instruction, yet here he was devoting himself to her.

"She’s got talent and guts. Only thing is—shame she’s a girl. Teaching her without risking injury is tough."

"Huh?"

I glanced at Nana-chan. She was in pretty rough shape. Her gi was frayed in places, dirty from rolling on the ground over and over. Still, she’d learned how to fall properly, so aside from a few scrapes on her arms and legs, her face was untouched.

If she were a boy, sensei probably would’ve pushed her even harder. Honestly, maybe it was better for her that she was a girl.

Either way, though, that level of training wasn’t something you gave to a child who had just entered elementary school.

—

Lost in those memories, I noticed Nana-chan beside me filling a cup of water to the brim, placing a leaf on top, and holding her hand over it.

"What are you doing?"

"Since I managed to pull off Zetsu, I thought maybe I could manage Hatsu too."

Zetsu? Hatsu? I had no idea what she was talking about. Probably something from a manga. I didn’t read much manga, so I couldn’t follow.

Every so often, Nana-chan asked sensei whether manga techniques were possible. Things like "Can you project ki into a blast or a beam?" Absurd, really. Sensei would always scoff—though, disturbingly, once in a while he’d actually manage to replicate something.

"Hmm… no change at all. Doesn’t taste any different either. Guess it’s impossible."

"Drinking water with a leaf floating in it is gross."

"Yamashiro-san, have you ever learned any kind of nen from sensei?"

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. I’ve never learned anything like that."

For all her maturity, sometimes Nana-chan said things that were ridiculously childish. Questions like "Do you think this world has superpowers or magic?" or "Do you think aliens or extraterrestrial life exist?" She would ask with an eager sparkle in her eyes, and when I replied, "I don’t think so," she would slump her shoulders in disappointment.

One time I felt sorry for her and said, "Maybe it does," and she lit up, exclaiming, "Really!? I knew it!" She believed me so completely I had to hastily say, "Just kidding," at which point she looked utterly crushed and told me, "I didn’t think Yamashiro-san would be the kind of person to joke about things like that."

Apparently she’d been burned before by taking Shinosaki-san’s jokes seriously, so now I always answer her honestly.

"You ask about that kind of stuff sometimes. Why is that?"

"Well… watching Shindō-sensei makes me think maybe it could be real…"

"Hard to deny that."

Honestly, I sometimes wondered about him myself. He outright ignored the laws of physics.

—

"Ohh! Nana-chan, you’re here!"

"Good morning! Shindō-sensei put me through the wringer."

"If you’ve still got the energy, want to spar?"

"Yes, please!"

While I was resting on the veranda, the older students filed into the dojo for the night session.

Sometimes there were only five or six. At most, around ten. Today there were seven, one of whom invited Nana-chan to spar. Just moments ago she had been gasping for breath, but now she was already back on her feet, squaring off.

Watching, I realized she was testing "that move." She slipped behind her opponent in an instant and threw him. Right, that was just like her. If you knew it was coming, you could counter, but used suddenly like that? Even I would’ve been thrown.

Still, it only worked as a surprise. Getting cocky, she tried it again immediately. This time her initial movement was cut off, and she went flying instead.

—

Originally, the idea was just to train with sensei until the night class began. But before long, she was joining in with the adults even after her one-on-one was done.

Polite, hardworking, and naturally talented—everyone found it rewarding to teach her, so she was constantly being challenged. Because Shindō-sensei had studied and incorporated techniques from many styles, most of the night students came from other martial traditions themselves. Some were even masters in their own right.

Through those consecutive spars, Nana-chan was being drilled in a wide range of martial arts, probably without even realizing it.

—

As I watched from the veranda, Shindō-sensei spoke to me.

"Yamashiro, aren’t you going to spar?"

"Looks like I got left out this round, so I was watching Nana-chan’s match."

"She’s got good instincts, but she’s too straightforward. I keep telling her to mix truth and feint, but she only ever goes straight in."

"True, but for an elementary schooler, that’s incredible. When I was her age, I was hopeless."

"You cried all the time."

"Yeah. At the start, I hated it so much all I thought about was quitting."

Watching Nana-chan now brought back memories.

When I was in grade school, my mother tried to make me a child actor.

She went through a phase where she was obsessed with getting me into the industry.