It would do me no good to claw my way through the jungle to reach the summit. If it had been that easy, I would have accomplished the task of picking off the Abe-kai lackeys one by one before I was twenty years old. I would have to devise a plan that would strategically bring me in close proximity with the boss. Close enough proximity that the end of my knife could reach him. I wasn't sure what taking out the root of Abe-kai's evil would do, what repercussions it would set loose, but mainly I was concerned that I would be assassinated on the spot, should I succeed. The thought that I could be hurt or killed in some situation was never one that surfaced as a survival instinct before, and I had a feeling it was strongly related to my presence suddenly being important to another human being. The thought put fear into the back of my mind, and fear I knew always lead to hesitation. Hesitation always presented itself at the most inopportune time.

I admitted that I was angry, and it was clouding my judgement, but I was content enough to just allow it. I wanted to relax into it. I wanted to let it overtake me. I thought it wasn't enough to take the time to dissect Abe-kai's plans, to seek out the mole in Oda-kai, to make examples of the low ranking members who I always forgave without punishment. I was too old and jaded for all that. I wondered if sprinting straight to the top would decrease the value of the work I did there. If I passed the ultimate test but didn't show my work, would it be as great of a success? I wanted to leave the rest of the syndicate reeling, frantically looking at their surroundings, evaluating their failures. I wanted them to second guess the quality of their lives and the decisions they had made just like I did.

The alarm sounded only a short time later, at six in the morning. Training began at eight. It had been her bed previously, then it had transitioned to mine, but whatever bed I woke up in with her, I never wanted to leave it. It signified a whole new world where the chaos around me couldn't reach, and I could exist in the normality of the real world with a person who simply loved me without any real reason.

With effort, I began to push myself away from her to exit the bed, but her fingers hooked around the top of the waistband of my sweatpants gave me pause. I met her gaze somewhat reluctantly. I knew what would happen if those eyes would ask me something. "Good morning." I said to her gently forming smile. It was only to distract myself. "It's training day."

To my surprise, she let me go, covered her face with both hands and rolled over in an exaggerated effort to remove herself from the bed as well. It seemed she wanted to take training seriously, like she could read my mind and untangle all the wild thoughts that had kept me from sleeping.

Sensei was opening the doors of the club as we arrived at seven thirty. The sun was still struggling to rise, and the sky was dark red, as a warning that rain would come in. He bid us good morning and I gave Ito a gentle push to encourage her to make her way inside. "Get changed, I'll meet you on the floor." I told her.

"I don't know what it is about you this morning, Obata, but I feel like I need to call you Phoenix again." Sensei said. I hadn't expected that I was eminating the energy of the rage that I felt, but Sensei knew how to read people. He was certainly no stranger to my uncertain personality traits. "You should train with me today."

I stood at the top of the line at the opening of the session, wearing my hakama training pants and a t-shirt. Three other participants braved the early morning to join the class, all of lower ranking members of Oda-kai who were either training to become better Yakuza, or making an appearance frequently just to be seen. Sensei introduced the drills, and I trusted his judgement with a watchful eye as he paired one of the men with Ito for practice.

Then, he turned his attention to me. I saw nothing but him. The entire background of my existence blurred around him. He reached for the hem of his t-shirt as he closed the distance between us and lifted it over his head, revealing his syndicate tattoo. A dragon covered his back, twisting and winding it's way over the expanse of him, joined by vast chrysanthemums on each shoulder and both sides of his chest. I quickly removed my t-shirt, tossing it into the corner of the training floor, and raised my hands as I stepped one foot back a few inches to prepare to stabilize myself.

Sensei's strikes were precise, clean, to the point, with no extra effort expended in contrast to me. He was a bigger man than I was, rooted to his position, without any ability to move him where he didn't want to be moved. I danced, because I was no tree, but rather a bird at the mercy of the wind. He would strike, and I would defend. I would dance, confuse him, and strike when I knew I could hit hard. I felt eyes on us, as we hollered and cursed at each other, then laughed, bowed, and turned vicious again. By the end of the practice round, thirty minutes later, both Sensei and myself were slick with sweat, and we picked up our t-shirts from the floor to wipe our faces.

Sensei's hand landed with a familiar heaviness atop my shoulder. "You haven't lost your agility." He said, laughing. It had been a long time since I had seen him laugh in such a way, and I took some sense of pride in being the reason for it. "You need to rediscover your strength. You've gotten timid."

I nodded to him in understanding, and he called for us to form the starting line again, to receive instruction for the next drill. As I took my place, it felt as if Sensei and I shared some kind of secret that we were both amused by, and amused even further by keeping the secret from the rest of the line.

At twelve noon, the class was dismissed. I made my way to the end of the line with my arms outstretched to Ito, who fell into them without a second thought about the layer of sweat across my skin. "You did great today." I told her. I could feel the exhaustion in her body. "I was watching." It was true that I had kept one eye on her to be sure I could trust the man appointed to train with her. But I discovered that I could not.

"Thanks, you were something to be seen." She said into my neck. I gave her a gentle sway with my body. "What was that?"

I breathed a laugh, excited that she had witnessed the fighter in me, and that she had complimented it. "That was Sensei and I not willing to admit that we beat each other." I grabbed her shoulders and lifted her from me, knowing that she would stay for the remainder of the day if I didn't encourage her to keep moving. "Get cleaned up. I have to go to the headquarters house for a couple hours. I'll make sure you get home."

"I'm going to the upscale cafe in the first district to do school work, since I can't go to my job." Her tone was playful, intended to sound like she was being sarcastic, but I understood the sincerity in her comment.

"Fine, then I'll make sure you get there safely."

I watched her exit the training floor and disappear into the changing room before I made any effort to move from my position. "What time do you finish work tonight?" Sensei's voice crawled into my awareness.

"I have to go to HQ, but I'm not doing anything special tonight." I told him. "Plotting. Unravelling. Setting up my next move. I can do that from anywhere."

Sensei nodded. He was all too aware of what my life consisted of. "Come back here after dark, then. Let's brush up on some things."

I knew what he meant. He understood that to make things change, life would have to get difficult, and he was willing to offer his help. "Thank you, Sensei, I will look forward to it."

"Do some stretches before then. We worked hard today."

I was about to let him exit my field of view, when I remembered. "Sensei, with regret, I'm about to make a terrible mess of the men's changing room. But I'll call my cleaner right away."

He waved a hand as if to dismiss me, without slowing his walk. "Whatever you have to do, Obata."