Chapter 26: A Day of Recovery and Responsibility

Sunday:

The morning sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting faint golden streaks across Josh’s room. He stretched, his muscles protesting with a dull ache. Between his Aikido practice and the lingering effects of Danny’s attack, his body reminded him with every movement that recovery was an ongoing process.

Rolling out of bed, Josh made his way to the small mirror on his dresser. He leaned closer, examining the faint discoloration still visible beneath his eye. The bruising had started to fade, the angry purples now blending into lighter yellows and greens. It wasn’t pretty, but it was progress.

“Not bad,” he muttered to himself, trying to find solace in the fact that things were improving. Still, he couldn’t help but wish for the day he wouldn’t have to see the reminder staring back at him.

The smell of sizzling bacon and freshly brewed coffee drifted up the stairs, coaxing Josh out of his thoughts. He threw on a T-shirt and headed downstairs, where the sounds of pots and pans clinking confirmed his mother was in the kitchen.

“Morning, Mom,” Josh greeted as he stepped into the warm kitchen.

Dorothy turned from the stove, a spatula in hand and a cheerful smile on her face. “Morning, sweetheart. How are you feeling today? Still sore?”

Josh shrugged, taking a seat at the table. “A little, but it’s not as bad as yesterday. Black eye’s starting to look better too.”

Dorothy’s eyes softened as she glanced at him. “That’s good to hear. It’ll be gone before you know it.”

Josh nodded, watching as she flipped a pancake onto a growing stack. The sight of her moving around the kitchen, humming softly to herself, filled him with a quiet sense of gratitude.

“Hey,” Dorothy said, breaking his thoughts. “Can you wake up your brothers? Breakfast will be ready in a few minutes.”

“Sure thing,” Josh replied, pushing back his chair.

Josh trudged back up the stairs, stopping first at Joel’s room. He knocked lightly before pushing the door open to find his older brother sprawled across the bed, his blanket barely hanging on.

“Joel, get up,” Josh said, flicking the light switch.

Joel groaned, burying his face in the pillow. “Five more minutes.”

“Nope. Breakfast is almost ready, and we’ve got yard work to do today.” Josh crossed the room and gave Joel’s foot a light tug. “Come on, lazy. Let’s go.”

Joel grumbled something unintelligible but sat up, rubbing his eyes.

Satisfied, Josh moved on to William’s room. Though only three years older than Josh, William had mastered the art of looking like he’d pulled an all-nighter, his hair sticking up in every direction as he squinted at Josh through half-open eyes.

“Will, time to get up,” Josh called out, leaning against the doorframe.

William pulled the covers over his head with a groan. “Do I have to?”

“Yes, you have to,” Josh replied. “Mom made breakfast, and we’ve got the yard to take care of.”

William peeked out, frowning. “Yard work? Can’t Joel do it? He’s practically an adult.”

“Yeah, and you’re 13, not 3,” Josh shot back. “You can handle a rake, big guy.”

William sighed dramatically but sat up, muttering, “Slave driver.”

Josh smirked, unfazed by his brother’s theatrics. “Trust me, you’ll thank me when it’s done.” By the time Josh returned to the kitchen, his brothers were shuffling in behind him, still bleary-eyed but drawn by the promise of food.

Dorothy had set the table with plates piled high with pancakes, scrambled eggs, and crispy bacon.

“Good timing,” Dorothy said, gesturing for them to sit. “Dig in before it gets cold.”

Joel grabbed a plate, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the food. “This looks awesome, Mom.”

“Thanks,” William added, already reaching for the syrup.

Josh took a seat and served himself, the warm aroma of the meal helping to shake off the last of his lingering fatigue. As they ate, the kitchen buzzed with the sounds of clinking forks and easy conversation.

Joel looked up between bites. “So, what’s the plan for the yard?”

Josh swallowed a piece of bacon before replying. “We’ve got to mow the lawn, pull some weeds, and tidy up the edges. Shouldn’t take too long if we all pitch in.”

William groaned, his fork hovering over his plate. “Do we have to? It’s Sunday.”

“Yes, we have to,” Josh said firmly, though his tone was light. “Besides, it’s not like we’ve got anything better to do. The sooner we get it done, the sooner you can get back to ... whatever it is you do.”

Joel smirked. “Fine, but you’re doing the gross stuff.”

Josh grinned. “Deal.”

Once the plates were cleared and the dishes stacked in the sink, Dorothy turned to Josh. “Thanks for rallying the troops. It’s nice to see you boys working together.”

Josh smiled, grabbing a dish towel to dry his hands. “No problem, Mom. We’ll get it done.”

As he headed toward the back door to start gathering supplies, he paused. Glancing back at his brothers, who were still lingering at the table, he called out, “Let’s move it, guys. The yard’s not going to take care of itself.”

Joel groaned but got to his feet, while William muttered something under his breath about “slave labor.”

Josh laughed, shaking his head. “Trust me, you’ll survive.”

Josh stood in the backyard with his brothers, surveying the tools laid out in front of them. The lawn mower gleamed faintly under the sunlight, the weed whacker leaned against the shed, and a few sturdy buckets sat nearby. Josh ran a hand through his hair, still stiff from his training session with Mr. Chang and the lingering bruises from Danny’s attack.

“Alright, here’s the plan,” Josh said, clapping his hands together. “Joel, you’re in charge of the weed whacker. Go around the edges, clean up by the tree, and make sure it all looks sharp.”

Joel frowned, squinting against the sunlight. “Why do I get the loud one? You know that thing eats gas like crazy.”

“Because you’re the oldest, and I trust you not to hit anything important,” Josh shot back, grinning.

Joel rolled his eyes but grabbed the weed whacker. “Fine. But if I run out of gas, it’s your problem.”

“Noted,” Josh replied, turning to William. “Will, you’re on the lawn mower. Make sure to keep the lines straight. None of that random zig-zagging you tried that one time.”

William crossed his arms, feigning indignation. “Hey, those ‘random zig-zags’ were called creativity.”

Josh smirked. “And Mom called it ‘messy.’ Straight lines, Will.”

“Fine,” William said with a mock huff, dragging the lawn mower toward the yard.

Josh grabbed a pair of gloves and a bucket, kneeling by the flower bed near the porch. The weeds had crept in. “Guess I’m stuck with the glamorous job,” he muttered to himself, tugging on the gloves and yanking at the stubborn weeds.

For the next hour, the brothers worked in tandem, the sound of the mower blending with the hum of the weed whacker. Josh pulled weed after weed, his gloves stained with dirt as he methodically worked through the flower bed. Occasionally, he’d glance over at Joel, who was carefully trimming the edges with the weed whacker, his face set in concentration.

“Looking good, Joel!” Josh called out, pulling another handful of weeds.

Joel paused, giving him a thumbs-up. “Don’t jinx it. One wrong move and this thing’ll take out half the garden.”

William, meanwhile, pushed the lawn mower with a surprising level of focus, the neat rows of freshly cut grass leaving the yard looking pristine. As he finished a section, he wiped his brow and called out, “Hey, Josh! Do I get a raise for this?”

Josh laughed, shaking his head. “Sure. I’ll double your current rate.”

William smirked. “Zero times two is still zero, you know.”

“Exactly,” Josh replied, grinning.

By the time the hour was up, the yard looked immaculate. The flower beds were weed-free, the lawn was evenly cut, and the edges were crisp and clean. Josh stood up, stretching his sore muscles as he surveyed their work.

“Not bad,” he said, nodding in approval.

Joel leaned on the weed whacker, wiping sweat off his forehead. “Not bad? This is professional-level work. We should start charging the neighbors.”

William chuckled, steering the mower back toward the shed. “Yeah, let’s call it ‘Harlow Landscaping.’ Think Mom will let us put up a sign in the yard?”

After putting away the tools, Joel and William grabbed their bikes, eager to meet up with their friends.

“We’re heading out,” Joel said, slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “You good here, Josh?”

“Yeah, go ahead,” Josh replied, waving them off. “Try not to get into too much trouble.”

“No promises,” Joel said with a grin before pedaling away.

William followed, calling out, “Don’t forget to take a break, slave driver!”

Josh laughed, shaking his head as they disappeared down the street.

He headed back inside, his body aching from both the yard work and his training session the day before. The first thing he did was take a long, hot shower, letting the water soothe his stiff muscles. As the steam filled the bathroom, he closed his eyes, replaying the lessons he’d learned from sensei Chang.

After drying off and getting dressed, Josh looked around his room and noticed his bed. The sheets were rumpled, and he realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d washed his bedding. With a shrug, he decided it was time.

He stripped the bed, bundling up the sheets and pillowcases. Carrying the load downstairs, he passed his mother in the kitchen, who was tidying up after breakfast.

Dorothy glanced at the bundle in his arms, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. “Are those your sheets?”

Josh nodded, tossing them into the washing machine. “Yeah. Figured it was about time to give them a wash.”

Dorothy smiled faintly, leaning against the counter. “I’m impressed. Most kids your age don’t even think about things like that.”

Josh shrugged, starting the machine. “Just seemed like something that needed to be done.”

“Well, it’s appreciated,” she said, her voice warm.

Once the washer was running, Josh turned to his mother. “Is there anything else you need me to do?”

Dorothy shook her head. “No, I’ve got most of it handled. Why don’t you take a break for once?”

Josh hesitated for a moment before deciding to take her advice. “I think I’ll head over to Mr. Johnson’s and see how he’s doing.”

Dorothy nodded, wiping her hands on a towel. “Alright. Have fun, and tell Leonard I said hi.”

“I will,” Josh replied, grabbing his shoes and heading out the door.

The walk to Mr. Johnson’s house was peaceful, the sun shining brightly overhead. Josh’s mind wandered as he made his way down the familiar streets, thinking about the past few days. The yard work had been a welcome distraction, but he couldn’t shake the lingering soreness from both Danny’s attack and his training session with Sensei Chang.

By the time he reached Mr. Johnson’s porch, the older man was already sitting outside in his usual chair, a cup of tea in hand, and an old paperback novel resting on the small table beside him.

Josh waved as he approached. “Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson.”

Mr. Johnson looked up from his book, his weathered face breaking into a warm smile. “Josh! Good to see you. What brings you by today?”

Josh climbed the steps, taking a seat in one of the other chairs. “I just wanted to check in, see how you’re doing. And, well ... I wanted to tell you about my first lesson with Sensei Chang.”

Mr. Johnson’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Ah, so you’ve started training, have you? How was it?”

Josh leaned back in his chair, the wood creaking slightly under his weight. “It was amazing. I mean, it was a lot to take in, but I already feel like I’ve learned so much. Sensei Chang really knows his stuff. He started with some basics about Aikido—like how it’s about harmony and redirecting energy instead of just brute force. He also gave me some history about its founder, Morihei Ueshiba, and how Aikido’s principles came from both martial and spiritual philosophies.”

Mr. Johnson nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Sounds like you’ve got yourself a good teacher there. Aikido, huh? That’s not just about fighting—it’s a whole way of life.”

Josh grinned. “That’s what Sensei said. He talked about how it’s about protecting life and finding balance. It’s a lot to wrap my head around, but I like it.”

Mr. Johnson sipped his tea before setting the cup down. “It’s good that you’re learning that early. Balance is key to everything. You can’t go charging in without thinking, especially when lives are at stake.”

Josh tilted his head. “Was that something they taught you in the military?”

Mr. Johnson’s smile faded slightly, replaced by a look of distant remembrance. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Oh, they taught us plenty, all right. Basic training back in my day wasn’t just about physical fitness—it was about preparing your mind and body for the kind of challenges most folks can’t even imagine.”

Josh listened intently, leaning closer. “What was it like?”

Mr. Johnson chuckled softly. “Grueling, for one. They’d wake us up before dawn, yelling at the top of their lungs, and have us running miles before breakfast. And it wasn’t just about endurance—it was about discipline. You had to learn to follow orders without hesitation, no matter how tired or scared you were.”

He paused, his gaze distant. “They’d put us through obstacle courses, make us crawl under barbed wire while live rounds were being fired overhead. The idea was to simulate the chaos of the battlefield so that when the time came, you wouldn’t freeze up.”

Josh’s eyes widened. “That sounds intense.”

Mr. Johnson nodded. “It was. But it wasn’t just about building toughness. It was about building trust—trust in your comrades and trust in yourself. You had to know that the person next to you had your back, just like you had theirs.”

Josh hesitated before asking, “And the field medic training? What was that like?”

A faint smile returned to Mr. Johnson’s face. “That was a whole different kind of challenge. They taught us how to patch up wounds, set broken bones, and keep someone alive long enough to get them to proper medical care. It wasn’t just about knowing how to do it—it was about staying calm under pressure. You’d be out there, bullets flying, explosions all around, and you had to focus on saving someone’s life.”

Josh was silent for a moment, taking it all in. “That must have been terrifying.”

Mr. Johnson met his gaze, his expression steady. “It was. But you learn to push through the fear. You have to, because someone’s life depends on it. And when you succeed, when you bring someone back from the brink, it makes all the fear worth it.”

Josh thought about that for a moment before asking, “Did they ever teach you hand-to-hand combat? Like ... anything similar to Aikido?”

Mr. Johnson chuckled. “Not exactly. They taught us the basics—how to defend ourselves if we were disarmed. But back then, it was more about quick, brutal efficiency. No fancy techniques, just whatever got the job done. Still, the principles of balance and using your opponent’s strength against them—that’s something you could see in any good fighter, whether they were trained in Aikido, boxing, or even street fighting.”

Josh nodded slowly. “That makes sense. Sensei said something similar about finding balance and redirecting energy.”

Mr. Johnson leaned back, his smile returning. “Well, sounds like you’re off to a good start. Just remember, it’s not about how fast you can learn or how strong you can get. It’s about understanding the principles and applying them to every part of your life.”

Josh smiled. “Thanks, Mr. Johnson. That means a lot.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of birds chirping and a gentle breeze rustling through the trees filling the air. Josh felt a sense of peace sitting there with Mr. Johnson, grateful for his guidance and wisdom.

Finally, Mr. Johnson broke the silence. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Josh. Keep at it, and you’ll go far. And if you ever want to learn a thing or two from this old man, just let me know.”

Josh grinned. “I might take you up on that, Mr. Johnson. Thanks for everything.”

Mr. Johnson nodded, his eyes twinkling. “Anytime, son. Anytime.”

As Josh approached his house, the faint glow of the porch light greeted him, but it was the unmistakable aroma of La Choy Beef Chow Mein that caught his attention. The savory scent of soy sauce and beef filled the air.

Opening the door, Josh was welcomed by the warm, familiar sounds of home—pots clanging lightly in the kitchen and the faint hum of the radio playing an oldies tune. His mother, Dorothy, stood at the stove, stirring the contents of a large pan.