Chapter 28: Stepping into Routine

Tuesday:

Josh stirred in his bed, the morning light filtering through his window and casting golden streaks across his room. He stretched, feeling the satisfying pull of muscles still slightly sore from Aikido practice and the yard work over the weekend.

When he finally rolled out of bed and glanced at the clock, he realized the house was unusually quiet. A quick peek down the hall confirmed it—his brothers had already left for school, and his mother was off to work.

“Guess it’s just me,” he muttered, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

Josh headed downstairs, where the kitchen smelled faintly of the coffee his mom had brewed earlier that morning. He grabbed a bowl and his favorite cereal, pouring the crunchy pieces into the bowl with a satisfying clatter before adding milk.

As he ate, he looked out the window at the backyard, replaying some of the forms he’d practiced the night before. He thought about the journey ahead—his progress in Aikido, the possibilities for school advancement, and even the changes in his family dynamic since Danny’s departure.

Finishing his cereal, Josh rinsed his bowl and grabbed a glass of orange juice, sipping it thoughtfully. The day ahead seemed ordinary, but he was learning to appreciate those quiet moments of normalcy.

Before heading out, Josh packed his bag for school. He grabbed his books, notebooks, and a change of clothes—his workout gear for Aikido practice. Running to the dojo after school was going to be his new routine, and he wanted to start preparing his body for the challenges Sensei Chang would bring.

Sliding his backpack over one shoulder, he stepped out into the crisp morning air. The familiar route to school stretched before him, and he set off at an easy pace, letting his thoughts drift as his feet carried him forward.

The school day unfolded with the comforting predictability of routine. Josh greeted his teacher, Mrs. Thomson, as he entered the classroom, exchanging a friendly smile before settling into his seat.

The morning lessons passed smoothly. Math drills, spelling exercises, and a science experiment about magnetism kept the class engaged. Josh participated actively, enjoying the balance between applying his knowledge and helping his classmates when they struggled.

At lunch, Josh joined his friends at the long cafeteria tables. The smell of hot pizza and fries wafted through the air as he grabbed a tray and made his way through the line. The slice of pizza was slightly uneven, the fries a little under-seasoned, but it didn’t matter. Lunch was a time to relax and laugh, a break from the steady hum of lessons.

Recess followed, and Josh spent most of the time observing rather than joining the games of tag or basketball. He was saving his energy for the run after school, though he couldn’t help but smile at the carefree joy his classmates radiated.

The afternoon flew by with reading comprehension exercises and a history lesson about early explorers. By the time the final bell rang, Josh felt a mix of satisfaction and anticipation for what lay ahead.

Josh changed into his workout clothes in the school restroom—a plain T-shirt and comfortable athletic shorts—and stepped out into the warm afternoon. The dojo wasn’t far, but instead of walking, he planned to run. Building cardio endurance was one of the keys to getting the most out of his Aikido training, and he wanted to push himself.

He adjusted the straps of his backpack, ensuring it wouldn’t bounce too much as he ran, and set off at a steady jog.

The streets blurred by as his pace quickened. The rhythmic sound of his sneakers hitting the pavement merged with the distant hum of traffic and the chirping of birds. He felt the burn in his legs, the steady thump of his heart in his chest, and the rush of air filling his lungs.

“Just keep going,” he muttered to himself, focusing on maintaining a consistent rhythm.

The run wasn’t easy—his body wasn’t used to this level of sustained exertion yet—but Josh found it oddly exhilarating. The combination of physical effort and the mental clarity it brought felt like a step toward something greater.

When the familiar building of Sensei Chang’s dojo came into view, Josh slowed his pace, his breath coming in deep, measured gulps. The simple yet purposeful structure, with its neatly painted exterior and the iconic kanji symbol for Aikido near the entrance, gave him a sense of focus.

“Well, that’s one way to get here,” he said to himself, wiping sweat from his brow with the hem of his shirt. The rhythmic pounding of his feet had stopped, but his heart continued to race as he stood outside, catching his breath.

Josh took a moment to center himself, gazing at the dojo doors. He straightened his backpack and stepped inside, ready for the next stage of his training.

The dojo was alive with the soft sounds of conversation and the quiet rustling of feet on mats as students arrived and prepared for the evening’s lesson. Josh stepped into the familiar space, the calming scent of tatami mats and polished wood grounding him in the moment. His eyes quickly sought out Sensei Chang, who stood near the center of the room, speaking with a pair of senior students.

Josh straightened his posture, walked up respectfully, and executed a formal bow toward Sensei Chang. “Good evening, Sensei,” Josh said with humility.

Sensei Chang returned the bow with a slight nod, a glimmer of approval in his eyes. “Good evening, Josh. You’re early. That is good. It shows dedication.”

Josh smiled faintly. “Thank you, Sensei. I just ran here from school. I wanted to make sure I was prepared.”

Sensei Chang gestured for Josh to follow him toward the training mats. “Tonight’s class will follow a standard flow. As the newest student, you will take your place at the back. This is not a sign of your worth, but a tradition. It allows you to observe the senior students and learn from their example.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Josh said, bowing again.

“During the lesson, remain focused and be mindful of your energy. If there is anything you do not understand, you may ask. But remember, observation is also a teacher,” Sensei instructed, his voice calm yet commanding.

Josh nodded, his respect for Sensei Chang deepening with each interaction.

The dojo was alive with quiet activity as students entered, some stretching on the mats while others adjusted their gis. The scent of fresh tatami filled the air, and the soft hum of overhead lights illuminated the space. Josh stood at the edge, watching as the senior students effortlessly prepared themselves for the evening’s lesson.

He adjusted his workout clothes, feeling slightly embarrassed looking at everyone in their gis. Looking ahead, he saw Sensei Chang at the front of the room, standing in perfect stillness, his hands clasped lightly in front of him. Josh took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and approached. Bowing deeply, he greeted, “Good evening, Sensei.”

Sensei Chang inclined his head slightly, his gaze warm but focused. “Good evening, Josh. Have you warmed up?”

“Not yet, Sensei,” Josh admitted.

“Then begin. Stretch your body and quiet your mind,” Sensei instructed.

Josh bowed again and stepped back to a clear spot near the edge of the mats. He followed the movements of the senior students, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders, and loosening his legs. Each motion seemed deliberate, almost meditative, and he found himself calming as he focused on the sensations in his muscles.

Once everyone had arrived and the students were lined up, Sensei took his position at the front of the class. Standing tall and commanding quiet with his presence alone, he said one word: “Rei.”

The students, Josh included, bowed deeply, the sound of fabric shifting in unison echoing through the room.

“Tonight,” Sensei began, his voice calm yet authoritative, “we focus on the foundation of Aikido: balance. Without balance, you are unstable. With balance, you are aligned not just with yourself, but with the energy around you. From this alignment, power flows.”

Sensei demonstrated a basic stance, his movements fluid and deliberate. His feet shifted slightly apart, knees bent, his weight evenly distributed. Raising his hands in front of him, he created a natural arc, his posture grounded yet flexible.

“Observe,” he said, beckoning the students to follow his lead.

Josh mirrored the stance as best he could, mimicking the position of Sensei’s feet and the arc of his arms. His knees bent slightly, and he adjusted his footing until he felt steady.

Sensei moved into a sequence, stepping forward and pivoting in one seamless motion, his arms flowing like water. “Balance is not stillness. It is the ability to move while remaining connected to the ground beneath you,” he explained.

Josh tried to follow, stepping forward and turning, but his foot caught awkwardly, causing him to stumble. Embarrassed, he quickly corrected himself and glanced around to see if anyone had noticed.

As the lesson continued, Sensei demonstrated a series of basic techniques. He moved with precision, his hands tracing smooth arcs in the air as if redirecting an invisible force. His feet glided over the mats, each step purposeful.

Josh watched intently, his focus narrowing on every subtle motion. When it was time for the students to practice, he concentrated on replicating the movements.

“Step forward, pivot, redirect,” Sensei instructed, walking slowly among the students. “Your body must move as one—feet, hands, and center aligned. Do not force the motion. Instead, guide it.”

Josh repeated the sequence, his arms tracing the arcs Sensei had demonstrated. He stumbled again, his footwork slightly off. Frustration bubbled up, but he pushed it aside, adjusting his stance and trying again.

“Good. Begin again,” Sensei said as he passed by, his tone encouraging but firm.

Josh took a deep breath and tried once more, focusing on the flow of his movements rather than their perfection. Slowly, the motions began to feel more natural. His feet found the right angles, his hands moved with greater fluidity, and his balance improved.

Sensei paused near Josh, observing him for several moments. His sharp eyes missed nothing—the positioning of Josh’s feet, the arc of his arms, the alignment of his body.

“You’ve been practicing on your own,” Sensei remarked, a note of approval in his voice.

Josh straightened and bowed slightly. “Yes, Sensei. I’ve been working on the basics in my backyard after dinner.”

Sensei’s lips curved into a faint smile. “It shows. Your movements are focused. But remember, Aikido is not just about the body. It is about the mind and spirit as well. Practice with intention, not just repetition.”

Josh nodded earnestly. “Yes, Sensei. I’ll keep that in mind.”

The students began gathering their things, but Sensei gestured for Josh to stay. Once the dojo cleared out, leaving the two of them alone, Sensei walked to the back of the room and opened a cabinet.

He returned holding a neatly folded gi and a white belt. “Josh,” he said, his tone steady but kind, “you’ve shown dedication, not just by attending but by practicing on your own. That kind of discipline deserves recognition.”

Josh’s eyes widened as he looked at the gi. “Sensei ... thank you.”

Sensei held out the gi and handed it to Josh with both hands, bowing slightly as he did. Josh returned the bow instinctively, cradling the gi as if it were a precious gift.

“This is your uniform,” Sensei explained. “It represents your commitment to the path of Aikido. Wear it with respect, and it will remind you of the principles you are learning—balance, harmony, and discipline.”

Josh nodded solemnly, running his fingers over the smooth fabric. “I will, Sensei. Thank you.”

Sensei held up the white belt next, demonstrating how to fold and tie it. “The white belt symbolizes a beginning, the purity of an empty mind ready to learn. Do not be ashamed of it. Every master starts as a beginner.”

Josh mimicked the movements Sensei demonstrated, tying the white belt around his waist over his simple workout clothes. Though he wasn’t yet wearing a gi, the belt felt significant, almost ceremonial. He adjusted it carefully until it sat snugly.