Chapter 69: Harmony in Motion

Tuesday, July 19th, 2006

Josh awoke with Katie nestled in his arms, her warmth pressed against him, her slow, steady breaths brushing against his chest. The early morning light filtered through the half-open blinds, casting soft stripes across the tangled sheets. For a moment, he considered staying right there-letting the world wait while he savored the quiet intimacy of the moment. But responsibility tugged at him, and with a reluctant sigh, he carefully disentangled himself, sliding out from beneath the covers with practiced ease.

Katie murmured something unintelligible in her sleep, her fingers twitching against the empty space he left behind. Josh paused, watching her for a second longer, admiring the way her auburn hair fanned out across the pillow. Satisfied that she was still asleep, he padded barefoot across the cool hardwood floor toward the sliding glass door leading to the back deck.

The predawn air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of dew-damp grass and distant pine. The horizon glowed with the first hints of sunrise-streaks of gold and pink bleeding into the fading indigo of night. Josh stretched, rolling his shoulders before dropping into his morning routine: a hundred push-ups, a hundred sit-ups, and two sets of deep bodyweight squats. His muscles burned pleasantly, the exertion grounding him, preparing him for the day ahead.

By the time he finished, the sun had fully crested the horizon, bathing the backyard in golden light. He wiped the sweat from his brow and stepped back inside, making his way to the bathroom. The shower hissed to life, steam quickly fogging the mirror as hot water sluiced over his skin, washing away the remnants of sleep and exertion.

Afterward, he wiped the condensation from the mirror and reached for his razor, methodically shaving away the stubble shadowing his jaw. Aftershave, moisturizer, deodorant-the familiar rituals of grooming left him feeling refreshed. He toweled off his damp hair and glanced at his reflection, taking in the sharp angles of his face, the faint scar above his eyebrow-a relic from something he’d rather forget.

Quietly, he returned to the bedroom, where Katie still slept peacefully. Her breathing was slow and even, one arm curled around his abandoned pillow. He dressed quickly-black slacks, a fitted polo, the standard uniform of his job-before slipping out and heading toward the kitchen.

The kitchen was bathed in soft morning light, the stainless steel appliances gleaming. Josh moved with quiet efficiency, measuring out oats, slicing fresh strawberries, and pouring a glass of cold orange juice. The rhythmic motions were comforting, a small ritual before the day’s demands took over.

As he ate, his thoughts drifted to logistics. Their new house was going to be perfect, but it added twenty minutes to his commute. He’d have to adjust his wake-up time, maybe cut his workout shorter. Or perhaps he could shift his schedule entirely.

He rinsed his dishes, placed them in the sink, and grabbed his keys from the hook by the garage door.

Stepping into the garage, there sat his 1996 Mazda RX-7, sleek and silver, its curves untouched by time. He ran a hand along the smooth hood, a small smile tugging at his lips. He’d kept it mostly stock-only modifications so far were tinted windows, aftermarket wheels, a modified intake and exhaust for better performance-but he had grander plans.

With his death wish ability-a gift granted by Death himself when Joshua chose to return to the past-he could access any information he desired, from classified blueprints to unreleased designs. It would’ve been easy to pull future mods for his RX-7, to borrow ideas that hadn’t even been imagined yet. But that felt wrong. He didn’t want to rob someone of their own moment of creativity before it ever arrived.

The engine purred to life, a deep, throaty growl that never failed to send a thrill through him. He pulled out of the driveway, the morning air cool against his skin as he rolled the windows down just enough to let in the scent of pine and asphalt.

The drive was peaceful, the roads still mostly empty. He took the turns smoothly, the RX-7 hugging the curves like it was made for them.

The mini mart was just as he’d left it the day before-the sign glowing in the dim morning light, the parking lot empty save for a single stray cat darting between the dumpsters. He parked in his usual spot, unlocked the front door, and disabled the alarm with practiced ease.

The store was quiet, the hum of refrigerators the only sound as he walked past Sensei Chang’s office toward the warehouse in the back. The delivery manifests were pinned to the clipboard near the door. Today’s shipments included fresh produce, dry goods, and a new batch of energy drinks-those had been selling well lately.

For the next hour, he worked methodically-unpacking boxes, restocking shelves, checking expiration dates. The monotony was almost meditative, letting his mind wander.

Sensei Chang arrived just after seven, his wife, Mrs. Chang, at his side. The older man moved with deliberate slowness these days, his once-black hair now more salt than pepper, but his sharp eyes missed nothing. Josh gave a slight bow out of respect, and Sensei returned the gesture with a nod.

“Early as always,” Sensei remarked, his voice gravelly but warm.

“Didn’t want to fall behind,” Josh replied.

Mrs. Chang smiled at him before following her husband to the office to prepare the register and start the day’s paperwork.

As Josh continued stocking, his mind circled back to an inevitable reality-Sensei Chang wouldn’t be around forever. He thought back to the day Sensei had first let him lead a class alone, the quiet pride in his eyes. The man was in his late seventies, and while he was still sharp, time was undefeated.

When that day came, Mrs. Chang wouldn’t be able to manage the store alone. Josh could run most of it himself-he’d done it before, but he’d need someone at the register.

Should I hire someone now? Train them before it’s necessary?

Or...

Would Katie want to work here?

The thought gave him pause. He didn’t want to assume she’d just slot into his life without considering her own dreams. In her first life, she’d tried college-graphic design, wasn’t it?-but she’d dropped out, and she’d never really explained why.

Maybe this time would be different. Maybe she’d want to try again.

He sighed, shelving the last of the canned goods. This wasn’t a decision he could make alone. He’d have to talk to her first.

The bell above the door chimed-the first customer of the day. Josh pushed his thoughts aside and put on a smile.

“Morning,” he said. “How are you doing today Mrs...?”

Another day had started-routine on the surface, but full of quiet shifts beneath.

After lunch, Josh clocked out and nodded to Mrs. Chang as he passed the register.

“Tell Sensei I’ll be at the dojo early,” he said.

She smiled knowingly. “I already did, sweet boy. He said not to push yourself too hard. But you won’t listen, will you?”

Josh only grinned. “Not my style.”

The dojo was just a ten-minute drive from the mini-mart, tucked behind a nondescript row of office buildings. The sign out front-simple black kanji on white: 合気道道場(Aikido Dojo)-looked faded, but Josh liked it that way. It had history. Like the place itself.

He parked out back and unlocked the side door, the smell of tatami mats and pine cleaner greeting him like an old friend. Inside, it was quiet. Peaceful. No ringing phones, no humming fridges. Just stillness and the faint creak of wood underfoot.

He flicked on the lights and stepped onto the mat, barefoot out of habit, bowing instinctively toward the small shrine at the front: a photo of Morihei Ueshiba, a vase with fresh flowers-courtesy of Mrs. Chang-and a single candle, unlit.

Josh inhaled deeply and exhaled. This was home.

He started his warmup slowly, rolling his shoulders, stretching his hamstrings, then moving into light ukemi-forward rolls, backward rolls, side falls. His body remembered everything, even the hard parts. His right shoulder still twinged if he landed at the wrong angle, a lingering souvenir from an overzealous sparring session years ago.

After twenty minutes of practice, he moved to weapons-jo staff drills, alternating strikes and blocks, practicing tenkan transitions and fluid disarms. Then the bokken-slow, deliberate cuts that emphasized control over force.

He lost himself in the rhythm, the flow-state Aikido always brought him. Unlike other martial arts, Aikido wasn’t about domination. It was about redirection. Harmony. Meeting aggression with grace.

By the time students began to trickle in, Josh was already toweling off and setting up the sign-in sheet. He greeted each of them by name: Marcus, twelve years old and growing fast; Naomi, a single mom in her thirties who joined last fall after a bad breakup; and Leo, a quiet college kid with perfect form and zero confidence.