Prologue

October 6, 2012, Oguni, Yamagata Prefecture, Japan

“Thanks for coming,” Sensei Jim said when I stepped off the train in Oguni.

“I only wish I could have been here to say ‘goodbye’.”

“You spoke to Robert-san after his first heart attack.”

“I did,” I said. “Undetected coronary artery disease almost killed Jessica’s father, and he’s a doctor. I just wish I could have been here at the end, the way I was for Hiro-san.”

“Robert-san knew your thoughts were with him. And I have to say the revelation about Jessica’s true father really threw me for a loop back when it happened. And speaking of fathers, yours turned 95 this year, right?”

“In August. He’s 95 and going strong, with a plan to make it to at least 100!”

“Those are some good genes you inherited! Come on, Hideki-san and his family are waiting for us.”

We walked to Sensei Jim’s Toyota for the short drive to the compound where, in 1994, I’d finally found myself, and because of that, been advanced to 5th Dan. I’d also met someone who was, even eighteen years later, still very special to me.

“How is Will?” Sensei Jim asked.

“Great, but I agree with his priorities.”

“Me, too! His wife giving birth to twins two weeks ago basically precluded him coming. We all understand. And I’m very glad you could make it on short notice.”

“Me, too. I brought both kimono with me, and this time, I’m prepared with more gifts!”

“How long are you staying with us?”

“I haven’t decided. I’ll be here at least through the 15th. I have an open-ended ticket. I like it here, and I’m VERY sorry I haven’t been back since that business trip in December of ‘94.”

“It is a long way to come, and Will has been here twice since his first visit. It really is his responsibility as master of the dojo.”

“I understand, but it’s more for my own personal situation than for the school. Is Yoshiro-san still alive?”

“He is. He’s hoping to see you.”

“And I, him. Good.”

We arrived at the compound and I smiled when I saw Mitsuo standing just outside the main house, sporting a worn, and somewhat tattered, Pittsburgh Penguins cap. In my bag I had a new one, from the 2009 Stanley Cup. I’d been hoping for another championship since then, but even with Crosby and Malkin, it hadn’t materialized.

Next to him was a young man I only recognized from a recent photograph - Hiro; great-grandson of Hisakawa Hiro, the founder of the dojo. He was twelve, and I imagined he looked very much like what his great-grandfather would have looked like at that age. He was wearing his most recent birthday gift, one I’d purchased with severe internal conflict, but with much amusement from my dad - a Los Angeles Dodgers cap.

Chapter 1 »