Chore duty always seems to fall to me. I shouldn’t criticize Elder Punto, but his ‘magic stick’ choosing system mysteriously only ends up picking me to sweep the cobbled steps. I can just see his long white beard, the one that hides most of the bottom half of his face turning up into a smile as he cracks open his eyes to see that his staff, guided by the ‘spirits of wind’, has chosen me once again. Maybe this is divine punishment, but I cannot help but feel like the old geezer is just picking on me. I’d never say it though, and risk the wrath of my father when he found out I’d insulted an Elder.

I look over the grounds to where the other kids stand in uniform lines, going through movement after movement. If I wasn’t stuck with chore duty, I’d have more time to practice. I visualize it in my head, feet automatically finding the positionings of each step as I move across the grounds with my broom. First position. Second position. I sweep my leg around in an arcing motion for third. The broom twirls like a staff in my hands, and I jab it out, then bring it back around for a lower blow against my imaginary opponent. Defensive. Offensive. Retreat. I picture what kinds of moves and combinations would be thrown at me. Finally, I see an opening, a flaw in the strategy. The bristles of my broom knock over my assailant, and I stand over them triumphantly.

“Well that was entertaining,” San sneers over at me, snickering. Him and the two other girls on chores watch with slight interest as I stand panting over empty stone tiles. One of the girls I notice is Lihn. She smiles in an odd, sort of sympathetic way that twists my gut. She feels bad that he’s mocking me. She pities me for being so on the outside. Anger fills my chest and flushes my cheeks, but I push it down.

“Think you could do better?” I call back to San, standing up straight and walking towards him. “Well, show me what you’ve got then. Let’s entertain our audience.”

I lunge forward, swing the broom hard and fast towards his side, he dodges left, but he’s slow and unprepared. I catch him in the stomach with the butt of the broom, and he stumbles back.

“What the hell?” He chokes out, clutching his stomach, but I don’t wait. I’m not some pushover class D trainee. I won’t let him taint my image, mock my honour and skill. My broom shaft collides hard with his, which he only barely brings up fast enough to block me. Some of the other kids stop and stare at us as we twist across the grounds. I watch him closely as he makes strike after strike. It feels like I’m arguing with him, but I like this kind much better, since I lose most arguments due to lack of clever retorts. But this, this is something where I’m never at a loss for counter attacks. He shifts his weight back onto his left foot and I see my opening. Just like with the opponent of air, there is a flaw in his style of fighting. He favours his right, and so any time he relies on his left side, it is weaker. My stick drops, obviously not what he was expecting, so I catch him unaware as I sweep him off his feet. His back cracks against the stone, amd he groans. I let a victorious smile curl my lips.

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!” I voice like thunder booms from behind me, accompanied by earth-shaking footsteps. My smile falls. I turn to see my father moving with all the fury of a lion as he approaches me.

I metal staff is draw, held like a bolt of lightning in his hand. I can see the beads swinging from his belt, earned from many years of training. He has twenty seven, two short of an Elder’s cord.

“Father, I was only-“ I start, hoping I can curb his anger, but his hand comes down like the fury of all the spirits, the strike stinging like a blow from any good staff.

“Is this how I’ve taught you? To start foolish brawls with other students?”

Shame knots in my chest, hand held against me burning cheek.

“No, father.”

By now a crowd has gathered. San looks just as smug as before, now that I’m the one getting taught a lesson.

“Now, now, Chan. There is no need to hit your son so hard. A gentle nudge in the right direction will do,” I hear Elder Punto’s voice coming closer.

My father turns and bows, as do all the others gathered.

“My apologies, Honoured Elder Punto. It is only that I do not believe he should not be punished so gently that it is worth it to step out of line again if the only reprecuuis a nudge.”

I lift my head a little to see the bright, smiling face of the Elder.

“That may be true in some cases, but not this one, Chan,” then he turns to me, eyes softening.

“Walk with me, child.”

I do, dropping my hand. He places an arm around me, and I feel compelled to shrug it off, but I don’t.

He guides me up the path behind the dojo, letting us stay in silence a while before we stop at the top of the hill.

“Why did you start a fight with San, my child?” He asks looking over at me. I turn away.

“He’s the one that started it,” I respond, but Punto shakes his head.

“No, child, you struck out first. That’s what starting a fight entails.”

I fold my arms over my chest, angry.

“He may not have struck out with his staff, but he started the fight when he dealt a blow to my honour.” He doesn’t get it. I could not let my honour be treated in such a way!

Elder Punto shakes his head, “San is a foolish, insecure boy who knows you are a better fighter than him and wanted to hurt you. But he is on his own journey to maturity, and you must understand that it is your choice whether to be humble and wise, or stoop to his level,” the words strike true, stinging a little. “Do you know why I assign you to chores every day?” He asks, a twinkle in his eyes. My heart lurches.

“So you admit it is no silly wind spirit?”

Punto chuckles, seeming to be enjoying this.

“I assign you to chores every day because it is humbling. And true honour comes from letting go of shame and being able to humble yourself without me needing to prompt you into it,” he draws in the dirt with his staff. “Your father is unable to find his humility. He is abrasive and always believes himself right. Even when his elder corrected him, he argued with me. It is why he will never become an Elder,” He looks to me now. “But you are different from your father, and if you can learn from him, you will far exceed him one day,” his voice is so sincere I find it hard not to believe.

“You really think so?” My voice sounds childish.

Elder Punto smiles. “I know so.”