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-- Chapter 1

  Episode 7: Fist Friendship - The Powerless Cannot Wipe Away Their Tears.


Mr. A was one of very close friend of me at that time.
He often talked to me since we had joined the dojo at the same time.
Although he was one or two years older than me, we were the closest in age in the class, and we sparred together frequently.
Even on the days when we didn't have a class, we would meet up outside and practice together, and afterwards we would always go to a coffee shop to talk about martial arts.

We had a lot to talk about, and I remember that his approach to seeking strength in the martial arts was quite realistic and intense, while mine was rather idealistic…

I was passionate about my practice in my own way, but his seriousness sometimes felt like an obsession that could not be described just as passion.
There is one reason for this that I can think of.

One day, during our usual martial arts discussion at the coffee shop, Mr. A told me about his "first visit to Tokyo" from his rural hometown.

It was his first time in Tokyo…
It was the first step in his new life.
His heart must have been bursting with dreams and expectations.

When he arrived at Ueno Station, he went straight to stand in front of the bronze statue of Mr. Saigo.
Everything was new and full of brilliance, and the scenery spread out before his eyes made him feel the joy of standing at a new world.

That's when it happened.

As he was looking around, he bumped the shoulder and stepped on the foot of someone coming forward in passing him.
Of course, he immediately turned around, bowed deeply and apologized...but this time his bottom bumped into a person coming from behind.

His buoyant mood was gone and being just flustered, he heard people around him shouting at once, "Hang him! Hang him!"
Before he figured out what was going on, two men had him by the ankles and were hanging him upside down!

Then the man in swanky suit who he had first bumped into approached leisurely.
Being hung upside down, he now saw a clear glimpse of a shiny leather shoe with a pointed tip.
The man wiped the tip of the shoe clean with a handkerchief and kicked him on his abdomen, shot after shot, without mercy!
And then he passed out.
He didn’t know how much time passed but when he regained consciousness, he was lying on a bench nearby.
His chest was stained with his own vomit, and his wallet and luggage were gone.

However, the loss of goods and money was still better than the fact that he had lost hope and the world that had been bright and shining faded away in a blink of an eye.

I don't know how long the damage from this incident lasted.
But I’m pretty sure that he decided never to experience the failure of protecting himself and the loss of his shining world again.

I believe that is why his desire for strength was much more real and stronger than mine!

As a dreamer, I did not truly understand such real feelings of his.
However, it was certain that we were strangely compatible.
"Practicing only in the dojo is not enough to hone our practical spirit, so let's really fight on the station platform together to hone our courage!”
We would discuss reckless things like this, and we would seriously try to improve each other.

Looking back on these nostalgic events with my martial arts friends, I found them a sort of training for us to give good influence to each other.
That is why every time I do training now, the memories of those days come back to me so vividly.


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