“My name is Ken Ikeda. I am thirty years old and American born. I’ve been fighting in international mixed martial arts tournaments for a decade as a middleweight. I am considered one of the best middleweight fighters in the world and I…,” Ken was interrupted by a roar of laughter. Taken aback, he stuttered a bit and then immediately turned red, genuinely confused and embarrassed. Having recently seen an advertisement challenging people to approach the laughing man before him to see if they are worthy of being taught how to fight, Ken decided to see what it was all about, not entirely taking it seriously. The ad was filled with so much arrogance and disparaging words that it was almost comical. Upon approaching the premises, he didn’t know what to expect. The man stood at least six feet tall and had plenty of muscle. His body was built like a fighter-- certainly in tremendous shape for his age (looking in his early forties), so Ken had no reason to believe that he didn’t know what he was doing. However, he still partially felt the over the top approach the ad took was just a ploy to attract people instead of something to be taken seriously.

“U-uhh…” Ken began, seeing that the man was not going to stop laughing anytime soon.

“Haha, sorry,” he apologized half-heartedly. “One of the best huh? Well, at least you’re not some heavy weight. I wouldn’t bother with a fucking sumo wrestler.”

In the awkward silence that followed, Ken examined him more closely. Although they both shared short, silky black hair, and wore a kimono the man wasn’t Japanese. He didn’t recognize him from anywhere, so he concluded that he couldn’t possibly be a well-known fighter. Yet there he stood, arms crossed and completely taking himself seriously. This guy is either really good or completely insane, Ken thought. He took a good look at his eyes and noticed something subtly peculiar. They were clearly gray, but it seemed as though they were very slowly changing color—into different shades of gray. He couldn’t tell if this was really happening or an illusion in the light.

“So, you’ve been training for ten years you said?” the man finally broke the silence.

Ken didn’t understand the question. “Um…well, not exactly. I meant I’ve been fighting in MMA tournaments for ten years, but I’ve…”

“When did you start learning to use spirit energy?”

“When I was around eighteen.”

“Did somebody introduce it to you?”

“No. I just heard of it and figured it out on my own.”

“Interesting,” the man replied, his eyes wandering in thought. Ken smiled a little, having gotten the first semi-compliment from this incredibly picky person. “I guess you’re not a complete retard.” Ken’s smile immediately disappeared. “You’ll return in two days and you’ll take a test I devised to determine your ability. If you pass, you may train under me. You’ll be given three tries to pass. If you fail, you’re worthless and I don’t want to see your face again,” he said firmly and paused. “I won’t give you specifics, but the test will be an exercise in channeling your spiritual energy.”

Ken grimaced. Channeling spiritual was the most basic thing he could have possibly thought of. If he couldn’t successfully channel his energy into his arm to enhance the power of his punch, he wouldn’t have been fighting professionally for so long. He simply couldn’t have. The fact that he would be given three tries as if he needed them was the most insulting thing that had ever been said in the conversation. 

“I am currently a middleweight champion. I have held the title for three years straight and…”

“Are you insinuating that my test will be easy?” the man snapped.

Ken hesitated. “I wouldn’t be a professional fighter if I didn’t know how to channel my energy. That’s ridiculous. I’m not going to need three tries.”

“Hundreds of people have attempted my test,” the man began. “Only one succeeded.” Okay, I think he’s completely insane, Ken concluded. “So, you’re right. You won’t need three tries. You’ll probably need three thousand. Now get your egotistical ass out of here and train.”

“Who the hell are you, man?” Ken finally asked.

“I’m no celebrity. You wouldn’t recognize my name.”

“Then how do I know if you walk the way you talk?”

The man was genuinely confused. “You can’t detect other people’s spirit energy?”

Ken was starting to turn red again. He had never heard of such a thing. He wanted to respond, but didn’t know what to say. “Of course you don’t. You wouldn’t have asked that if you could. I could break you like a twig, champion,” the man said menacingly, adding heavy sarcasm in the last word. Ken didn’t know if he was bluffing and made that entire thing up, so he looked him right in the eyes fearlessly. The man entertained him and stared back for a few moments before laughing. “Two days. Train hard and come back,” he said before turning around and leaving him. 

Ken watched him go all the way into his little home at the top of the hill before he left. As soon as he saw the man enter he let out a huge sigh and thought about what he had just gotten himself into. He had only been in Japan for three days, planning to move here permanently. A week ago he received a letter asking for him to move here from Japanese politicians. Ever since the incident that eradicated Japan’s population, Japanese people from across the world returned in order to repopulate it and reconstruct the lost world. It was a beautiful country. Nobody wanted to see it fade away completely. Twenty years had passed since the incident, so he had gotten the letter many times before, he just didn’t feel like he would belong, having been born and raised and America. His mother returned as soon as he began living on his own, so she always urged him to come. 

His third day in the country and he is about to prepare to be tested by some ego-maniac so he can train.