Three nannies had quit on account of Genjiro's 'unmanageable' behavior. The fourth, a Chinese girl named Wu, had only been in her position a week before she complained to Mr. Nakadai that his son was ruining her nerves. When asked to elaborate, the girl described a classic portrait of a hyperactive child: Genjiro could not sit still, even for five minutes. He ran through the house like a wild creature, climbing the furniture and jumping onto passing maids and butlers as if he was a tiger. Also, he could not be quiet. He talked, incessantly, and he yelled like a warrior going into battle as he ran, keeping the entire staff on edge.

If he was turned out of the house, he went straight to the garden, where he proceeded to terrorize the gardeners by climbing trees and hanging from precarious limbs, throwing rocks or jumping into the pond to chase the koi. He was, she said quite indelicately, a little monster.

Mr. Nakadai did not want to believe these reports about his only child, but the stories were so numerous and so consistent that he decided to see for himself whether or not they were true.

"I'm very sorry my son has caused you grief," he told Wu in a regretful voice. "Of course, I will discipline him, myself. You may take tomorrow off, with pay. I'll deal with him, then."

Wu gave a respectful bow and a heavy sigh of relief. "You're very kind, Nakadai-san."

That afternoon Nakadai called the university and told them he had a private matter to attend to and would not be coming to the university tomorrow. He then set out for the garden to spy on his son. He heard Genjiro's excited squeals long before he reached the garden gate. Nakadai hid himself behind the streaming curtain of wisteria that draped the torii style gate and peered through the fragrant purple clusters at a disturbing sight.

Little Genjiro was knee-deep in the koi pond, sloshing back and forth after the big white fish with the gold spot on its head. He squealed and giggled as the expensive hand-raised koi slipped between his tiny legs and got away, again. He was also apparently quite delighted by the cold water that his little scurrying feet splashed onto his completely naked body.

Mr. Nakadai watched this spectacle in silence and felt his face growing hotter and hotter. So. The reports were true. He drew a sharp, angry breath and stepped out from behind the gate. His soft voice was quiet but powerful.

"Genjiro!"

At the sound of his father's voice, Genjiro looked back over one shoulder with a terrified look on his small round face. He stood absolutely still, as if the absence of motion could render him invisible. It was no use. His father was coming closer, and he looked horribly angry.

"What are you doing?"

Genjiro didn't answer. He simply stared at his father, shocked to have been caught at his game of fish-chase. Nakadai tightened his lips at his son's insolent silence. "Well? What have you got to say for yourself? Hm? Speak up! Why are you torturing my fish?"

Genjiro's big eyes watered. The sun caught in the tears and sent a watery light through his dark cobalt eyes, making them look as though they were made of glass. His shaky baby voice was barely audible. "I was just playing..."

"Playing!" Mr. Nakadai imperiously raised his chin. "Those fish cost me a lot of money. I won't have them frightened to death for your amusement. Get out of there, this instant."

Genjiro climbed out of the pond and meekly stepped back into his yellow shorts. He slid his wet feet into tiny red thongs and stood before his father with his head bowed.

"Where is your shirt?"

Genjiro sniffled. "Inside." Streams of tears glistened over both his cheeks and splattered silently onto the neatly trimmed grass.

"Stop that blubbering. You're such a cry baby." Nakadai snatched his son's tiny hand and dragged him toward the house. "You act as though I've beaten you. You don't have a thing to cry about."

Once inside, Nakadai directed Genjiro into the study and had him sit on an antique leather chair. Genjiro sat very still, watching his father pace back and forth across the room. "What's wrong with you? Why do you act so wild? You'd think you were raised by monkeys." Nakadai stopped to glare directly at his son. "I don't know what to do with you. I've given you everything a boy could possibly want, and still you act like a jungle-born idiot. You're so ungrateful! You've dishonored me before my entire staff. Maybe I should give you away to some hateful old man who would beat you and treat you terribly. Maybe then you'd be sorry you've acted so insanely."

Genjiro's eyes enlarged, and he almost choked. "No...Papa, please! I'm sorry! Don't give me away! Please don't!"

"Then what shall I do with you?"

"I'll be good! I promise!"

Nakadai frowned. "Hmm...I don't know. I think what you need is some steady discipline."

Of course, Mr. Nakadai was completely blind to the real problem behind Genjiro's behavior. It wasn't discipline he needed, but love and attention. Both mother and father were gone all day, almost every day, and when they were at home, they were either too tired or too busy to deal with their son. The staff had no patience for Genjiro, and simply scolded him constantly. He had no playmates and no real adult interaction. He had nothing to do all day but wreak havoc.

Genjiro had a room full of wonderful and expensive toys, but he rarely played with any of them. His parents gave him toys to make up for the fact that they neglected him, emotionally. Genjiro was only three, but he could sense his parents' detachment. He felt unnecessary and in the way. Frustration and anger are incomprehensible feelings, to a very young child, and the only way he could express his discomfort was through vigorous mischief. Naturally, his parents found it much easier to blame the boy for his actions than to blame their own shortcomings as parents.

Genjiro watched in fear as his father went into the hall to make a call. He was still certain his father meant to give him away, and he imagined a monstrous face to represent the "hateful old man" his father was obviously calling.

"Kamakura-san," he heard his father say, followed by a stream of polite courtesies that Genjiro had no interest in. At his tender age, all that stuck in his mind of the hateful old man's name was "Kama." His father's voice hushed, then, as though he was trying to keep Genjiro from hearing the conversation. He did hear a few disconcerting words that cemented his fear about being given away: "unmanageable," "wild," "discipline," and finally, "hoping you could take him."

Genjiro sat in the chair and trembled. Given away! And to some strange, hateful old man! He felt as if someone had bored a hole through his chest, and his big, pretty eyes flooded all over again. His entire tiny torso heaved with quiet, sighing sobs.

His father returned, and Genjiro stared up at him with piteous eyes. Nakadai took out his handkerchief and dabbed at his son's wet face and chest. "Please stop crying, Gen-chan," he said, his voice much more sympathetic than before. "Mama will be home, soon. You don't want her to see her little man crying, do you?"

Genjiro shook his head, still looking unbearably sad. He climbed into his father's outstretched arms and clung to his neck, and he let out a world-weary sigh. Nakadai wrapped his arms around Genjiro and rubbed his back. "Oh, your little heart is beating so fast! I didn't mean to frighten you that badly. I'm so sorry."

He carried Genjiro upstairs and put him down in the playroom. He then patted him on the head. "Why don't you play for a while, until Mama comes in? Then we can all have a nice dinner together. All right?"

"Unnh," Genjiro grunted with a nod. He sat down on the floor in the middle of the room, and watched his father disappear behind the door. He grabbed his stuffed panda and clutched it to his chest, and he sat in that same spot for over an hour, until he heard his mother's voice echoing in the tiled entry way.

"What do you mean by 'shameful,' Kenichi?"

Genjiro jumped up and cracked open the door, so he could hear his father's quiet voice. He was just in time to catch, "Ssh! You don't want him to hear, do you?"

His mother's voice grew quieter. "Well, so he's misbehaving, a little. So what? He's only three. You can't expect him to act like an adult."

Nakadai's voice stiffened at that. "The help is complaining about him, Elizabeth. It's embarrassing and shameful."

Her voice matched his and added a dash of irritation. "What do you plan to do about it, then?"

"I talked to Kamakura-sensei, this afternoon. He's agreed to take him. It's a great honor that he even considered it."

"Fine. Who's going to take him? He'll throw a fit, you know."

Nakadai sighed. "Yes, I know. I'll take him, there myself. Tomorrow."

Genjiro was floored by that. He closed the door and resumed sitting on the rug, clutching his panda as tightly as he could. His eyes flooded, again, and he lay down and sobbed until he fell asleep.

His mother and father came upstairs and into the playroom and found him asleep on the floor. His face was still wet with tears, and so was the carpet beneath his head. Mrs. Nakadai knelt and brushed her fingers over his round cheek. "Aw, the poor little guy's cried himself to sleep."

"Hmph. He's been bawling all day. You'd think he'd been beaten. I didn't even yell at him."

She lifted Genjiro and stood up, laid him against her shoulder. "Maybe he's getting sick," she said, feeling his face and his bare back.

Nakadai turned out the light as they walked out of the room. "I think he's just scared. He's not used to being disciplined. I suppose he'll be crying a lot, for a while, now."

The following morning, Genjiro awoke at his usual time and climbed out of his child-sized bed. He crept silently through most of the big house and discovered his father was not there. He felt relieved, thinking his father had forgotten about giving him away and had gone to work, as usual. He slipped into the kitchen and stole a juice jug and a cinnamon muffin, and ate it underneath the table, hidden by the white cotton tablecloth.

He was on his way back to the playroom when Thomas, one of the houseboys, grabbed him. "There you are, you little monkey! I've been looking everywhere for you."

Thomas was a tall fellow with red hair and freckles and an arrogant sneering smile. Genjiro squirmed in Thomas' grip, but Thomas merely picked him up and tucked him under his right arm.

"Oh, no you don't! Your dad told me to be sure you had a bath, this morning, since you're going to Kamakura's."

Kama-whatzits! Genjiro squirmed even more fiercely. "Let me go! Let me go!" He kicked and squirmed and hit, but to no avail. Thomas hefted him up the staircase and carried him into the master bathroom.

"Be still, you little creep!" Thomas plopped him onto the floor and pulled off Genjiro's panda pajamas. He kept one hand on Genjiro's chest to hold him down while the other hand started the water in the oval tub.

Genjiro kicked him so furiously that Thomas had to grab him by the ankles and lift him upside down to make him stop kicking. He held him over the water and laughed. "Ha! You little brat! I ought to drown you." Instead, he grabbed Genjiro at the back of his neck and put him, feet first, into the tub. Then he calmly began washing him.

Genjiro continued to fight, but he couldn't get loose. Thomas had a handful of his soft black hair, and he felt no compunction at all about yanking it. Genjiro resigned himself to his fate and began crying in frustration. This irritated Thomas, who was already mad about having to bathe this brat, so he repeatedly dunked Genjiro's head under the water until he stopped crying.

"Go on, stupid! Cry some more!"

Genjiro simply coughed and glared at him, but the blood of his warrior ancestors stirred inside his little heart, drew upon an ancient experience of battle wisdom and whispered, "patience." He sat still while Thomas drained the bath, then allowed him to lift him out of the tub and dry him with a towel. Just as Thomas brought the towel around for a last swipe of his face, Genjiro lunged at his arm and sunk his teeth into the flesh, drawing blood.

"Ow!" Thomas recoiled, and when he did, Genjiro bolted down the hall, running for his room. He was looking back toward the bathroom when he ran hard into something. Only he didn't fall down, because the something he hit closed around his body and picked him up. He looked suddenly into his father's face and gasped, "Hoh!"

Kenichi Nakadai was trying hard not to laugh. The sight of his naked little boy running down the hallway as if chased by a demon was even funnier when the red-headed demon appeared, holding his bleeding arm. At that point, though, the master of the house cleared his throat and composed himself. "What's going on, Thomas?"

Thomas' face was flushed with anger. "Mr. Nakadai," he started, almost unable to speak, "he...he bit me!"

"Did you, Genjiro?"

Genjiro nodded.

"Why?"

Genjiro glared at Thomas. "He knows."

Nakadai looked expectantly at Thomas. Thomas seemed indignant about having to explain himself. "He was mad because he didn't want a bath."

Genjiro flung a tiny arm at Thomas. "Liar! You called me stupid!"

"I did not! I said you were acting stupid."

"Liar! Liar! Liar!" Genjiro leaned so far toward Thomas and hit at him with such ferocity that Mr. Nakadai almost dropped him.

"Genjiro! Stop it!" He clutched his son's flailing arm in a painful grip. "You will not speak so disrespectfully. Apologize, at once."

Genjiro stared at his father as though he had slapped him in the face. Nakadai scowled at him. "Don't you dare shame me, again, Genjiro. Apologize."

Genjiro dropped his head and muttered, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you for bathing him, Thomas," Nakadai said, softly. "Wu will be back, tomorrow, so you won't have to do it, again. I'm very sorry for his rude behavior."

He turned and carried Genjiro into his room and sat him on the bed. He opened a package he had placed on the dressing table and took out a tiny karate gi. Genjiro stared at the floor while his father dressed him in the little white uniform and slid sandals onto his feet.

"I want you to behave for Kamakura-sensei," Nakadai said, properly arranging the knot in Genjiro's white belt. "Don't do anything shameful, and for God's sake, don't cry all the time. And keep your clothes on." He combed his son's shining black hair. "You've got to start learning how to act civilized. Do you understand?"

Genjiro nodded, but kept his eyes on the floor. He sniffled and quickly swiped his nose with the back of his hand. Nakadai let out an exasperated sigh.

"Son, please don't start that." He stood, picked Genjiro up and carried him out to his waiting car.

All through the ride, Genjiro kept his eyes on his lap. He was fighting hard against the tears that threatened to dishonor him and his father at any moment. He remained quiet until the car stopped. He then let out a small whimper as his father lifted him out of the car.

He walked silently behind his father toward an old wooden house in the middle of a cluster of huge willows. In front of the door hung a wooden sign painted with Japanese characters that Genjiro couldn't yet read. He was sure it said, "Home of the hateful old man who beats little boys."

Nakadai stopped at the door and removed his shoes, so Genjiro stepped out of his sandals. He followed his father through the open door and into the house. Once inside, Genjiro was startled to find the house didn't seem like a house, at all. It had one huge, open room with a red mat on the floor, but no furniture. The walls held only a few scrolls with calligraphy on them, and a silk painting of a mean-looking man with hostile eyes and a wild beard. At the rear of the room was a rack displaying several weapons: swords of steel and of bamboo, shuriken, wooden staves and nunchaku.

Genjiro tried to step back when a man entered through a side door and approached them, but his father held him at his side. "Sensei," Nakadai said, and leaned over in a deep bow. He pulled Genjiro's sleeve and made him bow, too.

When they stood up, again, Genjiro gasped. Kamakura the hateful old man was not an old man, at all, but was only slightly older than Genjiro's father. He did look mean, though, with a stubby ponytail, a full mustache and a neatly trimmed black beard. All the men in the Nakadai household were clean shaven, and Genjiro was, therefore, frightened of men with facial hair. They reminded him of monsters.

He was unaware of most of the conversation, as he was actively engaged in staring at Kamakura. He became suddenly aware of the talk when the monster-man looked at him and smiled with big white teeth.

"So, this is the little monster, eh? Heh, heh! He looks more a frightened rabbit than a monster."

Kamakura turned his attention back to Nakadai. "Don't worry about this one, Ken-san. I'll change your little monster into a little dragon."

"Thank you, Sensei." Nakadai bowed, again. "I'm deeply in your debt."

"Nonsense. It's my pleasure."

Before Genjiro could turn around, his father was gone, leaving him all alone with the monster-man-sorcerer who wanted to turn him into a dragon. He faced Kamakura and whimpered, then began trembling. He clutched both hands at his chest, and his eyes overflowed. His tiny body heaved with a torrent of silent sobs.

Kamakura just smiled at him and walked over to the red mat. He began to practice the beginning kata in silence, totally ignoring Genjiro. For an hour and a half, he practiced, and Genjiro stood in the same spot, crying relentlessly.

After five minutes of cooling down, Kamakura approached Genjiro, again, and offered him a handkerchief. "Better dry up, Little Dragon. Your father will be round for you, very soon, and you don't want to dishonor him, do you?"

Genjiro shook his head, relieved at the news his father was coming for him. He immediately stopped crying. He took the handkerchief and wiped his eyes, then offered the wet cloth back to Kamakura.

"Here, better blow your nose, too, or you'll give your secret away by sniffling." He held the handkerchief to Genjiro's nose and let him heartily blow into it. "Would you like a drink of water, or a piece of candy?"

"Candy, please, sir," Genjiro squeaked in a tiny, quiet voice.

"All right, but please have some water with it. I don't want you to choke."

Kamakura left through the side door and returned with a cup of water and a bowl filled with hard candies. He held the bowl just barely low enough for Genjiro to see the top of the pile of colored sweets. "Here you go. Take whatever you like."

Genjiro took the cup in his left hand and sifted through the visible candies with his right. He chose a single lemon drop and hastily stuck it into his mouth.

Kamakura watched Genjiro's little fingers deftly choose a candy he could barely see and then slip it into his mouth without looking at it. "Ah, you have excellent coordination for such a little boy. You'll make your father very proud. Would you like another candy?"

Genjiro shook his head and sipped from the cup, keeping his eyes on Kamakura's. The man stood up and took the bowl away, laughing. "Ha! You'll be quite an adversary for someone, when you're grown, Little Dragon. Providing that you don't lose that wariness."

Nakadai arrived at precisely eleven o'clock, and Genjiro ran directly to him and flung himself into his arms. Kamakura approached them and looked very seriously at them. Genjiro bowed his head, afraid the sensei was about to complain of his babyish behavior. "Ken-san," Kamakura said to Nakadai, "you've got quite a brave little boy. So well behaved! So polite! Do bring him, again, tomorrow. I've enjoyed him, immensely."

Nakadai looked stunned, for a moment. Then he glanced at Genjiro and smiled. "Of course, Sensei. I'll be happy to bring him, again."

For the next three days, Nakadai brought Genjiro to Kamakura's dojo, and each day, Genjiro stood in the same place and cried. But each day, his crying lost a little of its fervor, until finally, on the fourth day, he merely whimpered once or twice.

Each day, Kamakura went on with practicing the beginning forms and totally ignored Genjiro. Each day, when Nakadai arrived to retrieve his son, Kamakura lavished unearned praise on the boy. Genjiro slowly lost his fear of the monster-man, and on the fifth day, he sheepishly ventured away from his crying-spot and stood next to the red mat. Kamakura didn't scold him, so he sat down on the floor at the edge of the mat and watched his sensei practice the first kata.

On the sixth day, he completely bypassed the crying-spot and went directly to his chosen seat by the mat. He watched Kamakura intently, never moving until it was time for his father to come. After a couple of days of watching, he was surprised when Kamakura began to practice sparring with one of his evening students. At first, Genjiro was quiet, just watching. His excitement grew as the combat heated up, and he gasped "Hoh!" when Kamakura floored his opponent. He squealed and furiously clapped his hands at his monster-man's victory.

The next day, Kamakura returned to his forms practice. In the middle of the routine, he stopped and began to stroke his black beard. He wore a ponderous look, then turned toward Genjiro. "You know," he said, "it just occurred to me that I've been terribly rude to you, Little Dragon. All this time I've been out here, having all the fun, and you've probably been bored to death sitting there all by yourself. I'm terribly, terribly ashamed. Can you ever forgive me?" He bowed very deeply toward Genjiro.

Genjiro swallowed, on the edge of tears, horrified at being the cause of yet another person's shame. "No! No, sir! I'm not bored! Don't be ashamed, Kama-san!"

Kamakura rose and smiled at him. "You're so kind, to forgive me. I should set out at once to return your kindness." His dark eyes lit up, as if he'd just had a brilliant idea. "Little Dragon, how would you like to join me, today?"

Genjiro eagerly nodded. At Kamakura's inviting gesture, he sprinted onto the red mat and proudly stood next to his teacher. Kamakura began to move through the first form and Genjiro followed along, trying to match the man's movements. He matched some of the first kata, but couldn't do any of the next. Kamakura looked at him with delight. "You have been watching, haven't you?"

He turned and left the mat, motioning for his tiny student to follow. "Come here. I've got something for you." Genjiro followed him into a small closet-like room, where the sensei opened a chest and took something out. "I had this made just for you." He held out his palm and showed Genjiro a little round patch with a writhing red dragon embroidered on it. Genjiro gasped and stared at it, then stared up at Kamakura in awe. "Take off your jacket and I'll put it on for you."

Genjiro took off his uniform jacket and gave it to Kama-san. He watched him position the patch on the left breast and sew it into place. Then he stood still and let the master slip the jacket back on him.

"I put the dragon on the left side, so it would be near your heart," Kamakura said, retying Genjiro's belt. "He'll keep you strong, brave and fearless. You have the dragon in you, now, so you don't need to cry, anymore."

Genjiro took this little episode very seriously, and from then on, whenever he felt like crying at home, he would instead take a deep breath and say, "I have the dragon in my heart. I don't need to cry." His behavior completely transformed from that of an attention-hungry brat to that of a young samurai in training, which stunned the domestic staff of the Nakadai household.

"They must have put him on some kind of relax medicine," Wu said to one of the maids. "He's got so quiet! He doesn't splash me in the bath, anymore, and he doesn't fuss when I comb his hair, even if I pull a tangle! He eats anything Cook puts on his plate. Even cheese! It's strange! Creepy, I say!"

"Maybe that Kamakura man's bewitched him," the maid said in a hushed voice. "Maybe he's a sorcerer."

Wu crossed her arms and looked very smug. "Whatever it is, I'm glad for it. I'm beginning to get my nerves back."

By the time his fourth birthday arrived, Genjiro had been going to Kamakura's every day for just over six months. He had begun to insist upon putting on his gi, himself, and had learned to properly tie the belt, even though he still couldn't tie the laces on his dress shoes. He now wanted to bathe by himself, to make his own bed and to be in charge of feeding the koi. He completely lost interest in his toys and instead spent hours at a time sitting in the garden and staring into the pond, as if he was meditating.

His parents noticed this newly adopted independence, and also noticed a more distressing change. Genjiro seemed to be distancing himself from them and attaching his affection to Kamakura. He no longer greeted his mother and father with hugs and kisses; he greeted them with cold but respectful bows and the kind of polite address a man might give to a business partner. Kamakura was affectionately called "Kama-san." His parents were called "Honorable Mother" and "Honorable Father."

Then, Kamakura's philosophical teaching surfaced, on the day Nakadai asked his son what he wanted for his birthday. Genjiro's reply was cool and detached. "I don't want anything. I have enough."

One day shortly thereafter, Genjiro carefully dressed himself in his gi and studied himself in the mirror. He frowned at his image. Here he was, so smartly outfitted in his dragon uniform, only to have his long black hair draping around his face like a girl's. He slipped one of the black laces from his dress shoes and pulled his hair back, bound it in a short ponytail like the one Kama-san wore. He stood very straight in front of the mirror. Now he looked like a man.

He went downstairs and waited in the hall for his father. He waited patiently for quite some time, but Nakadai didn't come out of the study. Genjiro decided he'd better go in and get him.

"Honorable Father," he said, stopping just inside the door and bowing, "please excuse me, but it's past time to go to Kama-san's."

Nakadai didn't look up from his writing. "You're not going to Kamakura's anymore."

Genjiro's nostrils flared, in a petulant snort. His usually quiet voice belted out like a war cry. "Why?"

His father suddenly glared at him. "Don't question me. You'll do as you're told." When Genjiro just stood in the doorway with clenched fists, Nakadai stiffened. "Stop looking at me like that! Go upstairs and take off that outfit. And untie your hair. You've got to start school, next month. I won't have you embarrass us by looking like a masterless samurai."

Genjiro took a deep, trembling breath, then curtly bowed and spat out, "Hai!" He turned and stomped up the stairs, where he sat on his bed and repeated to himself, "I have the dragon in my heart; I don't need to cry," until he could no longer hold in his emotion. As soon as the tears started he punched his pillow and fell onto it, let his eyes bleed all they wanted to.

Later that evening, Mrs. Nakadai came in from her last summer lecture. Genjiro heard her come in, and he quickly got out of bed and went downstairs. He knew his parents would be talking about him and the upcoming school season, and he hoped to find out some reason for his father taking him out of karate lessons. He peered around the corner and watched his mother enter the study. He followed and hid beneath the comm desk in the hall, just outside the door to the room.

"Well," his mother said, tiredly, "did you do it?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And," his father went on, "he demanded to know why. His attitude angered me, so I spat at him, pretty harshly. He went upstairs and I haven't seen him, since. He even missed lunch. I suppose he's still sulking."

"He'll get over it." His mother's voice displayed no confidence in her words, only a trace of regret.

Nakadai got up and moved closer to her. "It had to be done. You said so, yourself. We couldn't let things go on the way they were."

"I know," she said. "God, Ken, he looks at us as though we're strangers! It's just too much to bear. I hope to God it isn't too late."

"It will be okay, Liz. He's still very young and very impressionable. Once he starts school and makes some friends, he'll forget all about Kamakura and karate and Bushido. He'll start acting like a normal boy, again."

"I hope so." Her voice suddenly grew angry. "Kamakura didn't give you any trouble, did he?"

"No. He tried to dissuade me, and said I was making a mistake, but he didn't give me any trouble. He's not like that."

Genjiro withdrew from his hiding place, not wanting to hear any more. He went up the stairs and took his stuffed panda off the shelf. He carried it back downstairs and crept along the hall toward the east entrance, where he slipped on his sandals and quietly opened the door.

It was already dark outside, so he had no trouble leaving the estate unseen. He marched along the street, following the route his father had driven every day to get to Kamakura's dojo. He soon found it was much farther than it seemed in the car. Nevertheless, he kept going until he reached the familiar wooden house. The door was still open, and Genjiro could hear the sounds of sparring, inside. He left his sandals at the door and went in.

Kamakura's evening students were evenly spaced around the red mat, paired off and facing each other. At the master's signal, they began to do pushing exercises. They were all older children, twelve, fourteen, and some even older, both boys and girls. Genjiro stopped just beyond the mat and watched them. Kamakura noticed him and came over to greet him.

Genjiro bowed at his approach. "Konbanwa, Shihan."

Kamakura returned the bow. "Konbanwa, Little Dragon. What are you doing out so late? Did your father bring you?"

Genjiro stood proudly straight. "No, Kama-san. I came by myself."

Kamakura's face darkened. "So. You're disobeying your father. Haven't we talked about honoring our parents, Gen-chan?"

The sensei's use of the diminutive "chan" was not lost on Genjiro. It meant Kama-san thought he was acting like a child, and didn't deserve to be called "Dragon." Genjiro bowed his head, suddenly aware of the panda in his arms. "But...they won't let me come, anymore." He could feel the tears burning in his eyes, and he fought them.

"Your parents have been very sad. They think you don't love them, anymore. You have to learn to follow budo without pushing away those who love you. The way of the warrior doesn't require you to be cold."

Genjiro looked up at him with wet eyes. Kamakura patted his shoulder. "Be nice to your parents. Show them you love them, above all else, and honor them with obedience. They'll change their minds, in this."

"What if they don't?"

"Then it was not meant to be, and you should forget about it. You can't prevent something that is destined to happen."

At the end of the class, Kamakura drove Genjiro home and walked him to the front door. The butler answered the ring and hurried to tell the worried parents their son had returned. When the two reached the door, Kamakura bowed and greeted them. "Please excuse this interruption, Nakadai-san. Your son has something very important to say to you." He patted Genjiro's shoulder, prompting him to speak.

Genjiro sank to his knees in an ancient act of submission, placed his forehead all the way onto the floor. "Father...Mother," he said, very sadly, "I'm sorry to be so much trouble. I'm sorry I made you sad. I love you very much. Please forgive me."

His solemn speech caused Mrs. Nakadai to burst into tears. She grabbed her son in an embrace and lifted him up against her. "Don't ever scare us like that, again!" She kissed his face several times and squeezed him tightly to her breast, still crying.

Genjiro cried with her. "Mama," he bawled, "please don't cry!"

Kenichi Nakadai moved aside and let his wife carry their son inside. For a moment, he just looked at Kamakura. "Thank you for bringing him back, Kama-san."

"What else could I do?" He turned and started toward his car.

"Kamakura."

The sensei turned back around. Nakadai looked uncomfortable. "I'm sorry. I suppose I'm a little too reactive."

Kamakura nodded. "You should've continued your own lessons. My father was very disappointed when you quit. And so was I." He turned and continued to his car. Nakadai watched him leave, then went back inside.

At nine o'clock on the following morning, Kamakura came out of his office and was taken aback by the sight of Genjiro standing in the entrance hall. Genjiro had evidently been waiting for him. "Ohaiyo gozaimasu, Kama-san," he said, offering a respectful bow. He then stood absolutely straight, like a little soldier, and barked out the proper greeting. "Osu!"

Kamakura returned the bow and greeting, and when he rose, he noticed Nakadai peeking in from beyond the front door. Nakadai smiled at him, then turned and left without a word.