“I see,” said the sensei, putting his mask back on. “I need to become a master, because years in the future, I’m going to have to fight off three robots wielding two swords each in pitch darkness, and I need to be ready.” “I must study kendo, sensei,” she told him, bowing despite her aches and pains. “But this really isn’t the place for a twelve-year-old.” “I admire your fighting spirit, Lenora,” he said. He smiled at her kindly, and, she could tell with irritation, a bit of pity. Now, a year later, as she leaned against the wall, her entire body begging for mercy, the sensei approached and removed his mask. If only the teacher knew how very many difficult things she had already overcome. “But there is something about you … I will allow you to try. The sensei had pondered this, chin in hand, looking Lenora up and down. Please let me try.” Lenora winced at her weak response. “Because,” she had said to the sensei, “I-I-really like kendo. We could show it to a nice doctor.”Īfter that, Lenora had learned to keep silent about the Library-for that was how she thought of it now, with a capital L, and its name “not written in ink but in a golden splash,” to quote one of Lenora’s favorite books. “You’ve always had such a vivid imagination. “That’s … fascinating, dear,” her mother said with concern. Her parents were staring at her with alarm. “And there were spaceships, and I shrank to the size of an ant, and…” She stopped. “I told you, Lenora,” her father had said. “I got a job at the library!” she’d announced to her parents with excitement after her return from her first adventures at the otherworldly library that spanned all of space and time. He would never believe her, any more than her parents had.
“I need to become a master, because-” She hesitated. “I need to study kendo, sensei,” she told him, bowing.
I don’t want a children’s class, Lenora almost snarled, then stopped herself. “But we don’t have enough interested children to start a children’s class.” “I’m sorry,” the sensei, a very nice old man, had said when she’d first showed up. And she could tell they were taking it easy on her, too, which only made her get angrier and fight harder.Įven getting into the class had been a struggle. Everyone else at the kendo dojo was much older, taller, and stronger than Lenora, not to mention much more experienced in the Japanese martial art of sword-fighting. She slumped against the wall of the dojo in her uniform and mask, feeling utterly beaten.
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