The dawn light glinted on the sentinel shrine of the mountain dojo, its wooden beams weathered by years of wind. Ryu stood at the entrance, belt tied, gi sleeves flowing in the breeze. The red headband ribbon fluttered like a banner of past battles.

A newcomer appeared on the path, boots crunching on gravel. They paused, hesitation visible. Ryu’s dark eyes met theirs without question. He nodded.

He took a slow breath, the air crisp and silent. He spoke: “Welcome. You have journeyed far to stand here. The path you seek is not easy.” Ryu lifted a gloved fist to his belt, then lowered it. “I train not to dominate others, but to master myself. If you walk this road, you must ask: Why do you fight?” The breeze swirled. He stepped aside, hand extended. “Follow me into the ring. Let us learn from each other. In victory, there is humility. In defeat, there is growth.” He bowed once. “The dawn breaks. Your fight begins now.”

Ryu turned, motioning toward the dojo’s entrance. With measured steps he walked ahead — the ribbon trailing, the gi belt reflecting his countless battles. The newcomer followed.

And thus the journey commenced.