14th World Kendo Championships, São Paulo, Brazil,2009
"Unbelievable. We've seen dominant athletes before, but nothing quite like Noa Hathaway." One of the commentators stared at the statistics displayed on his monitor and shook his head in disbelief. "Just look at this. JJIF World Ju-Jitsu Champion, IJF World Judo Champion, WKF World Karate Champion, World Taekwondo Champion, World Sambo Champion, IBJJF World Jiu-Jitsu Champion. Every time this man enters a martial arts competition, he somehow finds a way to reach the very top."
He let out a low whistle. "And now he's standing on the biggest stage in Kendo, one victory away from adding yet another world championship to an already absurd collection."
His co-commentator nodded, though his attention remained fixed on the competitor standing across from Hathaway.
"That may be true, but today won't be easy. Across from him is Shoji Teramoto, one of the greatest Kendo practitioners of his generation. If there's anyone capable of stopping Hathaway's march toward another title, it's him."
He paused as both competitors took their positions.
"This could very well come down to endurance, focus, and sheer willpower. For the first time in this tournament, I honestly believe Noa Hathaway is facing someone on equal footing."
The referee's signal rang through the arena, and both competitors exploded into motion. Their shinai collided with a crack loud enough to echo throughout the stadium. Shoji Teramoto struck first, his attack carrying the precision and confidence of a man who had spent decades at the pinnacle of Kendo. Yet Noa met the strike without hesitation. A subtle twist redirected Shoji's blade off line, and before anyone could fully register the movement, Noa surged forward. The distance between them vanished in an instant as he forced the veteran onto the defensive.
The crowd watched in stunned silence as the exchange accelerated beyond human comprehension. Shoji attempted to regain control, launching a series of attacks that would have overwhelmed almost any competitor in the world. Noa answered every one of them. Their shinai crashed together repeatedly, each impact sounding like thunder across the arena. To the audience, it looked as though Noa was constantly one step ahead, slipping off the centerline, stealing space, and denying Shoji the chance to establish his rhythm. Every exchange pushed the veteran further toward a position he did not want to be in.
Then it ended. Noa suddenly drove forward with complete commitment, his body exploding through a single decisive motion. His shinai flashed upward and came crashing down in a perfect men strike. The impact rang through the arena like a gunshot. Noa continued past his opponent without breaking stride while Shoji remained frozen in place for a heartbeat. Then his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor as the referees' flags shot skyward.
For several seconds, the arena was silent. The giant screen replayed the exchange repeatedly, yet even in slow motion, it seemed impossible. Shoji Teramoto sat on the hardwood floor staring ahead while Noa Hathaway stood calmly at the opposite end of the court. Finally, the commentator found his voice.
"My God... I was wrong, that wasn't a battle of endurance."
He shook his head in disbelief as the crowd erupted. "And Noa Hathaway has done it! He is the World Kendo Champion! Tonight, he stands at the summit of martial arts excellence!"
Noa removed his helmet and immediately searched the crowd, ignoring the deafening cheers of hundreds of spectators. There was only one person he wanted to see. After a few moments, his eyes found Michelle Hathaway standing among the crowd, tears already streaming down her face.
A smile spread across his own as he turned and gave Shoji Teramoto a deep, respectful bow before straightening and raising his shinai toward the stands. Gone was the composed world champion; in that moment, he was simply a son sharing his triumph with his mother. "I did it, Mom!" he shouted, his voice carrying across the arena, causing Michelle to break down completely as the crowd erupted once more.
***
"You were absolutely amazing, and that final hit was chef's kiss." Michelle reached up and kissed her son's cheek, her eyes still red from crying. "Oh, and I got a call from the mayor. They plan to award you fifty thousand dollars for bringing home the championship."
Noa let out a long sigh. Winning the tournament had been the easy part. What awaited him back home was an endless parade of interviews, ceremonies, handshakes, photographs, and speeches. The thought alone was exhausting. Still, he smiled and loaded the massive championship trophy into the back of their car.
Just as he was about to close the trunk, he felt a light tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he found himself facing an elderly Japanese man accompanied by a younger aide. The old man held a long object wrapped carefully in white cloth. Even without seeing it, Noa immediately recognized the shape. A sword.
Noa straightened and gave a respectful bow. "[What can I do for you, sir?]" he asked in flawless Japanese. The old man's eyebrows rose in surprise before a warm smile spread across his face. "Excellent manners, and excellent Japanese as well." He gently extended the wrapped sword toward him. "Accept this. It is the last blade I will ever forge. I poured my heart, soul, and every remaining year of experience into it."
Noa's eyes widened. "I couldn't possibly accept something so valuable." He immediately tried to decline, but the old man merely shook his head. "A sword chooses its owner, and I have spent this entire tournament watching you. A craftsman dreams that his finest creation will be entrusted to someone worthy of carrying it. Please, allow an old man this final wish."
After several moments of hesitation, Noa finally accepted the sword with both hands and bowed deeply. The old smith's smile widened in satisfaction. "Good. Take care of it, and may it accompany you through a bright future." Noa promised he would, and after exchanging farewells, he and his mom watched the old man and his aide disappear into the evening crowd.
He got into the car and carefully undid the threads securing the cloth around the sword. Layer by layer, the wrapping fell away until the blade was finally revealed. The moment it caught the light, both Noa and Michelle fell silent. The katana was unlike anything he had ever seen. Its crimson blade seemed almost alive, shimmering with intricate patterns that flowed along the steel like veins beneath skin.
The golden tsuba and immaculate white handle gave it an almost regal appearance, yet there was nothing flashy about it. Every detail spoke of countless hours of craftsmanship and a lifetime of mastery. Noa gently ran a finger along the flat of the blade, afraid to even breathe too heavily near it. For the first time that day, the championship trophy sitting in the trunk felt insignificant.
This was not merely a weapon; it was the final legacy of a master swordsmith, entrusted to him alone. Remembering the old man's words, Noa carefully returned the blade to its sheath and rested it across his lap. "I'll take good care of it," he murmured, more to himself than anyone else, as the car pulled away from the arena and into the fading evening light.
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After ten hours in the air, Noa's flight finally touched down in Atlanta at exactly 5:36 A.M. Between the championship celebrations, interviews, and the long journey home, exhaustion had begun to catch up with him. He collected his belongings, carefully keeping the gifted katana close at hand, and made his way out of the airport.
By the time he reached home, the adrenaline from his victory had completely faded. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he barely had enough energy to drop onto his bed before sleep claimed him.
Nearly thirteen hours later, Noa finally opened his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the curtains, illuminating the championship trophy resting in the corner of his room and the sheathed crimson katana leaning against the wall beside it. For the first time since winning the World Kendo Championship, he felt truly awake.
After finishing his morning routine, Noa made his way downstairs, still feeling unusually relaxed after nearly an entire day of travel and sleep. The familiar aroma of freshly brewed coffee drifted through the house, and as he entered the kitchen, he found his mom sitting at the dining table with a newspaper in hand, just as she did every morning.
The moment she noticed him, a warm smile spread across her face. It was the same smile that had greeted him after school, after tournaments, and after every milestone in his life.
"Good morning, my sweet," she said, folding the newspaper and setting it aside. "Sleep well?"
Noa chuckled as he pulled out a chair and sat across from her. "Like the dead. I don't think I've ever slept that long in my life."
"Good," Michelle replied, pouring him a cup of coffee. "After everything you've been through these past few weeks, I'd have been worried if you hadn't." Her eyes drifted toward the championship trophy visible from the kitchen doorway, and her smile widened. "Still feels strange seeing the World's Martial Champion sitting at my breakfast table."
Noa groaned and buried his face in his hands. "Please don't start. I've got enough people reminding me of that already."
Noa accepted the coffee and took a sip while Michelle folded the newspaper and set it aside. For a few moments, they simply enjoyed the quiet morning. It was a rare thing these days. Between tournaments, training camps, school, and his increasingly successful investments, peaceful breakfasts had become something of a luxury.
"So," Michelle began, raising an eyebrow, "have you actually checked how much money you have now?"
Noa let out a small groan. "Not since the championship."
"Well, I did." That immediately got his attention.
Michelle slid a notepad across the table. "After the prize money, sponsorship bonuses, exhibition appearances, and your trading returns, you're sitting at just under nineteen million dollars."
Noa stared at the figure for several seconds before shaking his head. "That sounds ridiculous."
"Because it is ridiculous," Michelle replied with a laugh. "You're not even old enough to legally drink yet."
"I still don't feel rich."
"That's because you spend most of your time either studying, training, or staring at stock charts."
"Fair point."
A short while later, Michelle disappeared into the kitchen and returned with breakfast. The meal was extravagant without being overly heavy. Freshly baked croissants sat beside warm butter and imported fruit preserves. There was a platter of sliced strawberries, blueberries, raspberries, kiwi, and mango arranged with almost artistic precision.
A fluffy spinach and cheese omelet occupied the center of the table alongside roasted potatoes seasoned with herbs and garlic. Fresh avocado toast topped with cherry tomatoes added a touch of color, while a bowl of thick Greek yogurt drizzled with honey and sprinkled with almonds completed the spread. Freshly squeezed orange juice and steaming coffee accompanied the meal.
Noa leaned back in his chair after finishing the last of his breakfast. For the first time in weeks, there was nothing demanding his immediate attention.
Just a quiet day at home. Unfortunately, that peace would not last long. Summer vacation officially ended tomorrow, and after everything that had happened over the past few months, the newly crowned World Kendo Champion would once again find himself walking through the halls of school like an ordinary student. At least, as ordinary as a nineteen-millionaire world champion could be.