Second Chance: A Dark Tale of Urban India

Chapter 179: Dojo Conditions

Rohit lowered his sword slightly as he finally got a clear look at his opponent’s face.

For a brief moment, genuine surprise crossed his eyes.

Never in his life had he expected to meet her here of all places.

The girl standing across from him was none other than Shweta, the model student of their school and the same girl his predecessor had once harbored a deep crush on. In many ways, she had been one of the central figures in the original Rohit’s life.

Meanwhile, Shweta was staring back at him with an equally stunned expression.

She had seen him fight before during the incident at school a week ago, but that had been a messy street brawl against local delinquents. What she had witnessed today was something entirely different.

First, he had defeated senior students in both judo and karate despite his injured hand. Then he had stepped into the kendo section and fought someone with three years of experience on nearly equal footing.

The more she thought about it, the less sense it made.

If Rohit was truly this capable, then why had he spent years allowing himself to become the target of bullies and troublemakers? Why had he never once shown any sign of possessing these skills?

She could understand hiding one’s abilities. She herself had done exactly that.

At school, maintaining the image of a polite, graceful, and academically perfect student required her to keep certain parts of herself hidden. Revealing that she regularly trained in martial arts would only invite unnecessary attention.

But Rohit’s situation was completely different.

He had never benefited from appearing weak.

If anything, his life would have been far easier if he had demonstrated even a fraction of what she had witnessed today.

The question lingered stubbornly in her mind.

Why?

Her thoughts were interrupted when Rohit suddenly bowed.

The gesture was formal and respectful, completely free of mockery or arrogance.

"Thank you for going easy on me."

Shweta blinked.

For a moment, she simply stared at him before recovering herself. A slight frown appeared on her face as she returned the bow and turned toward her instructor, her gaze lowering.

"Forgive me, Sensei. I failed."

Standing nearby, Hiroshi Yamamoto observed the exchange with undisguised satisfaction.

The performance he had witnessed today had exceeded every expectation he initially held for the newcomer.

Raw talent alone was not what impressed him. Talented students appeared every year.

What caught his attention was Rohit’s decision-making.

His timing, distance control, and choice of counters demonstrated a level of practical understanding that usually required years of experience. More importantly, he seemed to possess an unusual instinct for recognizing which technique was appropriate for a specific situation and when it should be applied.

That was not something beginners typically possessed.

It was the kind of quality instructors spent years trying to cultivate.

For the first time in a long while, Hiroshi found himself genuinely curious.

Who exactly had taught this boy?

However, that question could wait.

At the moment, dozens of eyes were fixed on him, waiting for his verdict regarding the newcomer.

The dojo had become completely silent.

Hiroshi simply nodded once before turning toward Ashish.

"Bring him to my office."

His hands remained clasped behind his back as he walked away without offering any further explanation.

The abrupt order only left the gathered students even more restless as speculation immediately began spreading across the training floor.

***

Inside the office room,

Hiroshi sat behind his desk while Ashish stood quietly beside him.

Over the past few minutes, Ashish had already briefed him on everything that had happened on the training floor. Now, with Rohit seated across from him, Hiroshi had moved on to the question that interested him most.

His master.

Rohit had prepared for this.

"I’m sorry, sir, but I don’t remember much about my past," he said calmly. "I was involved in an accident last week and lost most of my memories. From what my household staff told me, I used to train under a private instructor at home. Unfortunately, he also passed away in the same incident."

He paused briefly before continuing.

"To be honest, I was just as shocked as everyone else when I learned about it. That’s one of the reasons I wanted to join your esteemed dojo. I’m hoping martial arts might help me rediscover parts of myself."

Both Hiroshi and Ashish exchanged a brief glance.

They had already confirmed that Rohit was indeed a member of the Singhania family. Wealthy students concealing their backgrounds was hardly unusual. Several of Hiroshi’s previous students had done the same.

That wasn’t the issue.

The story itself simply didn’t add up.

A boy who could remember years of combat training but not the instructor who taught him was unusual enough. The convenient death of that instructor made it even more difficult to verify.

Ashish clearly looked unconvinced.

Hiroshi himself suspected there were gaps in the story. Perhaps Rohit was hiding something. Perhaps the entire explanation was fabricated. Wealthy families often carried rivalries, scandals, and internal conflicts that ordinary people never saw.

But ultimately, none of that concerned him.

What interested Hiroshi was the talent sitting across the desk.

The boy possessed instincts, timing, and adaptability that normally took years to develop. More importantly, he displayed remarkable composure under pressure.

That was far harder to fake.

If properly trained, Rohit could become a valuable asset for the dojo’s reputation. The possibility of earning recognition at larger regional and national events suddenly seemed much more realistic.

Hiroshi rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"So, what you’re telling me is that you have no reliable information regarding your previous training, and your instructor is no longer alive."

"Yes, sir," Rohit replied. "That’s correct."

Hiroshi nodded slowly.

"Then let me make one thing clear, Young Master Singhania."

His voice became firmer.

"If you wish to train here, you will follow the same rules as everyone else. Your family name remains outside the dojo. Once you step onto the training floor, you are no different from any other student."

Rohit listened quietly.

"I also heard you persuaded my subordinate to alter the evaluation process today. That cannot become a habit. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir."

The answer came immediately.

Hiroshi seemed satisfied.

"Good."

He leaned back slightly before continuing.

"I will conduct theoretical lessons and evaluations on Saturdays. The dojo remains closed on Sundays. From what I’ve observed, your practical ability is around blue-belt level."

Ashish raised an eyebrow slightly but didn’t interrupt.

"However," Hiroshi continued, "ability and rank are not the same thing. You may possess the skills of a blue belt, but you lack much of the formal knowledge, terminology, etiquette, and structure expected of one."

His gaze settled firmly on Rohit.

"For that reason, you will begin as a white belt like everyone else."

Rohit had expected something similar.

Frankly, he didn’t care.

If they decided to evaluate him practically tomorrow, he was confident he could pass without difficulty. The belt itself meant very little.

"Understood, sir."

"I’ll also conduct private sessions with you every Wednesday," Hiroshi added. "We need to fill the gaps in your foundation before they become problems later."

Rohit nodded again.

For the first time, a faint smile appeared on Hiroshi’s face. "One final thing."

Rohit straightened slightly.

"Call me Sensei." The older man’s voice was calm but carried unmistakable authority. "You are my disciple now. If you have a problem, it becomes my problem. And if this dojo faces a problem, you will treat it as your own."

For a brief moment, Rohit found himself genuinely surprised.

Most relationships in his life were transactional.

People offered assistance because they expected something in return. Even when they smiled, there was usually a calculation behind it.

Yet Hiroshi had spoken those words as though they were the most natural thing in the world.

A simple statement.

But an effective one.

In just a few minutes, the man had subtly established himself as mentor, authority, and protector all at once.

Clever.

Far cleverer than he initially appeared.

It also confirmed something else.

Earning this man’s trust and turning him into a useful ally would likely take far longer than Rohit had anticipated.

Still, that only made the challenge more interesting.

A small smile appeared on his face.

"Understood, Sensei."