He sat upright on his bed, Kengo's legs crossed and his hands resting on each knee. He kept his eyes firmly shut in deep concentration. The only sound he heard was the brisk morning breeze through his open window. He wore only his shorts that he slept in, and nothing else. For a few weeks now, he'd spent many late nights and early mornings attempting the same meditation his master and foster father employed. For years he watched him spend entire nights alone on his balcony, in hot or cold, and remaining in meditation the whole night through and still feeling well rested come morning. Since he was already excelling at his other training regimes, Kengo decided, it was only a matter of time before he would be taking his training to the next level. That time was not now, however, as so far he had succeeded only in nodding off to sleep during his attempted meditations. But Kengo was a determined sort, and this, like any exercise or technique he had ever had to work hard at, would be no exception.

Soon enough, though, a single knock on his door told him it was time to give up meditation for the time being as he heard his foster father's voice calling everyone for breakfast. For a moment, Kengo even considered skipping breakfast and continuing his attempts at meditation, but a timely growl from his stomach convinced him otherwise. He got up, shaking his head in disappointment at himself and got dressed in his casual attire. No sense in wearing armor to breakfast after all, and it wasn't like the keep was under threat of attack either. While dressing, he occasionally looked over at a small nightstand stable, where a board game sat that appeared to be in the middle of a game. The game in question was one Kengo learned from Lao, and it depicted a board divided into a grid, with several flat, wooden pieces identified by oriental markings placed strategically around one another. When he was finally dressed and about to leave, he approached board and, lightly tapping one of the wooden pieces he carefully slid forward a few spots in a diagonal direction, then smirked confidently at his imaginary opponent and said, "Hm, let's see you think your way out of that one, Nemesis." the [i]nemesis[/i] he referred to was actually himself. Kengo had made it a common practice to make a move on the game each morning when he awoke and each night before sleeping, alternating which side of the board he played on for each move. During the time that passed between moves, he was almost sure to forget the exact move he made and thus the next one would be purely reactionary. This, he concluded, was the definitive way one would challenge themselves at a game of strategy, and thus was one of the many ways in which he trained his intellect.

The move made, Kengo exited his room and shuffled through the flow of the crowd to where breakfast was served. He got his share, and took his usual spot in a seat not far from the Master himself. This of course resulted in him overhearing the conversation between Victor and his foster father. While he remained silent, choosing not to inquire about a matter that could very well not concern him, he couldn't help but be curious at the same time. He usually made it his business to be aware of anything and everything going on at the bastion, at least as much as was allowed. After all, with complete awareness of one's surroundings, one can properly react to any and all scenarios that might present themselves. This business regarding priests and urgent news was something he was completely unaware of, and he found himself desiring all the more to learn what he could about it.

Finally, Kengo dared to speak, "Sounds important," he said plainly, being one of the few who openly addressed Master Lao in such an informal manner due to the nature of their relationship, "or maybe, dare I say, suspicious?"