CHAPTER 188: BUILDING THE DEFENSE

Around eleven, Nina’s phone rang. The caller ID showed her mother’s name.

"Hi Mom," Nina answered, then paused to listen. Her expression gradually shifted from casual to concerned. "When did this happen? Is she okay?"

Kofi looked up from his planning notes, alert to the change in Nina’s tone.

"No, I understand. Of course I’ll come home. I can drive down tomorrow morning." Another pause. "Yes, I’ll call when I’m on the way."

She hung up and sat quietly for a moment.

"What’s wrong?" Kofi asked.

"My grandmother fell. She’s in the hospital. Nothing life-threatening, but she’s going to need surgery and a long recovery."

"I’m sorry. How can I help?"

"I need to go home for a few days. Help my mom figure out care arrangements and just be there for family support."

"Of course. Do you want me to come with you?"

Nina considered this. "I appreciate the offer, but I think this is something I need to handle with just my family. Besides, you have the kendo situation to deal with."

"Are you sure?"

"I’m sure. But thank you for offering."

As Nina packed for another unexpected trip, Kofi found himself thinking about timing and priorities. How life had a way of introducing complications just when you thought you had everything figured out.

"I’ll call you when I know more about the timeline," Nina said, zipping up her overnight bag.

"Don’t worry about me. Focus on your family."

"I will. But Kofi?"

"Yeah?"

"Don’t let them kill the kendo program while I’m gone. I want to be here to see you fight for it."

"I won’t let them kill it at all."

Nina smiled, the first genuine smile he’d seen from her since the phone call. "That’s what I like to hear."

After she left the next morning, the apartment felt quiet again. But this time the silence was different. Instead of uncertainty and anxiety, there was clarity of purpose. Kofi had work to do, and for the first time in weeks, he knew exactly what that work was.

He called Jake to discuss next steps for their campaign. Then he contacted team members to begin serious planning for the demonstration event. By afternoon, he had meetings scheduled with the other threatened programs and initial outreach to potential guest instructors.

The fight to save the kendo program was beginning in earnest. And despite the challenges ahead, Kofi felt more confident about this battle than any they’d fought before. This time, he wasn’t just reacting to external threats. He was defending something he’d helped create, something that represented who he’d become.

---

The campaign to save the kendo program required a different approach than their previous battles. This wasn’t about exposing corruption or fighting bullies. This was about convincing administrators to value something they didn’t understand within a system that measured worth primarily through revenue generation.

Kofi spent Thursday morning in meetings with representatives from other threatened programs. The fencing team captain, a serious senior named Alex, brought detailed enrollment data. The aikido club president, Sarah, had testimonials from students about personal growth and stress management benefits.

"We need to present a united front," Alex said as they gathered in an empty classroom. "Individual programs fighting separately won’t have enough impact."

"Agreed," said Sarah. "But we also need to tailor our arguments to what the administration cares about. Budget concerns, retention rates, alumni engagement."

Kofi reviewed his notes from Jake’s financial analysis. "The actual money involved is relatively small. The real issue is the precedent. If they can eliminate our programs without significant resistance, they’ll continue cutting anything that doesn’t generate direct revenue."

"So this is about more than just martial arts programs," Alex observed.

"It’s about what kind of educational environment the university wants to maintain. Whether they value comprehensive student development or just profitable athletics and high-enrollment courses."

They spent two hours developing a coordinated strategy. Each program would focus on its specific strengths while supporting shared arguments about educational value and community building. Kofi would lead the overall coordination since his program had the largest enrollment.

"I’m organizing a demonstration event for next week," he told the group. "You’re all invited to participate. We can showcase different martial arts traditions and their contributions to student life."

"That’s brilliant," Sarah said. "Visual demonstrations are much more compelling than budget arguments."

After the meeting, Kofi returned to the dojo to continue planning. He found Yuna there, working with two men he didn’t recognize. Both wore traditional hakama and moved with the precise control of advanced practitioners.

"Kofi," Yuna called when she saw him. "Come meet our guests."

The older man was Tanaka-sensei, though Kofi hadn’t seen him in months. The younger man was introduced as Hayashi-sensei, visiting from a school in California.

"Yuna told us about your situation," Tanaka-sensei said after formal introductions. "We came to offer assistance."

"I appreciate that, but I can’t ask you to get involved in university politics."

"This isn’t politics," Hayashi-sensei said. "This is about preserving educational opportunities that benefit students. We have an obligation to support programs that teach authentic martial arts."

"What kind of support are you thinking about?"

"Demonstration, certainly. But also testimony about the value of these programs from a broader perspective. How they connect students to cultural traditions and personal development practices."

Tanaka-sensei nodded. "Many universities are facing similar budget pressures. If your institution eliminates martial arts programs, others will follow that precedent. We have a stake in preventing that outcome."

The conversation expanded to include other team members as they arrived for regular practice. Soon the dojo was filled with planning discussions alongside physical training. The atmosphere was energized, focused, determined.

"We need to document everything," suggested Maria during a break between planning sessions. "Video testimonials, academic performance data, retention statistics. Concrete evidence to support our arguments."

"I can handle the video production," offered David. "My roommate has professional equipment for his film classes."

"And I’ll coordinate with the other programs about joint messaging," added another team member.

As practice concluded, Kofi felt something he hadn’t experienced since taking over leadership of the team. Complete confidence in their collective ability to handle challenges. The threat to their program had transformed individual students into a unified advocacy organization.

Yuna stayed after the others left, working on advanced forms under the guidance of the visiting senseis. Watching her preparation for Japan, Kofi was struck by how much she’d grown since their first sparring match.

"She’s remarkable," Tanaka-sensei observed. "Her technical skill is excellent, but more importantly, she understands the deeper principles. She’ll represent your program well in Japan."

"I’m going to miss training with her."

"Distance doesn’t end the connection between training partners. You’ll continue to influence each other’s development even from different continents."

Friday brought Nina’s first call from home. Her grandmother’s surgery had gone well, but recovery would take several weeks.

"How are things with your family?" Kofi asked.

"Complicated. Mom’s stressed about the caregiving logistics. Dad’s trying to help but doesn’t know how. My aunts keep offering advice that conflicts with each other."

"Sounds overwhelming."

"It is. But it’s also clarifying. Being here, seeing what really matters when someone you love is vulnerable, it puts other concerns in perspective."

"Like the fellowship?"

"Like everything. The fellowship, my career plans, what I want my life to look like five years from now. None of it seems as urgent as it did a week ago."

"That’s probably healthy."

"Maybe. Or maybe I’m just using family crisis as an excuse to avoid making difficult decisions."

"Could be both."

Nina was quiet for a moment. "How’s the kendo campaign going?"

"Better than expected. We have support from visiting senseis, coordination with other programs, and a demonstration event planned for next Friday."

"That’s fast work."

"We don’t have time to waste. The budget meeting is the following Monday."

"I wish I could be there to cover the story."

"Don’t worry about it. Focus on your family. I’ll send you updates."

"Actually, I’ve been thinking about that. The campus paper editor should assign someone else to cover this story. I’m too personally invested to be objective."

"Are you sure? You’ve been working on it all week."

"That’s exactly why I should step back. Good journalism requires distance from the subject matter."

After they hung up, Kofi found himself thinking about distance and objectivity. Nina’s decision to remove herself from the story showed professional maturity, but it also represented another small separation between their lives.

The weekend was consumed by preparation activities. Team members spent Saturday filming testimonials and gathering documentation. Sunday involved rehearsals for the demonstration event, coordinating with other programs, and finalizing logistics.

"We need a clear narrative arc," Alex said during their final planning meeting. "Introduction to the programs, demonstration of skills, testimony about impact, and a specific call to action."

"The call to action is simple," Kofi replied. "Preserve these programs in the budget. But we need to make that request in terms the administration will find compelling."

"Student retention, alumni engagement, institutional reputation," Sarah listed. "Those are the metrics they care about."

"Then that’s how we frame our arguments."

By Sunday evening, everything was ready. Demonstration sequences rehearsed, speakers prepared, logistics confirmed. All they could do was execute their plan and hope it was persuasive enough to change administrative minds.

Kofi spent Sunday night reviewing his own remarks for the event. As the primary organizer, he would open and close the program. His role was to contextualize everything else within a broader argument about educational values.

"The purpose of a university," he practiced aloud in his empty apartment, "is not just to transmit information or provide job training. It’s to develop complete human beings who can contribute meaningfully to their communities."

The words felt true but also insufficient. How could he convey in a few minutes what these programs had meant to his own development? How could he explain the transformation from an isolated, uncertain freshman into someone capable of leading teams and fighting for principles?

Monday morning brought unexpected support. Jake arrived at Kofi’s apartment with a thick folder of documents.

"I finished the complete financial analysis," he announced. "The numbers are even more favorable than I initially thought."

"What do you mean?"

"The cost per student for martial arts programs is actually lower than many other extracurricular activities. And the retention rate for students who participate in these programs is significantly higher than the general population."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously. Students who join martial arts programs are more likely to graduate, more likely to maintain higher GPAs, and more likely to report satisfaction with their university experience."

"Do you have source data for all this?"

"Everything’s documented. Registrar’s office provided enrollment and graduation statistics. Student affairs office had the satisfaction survey data. Financial aid office helped with cost analysis."

Kofi looked through Jake’s meticulously organized research. The evidence was compelling - not just anecdotal testimonials, but concrete data showing measurable benefits.

"This is incredible work, Jake. How did you gather all this so quickly?"

"Ruby helped. And I may have implied that this was for a class project rather than advocacy work."

"Whatever it takes."

Monday also brought an email from the campus paper. Nina had been right about needing someone else to cover the story. The new reporter, a sophomore named Kevin, wanted to interview Kofi about the demonstration event.

"I want to be fair to all perspectives," Kevin said when they met. "What’s the administration’s case for these budget cuts?"

"Financial necessity, they claim. But the data shows these programs are actually cost-effective compared to other activities."

"What data?"

Kofi shared Jake’s research, watching Kevin’s eyebrows rise as he reviewed the numbers.

"This is significant. Have you presented this information to the administration?"

"That’s what Friday’s event is for. Public presentation of our case for preserving these programs."

"And if they don’t change their position?"

"Then we’ll have to consider other options. Student protests, alumni pressure, media attention beyond the campus paper."

Kevin took notes throughout their conversation, asking thoughtful questions about program history, student impact, and broader implications for university priorities.

"One more question," he said as they concluded. "What does this fight mean to you personally? Why is it worth all this effort?"

Kofi considered the question carefully. "These programs teach things you can’t learn in regular classes. Discipline, respect, perseverance under pressure. They create communities based on shared challenge and mutual support. Eliminating them doesn’t just cut costs - it diminishes what this university offers to students who need more than just academic instruction."

"And you needed more than just academic instruction?"

"I needed everything these programs provide. Structure, purpose, leadership opportunities, a way to grow beyond who I was when I arrived here."

Tuesday through Thursday passed in a blur of final preparations. Team members practiced demonstration sequences until they were flawless. Visiting senseis arrived and began working with multiple programs. Equipment was arranged, invitations sent, logistics confirmed and re-confirmed.

Thursday evening, Kofi called Nina to check in before the big day.

"How’s your grandmother doing?"

"Better. She’s home from the hospital and starting physical therapy. But it’s going to be a long process."

"And how are you holding up?"

"I’m okay. Being here has been good, actually. Reminded me what family support looks like when it really matters."

"When do you think you’ll be back?"

"Probably Sunday. I want to be here for the weekend in case anything comes up."

"I understand. I wish you could be here for the demonstration, but family comes first."

"It does. But Kofi? I’ll be thinking about you tomorrow. About all of you. Fight hard."

"We will."

Friday morning arrived with nervous energy coursing through the entire team. Everything they’d worked for would be decided by their ability to convince administrators who had already made up their minds about budget priorities.

But as Kofi looked around the dojo at his teammates, the visiting senseis, and representatives from other programs, he felt confident about their chances. They’d built something worth fighting for, and they were ready to prove it.