Illustration: Stick figure touching a hot stove. Example: "Kono sutobu ni sawattara, yakedo suru yo." (If you touch this stove, you'll get burned.)

He scrolled down. The grammar section wasn't just rules. Each point had a tiny illustration—a little stick figure running late for work, a cat waiting for food—and a simple, real-life example dialogue.

He flipped further (the PDF was 187 pages, but it felt light, not heavy). The kanji section grouped characters by theme—"Hospital," "Post Office," "My Room." Each kanji had stroke order diagrams, three common compounds, and a tiny crossword puzzle at the end of each group.

Kenji forgot about the rain. He forgot about his messy desk. He printed just the first week's pages (the PDF was mercifully printer-friendly) and started on Day 1.

Kenji frowned. Gakushudo was a website he’d bookmarked months ago but never really used. He opened his email. Subject line:

He clicked the link. The PDF was surprisingly clean. No ads, no flashing banners. Just a crisp, white page with a dark blue header:

Kenji leaned forward. The calendar broke down every grammar point, every set of 15 kanji, and every reading strategy into daily, 45-minute chunks. Day 1: te-form review + toki clauses. Day 2: nagara and te-iru aida ni . It felt… manageable.

That night, Kenji didn't watch a movie. He did Day 2's exercises on nagara (while doing something). He learned that "Ocha o nominagara, terebi o mimasu" meant "I drink tea while watching TV." It was a simple sentence, but it was his sentence.

"Don't panic. Just 45 minutes. You can do this."