AS DARKNESS ENVELOPED the training ground, the grueling session finally drew to a close. Despite the encroaching night, Mikono and Kinsu persisted, their determination unyielding. Their bodies strained under the weight of their makeshift training implements, each strike demanding more effort than the last. With every swing, fatigue threatened to overwhelm them, forcing frequent pauses to catch their breath on the riverbank. Meanwhile, Mikamoto observed their relentless efforts, a silent witness to their endurance. As the others were dismissed to rest, Kasaki, with over twelve hundred strikes to his name, contemplated joining them. Yet, a sense of solidarity compelled him to stay and offer support. Venturing into the verdant woods, Kasaki marveled at the tranquility surrounding him. Despite the fading light, the forest retained a serene beauty, a stark contrast to the perilous Wild Forest of his past. His gaze lingered on a woodpecker diligently carving into a massive trunk, its rhythmic pecks echoing through the tranquil air.
Fatigue weighed on him, but it was a bearable exhaustion, not the crippling kind. Sensibly, he decided to take a break, letting the rhythmic tapping of the woodpecker's beak against the tree soothe his frayed nerves. The bird, a marvel of nature, captivated him with its grace and precision.
His stomach rumbled, a reminder of his hunger, though thoughts of food had not crossed his mind until now. Surprisingly, it took stumbling upon an apple tree for him to realize the extent of his appetite. Strewn across the ground lay a bounty of vibrant red apples, their glossy skins inviting him to pluck one. As he took a bite, memories of his harrowing journey through the Wild Forest flooded his mind—the chattering monkeys, the monstrous three-headed snake. How had he managed to survive such trials? With a shrug, he chalked it up to sheer determination. Juice dribbled down his chin as he savored the crisp sweetness of the apple. Perhaps, he mused, there would be more challenges like those in the days ahead. Yet, in the face of adversity, he had proven himself capable of rising to the occasion.
Despite his rigorous training, Kasaki couldn't shake the worry: would challenges continue to loom larger than him and his abilities? Sadly, he suspected the answer was yes. It seemed inevitable. He was just a determined young boy, fiercely determined to prevent his parents from falling into enslavement. Yet, it was that very refusal to surrender that had seen him through the perilous threats of the forest. After finishing two more apples, Kasaki rose to his feet. Unsure about the suitability of rocks for his training, he feared their unpredictability and potential for injury. Amidst his samurai training, he couldn't afford to get hurt. He needed something safer, something more reliable. Sand suddenly came to mind, a smooth and manageable material that could serve his purpose well. It was a revelation, a solution that seemed to fit perfectly.
He figured he could fill a strip of cloth with sand and tie it securely to his wrists and ankles. Sand wouldn't bounce around like rocks, reducing the risk of injury. But where could he find enough sand for this? Perhaps the riverbed held some sand he could use. Kasaki decided to return to the river. Unlike Mikono and Kinsu, he wasn't going to use rocks. He was determined to tailor his training to his own needs as much as possible.
When Kasaki reached the river, he saw only Mikono and Kinsu diving in and out of the water; everyone else was resting. He headed toward the rock where Mikamoto was sitting. Mikamoto, as usual, had his eyes closed. Kasaki's steps were quiet, but to his surprise, as soon as he got close enough, Mikamoto spoke to him. "Where were you?" Kasaki was taken aback. How was that possible? Was it some kind of keen instinct that all samurais developed with time and training, or was it unique to Mikamoto? His sensitivity was impressive. Nevertheless, Kasaki didn't bother asking about it at the moment and simply replied, "I was in the woods, looking for weights." "Huh," Mikamoto said, intrigued. "Did you find any?" "Yes, but none that I want to use, sir," Kasaki responded. Mikamoto's eyes opened, showing his interest. "What do you mean?" he asked Kasaki. "I want to use sand. My fellow trainees, Mikono and Kinsu, decided to use rocks as weights, but I think rocks are too cumbersome and could cause injuries. So I prefer to use sand, sir."
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
Mikamoto gazed at Kasaki for a moment, the silence hanging between them. "That's very astute," he finally remarked. "And you're correct. Using rocks as weights during sword practice can be quite uncomfortable. Just look at your two fellow trainees; they should be surfacing any moment now." Kasaki turned to glance at the river's surface, waiting for Mikono or Kinsu to emerge. After a few seconds, Mikono surfaced, and indeed, Kasaki noticed a bruise on his right wrist as Mikono brushed his hair from his face with his right hand.
"You're correct, sir. I can see the bruises on Mikono's wrist. Why don't you suggest they remove the weights? Is that why it's taking them so long to complete the one thousand repetitions?" Kasaki inquired.
"Yes, that's precisely the reason we're still here. It must be quite painful. Mikono's wrists seem alright, but you should see Kinsu's. He's already cut," Mikamoto explained.
“Why don’t you intervene? Command them to cease and drop those weights,” Kasaki suggested.
Mikomoto stood up, stretching his limbs as if weary of sitting for so long.
“There's no use. They won’t comply,” Mikomoto replied.
“Why?” Kasaki inquired.
“Their pride. They're samurais, at least in their hearts, for now. I'm certain those two will become samurais. I can sense it in their spirit that they won’t abandon the training. You see, Kasaki, pride holds immense importance for us. It means never backing down, never retreating, never surrendering. That's ingrained in our creed. No matter how daunting the challenge, a samurai never gives up. If he makes a promise to anyone, or even to himself, he will fulfill it, without question. Regardless of the difficulty, he will persevere, for a samurai's word is sacred. Failing to honor it is a disgrace far worse than death for a samurai. Remember this always, Kasaki. Always uphold your word, and choose death over dishonor. It may seem extreme, but it’s the very essence that sets samurais apart from ordinary men.”
“So, is that how a samurai ought to conduct himself, sir?” Kasaki queried, mentally scanning his brief life to determine if he had always honored his commitments.
"Indeed, it is. A samurai must exercise great caution and mindfulness with his words. Once spoken, they carry weight and impact wherever he treads,” Mikomoto affirmed.
“What if I publicly declare, to myself and those around me, that I’ll become the greatest samurai ever? Would that place additional pressure on me? Might it serve as added motivation to fulfill my pledge?”
Mikamoto's smile held a hint of nostalgia. He remembered all too well the fervor that burned within Kasaki, a fire he once bore himself in his own journey to become a great samurai. His position as the Master’s right-hand man was a testament to his dedication and skill. However, Mikamoto understood that their paths diverged vastly in terms of timing. Kasaki had joined the ranks only months before the impending war, while Mikamoto had honed his skills over years of patient training. He had weathered countless trials, even engaging in skirmishes with Misuki’s spies, yet the war remained an elusive horizon, forever on the cusp but never fully realized. While Mikamoto remained poised and prepared, his fervor had long been tempered by the passage of time, a stark contrast to the burning eagerness that now blazed in Kasaki's eyes.
"You can, indeed," Mikamoto finally responded. "But don't let your enthusiasm lead you to make promises you won't fulfill through hard work and discipline. Today marks only your second day of training, and while I have no doubt about your determination, your potential to excel as a samurai is clear. However, remember to choose your words wisely. As samurais, we hold our words in high regard. What you keep to yourself, you control; what you speak, you are bound to. Keep that in mind."
Kasaki fell into a thoughtful silence, pondering Mikamoto's wise words. He realized the power of silent determination, the quiet resolve to let actions speak louder than words. Perhaps, he thought, being the unnoticed underdog held its own kind of magic—a chance to work diligently in silence, surprising others with his accomplishments. "A surprise to everyone but myself," he mused, newfound confidence coursing through him like a gentle stream of hope.
"You're right, sir," Kasaki finally spoke, his voice carrying a newfound resolve. "Actions speak louder than words. My goal is to improve every day, but I see now there's no need to broadcast my intentions. I'll let my efforts do the talking."
"Victory favors the bold," Mikamoto nodded, his eyes closed in contemplation.
With their conversation concluded, Kasaki departed, his mind set on the task ahead. Back to the river he went, ready to gather the sand that would fuel his silent journey of self-improvement.