AT NIGHTFALL, Kasaki found himself consumed by Mikamoto’s words. Why boast about becoming the greatest samurai if he couldn't live up to it? Failure would be a disgrace beyond measure, perhaps even warranting seppuku. Yet, what did it truly mean to be the best? The declaration lacked specificity, leaving a sliver of hope for delaying such drastic measures. Maybe he could stave off seppuku for a time, continuously honing his skills and inching closer to that lofty goal. Still, proclaiming it openly would be a binding commitment, a gamble with his honor at stake. But the allure of the challenge beckoned him. He refused to play it safe. He hadn't come this far to settle for mediocrity. No, he aspired to greatness, to transcend the ordinary and carve his name into legend. "Victory favors the bold," echoed in his mind, fueling his determination.
In the depths of night, Kasaki grappled with the notion of boldness. It wasn't merely a combat technique; it had to permeate every facet of his existence. From his daily training to the mundane rhythms of life, boldness had to leave its indelible mark. Restless, he shifted in bed, his mind a symphony of thoughts drowning out the world around him. But amidst his excitement, a dull ache in his right shoulder reminded him of the physical toll of his aspirations. "Perhaps," he mused in the hushed darkness, "the pursuit of being the greatest samurai ever is a futile endeavor. After all, greatness is a subjective concept, shaped by time and perspective. Countless warriors have come before me, and countless more will follow. How can I claim superiority among them all?" As he pondered, a revelation emerged like a beacon in the night. Rather than chasing an unattainable ideal, he could focus on what he could control: his effort. The hours dedicated to honing his swordsmanship, refining his techniques, and mastering his magic would be his measure of success. In this pursuit, he could aspire to be the hardest working samurai, a title earned through relentless dedication and unwavering commitment.
As Kasaki lay lost in thought, he couldn't ignore the grumbling emanating from Mikono's bed below. "Uhh," the unmistakable sound of discomfort pierced the darkness.
"Mikono," Kasaki whispered into the quiet night.
"What?" Mikono's voice was laced with irritation.
"Why didn't you drop those rocks?" Kasaki prodded, unable to resist.
"That's none of your business," came the terse reply.
Kasaki chuckled softly, relishing in the banter. "I know why you didn't do it."
"Then why ask?" Mikono shot back, though there was a hint of curiosity in his tone.
With a mischievous grin, Kasaki replied, "I just wanted to tell you I respect you, for what you did."
Mikono's hands, wrists, and forearms bore the marks of his stubbornness, but there was a glimmer of pride beneath the bruises. The pain was evident, yet it couldn't extinguish the camaraderie between them.
After a moment of silence, Mikono's voice softened. "Well, thank you. Now shut up and go to sleep, I'm tired and in pain."
With a chuckle, Kasaki settled back into his bed, the shared moment of levity bringing a sense of connection amidst the discomfort of the night.
"Why do you have to be such an asshole? I'm just trying to be nice!" Kasaki protested, exasperated.
Mikono rolled his eyes and fired back with insults, telling Kasaki to shut up.
The two of them bantered back and forth for a few more minutes until exhaustion finally won out, and they drifted off to sleep, still grumbling under their breaths.
***
The next day, Kasaki felt better than ever. As he walked towards the river, anticipation bubbled within him, eager to resume his practice. He carried his weights with him, knowing that today's training would be tougher. He understood the need to adapt to the added weight on his wrists and ankles, but he welcomed the challenge. He saw it as an opportunity to build resistance, confident that as days passed, he would grow accustomed to the weights, ultimately mastering them and boosting his speed dramatically.
That morning, they all gathered in the dining room for breakfast with the master in attendance. The menu consisted of fish and rice. Kasaki sat beside Mikono and Kinsu, noticing the bruises on their hands, wrists, and forearms. A solemn silence enveloped the room as everyone ate. Mikamoto, likely having already eaten, stood near the door with his arms crossed, his usual stoic demeanor unchanged.
Once breakfast was finished, the master addressed everyone present.
“Gentlemen,” the master's voice resonated through the dinning room, commanding attention. "I've been informed by Mikamoto that each of you showed remarkable progress in yesterday's underwater practice. Congratulations to all of you. Now, while many of you are eager to delve into the realm of magic, it's crucial to understand the significance of mastering physical combat skills first." He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "In fact, I have an announcement that should light a fire under each of you. None of you will receive training in magic until you can best me in combat. That's right, until you can touch me or my clothing in a sword fight. So, I urge you to push yourselves to the limit. Speed is paramount, but it's not the only factor. You must also hone your environmental awareness, anticipate movements, and comprehend your opponent's positioning." He fixed his gaze on each trainee, emphasizing the gravity of his words. "You will each have up to three chances to touch me in combat. Fail three times in a row, and you'll be expelled from this training program, never to return. Take this seriously, gentlemen. Strive to improve your swordsmanship in every possible way." The master's eyes glinted as he continued. "Yesterday, Mikamoto reported that two of you, Mikono and Kinsu, took the initiative to tie rocks to your extremities to enhance your training. This shows dedication and ingenuity. While I commend your courage, Mikono and Kinsu, I must caution against such drastic methods, evident by the bruises on your forearms and wrists. Nevertheless, I applaud your determination and relentless pursuit of improvement. This is the spirit of a true samurai — facing challenges head-on and refusing to yield, no matter the pain. Let me be clear: the means matter less than the results. Whether you choose conventional or unconventional methods, what counts is your ability to achieve your goals. Be creative, think outside the box, and adapt as needed. Your ingenuity will be your greatest asset in overcoming obstacles. Never allow yourself to be hindered by setbacks. Keep pushing forward, find solutions to your problems, and always strive for progress. Remember, a samurai never stays stuck; they always find a way forward.
After the master spoke, a heavy silence enveloped the room, a mix of shame and renewed determination palpable among the samurai trainees. Perhaps each one sensed they had more to give, that their efforts thus far fell short of their true potential. Kasaki, too, felt the weight of the master's words. Reflecting on the previous day, he realized he had held back, stopping at twelve hundred repetitions when he could have pushed further. "What defines a standard?" he pondered. "It's meant to be exceeded, a benchmark to surpass." With this revelation, Kasaki felt a renewed eagerness for training. Witnessing the master's effortless defeat of Kinsu only fueled his determination. Despite Kinsu's larger stature, the master's speed and skill were unmatched, leaving no doubt in Kasaki's mind about the level of excellence he needed to strive for.
As Kasaki made his way to the river, the master's words echoed in his mind, stirring a mix of fear and determination within him. What if he became so skilled that he could actually harm the master? The mere thought sent a shiver down his spine. Yet, he knew holding back would only lead to failure. What he needed was precision, the ability to control his strikes with finesse. But as he pondered the master's challenge, questions nagged at him. Why would the master put himself in such a perilous position? Was he truly confident that none of the trainees could touch him? The logic seemed flawed—if no one could meet the master's standard, how could anyone graduate to become a samurai? Intrigued by these thoughts, Kasaki quickened his pace, eager to seek clarity from Mikamoto.
"Sir," Kasaki called out.
Mikamoto, walking ahead with his eyes closed, turned slightly to acknowledge him. "What is it, Kasaki?"
"I've been curious about something and thought I'd ask you."
"Go ahead, I'm listening."
"Back when you were a student, were you able to touch the master in combat?"
A smile tugged at the corners of Mikamoto's lips. "Yes, that's precisely why I stand here now."
Kasaki's eyes widened with admiration. "What was it like? Weren't you afraid of injuring him?"
"That was nearly impossible for me back then," Mikamoto reminisced. "I barely managed to graze his pants. He effortlessly dodged my strike, already out of my reach when I made contact. He's unbelievably fast. At first, I held back, worried about injuring him. Needless to say, I didn't even come close to touching him on that attempt. But for my second chance, I pushed myself to the limit, trained relentlessly. Even then, after five grueling minutes of combat, I only managed to brush against his clothes. And mind you, he wasn't giving it his all, not by a long shot."
Kasaki nodded in awe. "The master is truly formidable, isn't he?"
"Indeed, he is," Mikamoto affirmed. "And he's our only hope in toppling Misuki's tyranny."
"Why did Misuki wait so long to declare war?" Kasaki inquired, breaking the silence.
"He was biding his time, waiting to amass more power," Mikamoto explained. "His ultimate goal is to eradicate every last one of us, leaving no obstacle in his path to total dominance over the land. Most civilians are now enslaved, toiling for his benefit. We, along with the ronin..."
Kasaki's brow furrowed in confusion. The term was unfamiliar to him.
"The ronin?" he queried. "What are they, sir?"
"They're warriors, much like us, yet they answer to no lord or master but themselves," Mikamoto elucidated. "Unlike us, samurai bound by unwavering loyalty to our master, if you graduate, your allegiance will lie solely with him. Betrayal or dishonorable conduct demands swift retribution, often in the form of seppuku, to restore the master's honor. Every action taken by a samurai reflects upon the master's reputation, so it's incumbent upon us to uphold his name."
"I understand. But ronin don't adhere to the code of seppuku, correct?" Kasaki sought clarification.
"That's right. They answer to no one, so the concept of seppuku holds no sway over them, unless they deem it necessary," Mikamoto affirmed.
As they reached the river, Kasaki prepared his weights, securing them to his wrists and ankles. Meanwhile, Mikono and Kinsu dove into the water to gather sand for their own makeshift weights, opting to forgo rocks this time. Tinoue approached Kasaki, curiosity evident in his expression.
"Is training with those weights on your hands and feet too challenging?" he inquired.
Kasaki scratched his head thoughtfully. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "Today will be my first time using them."
"Yesterday, I could barely finish the thousand repetitions, and my body is still sore. I don't think I can handle weights yet," Tinoue confessed.
"That's alright. Take it at your own pace. The key is to focus on improvement each day, so you'll be prepared for the combat exam," Kasaki reassured him.
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"Don't even bring that up!" Tinoue's eyes widened with apprehension. "Facing the master in front of everyone? I'll be humiliated!"
"Relax. It's expected. The master is an exceptionally skilled and swift warrior. There's no shame in being bested by him," Kasaki reassured.
Though still uncertain, Tinoue observed his fellow students without their swords, diving into the water to gather sand for their makeshift weights. With a resigned sigh, he followed suit, joining the others.
Kasaki's grin widened as Tinoue took the plunge, his resolve evident. Unlike Tinoue, Kasaki felt prepared. With a sense of anticipation, he submerged himself into the water, sword in hand. As he touched the riverbed, the master's words echoed in his mind. What if the one thousand repetitions were merely a test? What if the true challenge lay beyond that arbitrary benchmark, a test of their dedication and determination? The day prior, Kasaki had surpassed the prescribed repetitions with ease, his energy still vibrant as he concluded his training. Yet, he couldn't shake the feeling that there was more within him, waiting to be unleashed. "Today, I'll uncover my true potential," he resolved. With deliberate movements, Kasaki initiated his strikes, the added weight slowing his rhythm. However, he remained undeterred, knowing that adaptation would come with persistence. Beneath the shimmering surface of the water, his blade gleamed in the sunlight, a testament to his unwavering commitment. Yet, amidst his exertions, a lingering sense of discontent gnawed at him. It wasn't enough. Nothing ever seemed to be. The desire to excel, to transcend his limitations, consumed his thoughts. Perhaps he could augment his training regimen, squeezing in additional exercises during his downtime. The vision of becoming a formidable samurai had firmly rooted itself in his mind, refusing to relent. What would it feel like to vanquish Misuki's forces? To liberate his parents from the clutches of forced labor? The specifics eluded him, but the prospect ignited a fervor within him. With each stroke of his blade, he propelled himself closer to that elusive greatness, driven by the promise of a brighter future.
Kasaki couldn't shake the haunting tales of Misuki's brutality from his mind. Whispers of cruelty echoed through the air like ghosts, tales of guards slashing at weary slaves until they could toil no more. The image of exhausted bodies, left to wither and perish in the unforgiving grasp of tiresomeness, seared into his consciousness. The thought of their ignoble end, incinerated without ceremony or remembrance, sent a shiver down his spine.
Questions swirled in Kasaki's mind like a tempest. How many hours were these unfortunate souls forced to labor? Did they receive even a fraction of the nourishment their toil demanded? The weight of uncertainty bore down upon him with each passing day, his concern mounting like a rising tide. Yet, amid the darkness of his despair, a flicker of hope persisted. His parents, somewhere in the grip of Misuki's tyranny, were his beacon of light in the abyss. Every fiber of his being yearned for their endurance, their resilience in the face of unspeakable cruelty. As the specter of war loomed on the horizon, Kasaki clung to the belief that he could make a difference, that his actions, however small, would offer solace in the face of adversity. For Kasaki, the pursuit of strength and skill was not merely a means to an end—it was a lifeline. The prospect of testing his mettle against seasoned warriors stirred a mixture of trepidation and anticipation within him. The trials of The Wild Forest had tempered his resolve, but he knew that facing trained soldiers would be an entirely different ordeal. Yet, amidst his doubts, Kasaki found solace in the certainty of his purpose. His training, his preparation—these were the only realms where he held dominion. With each blow of his sword, each gasp for air at the surface, he edged closer to his destiny. There was no room for hesitation, no luxury of doubt. In a world painted in stark contrasts of black and white, victory or defeat, Kasaki knew that his journey was one of unwavering determination, of relentless pursuit. Following his initial set, he surfaced for a breath. He realized he was the sole figure surfacing for air. The others remained submerged, diligently gathering sand for their weights. A sense of determination surged within him; he was one step ahead of the rest. Glancing around, he beheld the radiant sun hanging high in the azure sky. Clothing and belongings littered the ground and scattered over the colossal rocks lining the riverbank; Mikamoto sat with arms crossed on a nearby boulder, his eyes sealed shut in serene contemplation. The air was alive with the melodious chirping of birds, and the day held promise, albeit with the expectation of enduring challenges ahead.
***
Kasaki reflected with a hint of satisfaction, "Today, I've given my all." As he slipped on his boots, he felt the strain coursing through his entire body, every muscle aching from hours spent underwater. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm glow across the landscape. Despite the day's warmth, a gentle breeze felt chilling against his damp skin, a stark contrast to the underwater warmth. Yet, it had been a productive day, surpassing even his own expectations. He estimated he'd spent over ten hours submerged, accumulating an impressive tally of thirty-five hundred reps. Initially, the first two thousand had felt manageable, but as he pressed on, exhaustion crept in. Each repetition became a formidable challenge, his focus waning with each passing moment. Gradually, he had to adapt, shortening his sets to maintain pace and conserve energy. Despite the solitary nature of his underwater training, with no supervision from Mikamoto, he remained steadfast in his commitment to honor. The temptation to cheat lingered, yet he dismissed it; in the end, the truth would reveal itself, particularly in combat. If he didn't put in the work, his skills wouldn't lie. As he made his way back to the house, anticipation bubbled within him at the thought of his impending combat test with the master. Though he hadn't yet tested his skills, he was confident he could outperform Kinsu on his first attempt. Upon arriving home, exhaustion weighed heavily upon him. While everyone else retired to their beds after dinner, sleep eluded him. An insatiable urge to continue training gnawed at him persistently. In the stillness of the night, he heard the rhythmic breathing of Mikono, deep in slumber. Stealthily, Kasaki slipped out of bed, donned his shoes, and grasped his sword. Making his way to the living room, he found it deserted; everyone appeared to be fast asleep. He attempted to open the door, only to find it securely shut. Casting his gaze around the room, his eyes settled on a glassed window overlooking the front yard.
With careful precision, he eased the window open, allowing the cool night breeze to brush against his face. Stepping through the window, he closed it quietly behind him. Knowing there was no turning back until dawn, he steeled himself for a night of solitary training. The tranquil silence of the night enveloped him as he ventured forth, leaving the familiarity of the house behind. A few hundred meters away, he spotted a verdant camp veering westward, opposite to the path leading to the river. Briefly, he entertained the idea of retracing his steps to The Golden Bridge and then venturing into The Wild Forest. There, amidst the menacing creatures that once haunted his journey, he could test his skills. Yet, wisdom prevailed, dissuading him from such a perilous and perhaps foolhardy endeavor.
Standing before a towering tree, he unsheathed his sword, the moonlight casting ethereal shadows around him. In this secluded haven, it was just him, the tree, and the silvery glow of the moon. It was all he needed for his training. With calculated movements, he circled the tree as if it were a living adversary, anticipating his every strike. Two steps to the right, one to the left, then forward—a swift strike against the sturdy trunk. He marveled at the newfound agility of his sword, unhindered by the weight of water.
Relentlessly, he continued his assault on the tree, varying his angles and intensifying his attacks. Fatigue threatened to overwhelm him, but he pushed himself further, promising brief respites that he continually postponed. "Just one hundred more strikes, then a brief rest," he resolved, determined to push his limits. Hour after hour passed as he honed his skills, refusing to yield to inertia even during moments of rest. He delved into a series of pushups and sit-ups, the rhythm of his exertions synchronized with the beat of his determined heart. "I must forge myself into a pillar of strength," he reflected, his triceps aflame with effort, his palms bearing the proud mark of relentless dedication. Alternating between sets, he pressed on, completing up to a hundred repetitions of each exercise, each repetition a testament to his unwavering resolve.
Despite the weariness creeping into his bones, a strange sense of euphoria began to wash over him—a euphoria born from the realization that he was pushing himself beyond ordinary limits, carving a path of excellence that few dared to tread. Was this the essence of the master's teachings, he wondered? To transcend the boundaries of the ordinary and embrace the extraordinary?
As the hours passed, his fatigue mingled with a fierce determination, igniting a spark of indomitable spirit within him. He had not slept for a full day, yet his body refused to yield, craving more, thirsting for the challenge. In that moment of clarity, he embraced a profound truth: "Limits are but illusions," he declared silently, a newfound resolve coursing through his veins. "I shall never confine myself again."
With this revelation, he vowed to set his sights on the loftiest of goals, to pursue them relentlessly, regardless of the obstacles that lay ahead. "If I reach for the stars," he affirmed, his gaze fixed upon the heavens, "I shall find contentment in touching the moon."
He suddenly heard someone coming. As Kasaki's ears caught the approaching footsteps, his eyes snapped open in surprise. He knew all too well that Misuki was dispatching his men to the master's house, intent on ensnaring the samurai in his nefarious scheme. Misuki sought to tether the lives of the samurais to the #BG coin, hastening the onset of war and catching them off guard. A wave of mixed emotions swept over Kasaki—a blend of apprehension and anticipation. True to the samurai code, retreat was not an option; he was prepared to stand his ground and fight. However, his concern lay not in the prospect of losing a battle, but in the potential shackling of his training to a cryptocurrency that could render his efforts futile, much like Mikamoto's.
Yet, amidst his trepidation, a surge of eagerness coursed through him. Through rigorous training, he had honed his combat skills and kindled a newfound aggression within himself. He yearned for the chance to put his prowess to the test.
"Halt," Kasaki commanded, his sword poised mid-motion as he turned to face the approaching figure, his back momentarily exposed. The footsteps faltered at the sound of his voice.
As Kasaki pivoted to confront the newcomer, relief flooded his features upon recognizing the familiar countenance. "Mikamoto, it's you!" His demeanor softened, a stark contrast to the tension that had gripped him moments before. "What brings you here?"
"That's the question I should be asking you," replied Mikamoto, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I heard you slip out of the house, and I followed your scent down here."
Kasaki chuckled sheepishly, a tinge of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. "I suppose you never rest, then?"
Mikamoto's eyes gleamed with a knowing glint. "Oh, I do rest. But my senses are finely attuned. You must understand the importance of rest, especially if you wish to excel in your training."
"I know, sir," Kasaki confessed, his tone tinged with uncertainty as he absently scratched his head. "But all I can think about is training, day in and day out. I'm consumed by worry for my parents, especially my mother. When you cast that magic spell, revealing our deepest fears, I saw her. She was toiling away as a cook in Misuki's empire."
His words hung heavy in the air, laden with the weight of his concerns. "I always imagined my mother in a gentler role, not laboring under the oppressive regime of Misuki. But what if she has a bad day, or worse, falls ill and can't perform her duties? There's no mercy in Misuki's domain. They'd drive her back to work without a second thought."
"You're right. Misuki's regime shows no mercy," Mikamoto remarked solemnly, his gaze fixed on Kasaki. "I believe your parents raised a remarkable young man. I'm proud of you, Kasaki."
Kasaki's response was delayed, his mind processing the unexpected compliment from the usually reserved Mikamoto. He was touched by the acknowledgment but found himself momentarily at a loss for words.
"I... I thought you were one of Misuki's guards," Kasaki admitted, his tone tinged with surprise.
Mikamoto's smile widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, I see. Tell me, how many strikes have you landed on that tree?"
Kasaki shrugged, a sense of determination flickering in his gaze. "I've lost count, sir. This is just extra training for me. I don't bother keeping track. I'm simply focused on the task at hand, knowing that every effort counts."
Mikamoto's expression shifted, a challenge gleaming in his eyes as he unsheathed his sword. "How about a quick spar? Are you up for it?"
Kasaki's face lit up with eager anticipation. "With you, sir? Absolutely. I've been waiting for this moment."
"Then let's find out what you're made of," Mikamoto declared, a hint of excitement in his voice as they prepared to face off.
Mikamoto surged forward, a blur of movement that caught Kasaki off guard. Despite the unexpected speed, Kasaki managed to track his opponent's sword and parry each blow, but with each clash, he found himself forced back, his movements purely defensive.
"You're quite skilled," Mikamoto acknowledged, his strikes relentless.
"I can see your blade, but I'm struggling to find openings for my own attacks," Kasaki replied, frustration creeping into his voice.
"Then you must anticipate and move faster," Mikamoto advised, his voice calm yet authoritative.
Suddenly, Mikamoto leaped into the air, aiming for an aerial assault. Kasaki anticipated the move, shifting to the right just as Mikamoto descended. As Mikamoto's feet touched the ground, Kasaki struck with precision, his blade poised millimeters from Mikamoto's carotid artery.
Mikamoto froze, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple, his expression a mixture of surprise and fear as he realized the gravity of the situation. It was as if he had come face to face with a specter from his worst nightmares.
"How... How's that possible?" Mikamoto stammered, disbelief coloring his words.
Kasaki shrugged, a hint of embarrassment flickering across his features.
"I just followed your advice," he replied, a sheepish grin playing on his lips as he scratched his head.
"You've developed impressive speed, and your instincts are razor-sharp. I underestimated you, kid," Mikamoto admitted, his tone a mix of surprise and admiration.
"Thanks, sir," Kasaki said, a sense of pride swelling within him. "I saw an opening and seized it. Your leap was lightning-fast, but I anticipated your descent. As you fell, I readied my blade, knowing you'd be vulnerable for a split second upon landing."
"That's the vision you need in combat. I'm proud of you. Now, would you mind removing that thing from my neck?" Mikamoto quipped, a hint of amusement in his voice.
Kasaki awkwardly realized he still had his sword perilously close to Mikamoto's neck.
"Oh my God, I'm sorry, sir. I got so caught up in my explanation, I didn't mean to..." Kasaki blurted out, his face flushed with embarrassment as he scrambled to apologize.
Mikamoto chuckled. "Save it. Now, let's head back to the house and grab some breakfast. If you haven't slept, you can at least fuel up for the training day ahead."