The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the training ground as Katsuo stood in front of Taka, panting heavily.
Sweat dripped down his face, his hands trembling slightly from the strain of holding his sword for so long. Taka watched him with a calm, almost casual gaze, his own sword resting lightly in his hand.
“You’re overthinking again, Katsuo,” Taka said, his voice carrying that familiar edge of impatience.
“The 1st Form isn’t about brute strength or perfect technique. It’s about feeling the blade, letting it move with you. Stop trying so hard.”
Katsuo wiped the sweat from his brow, frustration bubbling beneath the surface.
“I’m trying! It’s just… I don’t know how to stop thinking about it.”
Taka sighed and stepped forward.
“Watch.” He raised his sword and flowed through the movements of the 1st Form, ‘The Way of the Blade,’ with practiced ease. Each swing was precise, almost effortless. “The sword isn’t something you control, Katsuo. It’s part of you. The more you try to force it, the worse you’ll get.”
Katsuo watched, his jaw tightening. He had seen Taka perform the 1st Form countless times, but no matter how hard he tried, it never felt this smooth in his own hands.
When he started training earlier that day, he had hoped to impress Taka with how much he’d been practicing. But now, after countless failed attempts, he felt like he was just going through the motions.
“Now, let’s try again,” Taka said, gesturing for Katsuo to take up his stance.
“Sparring is about rhythm and flow. Don’t worry about winning. Worry about feeling the sword.”
Katsuo took a deep breath, planting his feet firmly on the ground. His hands gripped the hilt of his sword, the weight of it familiar but still a burden. He nodded at Taka, signaling he was ready.
Taka didn’t waste any time. He moved in with a swift strike, aiming for Katsuo’s side. Katsuo barely had time to react, his sword coming up too late to block properly. The impact of Taka’s blade knocked him off balance, and he stumbled backward, almost falling.
“Too slow!” Taka barked.
“Don’t hesitate!”
Katsuo growled in frustration and tried to recover, swinging his sword in a wide arc toward Taka. But Taka was already moving, sidestepping the attack with ease and countering with a quick strike to Katsuo’s ribs. Katsuo grunted in pain, his grip on his sword faltering.
“Again!” Taka demanded, his voice sharp.
“Get up.”
Katsuo staggered back to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. His arms felt heavy, his mind racing as he tried to remember everything Taka had taught him. But each time he moved, it felt like his body was fighting against him.
They sparred for hours, each round ending with Katsuo on the ground, bruised and battered. His frustration grew with every failed block, every mistimed strike. He couldn’t focus, couldn’t find the rhythm that Taka was talking about.
Finally, Taka lowered his sword and sighed.
“Enough for today. You’re not getting it because you’re too tense. Go rest. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”
Katsuo nodded, too tired to argue. He sheathed his sword and sat down on the grass, his body aching from the repeated beatings. Taka walked off, leaving him alone with his thoughts.
That night, Katsuo lay awake, staring up at the stars above. His muscles still ached, and his mind refused to let go of the day’s failures. He replayed the sparring session over and over in his head, wondering what he could have done differently.
“I’m never going to get it,” he muttered to himself, frustration bubbling up again.
If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.
“I’ll never master this if I can’t even do the basics right.”
Suddenly, a sound from the forest caught his attention—a rustling of leaves, a faint snap of a branch. Katsuo sat up, his hand instinctively reaching for the sword by his side.
“What was that?”
He listened closely, the forest around him dark and silent except for the occasional gust of wind. Something didn’t feel right. Without thinking, Katsuo stood and strapped his sword to his back, deciding to investigate.
“Maybe it’s just a wild animal,” Katsuo whispered to himself, trying to calm the unease building in his chest.
“Or maybe I’m just hearing things.”
But as he walked deeper into the forest, the unease only grew. The air felt heavier, the shadows longer, and the rustling continued, growing louder as he approached. Katsuo’s heart raced. He gripped the hilt of his sword tightly.
“This is stupid,” he muttered, glancing around. “I should go back. It’s probably nothing.”
Just as he was about to turn around, a figure stepped out from the bushes—a man, masked and cloaked, moving with an eerie silence. Katsuo froze, his eyes widening in shock.
“Who…?” he started to ask, but the man didn’t give him a chance to finish.
In an instant, the masked man lunged at Katsuo, his blade flashing in the moonlight. Katsuo barely managed to draw his sword in time to block the attack, his heart pounding in his ears. The force of the strike sent him stumbling backward, his hands trembling from the sudden shock of battle.
“Who are you?!” Katsuo shouted, trying to steady his breathing.
The masked man said nothing, his movements quick and deliberate. He struck again, his blade aiming for Katsuo’s chest. Katsuo raised his sword to block, his arms shaking from the effort. The man’s speed was overwhelming, each attack pushing Katsuo further back.
“Come on… come on…” Katsuo gritted his teeth, struggling to keep up.
But as the battle raged on, something clicked inside Katsuo. His training with Taka flashed through his mind—the rhythm, the flow. He remembered Taka’s words:
“Let the sword move with you.”
Taking a deep breath, Katsuo tried to stop thinking and just feel the sword. He dodged the next strike, his movements becoming more fluid, his blade reacting on instinct. He blocked a series of rapid attacks, the adrenaline surging through his veins. For the first time, he was keeping up.
But just as he started to gain confidence, the masked man changed his stance. In a blur of motion, the man swept Katsuo’s legs out from under him, sending him crashing to the ground. Katsuo’s sword flew from his hand, landing several feet away.
Before he could react, the masked man stood over him, the tip of his sword aimed at Katsuo’s throat.
“I… lost,” Katsuo muttered, his chest heaving as he stared up at the man. But instead of delivering a final blow, the man paused, his head tilting slightly as if in consideration. Then, without a word, he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the forest.
Katsuo lay there, panting and confused.
“What… just happened?”
The next morning, Katsuo woke to the sound of Taka’s laughter.
“You really got knocked out, didn’t you?”
Katsuo groaned, sitting up and rubbing the back of his head.
“You saw?”
Taka leaned against a tree, arms crossed and grinning.
“Oh, I saw the whole thing alright. You got a few good moves in before you ate dirt, though. Gotta say, I was impressed.”
Katsuo’s face burned with embarrassment.
“Yeah, well… I wasn’t exactly at my best.”
Taka chuckled, walking over and offering a hand to help Katsuo up.
“You’ve got potential, kid. But you’re still thinking too much. That’s why you lost.”
Katsuo scowled, dusting off his clothes.
“I’ll do better next time.”
“I hope so,” Taka said, smirking.
“Or else I’ll be laughing again when you’re knocked out cold.”
Katsuo shook his head, still embarrassed but more determined than ever.
“I’m serious, Taka. I need to get stronger. That fight last night—it showed me how far I still have to go. I don’t want to be the one always getting beaten. I want to be the one who stands tall.”
Taka’s expression shifted, becoming more serious.
“Then stop talking about it and show me.”
Without warning, Taka drew his sword, the blade gleaming in the early morning light.
“Spar with me.”
Katsuo blinked in surprise but quickly nodded, drawing his own sword. He knew this time would be different. He wasn’t going to overthink it. He was going to feel the blade.
Taka lunged, and Katsuo reacted, raising his sword to block. The impact sent a shock through his arms, but this time, Katsuo didn’t flinch. He countered with a swift strike of his own, moving with more precision and fluidity than before. His body seemed to know what to do before his mind caught up.
Taka pressed forward, testing Katsuo’s resolve with a flurry of quick attacks. Katsuo blocked and dodged, his movements sharper, more focused. The sword felt lighter in his hands, almost as if it were guiding him. He wasn’t thinking—he was acting.
For a brief moment, Katsuo thought he was keeping up. He could see Taka’s attacks coming, and he moved instinctively to counter them. But then, with a quick twist of his wrist, Taka disarmed him, sending Katsuo’s sword flying into the air.
Katsuo stared, wide-eyed, as the sword clattered to the ground.
“What just happened?”
Taka grinned, sheathing his sword.
“You’re improving, kid. You’re letting the sword guide you now. But don’t get cocky—you’ve still got a long way to go.”
Katsuo rubbed his sore arm but smiled despite the defeat.
“I’ll get there.”
“I know you will,” Taka replied, clapping him on the shoulder.
“Come on. We’ve got a long journey ahead of us.”
With that, the two of them set off on the path, Katsuo more determined than ever to prove himself. The weight of the past still hung on his shoulders, but now, there was something else driving him forward—hope.