Shunya held the wooden sword like it was a broom.
Which, to be fair, was how he used it last night to swat away a suspicious flying beetle near his bed.
"Stand straight," Naomi snapped.
He adjusted his stance.
"Wrong. Again."
He shifted.
"Still wrong."
He slumped a little. "How is that still wrong? I'm literally standing upright."
Naomi folded her arms, hair tied back tightly as always. Her training robe was crisp, clean, and radiated an aura of pure 'Do Not Mess With Me' energy.
"You're floppy," she said, walking around him. "Your shoulders are lazy. Feet uneven. Your grip is— what is this, a noodle hold?"
Shunya blinked. "It's how I hold chopsticks."
"You're not eating soup dumplings, you're learning sword stance!"
Across the courtyard, Vikoria sat under a tree with a thick book open on her lap. She watched them quietly.
