The courtyard was emptying as the sun dipped lower. Stage Two had ended for the day. Most students left in pairs or small groups, talking, laughing, or nursing sore muscles. I stayed behind.
I walked toward the hall where the instructor for long swords practiced. He had noticed me during the day's sparring, and I wanted advice—something to make sense of my loss.
He was alone, moving through slow, deliberate cuts. "Futago," he said without looking up. "Here for a question?"
I nodded. "I lost. I need to know why."
He studied me briefly, then gestured toward the rack of wooden katanas. "Step in. I'll show you some fundamentals. Understanding them now will save you months of time."
I drew a wooden katana and watched. The instructor moved with precision, cutting through the air in patterns I could almost feel in my muscles.
"First," he said, "the kamae, your ready stance. There are five kamae stances generally trained. I will teach you Gedan-no-kamae."
He adjusted his grip, sliding one foot slightly back. The wooden katana dipped low, the tip pointing toward the floor just in front of him. His knees bent slightly, hips relaxed, shoulders squared but not stiff. The weight of his body was balanced, ready to shift in any direction.
"See here," he said, stepping toward me slowly, blade still low. "The tip points at the ground. The lower stance protects your legs while inviting your opponent to strike higher. If they aim for your torso or head, you can react quickly. If they aim low, the blade is already in the way."
He demonstrated with a forward step, pivoting slightly on his back foot. "From Gedan-no-kamae, you can transition into a thrust instantly." The tip of his blade shot forward mid forward step, straight toward the imagined chest of an opponent. He pulled back smoothly, resetting into the low stance.
"Notice how the motion flows. The stance isn't just defense—it sets traps. Bait, measure distance, control the opponent's timing." He moved again, this time feinting a step forward, then slicing diagonally to demonstrate a transition into kesa-giri (Diagonal Slash) from the low stance. "Moreover, you can feint your thrust into an upward diagonal slash, since most people dodge thrust attacks with side steps, you can catch them off guard"
I mimicked him, feet uncertain at first, arms heavy with the unfamiliar weight of the wooden katana. I tried lowering the tip, bending the knees, adjusting my shoulders—but it felt awkward, unbalanced, too rigid. He didn't correct me immediately, letting me struggle just long enough to notice the difference.
Then he struck gently at my blade, guiding it aside. "Too stiff. Gedan-no-kamae works when your body is relaxed but ready. Your feet must support both defense and mobility. The blade being low doesn't mean static, it moves with you."
I repeated the movements, slow, deliberate. The blade stayed lower. My knees bent, my weight shifting as I pivoted and feinted. It wasn't perfect, but I could feel the difference in flow. The stance wasn't just a posture, it was fundamental to this fighting style.
"Good," he said finally, nodding once. "Remember Gedan-no-kamae is a starting point. From here, you can thrust, feint, cut, or step out of danger. Always maintain awareness. Distance, timing, and balance are your allies. Master this, and the rest of the stances become extensions of it."
"Thank you Instructor" I bowed slightly before leaving.
On the way home...
Tomogui glanced at me as we walked, a grin tugging at his lips. "You know," he said, nudging me lightly, "that guy really didn't hold back today. You looked like you were auditioning for a dramatic floor-rolling contest."
I didn't look up. "Funny."
"No, seriously," Tomogui continued, still smiling. "I half expected sparks or smoke to come out of the mat when you hit it."
Aiko, walking slightly ahead, spun around with a sly grin. "Tomogui, don't tell me, the stoic Futago was laid out flat on his first day," She muttered while covering her mouth in mock surprise.
Tomogui, seemingly ecstatic from his training session with Kenta replied immediately "I didn't get to see it, but apparently this one guy completely beat down Futago, with how hard you got it, people thought you were gonna fall asleep on the mat"
Aiko sighed deeply, as if contemplating some advice to give me. "You do know the training mats are not sleeping mats right Futago"
I remained silent, 'I'm definitely going to get my revenge for this, mark my words.'
The three of us sat on the wooden porch of our new home. The movers had finished hours ago, and the last of the boxes were stacked neatly inside. Aiko had arranged the kitchen and set out a simple meal. For the first time in days, the house felt like ours.
Tomogui was unusually talkative, picking at his food and glancing at me.
*I can already tell why you do certain moves with that long blade. Mimicing the movement feels weird, but the reasoning behind it makes sense.*
I caught his glance and replied in my head, *Same. I don't get your short sword muscle memory, but I understand why you do certain feints or cuts. I feel like learning each other's weapons would be easier for us because of that. Still, it's only our first day, and we barely learned to use our weapons properly. Let's wait to train in each other's weapons.*
Aiko leaned back on her elbows, humming quietly. I kept my focus on my food, as did Tomogui. The shared understanding hung between us, invisible but tangible—building the foundation for our next training sessions even outside the training grounds.