[Author Note: I understand that some of the swordsmanship training in this arc is getting pretty technical. I am not going to ever go this deep into the fights after this. This part is just to show you that the protagonist actually knows how to use a sword, rather than me just telling you he does. Future fights won't necessarily be this detailed, but I wanted to establish a foundation now. If you guys want, I'll add bonus chapters of Tomogui's training with short swords.
Here's a small explanation of the kenjutsu terms: I'll add images to help understand as well
Gedan-no-Kamae (It's a stance)
Jodan-no-Kamae (It's a Stance)
Kesa-giri (It's a Diagonal Slash)
Men-uchi (Overhead heavy strike)
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The sun had barely risen when I arrived at the long sword instructor's hall. Stage Two hadn't even started for the day yet, but today's office hours ran early, and the instructor had announced he would demonstrate fundamental drills for anyone who wanted extra practice.
The room was already busy. Half a dozen students moved through controlled strikes, adjusting grips, pivoting their feet, and stepping through katas I had only seen in theory. Wooden katanas flashed through the air in arcs, slashes, thrusts, all precise and practiced.
I stayed near the back, quietly drawing a wooden katana and taking a stance without drawing attention.
The instructor noticed me in passing but didn't stop. "Today, we will work on two stances," he announced, his voice calm over the clash of wooden swords. "Gedan-no-kamae, which some of you already know, and Jōdan-no-kamae. High stance. Aggressive. Controls distance and timing. Do not rush—precision before speed."
He stepped forward, demonstrating Jōdan-no-kamae. His wooden blade was held high, almost over his shoulder. Feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent, weight balanced, shoulders tensed and ready. "From here, all overhead strikes—men-uchi—are natural, and potent. Your arms, your core, your feet must work together. Watch carefully."
He moved into a series of men-uchi strikes, stepping forward lightly as the blade descended toward imagined targets with each step. Each strike was deliberate, the follow-through smooth and controlled. "Accuracy first. Power second. Always maintain balance and prepare for the next motion before the strike lands."
"Next, he demonstrated a kesa-giri from Jōdan-no-Kamae, slicing diagonally from shoulder to hip. The strike flowed naturally from his stance. Pivot your back foot, let the blade guide your movement, not just your arms, and measure distance carefully."
Then he showed the flow between Jōdan and Gedan. An overhead strike, step forward, and the tip dipped low into Gedan-no-kamae. From there, a thrust forward, then reset into Jōdan. "Transitions between stances give you versatility. Learn when to attack with Jōdan-no-Kamae, and when to stay patient in Gedan-no-Kamae."
I moved slowly at the back, adjusting knees, shoulders, and blade. I wasn't perfect—the transitions weren't as fluid as him.
The instructor walked among the students, occasionally tapping a blade aside or correcting a pivot. He didn't glance at me which I took to be a good sign, means I didn't need correction.
Hours passed. The hall buzzed with the scrape of wood against wood, the shifting of feet, and the low murmur of students correcting one another. I traced the motions repeatedly, alternating between Gedan and Jōdan, practicing men-uchi, kesa-giri, and thrusts. Every pivot, every step, every swing felt slightly more natural with each repetition.
By the end of the session, I stepped back, letting my arms drop. Sweat ran down my forehead. My muscles were heavy, my body tired, but I could feel the subtle improvement in my stance transitions.
I returned my blade to the rack. The instructor called out to the remaining students, wrapping up for the day. "Office hours are over. Practice what you've seen. Master these basics before advancing, Its time for the sparring sessions, find your partner, if he is not here yet continue your drills"
I left quietly, moving toward the courtyard. Across the grounds, I saw my sparring partner already finishing up his own drills.
"Everyone bow to your sparring partner, then start" The instructor commanded to the entire class from the front of the hall.
We bowed to eachother and stepped forward. Ignoring the sounds of other people's wooden swords clashing I focused solely on him.
I approached with Gedan-no-Kamae. The wooden katana dipped low, the tip pointing toward the floor just in front of me. My knees bent slightly, hips relaxed, shoulders squared but not stiff.
His opening step was the same as yesterday—left foot forward, blade angled slightly inward. A probing approach.
He advanced anyway.
I waited for the weight transfer. The moment his heel settled signaling his attack, I moved—thrusting toward his center.
He deflected the blade with a short parry and stepped inside my range. I had already seen it coming. My shoulders turned, preparing the diagonal cut I'd practiced that morning.
Too slow.
His wooden blade tapped the base of my wooden katana aside before my cut could form. A half-step later, his knee struck my thigh, light but precise, breaking my balance. I retreated, resetting my stance before he could follow through.
He quickly followed me as we circled eachother.
He raised his shortsword high.
For a split second, I assumed it was another feint.
It wasn't.
The overhead strike came down immediately—direct, controlled, aimed for my head. I reacted late, I threw myself backward. The blade cut through the space where I'd been standing a heartbeat earlier.
My feet skidded against the mat as I regained balance.
He didn't pause.
The moment my weight shifted back, he pivoted, hips turning with the motion. The wooden blade swept in a heavy upward diagonal strike, carrying the full momentum of his body.
I brought my sword up to block.
The angle was wrong.
My wrists weren't set. My stance hadn't stabilized from the backstep. His strike slid along my blade instead of meeting it cleanly, twisting my grip apart.
The impact jolted through my arms as my katana tore free from my hands and clattered across the floor.
Before I could rush towards my katana, his foot stomped on my own, blocking my movement while his wooden short sword stopped at my neck.
"That wasn't bad, but you shouldn't try to predict movements so early into a fight. This fight just started and when you saw me raise my sword you remembered our last fight and thought it would be a feint. That led to your late reaction which gave me the initiative" My partner didn't seem as disdainful as before, still he ruthlessly explained my loss and flaws in the battle.
I got up and contemplated his words, not just me trying to predict him. After dodging his overhead strike I was slow to get back into stance. I also failed to block his kesa-giri properly, which led to my katana getting blown away.
'Still this was fun, I can feel myself learning and growing, its weird in my old life I never would have found learning how to fight to be fun'