He couldn't blame Lucas for wanting to test his new stick. It was good, polished hardwood. It would serve well. But the way Lucas stood in the sidelot, swinging the same blind way he'd been swinging all along, was what made Duster say anything.
"Lucas. Widen your stance."
There was that lost boy look. Lucas shoved his feet apart. "Um ..." He looked back up at Duster, eyes wide with a question.
That was worse, actually. He'd placed his feet too wide to be stable, especially with his knees straight and his weight frozen in place. If he needed to move, if he had a hair-split instant to react--
--You'll never make anything of yourself at this rate, Duster, but he was trying to, he was. Did a sprained ankle grind like this? It didn't matter, he had a duty to think of. Sweat stung his eyes. That part about his stance wouldn't mesh into sense and he wasn't a moron, he just couldn't see what was missing in between his planted feet and his drumming heart, that was all--
If Duster knew anything, he knew what he wasn't going to say. He watched, for a moment, Lucas's hands fisted tight around the stick. Then he came closer, footsteps crunching off-tempo in the grass.
"... Here, like this."
He stopped beside Lucas, letting out a breath; the old patterns rushed in to fill him. Duster shifted left. His weight levelled, knees loose, shoulders and hips parallel to the earth. Pain bloomed up his thigh. It didn't matter.
"Keep your feet shoulder-width apart."
Lucas scrambled to follow, looking between his own limbs and Duster's.
"Bend your knees just a bit. Yes, like that. That's a stable stance, you can hold your ground like that." Duster sidled away, leaning back onto his right side, grateful to find it strong. Sweat prickled on his neck after just a few seconds of basic posture and shame ate inside him like Dad's glare. "Now try it."
Thought worked across Lucas's face. He swung with a loud whiff of cut air. He squinted at an imaginary foe, and adjusted his feet, and tried it again. He had the right idea, shifting forward to put weight into his attack; this was a young man with a lot of potential.
A few more ideas for improvement fluttered by -- following through on that strike, how to grip a pole weapon for defense -- and Duster let them pass. This was fine for the moment. Lucas walked taller now and Kumatora flashed them both a sly smile.
He supposed this was how things should have been.