Hope you enjoy this last one! I feel pretty good about it :)
A man stands alone in his dojo. With bokken in hand, he slowly goes through his warm-up. The muscles beneath his gi flex and shift according to his will. There is nothing. There is no one. There is only him and his sword. The speed increases as does the difficulty. Sweat glistens on his flesh, leading up to the burning of limbs as they are pushed closer and closer to their limit. Soon his feet leave the ground. His body turns in dramatic aerial feats that would leave a crowd breathless. His mind is lost. There is no focused thought. It is no longer his brain that is in charge. It is his limbs. The pulsing of his heart creates a steady beat for his body to train to. No distractions. No emotions. He's just a creature reacting on instincts.
Until the patter of little feet make themselves heard.
The leaps stop. The body stops. The mind regains control. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he looks to the doorway where his child has appeared.
Her already long, black hair cascades down her small back. Her miniature kimono wraps snugly around her, keeping her from the chilly clutches of the autumn winds. Her eyes are of the deepest blue, the eyes of her mother.
They stare at each other for a moment before the child runs to her father. As she leaps into his arms, he notices the tears running down her round cheeks. He waits silently as he holds his crying daughter, knowing that she will soon tell him what is causing her so much distress. His hands do countless, reassuring circles on her back before she gains enough control of her hiccupping voice to speak.
"Father, people are mean! They are so mean! They say such mean things about everyone! They are rude, and angry, and awful, awful, awful!"
He continues rubbing his daughters back, allowing her to let her emotions spill forth with the force of a hurricane.
"They talk bad about you right to my face! How could they do that? They don't even know you! They talk bad about the sword style you practice and they insult me every day for wanting to learn what my father has taught. They call me a boy all the time and say that I make an awful girl! They tell me that I should stay home and have babies! They think they know everything but they're stupid because everyone knows you can't have babies until Kami gives them to you after you're married! Some people say they can't be my friend because I am practicing swordsmanship! They are stupid! They are stupid and they are idiots and I hate them, hate them, hate them!"
The man leans away from the child to look at her blotchy face. Tears had made some of her hair stick to her cheek, and tears hung from her eyelashes. Brushing these things away, the man cups the small girl's cheek.
"Child, you must never say you hate someone," he says calmly. "To hate someone is to be angry, and to be angry is to never become a good swordswoman."
Childish rage flashes across the girls face. The young one thumps the man's arms with her tiny fists. "If being a good swordswoman means that I have to be nice to people who are mean to me and my family then maybe I don't want to be a swordswoman anymore!" She scowls up at her father.
The man calmly and coolly raises an eyebrow at the petulant child. "The sword-style I teach, Daughter, is not one for the feint-hearted." He sits himself on the floor, gathering the frustrated child in his arms. "Many samurais learn the ways of war and destruction and chaos and death. It is easy for a man or woman to fall into habits as these." He lays her in his arms as he had when she was a babe and begins to rock her slowly. "It takes one who is truly strong to stand in the wake of such temptations and not give in. That is why I teach what I teach. I have given men and women a tool to stand against this tide of evil."
The girl glares up at her father. "That's not changing my mind, Father. I'm not going to be nice to people who aren't going to be nice to me."
The man gazes into the eyes of his angry child and shrugs indifferently. "You must choose your own path, Daughter. But know that in order to follow my teachings—in order to truly desire to preserve life and not end it—one must learn to love everyone. Do not discriminate based on age, gender, personality, past, present, or future. Love those who love you; love those who hate you. Only then will you truly understand what I teach."
The girl pushed herself out of her father's arms and stood in front of him, arms crossed. "You're asking for something that is impossible," she said, eyes still full of anger.
The man props himself up, placing his hands behind him, and watches his daughters proud and angry expression. "If you believe that it can't happen then it won't. If you don't believe in this, then you're not strong enough to live by it."
The girl's eyes widen in disbelief and rage. "I am strong enough!" The man stays silent. Conflicting expressions cross the young girl's downcast face. Seconds pass slowly as an internal battle is fought inside the tiny chest of the little one. "I am strong enough," she all but whispers. He remains quiet.
Minutes pass with the look of distress continuing to etch itself upon the girl's features.
With a sigh, the father opens his arms his little girl. Within moments, she's pressed against his chest, dampening the front of his gi. He kisses the top of her head and says, "It's one thing to say that you're strong enough, Daughter. It's quite another to actually prove it."
He slowly grips her arms and holds her out in front of him. "Whether or not you are strong enough is something you'll have to discover for yourself."
His daughter's eyes fall to the ground. "Yes, Father."
The man reaches up with a large hand to wipe away her stray tears. Pushing her hair behind her ears, he rises to his feet and gives the top of her head a quick kiss. She quickly turns her back on him and heads toward the exit.
As she enters the doorway, the man calls out for her. She turns and looks at him. "I love you, Kaoru."
A small smile lights itself on her features. She waves at him and says, "I love you too, Father."
Kaoru leaves the dojo and the man turns his attention back to his practice. The whirling of limbs and weapons begins anew. The body gains control as the mind fades away into nothing. He continues his exercise to the beat of his heart, but now something else lies beneath the tempo of his workout. Out of his entire life he now knows, beyond a shadow of a doubt, one thing.
She is strong enough.
A/N: I really enjoyed writing this piece. I truly believe that, out of the two styles, Kamiya Kasshin would be the harder one to learn. It takes true committment to stick to something like this. It takes real emotion to do this while the Hiten-Mitsurugi is extremely distant...but that's just me :)
P.S I'm sorry if this a/n didn't make sense...I'm writing this really early in the morning with extreme lack of sleep...
P.P.S. REVIEW!