The young man swung the sword in a blur. It almost brought a smile out of
the old teacher, but he stopped it from cracking his face. There was
something wrong with the swing.
"Hey you. You're doing it wrong. Just like my last student did."
the boy fixed him with a defiant glare- the one he'd known he would use- that said that as far as he was concerned, that meant he wasn't doing it wrong. Well, the old master still had a few things left to show his old pupil, and he'd start by showing it to this boy here.
"All right then, ready yourself."
The boy snapped upright and immediately held his sword with nervous tension. The teacher waited for him to relax- he wanted him to do it as well as he could, and still fail. It wouldn't do for the boy's lesson to go unheeded because he thought the fault was with his nerves, not his technique.
The shor haired youth fixed him with a glare as he finally relaxed, and the teacher sprang into action. The youth didn't tense at the sudden motion. Their swords met a few times, clashing, until the teacher made a conscious mistake, drawing out the youth's imperfect techinique. With a screaming slash, the sword bore down on him- there was no mistaking it, the boy's raw speed was exceptional- but his handle spun up at the last moment, sending a shaking down to the wrist. The boy's grip was sure, but still, in that instant, the master could strike. With a slap to the wrist from the tip of the master's blade, the boy's sword fell down.
"With skills like that, you'll never become Seijuro Hiko the 14th" the master said.
"i'm not doing this for you, old man." the brush haired youth replied. "I'm doing it for me, and for Kaoru. I'm only going to get as strong as I need to bring Oro-face back to Busu. I ain't gonna kill anyone."
The teacher smiled. "You have a long way to go, no matter how fast you're learning. I shouldn't have told you. It spoiled you, made you weak and complacent. I'll probably have to get rid of you and get a new student, at this rate. Someone to bring Kenshin home."
Yahiko howled in a gutteral roar as he swept up his sword and brought it around just as he had before.
No, not just as he had before, Hiko noticed, as his block didn't faze the youth in the slightest. Instead, the older man had to give ground as yahiko's hand began to blur. With his hand blurring, the tip of the sword was two fast to see. This, however, was still well within Seijuro Hiko the 13th's control.
Throwing out a couple of fierce blocks, Hiko slowed Yahiko's wrist just enough to observe the pattern. Calmly allowing Yahiko to think he had the upper hand, Seijuro picked his timing, then thrust his sword over Yahiko's. With a flick of the wrist, Seijuro pinned both baldes next to each other with his arm and the strength of his wrist. Yahiko's eyes grew wide, and Seijuro pressed- he pushed his sword forward suddenly, but under tight control. The tip of his razor sharp sword poked through the skin of yahiko's forearm, and with a yelp, Yahiko's grip loosened. Hiko flicked his wrist and moved his shoulder, and with a flourish, he allowed Yahiko's blade to slide into the sheath at his own waist, still holding his own sword pointed a little above Yahiko's head. His left hand remained at his side as it had during the whole exercise.
"You'd be a good student if only you were a good student." Hiko said.
"That makes no sense" Yahiko growled.
"I'm the master. I'll tell you what makes sense and what doesn't." Hiko replied mirthfully. He wore a smug smile.
"Well, hurry up and tell me! Busu needs me!" Yahiko growled.
"If you're going to bring Kenshin back against his will, you need all the time you can possibly spare."
---
They ate sparing by the campfire. Hiko would continue the training after nightfall, in order to train the boy's senses. They needed heightening. To a powerful samurai, such as ShiShio, Kenshin or himself, or even Fuji, the giant- the eyes were but one way you were informed of what was going on. Your touch told you perhaps the most- the strength of your opponent's arm, the feel of where he was leaning. It told you more when you accounted for the feeling of the air, and the vibrations that carried through your lightly sandaled feet. Your sense of smell could tell you many things- fear, anger. Your hearing was very important- a powerful samurai considered his ears every bit as precious as his eyes. The told you what was going on around you much mre than your eyes.
And yet the eyes still had one use that no other sense could cover for. They alone could peer into the heart of another warrior, and determine the strength of his will. The windows to the soul, the were often called. Seijuro believed it, although he'd never spout something that romantic sounding.
He looked at Yahiko. The boy had fire- more so than Hiko had hoped for. He still had a long way to go, but Hiko couldn't help but imagine. Although the boy had a lot of growing to do before Hiko could even begin to speculate in fairness, he saw the precursors. If this boy had the will, he could be stronger than Kenshin, and perhaps the strongest warrior in all of Japan.
Kenshin would be proud.
So would he.
"Hey you. You're doing it wrong. Just like my last student did."
the boy fixed him with a defiant glare- the one he'd known he would use- that said that as far as he was concerned, that meant he wasn't doing it wrong. Well, the old master still had a few things left to show his old pupil, and he'd start by showing it to this boy here.
"All right then, ready yourself."
The boy snapped upright and immediately held his sword with nervous tension. The teacher waited for him to relax- he wanted him to do it as well as he could, and still fail. It wouldn't do for the boy's lesson to go unheeded because he thought the fault was with his nerves, not his technique.
The shor haired youth fixed him with a glare as he finally relaxed, and the teacher sprang into action. The youth didn't tense at the sudden motion. Their swords met a few times, clashing, until the teacher made a conscious mistake, drawing out the youth's imperfect techinique. With a screaming slash, the sword bore down on him- there was no mistaking it, the boy's raw speed was exceptional- but his handle spun up at the last moment, sending a shaking down to the wrist. The boy's grip was sure, but still, in that instant, the master could strike. With a slap to the wrist from the tip of the master's blade, the boy's sword fell down.
"With skills like that, you'll never become Seijuro Hiko the 14th" the master said.
"i'm not doing this for you, old man." the brush haired youth replied. "I'm doing it for me, and for Kaoru. I'm only going to get as strong as I need to bring Oro-face back to Busu. I ain't gonna kill anyone."
The teacher smiled. "You have a long way to go, no matter how fast you're learning. I shouldn't have told you. It spoiled you, made you weak and complacent. I'll probably have to get rid of you and get a new student, at this rate. Someone to bring Kenshin home."
Yahiko howled in a gutteral roar as he swept up his sword and brought it around just as he had before.
No, not just as he had before, Hiko noticed, as his block didn't faze the youth in the slightest. Instead, the older man had to give ground as yahiko's hand began to blur. With his hand blurring, the tip of the sword was two fast to see. This, however, was still well within Seijuro Hiko the 13th's control.
Throwing out a couple of fierce blocks, Hiko slowed Yahiko's wrist just enough to observe the pattern. Calmly allowing Yahiko to think he had the upper hand, Seijuro picked his timing, then thrust his sword over Yahiko's. With a flick of the wrist, Seijuro pinned both baldes next to each other with his arm and the strength of his wrist. Yahiko's eyes grew wide, and Seijuro pressed- he pushed his sword forward suddenly, but under tight control. The tip of his razor sharp sword poked through the skin of yahiko's forearm, and with a yelp, Yahiko's grip loosened. Hiko flicked his wrist and moved his shoulder, and with a flourish, he allowed Yahiko's blade to slide into the sheath at his own waist, still holding his own sword pointed a little above Yahiko's head. His left hand remained at his side as it had during the whole exercise.
"You'd be a good student if only you were a good student." Hiko said.
"That makes no sense" Yahiko growled.
"I'm the master. I'll tell you what makes sense and what doesn't." Hiko replied mirthfully. He wore a smug smile.
"Well, hurry up and tell me! Busu needs me!" Yahiko growled.
"If you're going to bring Kenshin back against his will, you need all the time you can possibly spare."
---
They ate sparing by the campfire. Hiko would continue the training after nightfall, in order to train the boy's senses. They needed heightening. To a powerful samurai, such as ShiShio, Kenshin or himself, or even Fuji, the giant- the eyes were but one way you were informed of what was going on. Your touch told you perhaps the most- the strength of your opponent's arm, the feel of where he was leaning. It told you more when you accounted for the feeling of the air, and the vibrations that carried through your lightly sandaled feet. Your sense of smell could tell you many things- fear, anger. Your hearing was very important- a powerful samurai considered his ears every bit as precious as his eyes. The told you what was going on around you much mre than your eyes.
And yet the eyes still had one use that no other sense could cover for. They alone could peer into the heart of another warrior, and determine the strength of his will. The windows to the soul, the were often called. Seijuro believed it, although he'd never spout something that romantic sounding.
He looked at Yahiko. The boy had fire- more so than Hiko had hoped for. He still had a long way to go, but Hiko couldn't help but imagine. Although the boy had a lot of growing to do before Hiko could even begin to speculate in fairness, he saw the precursors. If this boy had the will, he could be stronger than Kenshin, and perhaps the strongest warrior in all of Japan.
Kenshin would be proud.
So would he.