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It had already been four years.

Ten months at the dojo, and twelve months since the day I first started training.

Although it had gone by so fast, there truly wasn't anything I had regretted, compared to any of my previous experiences. In a full four years, there wasn't a single thing I could look back on with embarrassment, or shame. There was only room in my mind for a single, enormous presence that was important enough to warrant reflection; the only thing to occupy my thoughts in the hours of the day and night.

That, of course, was the sword in my hands.

And that sword was something I could think endlessly about, the transitions and movements ground into my body constantly repeated even in my mind as I drifted to sleep in my child-size bed, warmed by a small fire slowly turning to ash in the room next to mine.

But there was also a concern that only continued to grow in me, festering beneath the fascination I still held for such a beautiful item.

It had been twelve months since I first started training, and I still hadn't made it to the Intermediate rank.

I was wondering if I was doing something wrong- none of the others, not even the ten or eleven year olds already at intermediate, were as skilled as I was. I could point out mistakes in the postures of advanced ranks, I could take a near-perfect stance myself, and I was sure there was no one who trained harder than I did- not due to any desire on my part, but simply because I enjoyed it.

In sparring, I was even able to beat Intermediate ranks themselves, though with much effort and strategic thinking, things that were not normally useful with the sword god style.

But even with all of those factors, I was a Beginner- my father hadn't even considered out loud the idea of giving me the title of Intermediate- and it was for one reason.

My body wasn't strong enough.

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"What am I doing wrong? I don't understand it…"

Nina had crossed her arms, a frown growing over her face as she looked down on me- she was still roughly two heads taller, and I had a feeling it would be a long, long time until we could look at each other evenly.

We stood in the center of a small outdoor training yard just outside the dojo. There were three yards in total, and normally they would be filled with younger students. Luckily, though, it was late afternoon and quite far outside the normal training times of the day- nobody but the two of us stood in that specific yard.

We were covered in dirt and bruises, holding the wooden training swords loosely, having been training for what must have been more than an hour at that point. Of course, there were no clocks around for us to use, but the people in the holy land of the sword used things like the sun to track time.

Training, however, was a little strange in regards to the passage of daylight. For some reason, whenever I began to work with swords, hours would pass before I even realized what was happening… I was still getting used to the phenomenon.

I shook myself out of my thoughts as Nina spoke again, a hint of frustration on her face. I'm sure I was also mirroring her expression, after all, we still hadn't made a hint of solid progress that day.

"-Listen, Jino! Just copy my movements, exactly!"

I nodded and she held the blade out in front of her raised nearly straight above her head, before steadying her breathing, eyes closing for a brief moment.

Then she began to move.

The girl burst off the ground with a powerful front step and cut the air horizontally, the wooden blade slicing with almost perfect precision and speed, a hair-splitting intensity that made my eyes widen even while standing a good distance away.

As the movement ended in just about a second, releasing two distinct bursts of sound, her sword had already cut to the ground, held across her body and slashed diagonally. A perfect stillness coated her, as if she was stuck in time for that one moment, holding the finishing position steadily- a clear sign that her core strength had improved.

She had performed the basic First Step; the easiest of all the techniques in the sword god style, and the one that was compounded on for just about every other skill that we would eventually learn.

By standing with one foot forward, knees crouched and hands loose on the blade in your hand, you could push off and forward with explosive power, then, while moving, transition that energy of movement to the sword in your hands.

Of course, I could perform the basic version easily. It was still a Beginner-rank technique, even if it held a kind of brilliance, the essence of simplicity and motion in its theory.

But Nina had done something different.

The girl had accomplished a feat that I still couldn't. With a variation of that simple technique, she had already crossed over the barrier to the Intermediate rank, proving her special skill.

She still wasn't at the level of proficiency required to execute two distinct slashes within the action of a single First Step, and wasn't nearly fast or strong enough to perform the advanced rank Longsword of Silence, which required the user to break the sound barrier. However, she was just barely able to transition between forms mid-swing, starting the action with a basic up-and-down slash and morphing into a diagonal cut across the body.

It was a more obscure skill than was normally taught by the sword style, which focused on simplicity in all things, but it was an important ability for getting around tough defenses or attacking an enemy who had started to dodge. Through my observation of older swordsmen, it was also clear that the control required for such a skill was a true necessity for using the higher techniques of the style.

Nina still hadn't perfectly mastered this variation, though- that was clear from the distinct two sounds present during her performance. One shockwave was from her sword slicing down, the other appearing from her sword slicing diagonally. In a perfect transition of a First Step, there would only be one burst of sound.

She stood, straightening her spine and shaking her arms loose again, nodding to herself with a smile. I also nodded in respect, smiling at the accomplishment; that was no easy technique to use, and although it hadn't been mastered yet, she was very close. Her swing was powerful but still extremely controlled, and the straightness of her finished slash seemed to be flawless.

"'Kay Jino- if you were watching right, you should be fine."

I pursed my lips.

There was a bubble of discomfort in my chest, to be sure. After all, it was always painful to perform an attack that I knew was too hard for me- not because it physically hurt, but just because it was clear I had ruined the perfection that could be accomplished by other, more skillful swordsmen.

It was a stupid thing to worry about, but I couldn't help it. Messing up maneuvers felt wrong to me, like I was besmirching something very close to divine! If I performed poorly, more than any kind of punishment from others, I feared the idea of ruining beauty!

"Jino! You're thinking too much again!"

I shook my head and stepped forward.

"I know Nina, but…"

"No buts! You have to feel it, you know? Just feel the… feeling!"

Although her words weren't clear, she spoke them with a frustration, waving her arms in the air frantically to convey the emotion, looking exactly like a normal girl her age, even after performing such an incredible technique.

I smiled at her, appreciating the advice for what it was, even if it didn't exactly help.

"Thank you, Nina."

I stepped forward into the same spot she had started from. Steadying my posture, I held my sword with a loose yet strong grip. My legs bent, one foot planted firmly on the ground in front of me, pointing directly towards the imaginary target in my mind- a space of empty air before me.

The motion would go perfectly. I would step forward with the foot currently behind me, focusing everything I had into pushing off as hard as possible, launching myself forward in a single downward slash. Immediately afterwards, I would use a more twisting body motion and the control of my hands on the blade's grip to transition into a diagonal slice.

It was everything Nina had just done moments prior. The movements were honestly quite simple, if one could ignore the impossibly high speeds they had to be performed at. As long as I could keep up with the burst of motion, and as long as my reactions were well-honed enough…

I opened my eyes, closed after envisioning the movements with perfect clarity, and let go of the tightness in my chest.

This was something I needed- I had to. I had to do it perfectly.

There was something here that I could prove to myself, in order to show that I really did deserve to be in such a place. If I couldn't even do that much, that little thing, after so much work and such a long time, then I wasn't sure how I would ever be able to do anything else.

At that thought, however, the tightness in my chest, the pressure in my shoulders, only seemed to return with greater force.

I ignored it, focusing entirely on the sword gripped above my head.

Pressing my forward foot deep against the ground, I leapt forward.

Swinging the blade downwards, I focused everything into keeping steady, remaining calm against the terrible pressure that would soon follow.

Of course, it was everything I had expected and more.

As soon as I jumped forward, leaping towards the imaginary target before me, it was as if a whole new world opened up within my sight. A world filled with violent colors, swirling and dancing around me even as they tore at my body.

It was a phenomenon I might have seen before, watching the movements of those more experienced swordsmen, and the ones even above them, such as my father or the sword god. Except this time, I was not simply standing by as the swordsmen performed those beautiful feats.

At that moment, I was the one in control.

And as incredible as that feeling was, as free it made me feel, there was no small chill racing through my bones at the realization.

The air rushed into me, crashing against my body and sending my loose hairs fluttering violently, my eyes watering. I had to force myself to keep them open, my fingers still tightly clenched around the grip, even while the pressure fought to peel them away.

It felt as if I was standing beneath a waterfall, feeling the full force of the air smashing against my skin, the resistance as it pushed me backwards… That deluge of terrifying color and sensation cutting like so many tiny metal blades.

Underneath such a vast torrent of wind rushing against it, the small training sword in my hand couldn't help but waver dangerously. I could feel it almost be tugged out of my hands, succumbing to the incredible force against me.

But I continued the movement downwards, cutting through that wave of force, finding a path that sliced between the swirls and pushes of the breaths of the world, immediately readjusting my grip to a different angle, transitioning from a downward slash to a diagonal one.

There was a moment in that motion, less than a second as my hands readjusted and my body twisted, an explosive motion starting with my feet and traveling up my hips and spine as I whirled against the wind.

I could nearly taste perfection, in that one moment.

But I was too sloppy.

That transition was just barely too rough- too sudden, and without any time to react, the violent winds ripped the sword from my grip.

The wooden practice blade clattered to the ground before me, spinning from the momentum of my slash and eventually coming to a stop ten feet away.

I felt my breaths coming in great heaves, my chest rising and falling with violent gusto.

I failed.

. . . . . . . . . .

I walked home with Nina that same day, shortly after the failed technique.

Both of us seemed slightly downcast, as even she could feel the disappointment of my enormous failure.

A trill of hesitation filled my body as my small home came into view, our footsteps crunching against the snow, slowing and wavering.

I felt... oddly discomforted at the idea of seeing my parents so soon.

While the two of them loved speaking with me, especially when it came to my training and my progress in the Sword God Style, there was clearly a hesitation in our interactions. I wasn't sure if it came from the scarily adult intelligence that must have shone through my speech and actions, but it might have been the pace I had been improving with the blade.

There was respect in their gazes, and of course, there was certainly affection, but there was also expectation.

They were certain I would somehow be great one day, even if it was clear to me that I would never grow into someone that special.

But there was also a new expectation, grown from that original respect and admiration- it was an expectation that I would be responsible. I was expected to be intelligent.

So when I asked my father about my problems after finally entering that small house, Nina separated from me as soon as we arrived, making her way back to her own home, he was incredulous.

It was the first thing I spoke about that night, at dinner.

"...I tried the First Step Transition, today."

Normally, our meals were relatively quiet. Although we all enjoyed speaking with each other, mainly about training and swordplay, we had something of an unspoken rule not to converse while eating. So as my voice cut through the calm silence, my parents blinked, staring at each other for a moment before turning to me simultaneously, a hint of confusion in both pairs of eyes.

"It felt incredible. It was a lot of fun, but… even though I could definitely feel the completion of my actions… you know, that feeling you get when you successfully execute a technique? Well, it didn't work."

My father nodded, speaking immediately after, sensing a moment to pull out a new lecture on swordplay.

"Of course. Confidence in yourself is absolutely required in order to succeed, but confidence alone is not the only requirement to power. If it was, every ignorant fool who travels here to challenge Master would be much more trouble."

"Well, I know that, but…" I shook my head, frowning, "I had been practicing it for a while now, and I felt myself perform it perfectly! The sword just… slipped out of my hands."

This time, the neutral expression that he always seemed to wear slipped into something darker, a scowl on his face.

"Jino. You are not a fool- we all know that."

I had a feeling this wasn't going to turn out well for me, but I nodded in confirmation anyway.

"So if you are not a fool, why have you been practicing the Transition, as if you could succeed so easily?"

I blinked, and my mother took that time to interject between us, glancing sideways at my father.

"-I believe what he is trying to say here, Jino, is that you are not yet ready to attempt techniques at that level."

This time, I couldn't help the frown to cross my face, mirroring my father's.

"But… I've been training for a year already, and I can feel myself getting better… but my results are still the same! I must be doing something wrong, if the sword keeps slipping away from me!"

My father spoke.

"Jino. How old are you?"

"What does that matter?! I've… It doesn't matter how old I am as long as I'm skilled enough, you two have both said that before!"

"Do not raise your voice any higher, Jino."

There was a growl beneath my father's words at that point, and I swallowed hesitantly, shrinking back in my chair slightly before nodding.

"I will not have such pointless yelling beneath this roof. It is true, we have supported you for your age and you have shown tremendous aptitude. But now, there is a different problem you are facing, one that will surely crop up again in the future."

"...What is it, then?"

"The sword slipped out of your hands, correct? Then, if I assume your technique was perfect, as you claim it was, there can only be one reason for such an action."

I stared at him, focusing on every word my father spoke and already forgetting the slight fear I felt. After all, this was a Sword Emperor sitting in front of me. This was one of the most experienced swordsmen in the world- it was common sense to value each piece of advice he gave out as if it was a kernel of gold.

"You are too physically weak. It is quite simply a measure of your age- and even while watching you train in the mornings, it is clear."

I nodded slowly.

"...Then… how do I overcome this problem?"

Already, though, I felt a hint of dread rising in my chest as I spoke the words. After all, above almost anything else, the Sword God Style relied on the power of the swordsman, and if the wielder simply did not have enough power to put behind their attacks, then they weren't much of a swordsman at all.

"It should be clear. The only way is to wait. You're four years old, and already nearly an Intermediate rank. You have your techniques practiced well, but the skill means nothing without correct force."

Of course. There was no other method.

But then, my father smiled. One of the first I had ever seen from him, at least in the current memory I held.

"Don't worry, Jino. Soon enough, you'll be powerful. We can all feel it."

My mother laughed, and the tense air seemed to disappear from the table, even my frown of discomfort slipping away, the meal nearly finished.

I let myself smile, nodding along with the rest of the conversation between my parents.

But even with that new light, and the solidified path I could see laying before me, leading towards success, there was a discomfort, unfading from my chest.

I wasn't sure if it was from the sudden end to our argument, or the smile on my father's face, but something felt strange to me.

I knew that I wanted to be good with a sword. That was obvious- it was the only thing that kept me going in this place, although it was true there were now a few people building their own corners in my thoughts.

But although I loved to use my sword, and I loved to train and practice, feeling myself getting better and better as the days went on…

There was a new kind of pressure, hidden in my father's voice, directed solely to the blade in my hands.

At that moment, when my father had spoken with such certainty, declaring that I would obviously be powerful, as soon as I finished growing up…

It was clear that both he and my mother felt that way. They both had absolute confidence I would be strong.

Their expectations were so obvious- so large, and filled with hope.

I loved to use the sword. There was something enchanting about swinging it through the air and practicing with it, becoming just slightly better as every day went by. When I felt myself stagnating in the past few months, I was uncomfortable.

But that feeling was never related to any kind of "power" I might have.

I had never once thought about becoming "powerful."

Something about the idea honestly made me... scared, perhaps.

But maybe that fear was more the clash of thoughts between me and my parents. Maybe it stemmed from the fact that I had no interest in whatever those expectations for me might have been.

Whatever the case was, though, I decided to ignore it. Seeing my parents so happy, that small smile on my father's face and my laughing mother across the table…

With that scene before me, it was easy to forget the oily feelings in my chest.

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