Summer 11 116
Upon seeing the heavy weapon propped up against the wall, Caelum couldn't help but wonder why there had only been one out. He forced the idea out of his thoughts as the vivid hues combined with the excruciating agony of their current training almost caused him to pass out.
The teacher's practice sword blurred and whirled at him with inhuman speed, leaving him with little time to respond. Though he was too slow, Caelum growled as his two-handed swing brought the heavy weapon down to block the hit. The practice sword struck him forcefully in the ribcage, causing him to gasp, while his own sword's blunted edge sank into the hardwood surface under him, launching tiny fragments upward.
The instructor smiled calmly before making a side step and lunging. Caelum's instinct alone allowed him to raise the heavy weapon in time to block his Instructor's heavy blow from below. Caelum felt his feet shoot up into the air, but then he fell backward, crashing hard against the hard surface once more, even though he was holding the heavier weapon. With the huge flat surface of the heavy weapon 'blade' acting as a shield, Caelum just about managed to push aside the downward slash, but his ruse was foiled when a second attack whipped him across the shins
This gave him little time to consider the might of his teacher. He was so close to screaming, but he closed his lips resolutely. Caelum directed his rage onto his muscles, urging them to give them all of their strength, while the instructor retreated to allow him a moment to gather his thoughts.
The teacher stalked him like a wolf, trying to flank him in a half circle, but Caelum was able to stay ahead of him by shuffle walking. It would be over if he lost sight for even a split second. Although the teacher's strike appeared to be unexpected and unprovoked, Caelum had some way of knowing. With a fierce demonstration of strength, Caelum blocked the initial thrust, causing his face to flush and veins in his neck to bulge. As he had anticipated, it left his midsection bare, and the instructor's brief moment of instability was over as he spun around like a dancer on one foot and directed a thrust into Caelum's soft belly.
Caelum smashed into the ground with this one, deflecting faster than last time thanks to the sword's massive weight. Although he was able to repel the second attack, it was a foolish move. With his practice sword raised and behind his neck and his glasses sparkling with focus, the instructor launched a vicious third attack that Caelum could see coming. He moved a bit too slowly, even considering the size of the weapon. With not a drop of perspiration on him, his instructor's weapon pressed against the sweat-damp, veined skin of his neck and stayed there as he grinned wolfishly at Caelum.
"So close but yet so far," The man said only that and then he turned his back to his student. "That's all for now. Train by yourself for a while, I have matters to attend to."
None of the students that had given up had come back yet. Too tired to even walk, their absence created a tense atmosphere in the training hall of the dojo. It is likely that their shame prevented them from coming back so soon after their bodies had given up. Even though the instructor was stubborn in his decision to not instruct the cowards, Caelum could tell that he was concerned about the dojo's wellbeing. Like any organism, a dojo required energy to sustain its essence and lifeblood to pump vigorously through its veins in order to continue thriving and shining bright for those who seek out the sword. The lifeblood of any dojo is its students; without them, the martial arts of that specific school would die out as students started to leave one by one.
This was his teacher's way of life. He lived it with the sole intent of honoring his own teacher and maintaining the school's reputation at all costs. Every day that went by, the instructor was visibly sickened by the fact that no new students were coming to the training hall. Although Caelum believed that such loyalty to outdated ideals was naive and unjustified, he didn't think it was proper to discuss such private matters with his elder.
Now that the others were gone, the instructor devoted the majority of his time to traveling to recruit gifted pupils to try out the dojo. Caelum was left to learn the sword technique on his own for the time being and his progress was excruciatingly slow by his standards.
With silence draped over him like a heavy cloak, he stood by himself in the main hall without a shirt on. His mind was filled with pictures of the movements of his body as he imagined what his form should look like. He meditated, first centered my weight in my standing stance. The imagined sensation of his shifting weight moved through his body until his posture felt comfortably wide during the movement.
"I can move from one swing to another with my center staying tight. After all that practice with that heavy blade, using my practice sword will be trivial. All I really have to do is pay attention to my surroundings and maintain focus on accuracy with each swing." He felt his lips part in a toothy smile as he opened his eyes - it would be simple.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed aside all emotions, allowing his awareness to grow to include not only the minute changes in his body but also the subtle movements of the wooden hallway surrounding him. He noticed everything, even the worn-out, smooth feel of the wooden practice sword in his hands, and the stale smell of sweat that persisted throughout the hall. The floors creaked. He carefully assumed his stance, slightly shifting at first, then fully settling into it.
His thoughts blossomed once more, but they weren't quite right. He began to envision a highly skilled adversary attacking with great abandon. Caelum dropped into a drawing stance, acting as though he were really being attacked. He didn't care that his shoulders were getting tense as he quickly and carefully drew his practice sword. His opponent was almost knocked out by his first parrying slash, which arched outward and upward and swatted away the first of the onslaught of attacks. Despite this, his opponent managed to maintain their balance, spun around on their heel, much like the instructor had done, and attacked again without pausing.
As he struggled, he was actually thinking about the teacher. For him, the second swing was always harder than the first. In order to cut down on his opponent from such a high stance, he had slightly elevated his body during the rising motion of his first cut, exposing his midsection and applying more pressure to his shoulder blades. That was the second swing that combined the force of gravity with the effort that each person put into the swing.
As Caelum struck down again, his sweat shot off in a brilliant display of light-filled drops, narrowing and deflecting the imagined blade that had been dangerously close to his throat. Instinctively, his feet spread wide to adopt a powerful stance for the final blow, which, although not as potent as the previous one, was nonetheless crucial since it forced the opponent to retreat or to simply lose their balance.
He was squatting when he felt the dull burn in his legs, a protest from the difficult days he had to stoop and sling the heavy wooden sword. He yipped quickly, cutting upward, then sheathing coolly and staying low in his bow stance in case he had to switch between techniques with ease. As the excitement came to an end, his heart raced. He patted his smooth chest with the towel at his feet.
He said to himself, "This seems alright, but I really ought to try it out against someone that's actually real."
