Post by KIYU MATSURA on Nov 2, 2016 4:27:39 GMT
All Things Have a Beginning...
Masaki silently sat upon the grassy plains of the Training ground, his hair down as normal, with his Zanpakuto resting easily upon his lap. He rested, contemplating of his future goals, uncertain of where the road would take him and, yet, still without a glimmer of doubt visible. While the clouded future still awaited him, his demeanor was clear, unfaltering. It was a road to something greater, a road that would take him ages to get to, but the plan was slow, and Masaki was patient. It was as Sxxxxx-San had said, "As long as you can see the steps in front of you, the ones you laid out, then you will never be lost." For a long time, Masaki had his friend whom he had trained with, whom he had crafted his skills with - that was until the incident. Masaki revealed to nobody else the extent of his talents, and as such, it was hard to even tell at this point, where Masaki's true strengths laid. Little by little, he would uncover the truth, and show his potential.
The ringing of clashing steel echoed through the halls of the S----- estate. A young Masaki roared as his forehead beaded with dewdrops of sweat, racing toward his opponent in his grey and black Hakama. Right hand dominant, gripped his Katana's handle, left hand borrowed beneath that; sudden wisps filled the room as blades lacerated through air molecules accompanied by light traces reflecting off the tips of both blades. The interim beauty faded quickly, replaced hastily with others. Masaki's mask of unemotional focus showcased his handle, his control, his perception of victory, and how it is within arm's length, just a swipe of his katana away. The opponent had the same expression, however, the meaning behind it was much different; a push off his right foot, Masaki glided across the room, zeroing the distance between himself and his target - however, as his opponent braced for impact, his stance changed. His Katana was no longer held at the ready, it fled behind him as he also rushed toward Masaki. With only a moment to react, Masaki swung, but it was left incomplete as his gullet grabbed on to by his opponent's free hand and immediately planted onto the ground. The tip of his opponent's blade grazed through his hair as it collided with the wooden floor.
GOOD!
A thunderous, yet ominous voice overwhelmed the vast room. Both parties stood upright, and quickly turned, bowing to an older male, silver majestic hair, with white facial hair to match.
Sensei.
They both spoke.
GOOD! He spoke again.
Masaki, you are improving remarkably, however, your faults lie within those improvements. While you are beginning to hone the art of the swift strike, you leave yourself open in places that many forget to remember are exposed. S------, please demonstrate.
Masaki watched as his friend stepped forward, faced their sensei. He took on a stance the Masaki recognized as his own. The Katana rose and left foot planted ahead, body turned all the while, his head was constantly on Sensei. It was perfect on offense, however, defensively, it left him open at the torso. His master took a left step, reached out with his left hand and halted right S------'s neck.
By the time you swung, S------, was already at your gullet. Had he not moved his left hand and dropped his own Katana by his right side, surely, I would have my student's head rolling across this floor.
Masaki gulped, rubbing his esophagus and thankful that S----- had spared him. Masaki definitely fell short of his friend, however, Masaki didn't start training under his sensei until a few years after S----- did.
Masaki, his friend turned, you were looking straight at me, you lost track of your own path. Next time, watch your steps, because, as long as you can see the steps in front of you, the ones you laid out, then you will never be lost.
These words would serve as a remembrance to Masaki's future.
The ringing of clashing steel echoed through the halls of the S----- estate. A young Masaki roared as his forehead beaded with dewdrops of sweat, racing toward his opponent in his grey and black Hakama. Right hand dominant, gripped his Katana's handle, left hand borrowed beneath that; sudden wisps filled the room as blades lacerated through air molecules accompanied by light traces reflecting off the tips of both blades. The interim beauty faded quickly, replaced hastily with others. Masaki's mask of unemotional focus showcased his handle, his control, his perception of victory, and how it is within arm's length, just a swipe of his katana away. The opponent had the same expression, however, the meaning behind it was much different; a push off his right foot, Masaki glided across the room, zeroing the distance between himself and his target - however, as his opponent braced for impact, his stance changed. His Katana was no longer held at the ready, it fled behind him as he also rushed toward Masaki. With only a moment to react, Masaki swung, but it was left incomplete as his gullet grabbed on to by his opponent's free hand and immediately planted onto the ground. The tip of his opponent's blade grazed through his hair as it collided with the wooden floor.
GOOD!
A thunderous, yet ominous voice overwhelmed the vast room. Both parties stood upright, and quickly turned, bowing to an older male, silver majestic hair, with white facial hair to match.
Sensei.
They both spoke.
GOOD! He spoke again.
Masaki, you are improving remarkably, however, your faults lie within those improvements. While you are beginning to hone the art of the swift strike, you leave yourself open in places that many forget to remember are exposed. S------, please demonstrate.
Masaki watched as his friend stepped forward, faced their sensei. He took on a stance the Masaki recognized as his own. The Katana rose and left foot planted ahead, body turned all the while, his head was constantly on Sensei. It was perfect on offense, however, defensively, it left him open at the torso. His master took a left step, reached out with his left hand and halted right S------'s neck.
By the time you swung, S------, was already at your gullet. Had he not moved his left hand and dropped his own Katana by his right side, surely, I would have my student's head rolling across this floor.
Masaki gulped, rubbing his esophagus and thankful that S----- had spared him. Masaki definitely fell short of his friend, however, Masaki didn't start training under his sensei until a few years after S----- did.
Masaki, his friend turned, you were looking straight at me, you lost track of your own path. Next time, watch your steps, because, as long as you can see the steps in front of you, the ones you laid out, then you will never be lost.
These words would serve as a remembrance to Masaki's future.
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