commonly seen on professional ballet dancers.
In the last few months, Hikari had implemented a heavier weight programme which was starting to bulk him up. His master had made pains to stress the importance of not becoming too muscular though. Heavy muscles, Hikari had explained, could also slow Sam down. The trick was to find a balance between speed and power. So far, the training programme seemed to be working.
They’d been out here for several hours since twilight, in the training ground behind their property. The rigorous training was beginning to take its toll even on his unusual constitution. He was exhausted and his technique was suffering as a result. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like Hikari had any intention of finishing the session any time soon.
Hikari stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “What you must remember, Sam, is that it is not one foe you will be facing. On most occasions, you will be fighting tens, possibly hundreds of opponents at once. You must learn to attack and defend at once. Even while striking out, you must remember to protect yourself at all times.”
Sam nodded slowly, not really understanding. His blade couldn’t be everywhere at once. Sure, he knew he was fast, but nobody was that fast.
“But how am I meant to do that, Sensei?” he said, feeling frustration building. He kept his anger under wraps though, unwilling to show Hikari any loss of control.
Hikari bent down to the bag beside him, his face lost in the flickering shadows created by the three kerosene torches scattered around the training area. He fumbled around in the bag before finally finding what he was after. Straightening up with a satisfied grunt, he held Sam’s wakizashi in one hand. The wakizashi was the partner to the sword Sam held in his own hand – the short to complement the long.
Sam was surprised to see it. Two years earlier, Father Rainey had turned up with the matching blades, handling them with quiet awe and passing them over to Sam with respectful silence. Both swords, the priest had explained, were forged from an iron meteorite, crafted by one of Hikari’s closest friends who was one of the finest swordsmiths still alive in Japan. The iron had been tempered and then quenched in holy water. Then the swords had been sharpened so that Sam, if he wanted to, could shave with them. Not that he would – iron hurt him like liquid fire. The hilts had to be specially made from steel in order for Sam to wield them.
Lines of silver writing, prayers in Latin, were etched into the length of the blades to make them more effective against demonkind. Finally, Father Rainey himself had then blessed both weapons.
For the last two years, Sam had practised every day with the katana, building up his strength and expertise with the weapon. On a few occasions, he’d asked Hikari when he would get to use the shorter of the blades. Every time, his master had just smiled and replied cryptically, ‘Not yet.’
Now Hikari unsheathed the wakizashi and handed it over to Sam, hilt first. “Feel the weight of it. Compare it to the katana. I want you to feel as comfortable with this as you are with your other blade. Eventually, it should become an extension of your hand.”
Sam hefted it, getting a feel for it in his left hand. He swung it experimentally. It was lighter than the katana but, due to the nature of its construction, still extraordinarily heavy for a fighting blade.
During his training with the katana, Sam had tried out both hands. Hikari assured him he was ambidextrous but somehow, the katana just felt like it belonged in his right hand. Now, lifting the wakizashi in his left, it too felt natural.
“Why now?” he asked, lifting his head to look Hikari in the eye.
Hikari smiled without humour. “Because you are ready. You have mastered the katana, now it is time to master the daisho – the long and the short. The true warrior uses every advantage he has. With two blades, you will be double the warrior you were
In the last few months, Hikari had implemented a heavier weight programme which was starting to bulk him up. His master had made pains to stress the importance of not becoming too muscular though. Heavy muscles, Hikari had explained, could also slow Sam down. The trick was to find a balance between speed and power. So far, the training programme seemed to be working.
They’d been out here for several hours since twilight, in the training ground behind their property. The rigorous training was beginning to take its toll even on his unusual constitution. He was exhausted and his technique was suffering as a result. Unfortunately, it didn’t look like Hikari had any intention of finishing the session any time soon.
Hikari stroked his goatee thoughtfully. “What you must remember, Sam, is that it is not one foe you will be facing. On most occasions, you will be fighting tens, possibly hundreds of opponents at once. You must learn to attack and defend at once. Even while striking out, you must remember to protect yourself at all times.”
Sam nodded slowly, not really understanding. His blade couldn’t be everywhere at once. Sure, he knew he was fast, but nobody was that fast.
“But how am I meant to do that, Sensei?” he said, feeling frustration building. He kept his anger under wraps though, unwilling to show Hikari any loss of control.
Hikari bent down to the bag beside him, his face lost in the flickering shadows created by the three kerosene torches scattered around the training area. He fumbled around in the bag before finally finding what he was after. Straightening up with a satisfied grunt, he held Sam’s wakizashi in one hand. The wakizashi was the partner to the sword Sam held in his own hand – the short to complement the long.
Sam was surprised to see it. Two years earlier, Father Rainey had turned up with the matching blades, handling them with quiet awe and passing them over to Sam with respectful silence. Both swords, the priest had explained, were forged from an iron meteorite, crafted by one of Hikari’s closest friends who was one of the finest swordsmiths still alive in Japan. The iron had been tempered and then quenched in holy water. Then the swords had been sharpened so that Sam, if he wanted to, could shave with them. Not that he would – iron hurt him like liquid fire. The hilts had to be specially made from steel in order for Sam to wield them.
Lines of silver writing, prayers in Latin, were etched into the length of the blades to make them more effective against demonkind. Finally, Father Rainey himself had then blessed both weapons.
For the last two years, Sam had practised every day with the katana, building up his strength and expertise with the weapon. On a few occasions, he’d asked Hikari when he would get to use the shorter of the blades. Every time, his master had just smiled and replied cryptically, ‘Not yet.’
Now Hikari unsheathed the wakizashi and handed it over to Sam, hilt first. “Feel the weight of it. Compare it to the katana. I want you to feel as comfortable with this as you are with your other blade. Eventually, it should become an extension of your hand.”
Sam hefted it, getting a feel for it in his left hand. He swung it experimentally. It was lighter than the katana but, due to the nature of its construction, still extraordinarily heavy for a fighting blade.
During his training with the katana, Sam had tried out both hands. Hikari assured him he was ambidextrous but somehow, the katana just felt like it belonged in his right hand. Now, lifting the wakizashi in his left, it too felt natural.
“Why now?” he asked, lifting his head to look Hikari in the eye.
Hikari smiled without humour. “Because you are ready. You have mastered the katana, now it is time to master the daisho – the long and the short. The true warrior uses every advantage he has. With two blades, you will be double the warrior you were
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