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Got into a creative mood today. But, unfortunately for you saps, it's Civ V day today, so you all only get an hours' work. :D

Swordfight scene against Mitsube. Hadn't completed it, but this is what I'd like to have.

Today, the sheet pulled taut over the square board read “RIGHTEOUSNESS”.

We began as always with the three hundred overhead swings. The roar of our first days was now a force projected forward, a ram of sound. At fifty strokes, I began to tease out the scents from the wind that flew from behind me – the lessening of the ever-present cedar, the waxing of salt and sweat, the bite of the remaining cold, and something deeper. Before I hit a hundred and fifty, I was mesmerized by the tossing beat I'd slipped into, breath and step thrown to something I wasn't entirely in control of. By the time I hit two hundred and fifty, I felt that cycle begin to collapse, as a top struggling to stay upright, as concentric circles of water turning into ovals and breaking back into the strange shape of the pond. But I strove to keep my shape up until three hundred.

As always, I liked the eventual rest, where I could concentrate on my sweat. It tickled. Hachirota brought me water. I sipped it as I had been taught. After that, we moved straight into sparring.

“Hey there, stranger.” A hand clapped me on the shoulder. I wasn't expecting the grip or the voice. “Haven't fought with you in a while.”

I turned to Mitsube, his hand holding a bit of pressure until it slipped off me and back to his side.

“Thought I'd get a bit of experience out here before squaring off with the master,” I said. We laughed. We moved to an empty spot, one pair between us and the wall.

His shoulders were too relaxed. I think it's time to teach him a lesson.

I'm going to approach this...

… conservatively.

He took a step forward, and I slid half a step back. I knew that he always went for the wrists first, since nobody expected it.

… except he kept his upright stance and went for my head. Fortunately, I hadn't lowered my sword, and barely caught his. Weight pressed painfully on my calf. Could I slip away and catch his wrists? I shifted.

Of course, he wouldn't sit there and comply. Before I'd gotten half an inch, he threw me backward. As I stumbled, he took the easy side blow.

… debilitatingly.

… aggressively.

… with one shot.