Week three descended upon Shun with the weight of a mountain. It promised to be the pinnacle of his grueling preparation, a period where every lesson would be tested, every muscle fiber strained to its utmost. The grand dojo, once a place of learning and discipline, transformed into an arena where father and son would clash in a symphony of controlled violence.
The morning of the first day, Nobushia donned padded armor, a stark contrast to his usual training attire. His eyes harbored a storm, a silent signal that this week's training would blur the lines between practice and actual combat.
"Today, you will learn the true meaning of resilience, Shun," Nobushia spoke with a stern resonance that echoed off the dojo walls. "In battle, there is no room for hesitation, no moment for second guesses. You will face me, and you will learn."
The first exchange was a shock to Shun's system. Nobushia struck his stomach with a speed and ferocity that Shun had never seen in him before. Each blow was a lesson in itself, teaching Shun about the unforgiving nature of true combat. Nobushia's attacks were relentless, a deluge designed to overwhelm and overpower.
Shun fought to keep pace, to raise his arms in defense in time to catch the furious punches and kicks that rained down upon him. The impact of each block reverberated through his body, a brutal reminder of his father's might. Every time he faltered, every time a blow slipped through his guard, the padding did little to soften the message—the margin between life and death in real battle was razor-thin.
By the end of the first day, Shun was bruised and battered, his body screaming in protest, but his spirit remained unbroken. He understood that this harsh baptism was necessary, that each near-miss was shaping him into the warrior he was meant to become.
Day after day, the scenario repeated itself. As the morning light spilled into the dojo, Shun would brace for the onslaught that was his father's tutelage. Nobushia seemed almost a force of nature, each strike a thunderbolt, each grapple a tempest that sought to uproot Shun and cast him aside.
Yet, as the week progressed, Shun began to anticipate his father's patterns. The teachings of the previous weeks coalesced within him—a fusion of instinct, technique, and sheer will. He started to move with a purpose, his body remembering the flow of the river, the sway of the trees in the forest, the resilience of water shaping stone.
It was during one of their sparring matches that Shun's growth became apparent. Nobushia launched a series of attacks that would have felled any less-prepared combatant. But Shun, recalling the blindfolded nights, the uneven ground, the relentless river, found the clarity to defend against the fatal blows.
He deflected a punch that aimed for his temple, sidestepped a kick meant for his knee, and absorbed the impact of a palm strike that could have crushed his chest. It was not victory, not yet, but it was survival. And in that moment, survival was all that mattered.
Nobushia paused, stepping back to appraise his son. A flicker of approval shone in his eyes, the kind of acknowledgment that was hard-earned in the Kise-Ryu dojo.
"You are learning, Shun, but there is still a long road ahead," Nobushia remarked, and they resumed their relentless training.
The brutal days unfolded like a relentless tide, each session more punishing than the last. Nobushia seemed inexhaustible, a relentless force that pushed Shun to the brink. With every near-miss, every bruise that flowered on his skin, Shun's resolve hardened. He learned to find the slivers of opportunity in his father's assault, the split seconds where defense could turn into counter-attack.
The relentless sparring left Shun exhausted each night, his body a map of pain and persistence. Yet, each morning he rose again, his will unbroken, his spirit tempered like steel in the forge of his father's expectations.
As the third week neared its end, Nobushia's onslaught gradually subsided, giving way to moments of instruction that were as precise as they were insightful. "Every strike has a purpose, Shun. Every block tells a story. Your story is one of strength and honor," Nobushia would say, guiding Shun's hands, correcting his stance, refining his spirit through the crucible of combat.
It was as the sun dipped below the horizon on the final day of the week that Nobushia called a halt to the sparring. They stood facing each other, the silence of the dojo wrapping around them like a sacred shroud. Nobushia's gaze held Shun's, intense and full of something that Shun had never seen before.
"I learned everything I know from your grandfather," Nobushia said, his voice heavy with emotion. "And now, it's my turn to pass on that knowledge to you. Once you win that Tournament, I'll teach you the Ikkon Arts. It's one of the many sacred arts of our clan."
Pride swelled in Nobushia's chest as he spoke, his eyes filled with a mixture of love and expectation. Shun felt a surge of determination coursing through his veins, knowing that he carried the legacy of his grandfather and the hopes of his father.
The unveiling of the Ikkon Arts posed a mysterious presence that started to tether Shun. This was the outcome he had longed for. His aspiration was to earn his father's acknowledgment through this rigorous training. Unexpectedly, receiving a martial technique as a reward was beyond his anticipation. Gradually, he grasped that the objective was not solely to endure the training or triumph in the Tournament; it was about embracing the legacy set before him, embodying the teachings of the Kise-Ryu, and becoming a conduit for its wisdom.
With his body sore but spirit invigorated, Shun bowed deeply to his father. "I will not falter, Father. I will win the Tournament and honor our family name. I am ready to learn, to grow, and to uphold the sacred arts of the Kise-Ryu."
Nobushia returned the bow, a silent pact forged between them in the heart of the dojo. As they left the training hall, the shadows of their ancestors seemed to whisper in approval, the torch of the Kise-Ryu legacy burning bright in Shun's heart.
The third week had been the hardest yet, a testament to Shun's resilience and his father's relentless drive to prepare him for the challenges ahead. But through the pain, the fatigue, and the unyielding pressure, Shun had emerged stronger, more capable, and ready to face whatever the next weeks would throw at him.