As the sun rose above the trees. Kiyoshi could be seen slowly rising from his bed, his body aching from the gruelling training session of the day before. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he stretched before making his way outside. Winter started to fade, and the snow was beginning to melt as the dress scent of wet pine filled the air.
Cent-tae, who'd be sitting beneath one of the trees, would glance over at Kiyoshi. "If you're ready, let's get going."
As they ventured into the forest to their usual training spot, Kiyoshi sat at the edge of the cleaning, stretching his stiff muscles, and watched as the mist slowly rose from the forest floor. His hands were swollen from gripping the wooden sword for hours on end, and his limbs felt heavy from the endless drills. But his spirit remained unshaken.
Cent-tae approached with his usual calm demeanour, his eyes began scanning the boys body. "You survived," he said with a faint smile. "Good, today will be harder."
Kiyoshi's eyes widened at the thought, as he responded with a nod, wiping the sweat from his brow, he'd begin to mentally prepare himself for what's to come. As the only nagging question that lingered on his mind: How much more could his body take?
Ceng-tae, sensing the hesitation in his student, spoke up. "Your mind will give up way before your body does, Kiyoshi. That's why today isn't just about technique; it's about endurance and willpower. Ok, a battle, it's not enough simply to be fast or skilled. You need to be unbreakable."
Clinching his fist, Kiyoshi nodded. His chest swelled with determination, but there was still a creeping doubt that gnawed at him. Though his body responds instinctively to Ceng-tae's training, he still feels as though something is missing.
But there was no time for self-reflection, not today.
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"Endurance Training."
The morning began with a punishing endurance drill that made the previous day's run seem like a warm-up. As they ran through the dense forest, their path was filled with more obstacles—jagged rocks, steep inclines, and dense underbrush that snapped at their legs.
With short breaths, Kiyoshi tried keeping a simple pace in order to keep up with Ceng-tae, but his heart pounded, his legs screamed, and his muscles threatened to seize, but he kept moving, kept pushing, even as the weight of exhaustion clawed at his resolve.
Ceng-tae never once slowed his pace, and though Kiyoshi was falling behind, the boy never showed signs of giving up; instead, he fought through it and ignored all the pain. By the time they returned to the clearing, Kiyoshi's legs had out beneath him, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for air. His vision blurred as he stared up at the sky.
"You're still breathing," Ceng-tae said with a smirk plastered on his face. "That's a victory."
Kiyoshi forced himself to sit up, wiping off the sweat on his face; he'd glacé over at Ceng-tae. "Y… you are crazy, you know that; I didn't think… it would be this… difficult."
"Endurance is not physical," Ceng-tae replied. "It's mental. When your body wants to stop, your mind has to be stronger. That's the lesson for today. Now, get up. We're not done."
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"Reflex and Sword Training."
The wind rustled through the trees as Ceng-tae and Kiyoshi stood in the clearing. The soft light of the sun filtered through the leaves, casting a dapple shadow on the floor. Kiyoshi held his wooden sword in both hands, feet planted firmly in a wide stance, eyes locked on Ceng-tae.
Ceng-tae, however, wasn't wielding a sword today. Instead, he held two thin sticks, no thicker than a finger, tapping them lightly against each other as he circled Kiyoshi, his movements fluid and unhurried.
"Keep your eyes sharp," Ceng-tae said calmly, his tone steady yet challenging. "The moment you blink, you'll feel these."
Kiyoshi nodded, his grip tightening on the hilt of his sword. Sweat already trickled down his forehead from their previous exercises, and he could feel the tension mounting. This was different from the usual sparring. The wooden sword was familiar, but those thin sticks in Ceng-tae's hands were dangerous in their own way.
Without warning, Ceng-tae darted forward, his sticks flashing out like striking snakes. Kiyoshi reacted instinctively, bringing his sword up to block, but Ceng-tae's movement was faster, the first stick slapping against Kiyoshi's wrist with a sharp snap.
"Too slow," Ceng-tae said, stepping back smoothly.
Kiyoshi winced at the sting but adjusted his stance, refocusing. His heart raced, the sharp pain reminding him of the stakes. He lunged forward, bringing his sword down in a swift, vertical slash, but Ceng-tae sidestepped effortlessly, and before Kiyoshi could correct his angle, one of the sticks tapped the back of his leg, making him stumble slightly.
"You're focused on your sword, but your body's too rigid," Ceng-tae lectured. "You must flow, not just strike."
Kiyoshi gritted his teeth, took a deep breath, and adjusted his footing. The tension in his body eased just slightly. He shifted his weight, trying to anticipate Ceng-tae's next move.
Ceng-tae circled him again, watching, measuring. Then, he flicked one stick toward Kiyoshi's side. Kiyoshi twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the strike, but in that instant, the second stick lashed out, catching him on the shoulder.
Kiyoshi hissed at the impact, but Ceng-tae gave him no time to recover. He advanced, launching a flurry of strikes from different angles, each one unpredictable. Kiyoshi moved his sword, blocking some of the hits and dodging others, but with every step he took back, Ceng-tae pressed forward, his movements relentless.
"The sword alone won't save you," Ceng-tae said, his voice calm even amidst the rapid strikes. "You have to read me. Anticipate."
Kiyoshi ducked beneath a quick swipe aimed at his head, but before he could straighten, the second stick came from below, hitting his ribs.
"You're still reacting, not predicting," Ceng-tae continued. He backed off slightly, giving Kiyoshi a moment to regain his breath.
Panting, Kiyoshi's eyes narrowed in focus. He widened his stance and loosened his grip on the sword just enough to be more fluid. He could feel his body aching, the spots where Ceng-tae had landed blows throbbing. But something shifted in him—he began watching Ceng-tae's shoulders, the subtle way they moved before each strike.
Ceng-tae came in again, sticks flashing like the wind. This time, Kiyoshi's sword moved smoother, deflecting one of the strikes and stepping aside just before the other could land. It wasn't perfect—he still felt the stick graze his hip—but it was progress.
"Better," Ceng-tae said, eyes gleaming with approval. "But not enough."
He increased the speed of his attacks, the sound of the sticks cutting through the air becoming a rapid-fire rhythm. Kiyoshi's breath came in short bursts as he worked to keep up, his sword moving faster, feet shuffling in quick steps. He was no longer just defending—he was reading, reacting faster. One strike came toward his face, and Kiyoshi angled his body, letting the stick fly past without needing to block it.
He saw an opening and darted forward, swinging his sword in a low arc. For a brief second, he thought he had caught Ceng-tae off guard, but his master twisted his body just enough to evade the blow, and before Kiyoshi could pull back, a stick struck the back of his knee, sending him down to one knee.
"Close," Ceng-tae said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "But close isn't good enough in a real fight."
Kiyoshi's frustration flared for a moment, but he swallowed it down. He pushed himself back up, his body aching but his resolve firm. This wasn't about winning—it was about sharpening himself.
Again, Ceng-tae moved, and again, Kiyoshi responded, their movements becoming a dance of attacks and evasions. The blows landed less frequently now, Kiyoshi's reflexes sharpening with each moment, though the sting of the sticks still reminded him how far he had to go.
Finally, Ceng-tae halted, raising his sticks and stepping back. "That's enough for today." He gave Kiyoshi a slight smile. "You're improving. But there's still much to learn."
Breathing heavily, Kiyoshi nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow. His body was sore, and every part of him ached, but there was a glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. The pain was worth it—he could feel himself growing stronger, sharper.
Ceng-tae extended one of the sticks toward him, tapping his sword lightly. "Next time, try to predict me before I even move. That's the goal. Not just speed—but instinct. But that's enough for now. Let's move on to the next."
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"Taking Hits and Pushing Through."
"Now, we focus on endurance," Ceng-tae said. He cracked his knuckles, eyes fixed on Kiyoshi. "You need to learn to take hits and keep standing. In a real fight, you won't always dodge everything. Sometimes, the only way forward is through."
Kiyoshi nodded, bracing himself. His body already bore the aches and bruises from their earlier sessions, but this... this was going to be a different kind of pain. He could feel it in the way Ceng-tae's gaze lingered, calculating, as if measuring just how much Kiyoshi could take.
"No holding back," Ceng-tae said, taking a step forward. "Don't collapse. Don't falter."
Before Kiyoshi could respond, Ceng-tae's fist shot out. The blow slammed into Kiyoshi's midsection, forcing the air from his lungs in a sharp gasp. The impact was solid, like being hit by a hammer, but Kiyoshi gritted his teeth and stayed on his feet, even as his body wanted to fold in on itself.
"Good," Ceng-tae said, his voice devoid of praise. "But that was just the beginning."
Kiyoshi barely had time to reset his stance before Ceng-tae's leg swept up, catching him square in the ribs with a sharp kick. The force of the strike made him stagger to the side, his balance faltering, but he dug his heels into the ground and forced himself upright again. Pain radiated from his ribs, but he steeled his mind against it, focusing on staying upright, staying firm.
"Focus through the pain," Ceng-tae instructed, moving with predatory grace. "You can't let every blow throw you off balance. You must feel the impact and push through it."
The next strike came quickly—Ceng-tae's elbow crashed into Kiyoshi's shoulder with the weight of a falling tree, sending him stumbling again. This time, Kiyoshi grunted with effort as he resisted the urge to collapse, his knees bending but not buckling. His breaths came short and fast, the sting of the hits burning through his body, but he stayed standing, his vision narrowing to a singular focus: endure.
Ceng-tae stepped forward again, not letting up. His fist crashed into Kiyoshi's sternum, sending a shockwave of pain through his chest. Kiyoshi could feel the sharp intake of air stuttering in his lungs, but still, he refused to fall. He clenched his fists, grounding himself in the pain, using it as fuel to keep himself upright.
"You're relying too much on your legs," Ceng-tae said, his voice sharp. "Your entire body has to work together. Absorb the blows. Don't just take them. Redirect the energy."
Kiyoshi's head was spinning, but he understood. His stance shifted slightly, distributing his weight more evenly, keeping his core engaged. When the next punch came, aimed at his side, he twisted just enough to soften the impact, though the pain still flared through his body like fire. He winced but stayed rooted, his feet solid beneath him.
Ceng-tae nodded slightly, the ghost of a smile on his lips. "Better. But not enough."
Without warning, Ceng-tae's knee shot up, catching Kiyoshi in the stomach. This time, the force of the blow nearly knocked him off his feet. He could feel bile rising in his throat, his vision swimming as the air was punched out of him. His knees trembled, but he willed himself to stand, his mind screaming at his body to keep moving, keep standing.
"Don't stop," Ceng-tae barked, his tone sharper now, more demanding. He moved in again, launching a barrage of kicks and punches, each one landing with precision, targeting Kiyoshi's torso, his ribs, and his shoulders.
Each hit felt like it would shatter him, but Kiyoshi's resolve only grew with the pain. His body felt like it was on fire, his muscles screaming with every movement, but he focused on one thing: standing.
When a punch connected with his jaw, his head snapped to the side, stars exploding in his vision. He could taste blood in his mouth, but he spat it out, his legs holding firm beneath him. His heart pounded in his chest, but there was a flicker of pride, a stubbornness that refused to let him fall.
Ceng-tae stepped back for a moment, his eyes scanning Kiyoshi's battered form. He could see the exhaustion in his student's stance, the way his body was swaying slightly with fatigue, but there was something more—a fire in Kiyoshi's eyes, a determination that even the pain couldn't snuff out.
"Not bad," Ceng-tae said quietly, but his fists didn't lower. "But you need more. You need to be unshakable."
He rushed forward again, his movements a blur. A punch slammed into Kiyoshi's side, followed by a sharp kick to the thigh and then another punch to the chest. Each blow felt like it was carving into him, but Kiyoshi stayed standing, his feet planted like roots in the earth.
"Come on!" Ceng-tae's voice was sharp and challenging. "Don't just stand there. Push through it!"
The words were like a spark in Kiyoshi's mind. His body screamed for him to stop, to collapse, but he forced his feet to stay planted. With a deep breath, he adjusted his stance again, this time using his body to absorb the next blow. When Ceng-tae's fist connected with his ribs, Kiyoshi twisted slightly, letting the force pass through him instead of letting it knock him off balance. It still hurt—every fibre of his being felt like it was on the verge of breaking—but he stayed upright, his breathing ragged but steady.
Ceng-tae finally stopped, his fists lowering as he looked at Kiyoshi. There was no smile, no outward sign of approval, but the intensity in his gaze softened just a little.
"Good," Ceng-tae said, his voice quieter now, almost approving. "You're learning. In a real fight, there's no luxury of avoiding every hit. Sometimes, you have to stand and take it. The key is to endure, to adapt, and to never let it break you."
Kiyoshi stood there, his body battered and bruised but still on his feet. His breath came in heavy gasps, but he felt an overwhelming sense of accomplishment despite the pain. He had endured. He had stayed standing.
"Good now, stay here and meditate until the sun is fully set; I'll be waiting for you at the house," Ceng-the said.
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"Meditation and Reflection."
The forest hummed as Kiyoshi sat in silence, the rustle of leaves and the distant chirping of insects filling the air. He crossed his legs beneath him, resting his palms gently on his knees, and closed his eyes. Ceng-tae's final instruction echoed in his mind: Stay here until the sun has set fully.
He focused on his breathing, feeling the cool, earthy scent of the forest with each inhale. The gentle breeze against his skin became his anchor. As he settled into the stillness, his body ached from the bruises and cuts earned during training, each reminder of the trials he had faced that day.
The initial discomfort nudged at him, threatening to pull his mind away, but Kiyoshi fought against it. Push through the pain, he reminded himself. Focus. His breath deepened, and gradually, the sting of the blows and the fatigue in his muscles all began to melt away into the rhythm of the forest.
With the steady beat of his heart and the pulse of the earth beneath him, his thoughts began to drift. He thought of Ceng-tae, of his master's relentless training. His mind flickered back to the reflex drills, the way Ceng-tae's sticks had moved faster than his eyes could follow. No matter how sharp Kiyoshi had been, there was always another hit, another mistake. It frustrated him. Why couldn't I keep up?
The memory stirred a deeper question within him: Why am I even doing this? He knew there was something more than just improving his skill with a sword. Something buried in the fog of his lost memories.
His fingers tightened slightly against his knees as the thought grew. Who am I fighting for? The answer escaped him, slipping through his grasp like water. For a moment, he felt small, lost in the vastness of the forest, in the vastness of his own mind.
Yet, amidst the uncertainty, there was also a sense of purpose, a glimmer he couldn't quite explain. He recalled moments during the sparring sessions when instinct had taken over. That surge of something—power, maybe—within him. In those fleeting moments, it was as if his body remembered what his mind had forgotten.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the warmth of its rays slowly giving way to the coolness of the evening, Kiyoshi opened his eyes, staring at the sky painted in hues of amber and violet. He felt calmer now, more centred, though the questions still lingered.
Ceng-tae was pushing him beyond the physical—this training was not just about his body but about his mind and spirit. Kiyoshi needed to find himself again, to piece together the fragments of his past, even if he didn't yet understand why.
The shadows of the trees grew longer as the last remnants of daylight faded away. Kiyoshi took a final deep breath, feeling the stillness around him, as well as the quiet stirrings within. When the sun finally disappeared, leaving the forest bathed in darkness, he stood, feeling a little more sure, though his journey was far from over.
But far off, at the edge of the area where Kiyoshi meditated, Celosia watched in silence. She had been observing him throughout the day. There was something about Kiyoshi that fascinated her. Noticing that he was leaving, she vanished into the night as Kiyoshi began making his walk back to the house.
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