The sparring match had left Erwin drained, but even more than the physical exhaustion, it was the stinging realization of his limitations that weighed on him. He had entered the dojo with the hope of becoming stronger, only to be met with a defeat that felt as humbling as it was eye-opening. As he sat on the floor, catching his breath, his heart pounded with a mix of frustration and awe. Kouzaburou stood before him, his posture relaxed yet steady, his gaze both assessing and compassionate, as if he could see through the fatigue and frustration into Erwin's very soul.
"Erwin," Kouzaburou began, his voice calm and measured, carrying a softness that contrasted with the strength in his words. "You have strength, and I sense in you a fierce will to grow. But if you wish to wield the sword as your path to that growth, I fear you may be disappointed."
Erwin looked up, surprised by the master's words. Part of him wanted to argue, to insist that he would become stronger by any means necessary, that he was willing to put in the work and endure the hardship. But the tone in Kouzaburou's voice held a gravity that stilled Erwin's thoughts, quieting the urge to protest. Kouzaburou raised a gentle hand, his expression kind yet firm, as if telling Erwin that he need not rush to respond, that there was a deeper understanding he wanted to impart.
"You fight well, Erwin," Kouzaburou continued, choosing his words carefully, each one carrying weight. "But the way of the sword requires a different kind of discipline, one that does not suit everyone. True swordsmanship requires not just power but a certain calmness of mind, a balanced spirit that can shape strength without letting it consume you. Your instincts are strong and direct, feral, more attuned to the raw, intense power of a fistfight rather than to the fluid, controlled precision of the sword."
The words stung, not because they were harsh, but because Erwin could feel the truth behind them. Every strike he had made against Kouzaburou had felt too forceful, too blunt, as if he were wrestling with his own nature instead of working with it. He could see it now, in hindsight—the rhythm and grace of swordsmanship felt almost foreign to him, like trying to dance to a melody he couldn't quite hear.
Seeing the internal conflict on Erwin's face, Kouzaburou offered a sympathetic smile, one that held understanding and encouragement rather than disappointment. "But do not misunderstand me," he said, his tone reassuring. "The path of the sword may not be yours to walk to the end, but it can still offer you lessons. You've come all this way, and for that, your journey should not be without reward. There are many things a sword can teach, even to one who does not wield it forever."
Erwin felt a flicker of hope reignites within him, a sense of relief that Kouzaburou hadn't dismissed his efforts entirely. "Are you saying… you'll still teach me?" he asked, his voice tinged with both hope and respect.
Kouzaburou nodded, his eyes gleaming with approval. "Yes. I can train you in the basics, in the essential disciplines that any warrior should master, whether they choose the sword or not. Though it may not be your ultimate path, you can still learn the control, focus, and balance that swordsmanship demands. These skills will strengthen you, regardless of where you go from here."
Gratitude surged through Erwin, and he nodded, a renewed determination filling his heart. This was an opportunity he hadn't expected, but one he would seize with everything he had. "Thank you, Kouzaburou-sensei. I'll do whatever training you ask of me."
With a nod, Kouzaburou motioned for him to stand, the faintest hint of a smile touching his lips. "Good. Then we'll start tomorrow morning. Prepare yourself."
The following day, Kouzaburou introduced Erwin to a training regimen that, though seemingly simple, was grueling in its demands for precision and focus. Every morning began with stance work—no blade, just balance, posture, and footwork. For hours, Erwin held his stance, shifting subtly to align his body with the invisible weight of an imagined sword. He was expected to stay in these positions for extended periods, each muscle engaged, each shift carefully monitored.
"Strength alone is not enough," Kouzaburou explained, adjusting Erwin's posture as he stood in a low stance. His voice was calm, yet firm, as he pressed lightly on Erwin's shoulders, challenging him to maintain his balance. "You must learn to channel your power with precision. A true swordsman's blade or a fighter's fist is only as strong as his foundation."
The exercises were deceptively simple, yet each one needed complete focus. Kouzaburou guided him through breathing exercises to center his mind, teaching him to breathe with intention, to let each breath ground him. Every exhale released tension, and every inhale filled him with control and calm. Kouzaburou would correct each stance until it was perfectly aligned, his instructions both strict and patient, often pushing Erwin to hold uncomfortable poses until his legs shook from the strain. And yet, Erwin could feel the benefits of the discipline Kouzaburou instilled in him with each passing day.
During these sessions, Erwin had the opportunity to meet Shimotsuki Koushirou, Kouzaburou's son, who often trained beside him. Koushirou, though only twelve, possessed a quiet focus and a determination that impressed Erwin. There was a natural grace to the boy's movements and dedication that reminded Erwin of Kouzaburou. Koushirou's practice was as precise and measured as his father's, and watching the boy was like witnessing the foundation of a future master.
One day, during a break, Koushirou approached Erwin with a shy but respectful expression, his eyes bright with curiosity. "You're working hard," he said softly, his gaze filled with admiration. "It's inspiring to watch."
Erwin chuckled, a bit surprised by the compliment, but genuinely pleased. "You're the real inspiration here, Koushirou. You've got more talent than I'll ever have with a sword."
Koushirou's smile was modest, but there was a glint of pride in his eyes. "It's not about talent," he replied, his voice earnest. "It's about dedication and purpose. My father always says that the sword reflects what's inside. If you want to become strong, it's important to understand why."
The boy's words resonated with Erwin, striking a chord that felt both challenging and encouraging. He thought back to his own motivations, realizing that while he wanted to become stronger, he hadn't truly considered the deeper purpose behind that desire. Was it survival? Growth? Honor? His journey so far had been driven by a need to protect himself, but here, in the peaceful yet disciplined atmosphere of the dojo, he felt a pull to look beyond himself, to consider a broader purpose for his strength.
Under Kouzaburou's guidance, the days blurred together, transforming into a series of repetitive but rewarding exercises. Kouzaburou instilled discipline, urging Erwin to let go of his frustrations, to focus on each movement with intent and care. Over the week, Erwin could feel the subtle changes in himself—his stances grew steadier, his balance more natural, his movements more controlled. It was a slow transformation, but one that he could feel resonating deep within.
Finally, on the last day of training, Kouzaburou called him aside. They stood in the training yard as the afternoon sun cast long shadows, the sky tinged with a warm golden hue. The week had flown by, yet it had felt like a lifetime's worth of lessons.
"Erwin," Kouzaburou began, his tone thoughtful, his gaze intent. "You've improved in this short time. But as I told you, the path of the sword is not for everyone. If you truly wish to pursue combat, I suggest you seek out a place where your instincts can flourish."
Erwin listened carefully, sensing that Kouzaburou's words carried a weight and sincerity that were meant to guide him.
"There's an island in the South Blue known as Karate Island," Kouzaburou continued, his eyes shining with the wisdom of a teacher who understood the paths of many warriors. "It's a place where martial arts are revered, and you'll find masters who can guide you in the way of unarmed combat. With the skills you possess, I believe you would thrive there."
Erwin absorbed the advice, feeling a mixture of disappointment and excitement swirl within him. The idea of leaving the dojo, of parting ways with Kouzaburou, saddened him, yet he also felt a spark of curiosity and purpose ignite. He realized now that Kouzaburou had given him more than just training; he had offered him a direction, a vision of what his future could hold.
"Thank you, Kouzaburou-sensei," Erwin said, bowing deeply. "I'll take your advice to heart."
Kouzaburou smiled, a rare warmth in his expression that spoke of both pride and fondness. "Remember, Erwin, a journey is not defined by its destination, but by the steps you take to get there. Walk your path with purpose, and let each step bring you closer to the strength you seek."
Erwin nodded, the words sinking deep into his heart. As he left the dojo that evening, the cool breeze of the night brushed against him.
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AN: Erwin's polite and respectful character is how I portrayed him. But, when angered, god forbid anything that make him angry survived.