Armed with Astel's beginner book, I hit the training grounds the next morning, ready to turn my disaster of a swordsmanship into... slightly less of a disaster.
I started by mimicking the basic stances from the book. They were awkward, stiff, and way harder than the stick-figure diagrams made them look.
"Step one," I muttered, "hold the sword steady." My hands trembled as I tried to balance the katana. "Easy enough"
The sword clattered to the ground.
"Okay, round two," I said, picking it up. This time, I tried a basic forward slash. The book said it was about form, balance, and fluidity. My attempt looked more like a drunk goose trying to land.
Elder Hurky appeared out of nowhere, as he always did, sipping tea and looking utterly unimpressed. "You're worse than I thought," he said.
"Thanks for the pep talk," I grumbled.
"You're welcome. Here, let me show you how it's done."
Hurky grabbed the katana, and with one smooth, effortless motion, executed a flawless strike. The blade cut cleanly through a training dummy, leaving me both amazed and extremely annoyed.
"How did you do that?" I demanded.
"Years of practice," he said smugly. "Something you don't have."
"Wow, thanks for the motivational speech, Sensei."
"You're welcome," he replied with a grin, tossing the katana back to me. "Now, try again. But this time, stop thinking so hard. You're making it worse."
I took his advice, loosening my grip and trying to mimic his fluid motion. To my surprise, the strike was… okay. Not great, but not awful either.
"Not bad," Hurky said, nodding. "For someone who was just using that sword to sweep floors yesterday."
"I'll take the compliment," I said.
For the next few days, I practiced relentlessly or as relentlessly as someone with zero attention span could manage. Slowly but surely, I started to improve. My strikes were less awkward, my stance less wobbly, and I even managed to slice through a training dummy once. Sure, it was already falling apart, but a win's a win.
By the end of the week, I stood in the training grounds, sweaty and exhausted but feeling strangely accomplished. I held the katana up, looking at my reflection in the blade.
"Watch out, competition," I said, grinning. "The floor-sweeping swordsman is coming for you."
Leeon, leaning against a nearby tree, rolled his eyes. "You're still an idiot."
"An idiot with a katana," I corrected him.
He sighed. "Let's hope that's enough."