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Chapter 20: 継続は力なり: Continuance is also Strength

Chapter Text

Takehiko lived a happy if mundane life in his village. Life in their village was simple and peaceful most of all. They toiled away to live in comfort, simple farmers and tradesmen cooperating for the betterment of the whole. His grandfather provided the wisdom they needed to continue their lifestyle; his father was a hearty, hale man, helping the people in any way he could; His mother was the heart, no, the soul of the village, keeping smiles on everyone's faces and buoying their spirits. As a young boy he grew up on stories of the samurai of old from his grandfather, his youthful spirit eagerly devouring tales of heroism in the face of terrifying foes, the indomitable spirit of man triumphing over great evil. With tales like that fueling, his ambition is it any wonder that he yearned to go out into the world, leaving the village, and make a name for himself? He picked up sticks in the woods and played at being a swordsman, facing down monsters, saving maidens, proving his prowess.

It wasn't until he was eight that he learned the stories he was told were true. He was tasked with helping his father cut down some trees, to learn how to be a woodsman. It wasn't until they were at the job site that he was face to face with Yokai, the subject of many a story earlier in his life. Many of the stories highlighted them as savages, tricksters, foul beings that sought only discord. The ones he met that day, the Kenmun, were simply people, good people as well. In them he saw the people from his village, a simple hardy people coming together for mutual benefit. Of course, as he learned from his father they still retained that mischievous nature but it was playful rather than malicious. When his father was just a boy, similar to him, his father took him to meet the Kenmun. Takehiko's grandfather didn't tell his son that you should only give the Kenmun their payment after the task was completed and they all shared a laugh when the Kenmun left after eating, the job having to be done solely by the villagers that day.

His grandfather explained that as times changed, the world growing in some ways and shrinking in others, animosity was too harsh a burden to bear. The humans and the other races began to work together more, harmony springing up where before only discord lay. He was shown the records passed down in their village since its founding by a minor samurai house in the mid-eighteen hundreds. Over time the village had come in contact with many species of Yokai who wandered through the woods and even a devil on one occasion, hunting for a villager with a Sacred Gear. As the village matured, Takehiko's ancestors distanced themselves from their samurai roots, embracing the life of humble villagers. The samurai who began the village had sold off his armor and other accompaniments to pay for the land development, the land itself being a gift for his service. The one thing he kept was his sword, the same sword that is still passed down through the family today.

The past no longer interested him as much as it had when he was, not so much younger, but more naive. Before his parents were taken away from him. His rage at the Tengu that killed them was great yet it was the guilt and the shame that twisted his personality. How could he not hate the Tengu and Yokai as a whole, if only to redirect some of the hatred he felt for himself? By Kami, he didn't even know how to wield a sword yet he was prepared to hunt the Tengu down himself. When he found out the monster had been killed he no longer had a target for his rage, only the idea of Yokai as a whole. Part of him remembered what he learned of Yokai before, a bitter taste in his mouth about lying to himself, about condemning an entire race for the actions of one; The other just didn't care because without his parents what was there to care for?

Trapped in this dark mood, having to watch the poorly concealed pity in the eyes of those he grew up around didn't help. The worst was his grandfather, simply taking the death of his son and daughter-in-law as nothing but a foregone conclusion. What sparked his sudden change back to resolve to protect rather than to get revenge was not the words of Ibaraki-sensei. After he got called out by Ibaraki-sensei and his grandfather he stewed in his anger for a while but then circled back to give her a piece of his mind. No, what changed his mind was the sadness on his grandfather's face as he watched the stars above. It was then that he realized he wasn't the only one who lost someone important that day, he was just the only one whining about it.

Ibaraki-sensei teaching him anything had been a pipedream. Everything about her exuded a strength that he couldn't comprehend, yet he still had to make an attempt since there was no certainty until you were confronted with the truth itself. He had expected to be turned down completely, to turn back to his village with his tail between his legs and seek out training somewhere else. So it stands to reason that he was ecstatic when he was rewarded for his courage. She may not even realize how much she gave him. Those simple acts that took minutes? Those gave him purpose, they gave him direction, something he thought lost to him. She was unwilling to lie to spare his feelings and told him the harsh reality straight. What she didn't tell him was that his efforts were worthless; she gave him hope.

He hadn't even gotten to thank her before he was whisked away by that damn bird. From the bird's grip, he watched his sensei battle the woman who stole him away, and it reaffirmed his decision. How could he see what happened as anything but an absolute victory when his sensei survived a pillar of fire that touched the sky the size of his village! Sure he hadn't seen the aftermath and for a moment thought her dead but when the killing intent swept through the mountains knocking him and all the villagers out, in his last moments of consciousness he knew, his sensei lived. Thankfully, he had been dropped off by the strange bird before then in the village proper.

He could hardly sleep that night. He forced himself to, however, knowing that his rest would be important. Today was the start of his training and he needed every ounce of energy his body could give. Every part of his lifestyle would have to change, he truly needed to devote his entire being to this if he wanted to become someone worthy of his sensei's tutelage. He even slept with his family's, no his sword, sheathed under his pillow; this was done in hopes to facilitate his bond with the sword as early as possible. Ibaraki-sensei had told him to learn, live, and breathe Iaido, so proximity to his sword was a must.

Eating breakfast with his grandfather he received questioning looks, likely due to the sharp turn in his mood from days prior. He ignored them, however, replaying the demonstration Ibaraki-sensei gave him yesterday in his mind. The moment the thought ended he forced the images to manifest again, playing an endless loop in his mind while he ate. Once breakfast was done he retrieved the ancient journals the samurai left behind after his death. Inside was the memories of a man who wished to pass down the samurai tradition to his descendants and therefore information he could use. Of course, any information left on technique would be discarded; a middling samurai would have inferior advice to the supernatural technique he witnessed.

What the journals did contain was information that he would need. From how to maintain his sword, the ways to walk and run with a sword on his hip, methods to train his body, and the tenets of bushido, the journals laid this all bare before him. Complementing this he used the computer in his home to search for information on nutrition, proper fitness training for his young body that wouldn't destroy his future growth, and he began to research mythological creatures. All this would take time so he focused on what would be immediately relevant while noting down things he would need in the future.

With his meal digested he took up his sword and exited the village. Making sure he wasn't followed Takehiko started to jog. This jog gradually sped up to a run, weaving through the trees, over rocks and stumps, his sword clacking on his hip. It left him sore but he kept his body ready to draw his sword from its sheath at any time. Like the last time he ran to what will now be his training grounds, he returned once more drenched in sweat. Remembering what he read on the internet this morning he walked around until his body stopped feeling like he was dying rather than sitting down. He made sure to keep his breathing stable rather than heaving breaths to gulp in as much air as possible.

Taking a moment he stares at the boulder left behind by sensei, marveling at the oppressive feeling emanating from the stone. Even just staring at it he could sense the mysteries contained within. Flashes of silver evaded his sight but ran through his mind. The sound of steel clashing rang in his ears but he couldn't hear it. The metallic tang of blood sat heavily on his tongue and clogged his sinuses but neither the flavor nor smell ever reached him. Above all, an image of an indomitable blade screamed at him that it did exist, that it was real; yet he couldn't believe it no matter how it seared itself into his mind, seeping into his every thought.

Blinking to himself he looks at his watch and realizes how late it's getting, he must have passed out from straining himself too much on the trip here. Chastising himself and vowing to measure his pace better on the return trip he closes his eyes, envisioning the stance he was shown yesterday. Sinking down into the same position he takes stock of his posture, the position of his muscles, how relaxed his body was, the tension in it; all to mimic perfection, no matter how far away from it he was now. Sucking in a sharp breath through his teeth, he draws!

His heart leaps as the sword slips out of his hand, spinning through the air, and spearing itself inside a tree. Quickly looking around Takehiko sighs in relief as he confirms nobody saw that. Calming down and pushing the embarrassment away he tugs the sword out of the tree, falling over when the sword basically flies out. He notes in his mind that the sword has become insanely sharp since yesterday and resolves to be far more careful than before.

Taking his stance again he follows the same steps. Once he is certain that his stance is as close to perfection as he can get at the moment he draws his sword, slashing through the air. Feeling a slight strain on his arm he flicks the 'blood' of his sword, 'cleaning' it with the cloth on his hip, then slides back in the sheath. Steadying his breathing again he repositions slightly, drawing from another angle. He repeats this until he's done the eight slashes he was shown by his sensei. By the time he's finished, he can feel the strain on his arms.

Knowing he won't make it through another full set, Takehiko sits down in seiza; his sword is sheathed on his lap and he focuses.

And focuses…

After he's lost feeling in his legs he flops on his back and stares at the sky. That silver glimmer that shrouded the blade was real, he's so sure of that, more sure of that than anything in his life. This meditation doesn't seem to be working but… he needs to trust in Ibaraki-sensei's words and trust she isn't lying to him. Not just because what he saw was real. The real reason he has to trust in her words is that he has nothing else, no other path forward. Sighing to himself he closes his eyes; it's alright, this is only the first step on the path.