My first meeting with Tomioka-san ended with my sword at his neck.
I was at the dojo, where I usually was on Friday mid-mornings. A blanket of dark, blue-gray clouds hovered overhead as a few drops of rain dared to escape them. The dirt road was growing speckled as the rain painted it darker.
"Kochou." Sensei jerked me from my thoughts, approaching me with a boy trailing behind him. "Practice with the new student."
"Hai," I replied, and stood to fetch the wooden swords without sparing the new boy a glance. I tossed him a weapon, then took stance, facing him finally. Unruly black hair, keikogi, head tipped slightly to the side-it was innocently childlike, though he seemed older than me. "Did you learn the basics?" I asked.
In response, he followed my lead and took stance. So he's the silent type, I thought slyly, bowing. He returned the gesture.
And then we began.
It's the strangest thing, that right before I wield my sword, my senses hollow out on anything that's not my opponent. I hear only the rhythmic intakes of our breaths, see only the other person's sword. We circled each other, both of us waiting for the other to strike first. The silence seemed to have a heartbeat of its own.
He bolted forward before I could blink, and I parried hastily, swerving out of the way of a second attack aimed at my knees. Wooden swords couldn't cut, but they could leave nasty bruises. His blade managed to strike my ankle and I staggered back, bit my lip at the throbbing. A blue-black bruise would blossom there later.
Lunging forward, I smacked his ribs with the edge of my blade, and he winced but danced around my next swipe. He looked up that second, met my eyes. Momentarily, I was caught, distracted by those orbs of deep blue-arcane, daring, with a hint of amusement. And then I was brought back to Earth as I spotted a chance. Twisting around him, I took him by surprise and pinned him to the wall with my sword at his neck.
Startled, he stared at me, eyes wide. He had long lashes, for a boy. My heart drummed in my ears. Embarrassed at my own thoughts, I lowered my sword and stepped back hastily.
"A little more than the basics," he said quietly, his lips forming a crescent of a half-smile, and it took me moment to realize what he was talking about. I blushed at having assumed.
Changing the the topic, I said, "Your accent is different. You're not from here." The dialect in our small, seaside village was entirely different from his polished manner of speaking. His smile disappeared.
"No. I moved recently, with my sister." He didn't seem keen on talking about it, so I dropped the matter. We did drills for the rest of the day, without exchanging a single word.
It was only after I got home that I realized that I didn't know his name. There were about three hundred students in the dojo. I probably wouldn't see him again, I thought.
I was wrong.
YOU ARE READING
In the Moonlight-A GiyuShino Story
Fanfiction"Just because I don't show emotions, Kochou, doesn't mean I don't have any." His silence spoke a thousand words. And she realized that all this time, she only had to listen. The forgotten tale of the Insect Hashira and the Water Hashira.
