To any passing traveler, Juro looked like an old fool practicing with a child's toy. Yet, he treated his wooden blade with the same reverence he once gave his steel weapons.
Juro smiled gently, resting the tip of his Kidachi on the mossy ground. "This is my true blade, young master. Steel only knows how to cut and destroy. True mastery lies in control. If you wish to duel, I shall use only this." To any passing traveler, Juro looked like an
The young ronin stood frozen, staring at the polished wood inches from his neck. Had it been steel, his head would have rolled into the brush. "This is my true blade, young master
Insulted and blinded by pride, Daisuke drew his steel sword. It hissed through the air, catching the last rays of the setting sun. If you wish to duel, I shall use only this
"Speed and sharpness are the illusions of youth," Juro said softly, lowering the wooden blade. "The Kidachi represents the spirit of the warrior—strong, flexible, and capable of ending a conflict without shedding blood. A master does not seek to take life, but to master himself."
Daisuke was fast, but Juro was like the mountain wind. With a subtle pivot of his hips, the old master stepped inside Daisuke’s guard. Instead of striking to kill, Juro used the flat, heavy wood of the Kidachi to effortlessly deflect the steel blade downward.