Mitsuki let out a groan of pain, striking the air with the wooden sword. His entire body was drenched in sweat, and his long black hair dripped nonstop.
He had taken off his coat and doublet, unbuttoning the collar of his long-sleeved black shirt a bit so the air could touch his chest. On top of that, his breathing was so heavy it felt like his lungs might burst out of his mouth at any moment.
"You still have two hundred repetitions left," Jeanne said, sitting on the ground as she drank water from a leather canteen. She looked so relaxed that it somehow felt like she was mocking Mitsuki. "Do it the way I taught you: left foot firm on the ground; right heel slightly raised. That way, your center of gravity will be more stable, as if you were rooted to the ground."
Panting, Mitsuki drove the wooden sword into the dirt and rested for a few seconds.
"That's what I'm doing, but the sword is still heavy."
