The training hall was quiet except for the sound of Shin'ya's footsteps as he slowly walked along the wall of mounted weapons.
Swords. Spears. Axes. Bows. Things he didn't even have names for.
Yuki stood in the center of the hall with her arms crossed, watching him.
"So," she said. "Which weapon are you most confident with?"
Shin'ya didn't hesitate.
"Sword. Or katana. One sided blade."
"Why."
"It just feels right."
Yuki stared at him for a moment. Then she walked to a rack near the side wall – not the mounted weapons, but a separate rack. Wooden ones.
She picked up two practice swords and turned around.
"Catch."
Shin'ya caught it. Barely.
It was lighter than he expected but still had weight to it. He turned it over in his hands, getting a feel for the grip.
"We're using wooden swords?"
"You're using a wooden sword," Yuki said, taking her position across from him. "Until you prove you won't accidentally take your own arm off."
"I'm not going to–"
She moved.
It wasn't fast by her standards, probably. But to Shin'ya it was immediate – she closed the distance in two steps and the practice sword tapped his shoulder before he even registered she'd swung.
"You're already dead," she said, stepping back.
"I wasn't ready–"
She moved again. Tap. Other shoulder.
"You're dead again."
Shin'ya tightened his grip.
The first twenty minutes were not kind to him.
Yuki wasn't being cruel about it – she wasn't mocking him, wasn't sighing dramatically every time he missed. She was just better. Significantly, obviously, completely better. Every block he tried was half a second too slow. Every swing he threw was readable before it landed.
She redirected him three times in a row without even stepping back.
"You're telegraphing," she said. "Your shoulder drops before you swing."
"Okay–"
"And you're watching my sword instead of my body."
"How am I supposed to–"
"Watch where I'm moving, not where the blade is. The blade follows the body."
Shin'ya reset his stance. Breathed. Tried again.
She still blocked it. But this time she had to actually move her wrist to do it.
Small. But it was something.
Then something shifted in Shin'ya's head.
It happened quietly – the way things click when you stop overthinking. He'd read manga. A lot of manga. Sword fights, battle sequences, panels he'd spent actual time studying because they were cool. He'd watched anime fights frame by frame in his head because he was that kind of person.
He knew how this was supposed to look.
He stopped trying to match Yuki's speed and started thinking about positioning. Weight distribution. The angle of approach. Things he'd absorbed without realizing it, from hundreds of fictional battles in stories he'd loved.
He feinted left.
Yuki adjusted.
He went right – not a full swing, just enough pressure to force her to redirect – and for one moment their wooden swords were locked and neither of them was clearly winning.
She broke the lock easily. But she took a half step back to do it.
Shin'ya was breathing hard. She wasn't.
"Not bad," Yuki said.
"I almost had you."
"You didn't."
"I had something."
"You had a moment." She lowered her sword slightly. "Your instincts aren't terrible. But instincts without fundamentals will only take you so far. You got close because I wasn't expecting the feint. Next time I will be."
"So I need new tricks."
"You need foundations first. Then tricks."
Shin'ya wiped his forehead with his sleeve. His arms were already sore in ways he hadn't expected. The sword wasn't heavy but holding it correctly – actually correctly, with tension in the right places – was its own kind of work.
"How long did it take you?" he asked.
"To get where I am?"
"Yeah."
Yuki was quiet for a moment.
"Long enough that the answer won't encourage you," she said. "So we won't discuss it."
Shin'ya laughed despite himself.
They took a short break.
Shin'ya sat on the floor of the training hall, back against the wall, catching his breath. Yuki sat across from him – composed, barely winded, completely unfair.
"So this world has magic," Shin'ya said. It wasn't really a question. He'd seen Yuki's fireball. He hadn't forgotten.
"Yes."
"How does it work?"
Yuki considered this for a moment, then decided the explanation was worth giving.
"Everyone has a Primary Element," she said. "There are seven – Fire, Water, Earth, Wind, Electric, Shadow and Light. Your Primary is the element you're naturally aligned with. You can learn to use all of them to some degree, but your Primary is where your real power is. High level spells, advanced techniques – those only work through your Primary. Everything else you can use, but only at a basic level."
"So someone with Fire as their Primary could still use Water magic?"
"Low to mid level. Yes."
"And how do you find out what your Primary is?"
Yuki reached into a pouch at her side and pulled out a stone. Small, dark, almost completely black. She held it up between two fingers.
"This."
Shin'ya leaned forward slightly. "What is it?"
"A Resonance Crystal. When you hold it, it reads your elemental alignment and glows in the color of your Primary. The stronger the glow, the stronger the affinity."
"And you already know yours?"
"Obviously."
"What is it?"
She didn't answer that. Just looked at him with the expression she used when she decided a question didn't need a response.
Shin'ya decided not to push it.
"So what's the color for each element?" he asked instead.
"Fire is red. Water is blue. Earth is brown or gold depending on the person. Wind is white. Electric is yellow. Shadow is black. Light is white-gold."
"White and white-gold seem too similar."
"They're not, when you see them."
Shin'ya nodded slowly, turning the information over in his head. Seven elements. Primary affinity. High level spells locked to your natural alignment.
He wondered what his was.
He didn't have to wonder long.
Yuki stood, walked across the hall, and tossed the Resonance Crystal toward him in one smooth motion.
Shin'ya caught it.
The stone was cool against his palm. Then warmer. Then—
— To Be Continued —