Huh, that's... amazing. Maybe that's why we look so alike when we are swords.
[Because, well, he had noticed. Hard not to, when one of his own sides looked just about identical to Yamato, even if it of course was hard to tell exactly in battle.
Either way, he's eager to please, and since Yamato is going to be his teacher anyway... He walks briskly up to one of the stands lining one wall, picking down a practice sword. It feels smooth to his touch, alive somehow, as the weight and curve of it immediately become a part of his own body.
He takes a position, his body reacting to something that feels like memory, even if no images or thoughts follow it. And ten he's flowing from stance to stance, his breathing smoothing out into a perfectly controlled rhythm; his focus narrows only to the room around him, the movement of the practice sword, his own balance, strength, reach, position.
It's so easy. It's so right. He's certain, absolutely so, that this is what he is made for, in one form or another.]
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[Because, well, he had noticed. Hard not to, when one of his own sides looked just about identical to Yamato, even if it of course was hard to tell exactly in battle.
Either way, he's eager to please, and since Yamato is going to be his teacher anyway... He walks briskly up to one of the stands lining one wall, picking down a practice sword. It feels smooth to his touch, alive somehow, as the weight and curve of it immediately become a part of his own body.
He takes a position, his body reacting to something that feels like memory, even if no images or thoughts follow it. And ten he's flowing from stance to stance, his breathing smoothing out into a perfectly controlled rhythm; his focus narrows only to the room around him, the movement of the practice sword, his own balance, strength, reach, position.
It's so easy. It's so right. He's certain, absolutely so, that this is what he is made for, in one form or another.]