Takeshi needed practice, a lot of it. He was certainly trying, but even if he did try really hard he wasn’t going to get anywhere just by swinging it around like he was just now. He lacked technique, his own individual style and that was what was truly important in swordplay. Not looking at Takeshi as he spoke up in his own annoying whiny voice, he sighed as he moved his blade around slowly before moving his arm back around again and looked to Takeshi, “Of course you are! Did you not look stupid when you first tried to fight?” he sighed, feeling pretty fed-up with his whining. Lifting his blade again he instead faced Takeshi, “You know what you’re doing? You’re just throwing your blade at me. Just swinging it around awkwardly with great predictability! Have you ever thought of creating your own style instead of copying what you see from others? Gently move your blade…become one with it!”

It was pretty annoying having to tell Takeshi all this when he had done so before, especially when he was complaining as if he was never told. He still swung it around like it was a piece of metal and if he wasn’t careful he was going to end up killed. Simple soldiers should never be able to get through an expert swordman’s technique and Takeshi just had to learn that the hard way. Readying himself, he shifted his feet as he steadied his blade, staring at Takeshi straight in the eyes, “I’ll show you: I won’t look at your blade and show just how predictable your movement is by following them. Just try to prove me wrong”. That should be incentive enough for Takeshi to try and switch up his technique, especially when he was so full of pride as well. Keeping his other arm behind his back he steadied himself, watching him calmly.

Shu had never been put on the spot like this before, even if it was just Yumi; of course, the big difference was it felt like a confrontation instead, his mind finding it a little difficult to become fully relaxed. He knew why he was there and that didn’t change anything naturally, but he was willing to try and focus when it was important for him to learn just how to control what he was without threatening to kill someone because he couldn’t control himself. Staring at Yumi, he smiled nervously as he sat with his feet on the chair, his toes holding onto the edge of it as Yumi spoke to him, “U-Umm…how I feel…?” he repeated, fiddling with his fingers, “I guess I feel angry…or sad, or both. I don’t know which one, but I feel sad sometimes and nothing happens but sometimes things happen…but aren’t I supposed to feel these and not change? I don’t feel angry much…but when I do, it’s bad…”