Saeko's first lesson as an instructor actually only had Tysone as the only student, and that was because she placed extra importance on teaching him. After all, among everyone else in the group, he had the most potential in that specific field. He had the strength, the speed, the agility, and above all, the mental discipline to master it.
At this moment, Saeko stood alone with Tysone on the backyard. In a clear voice, she said. "Basically speaking, kendo is the study of killing your opponent using a sword."
Hearing that, Tysone tilted his head. "... So the end goal of this sport is to kill someone?"
"Aside from defense, the primary aim of wielding a sword has always been to take someone else's life. So yes." Saeko confirmed firmly.
"I see." He muttered.
"But that shouldn't pose much of a problem since you've already taken several lives already." Her expression turned soft, a light smile on her lips. "Just like me, you've experienced the joys of the hunt and claimed numerous lives without hesitation nor guilt."
Tysone eyed her intently for a moment before replying simply with "Yeah."
"The technique of drawing one's sword was originally devised with the intent of ending one's opponents swiftly before they could unsheathe theirs. This is particularly important when surrounded by many adversaries." Saeko explained matter-of-factly, resting her wooden blade against her hip bone while adopting an attacking stance, then swaying forward lightly. "Don't rush. Use the force created from stepping forward to pull out your katana."
As if guided by her command, Tysone swung his sword downward. She observed him closely. His movements remained fluid despite having limited practice with blades beforehand. And while his strokes weren't especially refined nor fast—they possessed a lot of power.
His weapon slammed upon impact with incredible force. He showed promise already.
Still holding her bokken steadily before her face, she continued observing his forms from afar. She eventually told him. "The art of swordsmanship was designed primarily to destroy your foes as quickly and effectively as possible, hence why there aren't many techniques developed specifically to disarm them without harming their persons. As such, we'll skip most defensive maneuvers. Our objective isn't to win competitions—it's survival."
"Makes sense."
"With all that said, you should prioritize practicality and functionality rather than flashy displays of skill." She advised wisely, her tone neutral yet instructive.
Saeko instructed Tysone to practice several different offensive stances while emphasizing efficient body positioning. Next came fundamental blocks used to defend oneself against enemy attacks. And eventually, she taught him footwork, the proper balance and weight distribution needed for maximum effectiveness in his strikes, how to shift between postures seamlessly.
She also drilled into him the importance of maintaining control over one's emotions throughout battles. Anger was detrimental and fear weakened one's resolve. Keeping calm ensured clearheaded judgment, increasing effectiveness considerably during battle situations.
She explained everything slowly, carefully, and thoroughly, pausing at regular intervals to gauge how much he had learned.
It wasn't easy to determine how much progress Tysone made since he seldom offered feedback regarding her tutelage, but Saeko believed he absorbed most—if not all—of the information she imparted correctly.
Even now, Tysone appeared focused solely upon absorbing every tidbit of advice she dispensed. However, as time drew on, creases began to appear on his forehead, showcasing great inner conflict.
"What's going on?" Saeko asked, arms crossed. "Tired already?"
Tysone looked at the sword in his hand, a thoughtful frown on his face. "I just... feel like the sword is not for me." He admitted softly. "It feels like it doesn't click somehow. Feels a bit unnatural and cumbersome."
Her heart sank at this declaration of unfulfilled potential. Nevertheless, she remained undaunted and nodded approvingly instead of displaying disappointment outwardly. "Well, swords don't suit everybody. Perhaps a different kind of weapon may fit you better? A spear perhaps, a staff, maybe? What appeals most to you?"
He paused briefly in thought, then he walked towards the rack of weapons resting under the veranda, scanning each one in contemplation. He had bought these before the apocalypse happened; not once did he think these weapons would gather dust as mere decorations, but he never thought there'd come a time where he'd have to choose his main weapon. After all, what difference did it make if the purpose was to kill zombies?
But Saeko always stuck with swords. She was incredibly fast and skilled, and she didn't have the raw strength Tysone had. Clearly, her inhuman efficiency in battle was achieved through intensive practice with her chosen weapon. Tysone pondered whether he should follow her example, or—
Tysone stopped in front of a halberd. He grabbed it. The halberd was a mix of axe and spear, built for both power and reach. As Tysone gripped its shaft, it felt right, as if the weapon had chosen him. It might've not been as beautiful as a sword, but it had its own elegance. Despite its massive size and weight, it didn't hinder his movements. On the contrary, it fit perfectly in his grasp.
"It seems like I have my answer." He declared as he turned back towards Saeko.
"Hmm..." She studied it closely before nodding confidently. "Alright. An excellent choice. However, this poses a problem for my teachings." She stroked her chin thoughtfully. "Halberds require a very different approach than swords. If you wish to wield this weapon effectively, you'll need to train yourself differently. You'll have to improvise more often than not, since this isn't my specialty."
"Don't worry, I will manage."
She smiled warmly at him. "If you say so, then I trust you. On a positive note, many of the core principles remain the same. As such, I will still offer you my advice when it comes to stances, footwork, timing, and general techniques."
And so Tysone's swordsmanship lessons morphed into lessons that would mostly cater to the halberd and similar weapons. She introduced him to numerous drills designed to increase dexterity, reflexes, muscular endurance, agility, precision, flexibility, timing, rhythm, coordination, and balance. Many of these exercises emphasized developing one's mind-body connection—training oneself to react instinctively rather than relying solely upon conscious analysis during combat situations.
…
Next was Kotha's lesson, but Tysone decided to skip it for the day. Saeko skipped it as well, but that was mainly because she had no interest in anything that was not a bladed weapon, and considering how skilled she was with one, Tysone didn't see the need of her partecipating.
Everyone else gathered in the other side of the courtyard, where the gun otaku laid out various firearms, ranging from pistols to shotguns. Tysone could hear him explaining enthusiastically about every firearm's history and function as well as tips on usage and maintenance. It didn't take long before the first few shots were fired.
Tysone tuned it all out. Instead, he walked to the middle of the courtyard, practicing his newly learned forms with the halberd.
"Careful, don't swing the halberd like you would a sword. Remember, the point is still your main method of attack. Haste can only get you so far, but grace and elegance are eternal." Saeko told him earlier before she left.
Strike, retract, and block.
He repeated the sequence until sweat pooled beneath his arms, dripped from his neck, and slickened his grip upon the polished handle.
Eventually, his knees buckled under sheer exhaustion. He slumped into a kneeling position atop grass-strewn cement tiles and heaved in shallow gasps of air.
After he caught his breath, Tysone rose again and began anew, letting muscle memory dictate every swing of his heavy wooden axe-spear hybrid.
Each slash became smoother and more controlled than previously as if becoming ingrained within him. He wasn't skilled by any stretch of the imagination, but he made significant progress after hours upon hours of training and dedication.
With the last rays of sunlight disappearing beyond the horizon, Tysone's physical reserves gave out at long last. He collapsed onto the soft green grass, panting heavily. His shoulder ached terribly; perhaps he shouldn't have pushed his body so far. 'Still, I feel like a hands-on approach is best. I need to fight some zombies with this thing.'
Tysone returned indoors soon afterwards after stowing his weapon inside the wooden rack under the veranda. He went to his room, washed up, and came back down.
Murmured voices filled the hallways leading into the main area of the mansion—a sitting room adjacent to the kitchen wherein dinner awaited them all alongside cold drinks. Upon entering, he noticed that most others sat scattered around various couches eating appetizers while waiting patiently.
Shizuka greeted him enthusiastically. "You've been working hard! Go take a seat. You've deserved it~" It felt nice hearing it.
She wore simple clothing consisting solely of white shirt—that clung dangerously close to the point of rupture—and black pants paired alongside flat sandals.
Tysone nodded gratefully. Eventually the dishes were served; all the girls had worked on it, while the boys, in true cliché fashion waited. He chuckled as a fitting meme came to mind. 'Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.'
Author's Note:
If you're enjoying the story and want to read ahead or support my work, you can check out my P@treon at P@treon.com/LordCampione. But don't worry—all chapters will eventually be public. Just being here and reading means the world to me. Thank you for your time and support.