“Ouch!”

“...Slow.”

“Why do we even do this. It hurts!”

She paused, but continued saying nothing. Tomoee didn’t have a word for that yet.

For the past two days, Isirith had been put on an intense training regimen. Her nose was already completely healed, and if Tomoe had to guess it would be an extremely fast metabolism. Her body consumed much more food, at least three times the calories of an adult. Not only that, but she didn’t produce waste. This meant her body finds a way to use every single bit of the food, even the useless parts. Perhaps it was put into this sorcery?

Tomoe is currently doing her best to investigate this strange phenomenon. It apparently works as muscles, in the fashion that the more you use it the more it improves. Just like muscles as well, you must focus on different things for quality, power, increased reserves, and more. Isirith didn’t tell her this, it has merely been her observations.

It also improved drastically faster if it is practiced under duress. A duress she can provide.

Rather than focus on her gaining the power in the form of this new property, it would currently be much more time effective to invest it into her travelling companion. While she cannot teach sophisticated technique in a short period of time, she can provide the ability to hone and harness her natural instincts. Natural instincts which Isirith seems to have in the said ‘spades’.

It is obvious she isn’t human, but her body’s hearing, feeling, sight, strength, and more almost completely outdo every single aspect of a human. With the unknown factor of this sorcery as well, she can’t even tell if the humans of this world are as strong as the ones that Tomoe remembers.

Well, it would be found out in time.

When Isirith wasn’t told to dodge, she would attack. And when she wasn’t told to attack, she dodged. Tomoe would throw a couple counterstrikes and feints against her. The result is rather obvious.

Tomoe hasn’t been hit a single time, and Isirith is comparable to an eggplant.

That was not even the only part. She’s been partially starved, dehydrated, and gotten no rest to increase tolerance and willpower. They’ve been alternating linguistic exchanges, learning each other’s languages and increasing focus and improving parallel thought.

It might seem to a person that no progress had been made. Tomoe is simply untouchable. This is wrong in the furthest sense of the word, however. Tomoee is a master of combat, practically able to slow her perception of time, and a true Kensei both in previous title and current ability, though not quite caught up to her previous glory. Isirith is a complete newbie.

The only reason Tomoe is even able to do this regimen is because her target isn’t human. Others would have fallen apart, not having her healing factor. And that leads to the one thing she finds the most interesting about her,

Adaptability.

There are three different creatures she’s encountered so far. The eels, Isirith, and the bear. The bear could tell what would ruin its camouflage, and moved as to keep it in a hidden state. The eels, while not seeming intelligent at first, might have actually had a strategy. They wait until the person’s brain function shuts down, unable to get across, and preserve energy by not wasting it during the hunt. If the prey didn’t have Tomoe’s resilience, they would for sure die, though why that area was like that, she had no clue. Can unintelligent animals use sorcery too? A scary prospect.

And that left Isirith, learning at at least a rate of five times a human being. Not just her memory, but her muscle memory and reflexes. With the amount of time she’s able to put into training in comparison to a normal human she could become quite a threat in the future. Depending on her lifespan that is, but Isirith hasn’t taught that word yet, so she can’t ask.

Isirith’s conscience, unfortunately, seemed to be waning.

“One hour.”

“WHAAAAAAAAT!?!”

“Starting here.” It wasn’t the correct word, but close enough.

Isirith’s feathers ruffled in a panic before she tried flopping onto the cold stone. They moved much closer to the cold beyond and Tomoee refused to start a fire. Isirith was allowed to use her sorcery, and though she has enhanced it significantly, she can’t hold it up for too long, not even counting the focus required, nor the size of flame she could muster. Tomoe could easily tell that it is Isirith's least favorite type of training, sorcery and combat at the same time.

Tomoe sat down, recollecting herself.

Their supplies would last another three days, five considering a full rest for Isirith. The cold kept it perfectly refrigerated, but that didn’t change the fact that Isirith has demolished a sizable portion.

Their water problems were solved due to Isirith, as she can now dispense a reasonable sum, while the fire, if worked on, could provide temporary heat, disinfection, and cauterization.

Tomoe had decided she needed to be especially wary. If the rest of her kind can do this, a colony of them would be formidable. To add onto that, the ecosystem of this strange cave system would have a mixture of checks and balances to keep everything in harmony. Isirith’s kind likely has at least one predator or more, and power along with the possible use of sorcery would result in disastrous consequences.

Magic? She could call it that, but that would be incorrect. Magic is a supernatural force, while sorcery is a term coined far before magic. If a person changed the color of a fire due to dispersing magnesium into it, and said person simply didn’t know how it worked, that would be sorcery. And that’s what it is, something yet to be discovered and found the properties of. It was always assumed the periodic table was incomplete, it could be that humans had merely not found this element yet.

Magic is shorter while sorcery is more correct. After a brief argument with herself, she decided she’ll stick with sorcery for now, until she heard the correct term.

Tomoe sighed as she heard Isirith snore loudly. Already out. Well, it is a good skill to have, so she isn’t complaining. It would be nice to know what her race is, at the very least out of curiosity. Perhaps a bird version of a jorogumo.

She made a checklist. Meditation, food, water, shelter, rest, and organization were already completed. Other goals could only be completed if Isirith were awake, and she isn’t about to break her promise of an hour's rest.

Tomoee almost smiled. Almost.

A chance to train, by herself no less.

Standing up, she cracked all her bones and joints. She understood the importance of stretching as well, and did so.

Finishing up, she retrieved Watatsumi.

The grooves and bends in the hilt were worn, worn to an exact mold of her gauntlets. The sheath was decorated with portrayals of dragons and folklore, telling the might of her bloodline in a simple story. Now, it faded into barely recognizable images, requiring a repainting. Menuki danced all under the hilt’s skin, eager to show off their ornamental beauty in all shapes and sizes.

The familiar heft fell into her arm, a comforting feeling. One of meeting an age-old friend. In a way, it was exactly this.

The sound was crisp. The loving chime of sharp metal drawn. The cold steel dazzled as the light shifted on its Shinogi ji. It hummed as it sliced the air without even fully leaving its case. The tempered material showed no betrayal, only promised power.

One.

Her body switched to a two-handed wielding position at a height above the head, the body sideways, and the sword horizontal. Ko gasumi.

Two.

A downward stroke, setting up a new position with the sword straight in front of the body, tilted up. Hidari gedan.

Three.

An overhead position, stepping forward to press weight into the blow after knocking the opponent off balance. Jodan no kamae.

Four.

A continuation of the blow, a full follow through with the person crouching by the end of it, the sword low and pointing towards the ground. Suwara migi.

Five.

Standing straight back up, the reflection of ko gasumi. Te ura gasumi.

And the cycle continues. A terrible, as the Germans call it, ‘blitzkrieg’ of blows. It never ends until the other person fails to block as their center of mass moves too much to attack. Meanwhile the stances contain no openings to be abused. This was the first technique Tomoe was known for, one that had created her rise to power and fame.

The problem with using this is energy. To constantly apply heavy blows to the enemy, you wear yourself out. Katanas, while not the heaviest sword, are still made of metal, and put a persistent strain on your arms.

One.

Tomoe swings downward. Up and down. Up. Down.

There are three main reasons swordsmen and swordswomen do this. No, it is not a stereotype, but a real practice. First, it allows you to get used to the mass of the sword. How much pressure should be applied, how fast can I swing, what is the resistance. All and more are unconsciously acquired. A true sword user can tell whether it is their sword or a fake simply by picking it up.

Second, it is the universal setup. A single strike, slipping the person into a pose great for both attack and defense.

Third, it trains the muscles to be compliant. They will no doubt tire, but it can be extended through repetitive exercise. Mastering a single stroke betters far more than one who trains in twenty.

The exercise is a blank slate. It can be changed as desired by the person using it. With every swipe, Tomoe flexed a different muscle. With every attack, she took a new stance. With every slam, she forced the language of this world into her mind. Multitasking, calculations, she did it all. The goal of training is to review or to push the limits, one or the other. That is what it is for Tomoe.

The monotonous swinging echoed through the halls of stone.

…

“Hey, hey, your sure you don’t wanna learn my powers?”

“Yes.”

“Muuuuuu, you’re less fun when you only use one word.”

“Am I?”

“THAT DOESN’T COUNT!”

Isirith was having trouble understanding this training, and she still is. She’s been getting plenty of ouches all over her body every cycle, and it made her upset. It should have been four or five cycles by now, and it was sooooooo boring just doing this over and over. Learning language this, fight me that, use powers more, ugh! Honestly, sometimes she thinks that the spear is the only one who understands her. Tomoee called it ‘Kiyohime’, but Isirith decided it needed a better name. Therefore, she lovingly named it ‘stabby’. Indeed, this was a name unique just to it and no other weapon she knew of had such a name.

During this time, she actually learned how powerful she was. She could heal faster after long, great naps, she was extremely strong, and apparently she had great hearing and stuff, though she thinks it’s just the other-males that are weak. The problem is, once Tomoee found out that she had great senses, she started covering up her eyes, ears, and sometimes both. It made it much harder and she got much more ouches.

She gave a long, drawn out sigh.

She looked at her back, the blooming and retracting feathers that connected to her body. Before she barely even acknowledged their existence, but now… now they were important. She could change what Tomoee called her center of mass easily with them, and get back on balance. She could parry with them, and use them for exchanging free blows, though not as effective as a punch.

Isirith stopped and almost cried. She was thinking about what she could use in a fight again! She didn’t want to become like her new friend. Isirith wanted to stay Isirith, not stab lady!

And now she’s exhausted, hungry, tired, thirsty, hurty, itchy, and a whole bunch of other words that ended with y. It’s been so long since she returned to her sisters, and albeit she did have company, she was another y word, lonely, in a new way.

She frowned. They probably didn’t miss her. Maybe they forgot about her. Now she was just sad.

She didn’t get to do things she usually did, like collect rocks for her rock collection, or talk to people who could actually talk well back, or… she looked in between with legs. Or that. Whenever Tomoee caught her even doing the not intimate version of it, Isirith got smacked on the head. What was wrong with her, doesn’t she do it too?

Isirith paused. Now that she thought about it, no, no she doesn’t.

Huh.

Thankfully, after working hard for two more cycles, she was allowed to rest after a big meal. She even added the strange stuff called ‘personal blend of spices’. Maybe she would try to sneak a little of the other stuff from the bag to try it. The ‘gunpowder’ stuff looked extra tasty.

Tomoe apparently cut the fur into separate chunks for different things, and one of those things was a blanket for Isirith. It was probably an award for such a good job. Even if it smells bad, it is still nice and cozy.

Isirith was already laid down, as she practically dropped dead once told to stop. As the recent usual, she kept stabby close. Though she has been given a glare that is death itself because of it, with perseverance she won out, her will not to abandon her only friend too strong. Just a cycle ago she was allowed to keep it with her as she slumbered.

Wrapped in the warm intrappings of the blanket, Isirith entered the land of dreams, in happy ignorance of what events would play out tomorrow.