Sachihiro I dance the dance of death with the other half of my soul. Communing with her as I never have before in a partnership of equals. She leads, then I lead, she hums within my head happily as I pull her close and spin around effortlessly. She is the perfect partner finishing my moves for me. Being there when she is needed, a constant support. Our dance is effortless and seamless, moving as though we were one person learning certain things the other is better at, learning each other's current limitations. I'm having fun, this is play and it is amazing. Moving through the 33 forms like I never have before. Why didn't I understand before? The forms are fluid, ever-changing and making new things. Like alphabets, though there are only 33 of them they can combine to make thousands of words with many meanings. Combine those words further and you get entire sentences, extracting more meaning from suck basic building blocks. So too are the kenjutsu forms as I move through them. Never just linear from 1 to 2 to 3 but making my own words, my own meaning, conjoined with my partner that saw this before I did. I show her things too, I share with her pain for a blade has never known pain. I share despair, betrayal, determination and with a thought of Saya, I share love and something to fight for. We move from stance to stance, cutting 'phantom' opponent's and getting a better understanding of our limits. Yes, how could I have missed that my beautiful monster is feminine. Never have we been this close and I take the reigns suddenly, I lead the dance, she a tool in my hand. I start making mistakes but I press on teaching her frustration and helplessness. She lashes out at me somehow, psychic pain cutting into me but also into her. We are one, even with me in the lead. We dance this dance of dominance for a while. Me taking over and her taking over, the combinations not as fluid, the dance not as deadly or fun. My body tiring, but that's academic because my soul can continue. We eventually reach a stalemate where only together can we truly be whole. And through this agreement something clicks within me, something just makes sense, and I suddenly understand the difference between kenjutsu, the art of the sword and zanjutsu, the art of the soul-sword. Through this agreement I'm no longer just a swordsman but now I'm a soul-swordsman, there is magic in me that has nothing to do with mana, depthless power that scares me with its depthless potential. I get hot all over as I'm submerged in that depth. My spiritual pressure increases as though from an outside source, heart pounding I can feel the pressure of my spirit filling me physically. Filling my zanpakutō causing it joy and contentment as its honed by the emotionally charged energy. Just because she is a weapon it doesn't mean it's only through death that she can find joy, that I can find joy, that we can find joy. My spiritual pressure stabilizes and condenses, becoming less flashy, less active, less visible, having reached a threshold the pressure calms. I feel ethereally denser in myself, with more depth and utility. This is the difference between a samurai and a soul samurai. Not different forms or skill measure but a difference in spiritual depth, and a connection with the physical manifestation of one's soul that brings enlightenments. * Om I watch as Sachi unsheathes his long, shiny curved blade. It looks beautifully well made, I can spot the difference in the metal of the cutting edge and the rest of the sword. Sachi isn't so tall that wielding such a big sword should be effortless but he carries it like it is. There is no awkwardness at all or need to compensate for the size of it or the unique shape. It must be because it is a bound weapon, spiritually bound weapons are very attuned to their wielders. I've seen many a tribesman carry and use them seemingly effortlessly. I am yet to get one though almost all the warriors that have proven themselves in battle have at this point. I'm a hammer user, its my favourite weapon but it takes too much metal to make. Axes on the other hand are much cheaper, not even the entire axe head need be made of celestial ore for the weapon to be a bindable, scalable spiritual weapon. Sachihiro takes a stance I've never seen before. Huge ass sword held one handedly up above his head. Point facing forward, blade facing upward, one leg and arm forward. Standing slightly sideways as though facing an opponent with his side forward. We all look at him with bated breathes. There is a seriousness to this moment, a depth of something... I look to the crazy old hermit sitting there looking nonchalant with his wolf sitting beside him looking all innocent. I discount nothing the crazy man starts anymore. A simple fight turns into a night of debauchery and shape shifting. I take nothing for granted- Sachi moves and I immediately regret not seeing that first move because the second is sublime. His blade cuts the air in an arc as an underhand stroke that stops at eye level rings through the night. But even as if the blade is static, his body is mobile twisting in a way that makes no sense until I realise there is a sword that's going to land not a kick or a punch. Then another move that makes no sense until a foot flies where a head would be. His moves compliment each other. One leading to another leading to another. His centre of gravity either a suggestion he disregarded or constantly moving around his hips. In complete contrast to my more solid style his feet are hardly ever on the ground at the same time. And if they are one of them is on the toes or the heel. His blade a complete extension on himself. Even when I'm sure he's about to cut himself the blade hums as it cuts through the air. I have never seen a Barbarian move this way. Every single one of us is memorized at the display. He seems to know the exact length of his sword and its position as it cuts blades of grass in half but doesn't drag on the ground. He doesn't even seem to realise we are still here as he moves. Then his tempo changes, becoming more erratic and unfocused but his moves are still deadly if a bit awkward as though he is pulling against something heavy. He grits his teeth and his feet stay solidly on the ground only shifting left to right, back to front. Making circles on the ground with his feet, sweat starting to fall in droplets from his brow. This feels different, harder, but still he pushes on. Moving and moving and moving. If we had camped within the city he definitely would have an audience of people besides us by now. His current struggle seems to be going his way then not, then his way then not. Ten minutes turns to twenty, twenty turns to thirty. We hardly breath loudly for fear of disturbing his trance. Watching as though in a ritual chamber of the seers. Then something happens and pressure like the heat of a glaring sun blasts from Sachi buffeting us. Eliciting a surprised squill from my ma who is sitting besides Divina and Damage comfortably. Sachi's uncle Brian grunts and his cousin's eyes bulge in surprise. The wolf also lifts its head as the force keeps increasing. The speed with which he moves increases, his movement more fluid again but in a different way. Some forms more ugly and seemingly done clumsily, with less beauty. But also seemingly more destructive somehow even without an opponent to gauge that on. The air around Sachi is moving erratically and his aura is pure white around him like a raggered second skin. I can actually see it spreading and bloating, Sachi makes sounds with each stroke. Crying out loudly as though facing an actual opponent. Then the aura starts retreating back into him. But now getting whiter and thicker as it tries to fit itself in a smaller space until it's barely covering his skin, but looks impenetrable. He suddenly stops, heaving heavily and holding that big beautiful blade gingerly. That thing is very deadly and very fast, and I have no chance whatsoever in facing this Sachi. Not at my current skill level, I need to train and I need to train hard. The hermit starts clapping, breaking the sanctity of the moment and Sachi laughs happily and scratches his head awkwardly. He bows his head and says something in a strange tongue before sheathing to sword. Only when its sheathed and the night sounds return do we realise it was still ringing, making a background buzz we didn't even realise was there until it was silenced. "Well done my boy, that was beautifully done." The hermit says putting on his blindfold. I still wonder what that man sees. I grunt my ascent as everyone praises his growing skills and beautiful swords. That's the other thing, there are two such weapons. Though Sachi claims one I'd more than the other but hasn't explained how yet. Throughout his entire performance his 'o-kata' never left his hip. Nor once did it get in his way. I think its time I got myself a spiritual weapon.