Touches
18 November 1998
by Ed Rubin

"I look forward to fighting alongside you in tomorrow's mock-skirmish, Tsukune-san. Well done."

"Thank you, Naoki-san. With all respect, I would rather face you tomorrow." Naoki looked surprised, and she added, "You are the only one with the speed. Good evening, Naoki-san." And she was gone, walking back into the temple, her practice naginata on her shoulder.

Naoki watched Tsukune leaving, openly admiring the catlike grace with which she carried herself, the minimality and control of her movements. He then entered the temple, heading toward the baths and reviewing the pass at arms once again in his mind. There was everything to admire, he decided, and absolutely nothing to spurn.

She was a marvel of ability, and even without any good standards for comparison, Naoki knew with from his battle-savvy and his intuition that Tsukune was a paramount prodigy. It was more her inner strength and her native ability that made of her the paragon that she was, than even the high degree of training and useful techniques that she so easily displayed. What a bushi! What a person! What a woman!

Naoki reviewed their conversation, recalling her hints that her home-life, the expectations of her father and family, had been demanding. Certainly she had risen to that challenge, and certainly she had surpassed any reasonable expectations that a father, or any demanding sensei, might have made.

Naoki wanted more, more of her time, more exposure to the skills she exhibited, more insight into her nature. She was not the cold fish that the Lion samurai-ko were, she was not the incarnation of deceit that the few Scorpion samurai-ko he had met were. Perhaps she was accessible, and approachable, as he thought her statements had indicated. At the very least, this sparring they had engaged in was great fun! What a challenge! She did not even seem to notice the size that made of Naoki either a challenge or object of fear or scorn to so many others. She did not seem to need to think of him as a generic Crab, big, dumb, and slow, as so many others mistakenly did. She seemed to see in him an opportunity to learn, to better herself, and she offered fair recompense in return, as these, ah, passes, had already shown. "If her level of skill is what can be achieved through meditation," Naoki thought, "then I have certainly not given it enough consideration."

He had arrived at the baths, and signaled a servant to prepare one for him. While preparing, he recalled the roll of her shoulder after this last encounter, even that a graceful movement. He had struck her there, then been unable to achieve another touch, as she had succeeded in fouling his boken with the butt of her naginata. What a maneuver! He was actually glad that she had stopped that blow, because he still regretted causing her the pain that she felt, both earlier and again tonight. He felt guilt, because of course no bushi should want his blow to miss, and yet the thought of causing her pain bothered him.

Strange, that was. In the Hida dojo, pain was a daily fact of life. The trainers reveled in inflicting it upon the trainees, calling it "hardening the shell". Of course, that training did work, and was a real necessity in the Shadowlands, yet other clans didn't require that sort of preparation quite as much as the Crab did, and Naoki realized that his training didn't allow him to strike a training blow appropriate only to proving that a touch had occurred: His training required that he inflict damage. That was suitable, in most circumstances, but with Tsukune, well, he wished he could do otherwise. The more damage he did, the less frequently they could, ah, play together.

And Naoki didn't like that conclusion, he didn't like it at all.

Now floating in the tub, Naoki asked himself whether Tsukune might have enjoyed the encounters they had shared as much as he had. He hoped she had, for then she too might want more. He realized, though, that he was wondering at least as much about her personality outside the practice field. Her comments had intrigued him, and he certainly understood the drive she exhibited, but did she enjoy her achievements? what stories would she tell? did she like to laugh, even if not uncontrollably? Naoki floated in the tub, imagining various ways of getting to know her better, of exploring her more closely.