“Mm,” Aspen said. “The Samurai warriors inspired much of the Jedi lore. Anyway, I was hoping you’d let me test a theory I had.”
The hairs on the back of Gift’s neck stood at attention. “What theory?”
Aspen smiled once more. “Catch.”
Gift thrust his hand forward, catching the hilt of the sword without thought, heart hammering in his chest as he gaped at Aspen.
Aspen laughed. “Don’t worry, it's a training blade. Feel.”
Gift hesitated but then ran a finger over the curved edge, something unknotting within him when he realized it was, in fact, a blunted blade.
“Go ahead. Play around with it,” Aspen encouraged. “Use it just like you would that lightsaber you love so much.”
Gift had to work not to roll his eyes. He couldn’t shake the feeling Aspen was making fun of him and it left this uneasy feeling oozing over him, making his movements sticky.
He did his best to shake it off. He couldn’t afford to make a bad impression on the man who controlled his grade. He gave Aspen one last look, then spun the sword one way, then the other.
Aspen wasn’t wrong.
The hilt, the blade length, the balance, the weight all felt familiar. Gift grinned at the older man, spinning the blade then giving it a careful flip. When he executed that flawlessly, he tried some of the more difficult tricks he could do with his lightsaber, flipping the sword from one hand to the other behind his back.
Aspen took a seat on the first bleacher, watching as Gift did trick after trick, engaging in sword fights with an invisible enemy, growing more comfortable with the weapon with each passing moment.
“Does it feel good in your hands?” Aspen asked.
“Yeah,” Gift said, nodding, still playing around.
His motions were a little stiff with the feel of the metal sai sword digging into his hip, but he didn’t want to embarrass himself further by admitting he’d been practicing pulling the swords like some gunfighter in an old Western movie. The urge to ask for Aspen’s help had dwindled with every swipe of the katana sword in his hand.
“Think you’re ready for a real fight?” Aspen asked, wiggling his brows.
Gift frowned. “What?”
Aspen returned to the bag beside the bleachers, pulling a second sword free. “I didn’t want to make you nervous by suggesting we spar until I confirmed my theory. And I was right. You’re a natural with a katana. Now, I just want you to prove it.”
Gift gave a stilted nod. “Uh, yeah. Okay. But…does this count towards my grade? ‘Cause I’d really like to pass this class and move onto my second year. Park will kill me if I don’t.”
Aspen’s laugh echoed off the walls of the cavernous space. “I don’t think you need to worry about Park.”
Before Gift could process his words, Aspen was swinging the sword in a sweeping motion right at Gift. Gift raised his own blade just in time to block the blow, shoving Aspen back with wide eyes. “I wasn’t ready.”
“You have to always be ready,” Aspen countered, attacking again, this time from the other side.
Once more, Gift blocked the attack just before the blade made contact with his shoulder. Aspen was aggressive, granting Gift no reprieve. Still, he held his own, letting Aspen walk him backwards as their swords clashed with a metal on metal sound that set Gift’s teeth on edge.
They battled again and again. They battled until Gift’s arms grew tired, Aspen relentlessly coming at him, forcing him to shift the sword from his left to his right hand just to keep his guard up. His muscles burned from fatigue, sweat pouring down his body. He wanted to stop and take off his hoodie but there was no time.
Gift looked for a hole in Aspen’s defenses to launch an attack of his own, but there wasn’t time. He could only stay on the defensive with Aspen calling out words of encouragement as he danced him all over the gym. He blinked the sweat from his eyes, not daring to let his guard down for even a moment. He wanted to ask for a break, for water.. Perspiration pooled in the hollow of his throat and slid icily down his spine, dampening his skin until the grip of the katana grew slippery.
Aspen attacked once more, but Gift’s arm muscles seized, only managing to slow the blade, not stop it. He hissed as Aspen’s blade connected with the meat of his cheek, setting fire to his skin.
Gift blinked owlishly at Aspen, raising a hand to his face, frowning when he saw the blood on his fingers, felt droplets running down his cheek. Aspen’s expression was sinister, his smile chilling. “It’s nothing personal, kid.”
“What?” he managed.
Aspen came at him again, but it was clear this time that he didn’t want Gift fighting back. He hammered away at him, his blade hitting Gift’s again and again, making it so he couldn’t get any leverage. He felt the blade slicing at his skin each time Aspen hit his target, Gift only taking minimal damage by using what little strength he had left. But he could only do this for so long. It only took one more blow for Aspen to disarm him.
Gift spun away from the older man, hunching in on himself, waiting for him to drive the sword through his heart. Would it hurt? Would he die instantly? He flinched when he heard something hit the mat. He didn’t dare look.
