Tomogui POV:
The hall smelled of polished wood and sweat. The instructor stood across from me, long wooden short sword in hand, his posture relaxed but precise. Stage Two evaluation. No cursed techniques. No over-reinforcement. Pure skill.
I adjusted my grip and shifted into Chudan-no-Kamae, the center stance. It was a style that neither specialized in offense or defense, it was the middle ground between them. My mind traced through the theory: maintain balance, bait an opening, react with a measured strike.
I also kept Waki-gamae in mind, the low side stance. Deceptive, designed to hide intention and launch attacks from unexpected angles. I'd practiced the transitions countless times, but theory and practice were different in an actual fight.
The instructor nodded, signaling the start.
Every attempt I made to approach was met with precise spacing. His reach was longer, his steps calculated to keep me at bay. I thrust, feinted, tried Waki-gamae to slide past, but each time he blocked, countered, or pushed me backward.
Futago had already passed his instructor. And me? I was still being kept at bay by this same damn instructor
Frustration tightened my chest. I had been training with short swords my entire time in Stage Two, studying Chudan-no-Kamae and Waki-gamae, memorizing every micro-step—but skill alone wasn't enough when your body couldn't fully compensate for reach.
I tried again, forcing a feint, stepping low, aiming for his blind spot—but he anticipated, adjusted, and my blade was deflected. Another step, another block. I couldn't find a way in.
Finally, the instructor called the fight. "Enough."
I stepped back, chest tight, wrists sore, and nodded. The access card for Stage Three wasn't mine today. My shoulders slumped as I lowered my blade. It's not my fault, I'm only 4 '11, and the instructor is 5' 8, almost an entire foot gives him too much reach, as long as he stays agile, he can keep a distance from me.
Even with everything I remembered from my past life, I hadn't kept up with Futago, I hadn't even awakened my own cursed technique, I was just piggybacking off the technique Futago awakened.
I walked toward the doorway, silently observing Kenta. He seemingly failed the exam as well, although he didn't seem bothered about it.
'I will not stay behind, the next evaluation I WILL win,' My thoughts got a little darker while comparing myself to Futago
Dinner was quiet, the smell of stew filling the small dining room. Aiko moved between the stove and the table, setting down the bowls carefully.
"So," she said, placing a bowl in front of each of us, "did you pass your evaluation today? The monthly Stage Two one?"
I took a bite first, glancing at Tomogui. "I did. Passed cleanly."
Tomogui poked at his food, quiet for a moment. "…It went okay," he muttered, tone even.
Aiko tilted her head, smiling gently. "Just okay? You both have been training hard—I'd expect a clean pass."
I shrugged slightly, keeping my tone calm. "Stage 2 is harder for us, since we are much shorter then everyone else, they have advantages. I use longswords which somewhat combat the disadvantage but it still is hard to hit the instructor."
Tomogui's fork paused mid-air. "…Short swords," he said quietly, matter-of-fact. "Chudan-no-Kamae, Waki-gamae. Everything worked fine… it's just harder to overcome the reach difference. Instructors are taller. Hard to land a clean hit."
Aiko reached over, her hand brushing his arm. "Well, it sounds like you handled it as best you could. You'll figure it out, and you're still young. You are ahead of your age already, it's ok to stall."
He nodded once, barely perceptible, before returning to his meal. His posture was calm, but I could sense his quiet self-awareness. Disappointment.
I added, casually, "Stage Two rewards body metrics just as much as skill. You'll adapt—you know how to fight, you just need to compensate for the physical differences with short swords."
Tomogui said nothing more, silently focused on his food, but I could sense his quiet determination settling in. He wasn't satisfied even after the excuses I made for him.
I hope he passes quickly, stage 3 doesn't have multiple halls, meaning that all the people who reach this stage train together. So we won't be separated anymore as long as he is here.
The next morning, I found Tomogui quietly stretching in the courtyard. His posture was steady, precise, but there was a tightness in his shoulders—determination mixed with frustration.
I approached, longsword in hand. "You're not going to get anywhere just thinking about the evaluation. Let's train."
Tomogui gave a small nod. "…Alright."
"Hey Tomogui are you here" A loud voice sounded from outside our courtyard, it was familiar I couldn't remember it though
"Kenta! Why are you here?" Tomogui's response let me remember who he was, the friend who has been Tomogui's sparring partner for these 3 years.
"Well I was hoping to train a little more, me and you failed, but your brother passed, if we can pass quickly we will be together for the next stage"
"He's right, since stage 3 is combined, once you guys move on, I can train with you" Cutting their conversation I try to steer us back to training. I handed over a practice katana I took from stage 2 to Tomogui.
Tomogui didn't take the katana.
He looked at it for a moment, then shook his head. "I'm not using that in the evaluation."
Kenta blinked. "Huh?"
"I'm not abandoning short swords," Tomogui said. "I'll pass with them, or I won't pass at all."
Silence settled between us. Although Kenta didn't understand I did. He didn't want to pass using the katana skills I studied, or it would be as if he wasted all this time learning short swords.
I picked up the longsword.
"Im not saying you have to abandon short swords, just learn more about longswords, why people who use longswords do certain things/the timing of attacks" I began saying these words out, but with our mental link I also said a few things.
*You already know the theory. We share memories. You just don't understand the timing of katana attacks too well. With the memories we share you should learn the katana timing pretty quick as long as your practice with it* Kenta didn't need to hear any of that.
"This isn't about changing your weapons," I said instead, voice flat. "It's just that you already spent 3 years training short swords, if you want to pass quickly you need to change something"
Kenta leaned in. "That's a good idea, repeating the same drills any longer won't help, why not try something different. I'll also try that."
One month later…
Tomogui stood in front of the Stage Two training hall, wooden short swords resting at his sides. The doors loomed ahead, half-open, familiar in a way that made his chest tighten.
Same place. Same rules. Same instructor waiting inside.
He exhaled slowly, rolling his shoulders once.
Behind him, Kenta leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "So," he said casually, "you ready to lose for the fourteenth time?"
"If he abused his height against me, it might cause me a little trouble"
"But would you lose"
Tomogui glanced back, a confident grin plastered on his face. "Nah," he replied, stepping forward. "I'd win."