Garam Footwork
The new year dawned.
Raon's life at fourteen could be summed up in a single word: training. He kept living as a training fiend, first to arrive at the grounds and last to leave.
Runaan's eyes were still blind, but the edge of her swordsmanship and the chill of her water-attribute aura had deepened beyond anything that had come before.
Burren, who had grown enormously in spirit, had a firm hold on the hearts of many trainees, and he swung his sword day and night with grim, grinding determination to reclaim the top rank.
Marta refused even rest, swinging her sword and cultivating her aura to avenge her first defeat. Her already foul temper had only grown more violent, and now no one even tried to come near her. There was just one exception. In front of Raon, she was different. Marta, who wouldn't properly listen to the instructors, shut her mouth and obeyed him to the letter — from the side, she looked like a loyal servant.
The trainees knew that attitude was the price of a lost bet, and they figured it wouldn't last more than a few days. They were wrong. Even after the new year arrived, Marta followed Raon's word without fail. Everyone was stunned. No one had expected foul-mouthed, nasty-tempered Marta to actually keep a promise with him. And so Raon subdued even the last of his obstacles, and earned the recognition of every trainee at the 5th Training Ground.
"Fall in."
At Raon's call, the trainees loosening up across the grounds all looked at him at once. Burren clicked his tongue and stepped in front of him. Runaan scurried over like a puppy that had just spotted its owner. Marta's eyes flashed with a murderous glint, but she said nothing as she took her place beside the other two.
Once Runaan, Burren, and Marta — the three most influential people on the training ground — moved at Raon's word, the rest of the trainees had no choice but to follow.
"Why did you call us together?"
Burren turned his head toward the empty platform.
"This morning is personal training."
"No. Today's a regular session."
"I haven't heard anything about that."
"The Head Instructor said he forgot to pass the word along."
Raon let out a sigh. Rimer had shown up out of nowhere the evening before and told him to gather the trainees in the morning so they wouldn't scatter.
"That man, I swear…"
Burren ground his teeth. He still couldn't stand Rimer.
"Anyway. Today's regular training, so wait here. Just loosen up."
"Sheesh."
"Did he eat crow or something? How does he forget everything every single day?"
"He was probably drinking and fooling around. I heard he was at a tavern yesterday."
"It's not the first time. Let's just get ready."
The trainees grumbled under their breath, but they followed Raon's instructions and began warming up lightly in the center of the grounds.
A short while later, about five minutes after training was supposed to start, the doors of the training ground creaked open and the instructors filed in. Rimer, bringing up the rear, climbed onto the platform with a yawn so enormous his hand couldn't cover it.
"You're late, Instructor."
Burren raised his hand and called it out.
"Eh, today was originally free training, but our instructors were late because they were preparing something for you, so it's not really tardiness."
"That has nothing to do with—"
"Alright, since we're late, let's start training right away!"
Rimer waved Burren off and ignored him. From behind came the sound of Burren grinding his teeth. Time had passed, and the relationship between those two hadn't changed a bit.
"The reason I stole your personal training time today is to pass on the single most important thing a swordsman can have."
"The most important thing for a swordsman?"
"What is it?"
"A new sword art?"
"A secret technique?"
"A cultivation method?"
Expectation lit the trainees' eyes until they glittered like starlight. Rimer savored that look for a long while, and only when the children's voices had settled did he slowly open his mouth.
"Footwork."
"Huh?"
"Footwork?"
"Why would that be the most important thing for a swordsman…?"
"Ugh. I knew it'd be something like this."
At the word footwork, the trainees stamped their feet with disappointed faces.
Footwork, of course.
Raon, however, simply nodded, unmoved. Footwork was the art of walking — a systematic way of stepping, built so that a swordsman or martial artist could move more aggressively, more defensively, or simply faster when unfolding their techniques.
I thought the time had come.
They had grown used to fist techniques and swordsmanship, and they had formed a decent amount of aura. He had already been thinking it was time to learn footwork.
"Plenty of you came here already knowing intermediate-level swordsmanship, but almost none of you have properly learned footwork."
"Mm…"
"That's true."
The trainees couldn't argue. They nodded slowly. Burren, Runaan, and Marta kept their mouths shut as well.
"Your goal is to become swordsmen, so of course swordsmanship matters. But!"
Rimer grinned and leapt down from the platform. His body vanished as if someone had snuffed out a candle.
"What makes that swordsmanship sharper and faster — and what will save your life someday — is footwork. Your footwork."
His voice came from behind them. They turned, and Rimer — who had vanished from in front of them — was standing at the very back with his hands clasped behind him.
"Hah!"
"Wh-when did he…?"
"What the…?"
The trainees' mouths fell open. Rimer had appeared behind them without so much as a whisper of wind, and their tongues went slack in spite of themselves.
"You've already realized, through sparring, that swinging a sword at an opponent is nothing like training alone."
"That's…"
"Yeah. Our bodies wouldn't move the way we wanted."
"And our swords wouldn't follow their proper paths, either."
The trainees nodded. Every one of them had learned, through sparring, that real combat and training were different things.
"To bring out your true ability in a real fight, you have to train your footwork as much as your swordsmanship — more, even. I believe the most important martial study in a one-on-one duel isn't swordsmanship, and it isn't aura. It's footwork. The Head of House agreed with me on that."
"Th-the Head of House?"
"What?!"
"If he said so…"
The trainees' mouths fell open. Glenn, the man they respected above all, had said footwork was important — and that carried a weight Rimer's words alone never could.
"Footwork…"
Burren straightened his spine.
That's right. If I'd had footwork back then…
His strengths were sharpness, precision, and speed. If he had been using proper footwork against Raon instead of basic stepping, he wouldn't have gone down so helplessly.
"I see…"
A growl of a voice made Burren turn his head. Marta had her fists clenched, her eyes shining. She seemed to be thinking the same thing.
Same as ever.
He had thought she had gone quiet. She hadn't. Marta was burning, not on the surface but in her chest, with the will to beat Raon.
"Footwork begins with Garam Footwork, which holds the flow of a river."
Rimer flicked his legs as lightly as if he were strolling across a riverbed of smooth stones, and his body sprang up onto the platform. He settled into a stance as if he were about to demonstrate, then muttered that it was too much trouble and flopped down on his back.
"A skilled assistant instructor. Step forward."
Rimer clapped his hands, and an instructor from the rear came forward and began to show the stances of Garam Footwork.
Burren's knuckles cracked as he clenched his fists. He burned the postures of Garam Footwork into his eyes, vowing that he would master this footwork for certain and someday shove it up that lazy instructor's nose.
Garam Footwork had only twelve forms, and the stances were simple, so the demonstration did not take long.
Fundamentals, through and through.
The resonant rings around his heart turned, and every form, stance, and current of Garam Footwork laid itself bare at a glance.
Because Raon had been rotating the Ring of Fire, he grasped the shape, the posture, and the flow of Garam Footwork in a single look. It was a footwork he had never seen before, but it was faithful to the basics, and its current was so smooth it could be fitted into anything.
"The instructors will go around and correct your stances, so for now, unfold the footwork the way you saw it and felt it."
"Yes, sir!"
The trainees spread out across the grounds and began to work through Garam Footwork. Raon, however, did not move. With his eyes closed, he spun the Ring of Fire and replayed in his mind the Garam Footwork the instructor had shown them.
Defense six, offense four.
True to a foundational footwork, Garam Footwork kept attack and defense in nearly equal measure. Defense sat a little higher, but the difference was not large.
Its strength is the linking.
The hallmark of Garam Footwork was that it flowed as smoothly as a river. What mattered was not a rigid, fitted hardness, but a current that kept connecting even if it loosened a little along the way.
Raon let out a stirred breath and opened his eyes. Through the opened field of his vision, the whole of Garam Footwork was visible.
He extended his right foot first. Savoring the sensation of pressing into the well-packed floor of the training ground, he drew his left foot after it. Both feet crossed in a gentle current, and the first form of Garam Footwork unfurled.
Both feet crossed like water, and the first form of Garam Footwork spilled across the packed earth.
He grazed the floor lightly and turned his body to the right. The second form — evading an enemy's strike and driving the sword forward — rang through the sand of the training ground.
The body turned with the current, slipping the blow and answering with the point of the sword.
It was closer to completion than the stance the instructor had shown. A bright thrill ran over Raon's shoulders, and he let a smile bloom. His feet reproduced that supple current as if they had known Garam Footwork from the day he was born.
Rimer yawned until his mouth nearly split, then blinked.
"I'm sleepy."
He had gone days without sleep hunting down a footwork that would suit the trainees and then refining it, and his whole body felt heavy.
I guess I really am getting old.
He gave a short laugh and looked down from the platform. Raon stood in the center with his eyes closed, still as stone. He seemed to be drawing the instructor's footwork in his mind.
It's a good method, sure…
Visualizing a martial study in the mind's eye was a fine way to train. But that came after a certain level of skill had already ripened. They had only just learned the footwork. This was the time to move the body, not to paint pictures in the head.
I'll have to tell him later not to put on airs.
Rimer muttered that he had something to tease the boy about, and looked toward Burren.
He's pretty good.
Burren followed the shapes of Garam Footwork almost exactly, as if he had learned footwork before. There was no true intent in it yet, but the stances looked as though they would be complete before long.
Same over there.
Marta, too, extended her feet and turned her body as lightly as someone who had been practicing footwork for a long time. Her stance was even better than Burren's.
Rimer watched Burren and Marta's footwork and let out a laugh.
They're thinking about Raon.
Even while learning the footwork, both of them were replaying their spars with Raon. Telling them that footwork was the most important thing in a one-on-one fight seemed to have landed exactly as intended.
And…
He looked to the right, where Runaan was practicing Garam Footwork. Her movement was different from the other two. It was less about facing an opponent than about supporting one. Who Runaan wanted to help was obvious.
Rimer went on to look over every last trainee, committing to memory the strengths and weaknesses he would need to point out.
This is the fun of it, though.
Maybe because they were still young and honest. Just watching the trainees train, he could tell what each of them was thinking.
Rimer stretched long, like a bear waking from hibernation, and stood. He was about to deliver the critiques he had stored up when Raon, who had been standing like a statue, opened both eyes and drew his foot back.
Ah…
Those vivid red eyes, and a leg extended like a crane, sent a chill crawling up Rimer's skin. Raon's feet advanced slowly. The first form of Garam Footwork, Flowing Flower, spilled across the floor of the training ground, carrying the current of a river. He took the second stance. Advancing like flame, unfolding his body, he moved as if a blue-gleaming blade were flashing from the motion itself.
"Hah."
Rimer let out a hollow laugh.
That kid…
Raon's Flowing Flower was closer to completion than that of the instructor Rimer had personally taught the footwork to. After that, Raon unfolded all twelve forms of Garam Footwork as if water were running downhill — not a single mistake, not a single shortage, a stance that came as close to perfect as a stance could.
The river ran without a break. Every form connected to the next, as if his feet had known the current from the day he was born.
"Uh…"
"Wh-what is that?"
The trainees — and the instructors too — all stopped dead and stared blankly at Raon's footwork.
Rimer's pupils trembled. A chill ran through his entire body.
Just where does that monster's talent even end…?