Shinrabansho: Myriad Souls

Our second day, Sunday, at the beach was less frantic than the first.

Most of the class had already burned through their initial energy. The boys were still loud, but less overtly obnoxious. Some of the teachers looked faintly sunburned from the day before, and seemed tired enough not to bother micromanaging every little thing. At the very least, they didn’t seem to be aware of our activities in the grotto bath, and my futon.

After breakfast downstairs, Kurosawa-sensei checked in with us, mostly just to take custody of Pon-chan with slight apologies.

I wasn’t sure where he was being kept, though. Probably some borrowed maximum-security cage.

Kurosawa-sensei sunbathed, totally unconcerned, seemingly ignoring her duties as a teacher altogether, like most of the teachers. This was clearly a vacation for them as much as it was for their students. She wore a daring black bikini, stretching out with lazy confidence, basking in the morning sunlight. There were always a handful of male students mooning over her, pretending to build sandcastles conveniently nearby. I was surprised that Riko wasn’t with them.

She was very much aware of their activities, and didn’t care in the slightest.

Every so often she would mutter something without even opening her eyes, and one of the boys would scramble to fetch whatever she wanted. First yakisoba. Then iced tea and a fair number of snow cones drowned in syrup.

Hinata and Megumi were already swimming, despite Yuna’s repeated warnings about after-meal cramps.

Meanwhile, the four of us wandered across the beach with far less urgency than the day before. Our stomachs were full. Our hearts were fuller… at least mine was. The sun felt gentler today, or maybe I’d just stopped worrying about everything, because a swimsuit was clearly better than wearing nothing.

“Today’s focus,” Aoi announced, interrupting my thoughts and studying of Kurosawa-sensei’s easy manipulation of the boys, planting her hands on her hips as she surveyed the shoreline with exaggerated seriousness, “is controlled falls and momentum.”

“Noooooo!” I clutched my head. “You promised, Aoi-chan! Betrayal!!! I’ve had enough lessons on the basics!”

Aoi-chan giggled.

“Gotcha.” She winked.

Aoi-chan didn’t give me time to recover from my emotional whiplash.

She turned on her heel and started walking toward a stretch of beach where the sand was darker and firmer, closer to the waterline. “Come on,” she said lightly. “If you’re going to complain, you can do it while moving.”

Riko followed immediately, her hands laced behind her head, her eyes already scanning the terrain like she was gauging the likelihood of me stumbling and earning yet another lesson on footing. She surprised me again. Not even once did her eyes stray towards Kurosawa-sensei, as though I was somehow much more captivating. Yuna walked a little slower after us wearing my sunhat, her sandals dangling from her fingers, her gaze drifting between us and the shoreline as if she were cataloging conditions—solar index, wind speed, heat, predicted fatigue.

I walked behind them, squinting at the bright sand. “So… just to make sure,” I said cautiously, “we’re definitely not working on controlled falls again, right?”

“Oh, we’re definitely doing those,” Aoi said cheerfully. “They’re just not our primary concern today.”

That did nothing to reassure me.

We stopped near a patch where the sand sloped subtly, uneven enough to matter, but not so soft that every step swallowed our feet. Aoi planted herself facing me and rolled her shoulders once, loosening up.

“Before we start,” she said, her tone shifting, still warm, but sharper underneath,

“--I want to make something clear.”

I straightened instinctively.

“You already know how to move,” she continued. “You don’t stumble anymore, even on unsteady ground. You don’t panic when someone closes the distance. Your balance is good, your reactions are fast, and your body listens to you.”

Riko nodded. “Yeah. She’s probably ready for more… I’m curious what you’re going to teach her this time.” She settled down on the sand on her knees.

Yuna hummed in agreement.

Aoi looked back at me. “Today isn’t about teaching you how to fight.”

My chest tightened. “What?!”

“It’s about teaching you when,” she said. “And why.”

She stepped closer, close enough that I could feel her presence without her touching me. “Tell me this,” she said quietly. “When you hit someone, what are you trying to do?”

I opened my mouth, then hesitated, unsure where this was going.

“…Stop them, I guess.” I said finally.

“And?” Aoi asked expectantly.

I thought about it a little, frowning. “...Create some space.”

“And?” Aoi asked again, smirking.

I looked at her blankly.

“Break their rhythm. Rhythm and momentum is very important.” Aoi supplied.

“I see! Acting before they can or interrupting them, keeping them off balance.”

Aoi smiled faintly. “Good! Now the important part.” Her eyes sharpened. “What do you do if you can’t do any of that?”

I… didn’t have an answer this time either.

Riko tilted her head. “Oi, what are you getting at, Aoi?”

Aoi smirked. “Sumire’s got good instincts. But it’s clear she doesn’t have any theory. No philosophy.”

“True,” Riko admitted. “I never had formal lessons either. I just learned by watching and listening to you.”

“Good,” Aoi said. “You could try learning properly sometime too.” Her eyes glinted with amusement. “But right now we’re focusing on Sumire. We can’t afford any distractions.”

Riko grinned. “Maybe after you’ve turned her into a master. I look forward to it.” She performed a neat sitting bow.

Aoi rolled her eyes. “I’m hardly a master, but I do have a few dan ranks.”

My jaw dropped as I studied Aoi. I hadn’t known she’d trained that far, though she was obviously skilled.

“Which ones?” Riko pressed.

“Guess,” Aoi said playfully. “I wonder if you know that much.”

Riko tapped her lips thoughtfully. “Karate for the base fighting style, and jujutsu for the holds, throws, and breakaways?”

“Ranks?” Aoi asked with a grin.

“I’ve got no idea. You got me there, Aoi.” Riko laughed.

Aoi nodded and turned back to me and raised one hand… not to guard, getting serious.

I analyzed her posture, trying to read the intent.

It wasn’t a strike.

Her stance was relaxed, her palm open toward me. “Most fights aren’t decided by getting the first hit,” she said. “They’re decided by what happens after something goes wrong.”

She gestured for me to mirror her. “Take a stance like this.”

I did, my heart thudding.

“Today,” Aoi said, “we’re working on continuation.”

She stepped in suddenly, not quick, nor slow. Moving decisively.

“What’s that?” I asked, clueless.

“It’s what I mentioned before.” She permitted herself a soft laugh. “It’s about what you do after the first thing you do fails,” Aoi replied more seriously. “No pause. No reset. If your block misses, if your strike is redirected, you don’t stop to think about it. You keep moving and let that motion become the next answer.” She glanced at my feet. “Most people freeze right there. Continuation is about staying in motion.”

From the sand, Riko shifted where she was sitting in the sand, her chest poked forward in a somewhat distracting way. Her cleavage was framed too well with her shoulders a little hunched and her upper arms pushing them together, propping herself up on her hands. “So it’s not about landing the perfect move,” she said, watching closely. “It’s about not breaking the flow.”

I couldn’t help feeling my face heat up a little, wondering if the sun had gotten to me already. We’d applied suntan lotion on each other in a much more platonic way in the changing room this morning before we left wearing our bathing suits.

Aoi nodded once. “Exactly.” She said to me and added, “Stop seducing my girlfriend.” She didn’t even look directly at Riko.

Riko straightened with a mischievous grin.

“Now try,” Aoi said, and her hand snapped toward my face in a quick open-handed strike.

My body reacted on instinct. I shifted my weight and brought my arm up, but she was already beside me, her forearm brushing against mine, redirecting my strike instead of colliding, and my balance tipped forward, just not enough to send me sprawling.

She stopped immediately.

“See?” she said calmly. “You blocked… but I redirected your center of gravity.”

Riko clicked her tongue, watching closely.

“A textbook mistake,” Aoi said with a small smile. “You treated it like an exchange instead of flow.”

My face warmed. “Okay, that makes sense, I guess, but—”

“Again,” Aoi said, already resetting.

She stepped in at once. Her hand snapped toward my face.

This time I didn’t block.

I stepped to the side instead, letting her momentum carry her past me, and reached instinctively for her arm.

She let me catch it.

Then she twisted.

Her movement wasn’t violent, very precise.

My grip loosened, my shoulder rotating, and suddenly my own arm was working against me. I stumbled, catching myself, my heart racing.

Aoi released me instantly. “That’s better. You moved with me instead of acting against me.”

Yuna clapped softly. “Redirection instead of resistance. Very nice!”

“For her,” Riko added. “it’s much worse for the other person, if it had landed.”

We repeated it. Again. And again.

Each time, Aoi varied something small, speed, angle, distance. Sometimes she committed more. Sometimes she feinted. Sometimes she stopped halfway through and forced me to deal with the uncertainty. I had to keep reading her shoulders, hips, and feet because nothing she did stayed the same for long.

I stopped thinking about doing the right thing and started responding on instinct.

“Don’t chase the hit,” Aoi said as I overextended slightly. “Chase the imbalance.”

She demonstrated, letting her movement carry her past me, then lightly tapping my hip with her foot. “If their center is off, the fight’s already half over.”

Riko gazed thoughtfully, her eyes bright. “Is this about denial over dominance?”

Aoi glanced at her. “She doesn’t need dominance. She needs control.”

I stopped trying to meet her head-on.

The next time Aoi moved in, I didn’t strike at all.

I shifted, let her come too close, then hooked her elbow and stepped behind her and bumped her backside with mine. It wasn’t clean, honestly clumsy… but it worked out. Aoi had to catch herself.

She laughed, breathless. “You figured it out. Very good!”

My hands trembled, not from anxiety, but from adrenaline.

“That felt…” I searched for the right word. “…good.”

“Because you did the right thing and I didn’t expect that dodge or the butt attack from you,” Aoi said. “You didn’t force anything. You trusted your instincts and mostly restrained yourself.”

Yuna smiled softly. “Spur-of-the-moment decisions. That’s what saves or breaks you.”

We kept training that way. I wasn’t lucky enough to repeat my miracle for a while. Aoi adjusted and subtly raised the difficulty.

Eventually, she raised a hand… clear and decisive.

Aoi let her raised hand linger for a moment, then relaxed, rolling her shoulder once as if she was shaking loose the last of the tension.

“That’s enough counters for today,” she said. “If we keep going, you’ll start trying to think your way through it instead of letting your body learn.”

I exhaled, only then realizing I’d been holding my breath. The air rushed out of me in a shaky burst. My chest felt tight, not from strain, but from how intensely focused I’d been.

Riko tilted her head. “So… now what?”

Aoi’s mouth curved into a small, dangerous smile. I’d seen that expression enough times to know it meant trouble, not mercy.

“Now,” she said, “we talk about how to hit.”

My pulse jumped before I could stop it.

“Relax,” she added, already turning away from us. “We’re not sparring yet. And what we were doing just now wasn’t that either.” She rolled her shoulder once, casually. “This is just learning the forms. Think of it like learning words before you try to speak in full sentences.”

“Words?” I echoed. “What does that have to do with fighting?”

Riko snorted. “Running your mouth at the enemy like some kind of overbearing villain?”

“No,” Aoi laughed, her eyes not leaving me. The mirth left her eyes quickly as she fixed me with a more serious expression. “If you don’t know your options, you freeze. If you know them, you have choices and you move. That’s all this is, giving you options.”

She stepped back a few paces and planted her feet in the sand. The way she stood looked relaxed, almost casual, but there was something coiled underneath it, like she could move in any direction at any time.

“Watch,” she said.

She didn’t pull her arm back as her hand snapped forward. A short, fast, and controlled attack, stopping just short of my chest. I felt the air move, like a small pressure wave brushing my skin.

I flinched even knowing that it wasn’t going to connect.

“This,” Aoi said calmly, “is the same open-hand strike I taught you before.”

I nodded, recognizing it, not by any specific name, but remembering the form and feel of it. A clean forward thrust. Doing it didn’t hurt my wrist like it had when she first taught it to me.

“You aim straight ahead,” she continued, tapping lightly over the center of my chest with two fingers. “Not to shove someone away. Put just enough snap into it to make their body react.”

She met my eyes. “You use this to interrupt them… to make them blink, to buy yourself a moment.”

I thought back, replaying earlier practice in my head. “…To make space,” I said slowly. “And mess with their breathing.”

Aoi smiled. “Exactly. It’s not about hurting them. It’s about giving yourself the time to do the next thing.”

She reset, her feet barely shifting in the sand.

“Now watch what changes.”

She did the same palm strike that she taught me back at school, but this time her hips moved with it. Her weight followed through. The sand under her feet compressed with a soft crunching noise.

“Same hand, same strike,” she said. “Different intention.”

Riko blinked. “That felt like… way more than what you taught her last time!”

“It was,” Aoi said. “Because I moved my whole body with it this time.”

She turned back to me. “Your turn, Sumire. Go slowly. No rushing.”

I copied her stance and lifted my hand… but hesitated. I could feel my shoulder creeping up, tension sneaking in.

“Don’t be apologetic with your body,” Aoi said gently.

My face warmed. I forced myself to relax, pushing my palm forward again. My movement was short and direct.

“Better,” she said, stepping in to nudge my elbow down with two fingers. “Don’t lock your arm. Let it stay loose.”

I tried again.

This time it felt… weirdly clearer. Not stronger, exactly… Just more direct.

Yuna nodded. “Your shoulder stayed down that time.”

Aoi stepped aside. “Okay. Next.”

She lifted her knee, not too high nor dramatically, and tapped the inside of my thigh lightly with her shin. Her movement was so quick I almost missed it.

“This is a low kick,” she said. “You’re not trying to knock someone over with this. You’re stealing their step.”

“To… what, then?” I asked, rubbing my leg lightly.

“To take something from them,” Aoi replied. “Their balance. Their timing. Their confidence.”

She demonstrated again, just a little faster.

“You kick so they’re no longer feeling safe where they’re standing.”

This time I didn’t watch her leg.

I watched her hips move as she kicked again.

Aoi noticed immediately. “Good. That’s where the truth is. Legs lie.”

I copied the motion and it was really awkward. My foot landed shallow, my weight drifting the wrong way.

“Again,” she said. “Turn your toes out more. Angle it better.”

I adjusted, nearly overdoing it, then found something in between.

The kick landed against the sand with a dull thud.

“That’d definitely leave a mark,” Riko said, impressed.

Aoi shook her head. “Marks don’t matter. Tripping does.”

Without pausing, she flowed into another short and compact movement. She stepped in just enough to close the distance, her weight placed cleanly over her front foot as her elbow rose tight along her ribs.

“This,” she said, “is for when you’re too close to swing anything big.”

My eyes widened.

“You don’t use it unless you’ve already decided,” she continued. “Once you start, you don’t hesitate.”

She demonstrated again, slower this time. Her back foot pushed first. That pressure rolled through her hips, not twisting wildly but snapping just enough to carry force upward. Her shoulder followed the turn, pulling her upper body into alignment, and only then did her elbow drive forward, sharp and direct as always, never straying.

Nothing was wasted. Every part moved because the one before it had.

“Your turn.”

I tried to copy it, immediately feeling ridiculous, like I was pretending to fight like a kid with a new toy.

Aoi stepped behind me and placed her hands on my hips, her hands steady and warm there.

“Move from here,” she said quietly. “Your arm just follows.”

I rotated.

The motion suddenly made sense. The force didn’t come from trying harder… it came from lining things up the right way.

“Oh,” I breathed.

“Yes,” Aoi said softly. “You got it.”

Yuna clapped once, sweetly approving. “Very nice!”

Riko smirked. “She figures things out really quickly, as though her body was made for it or something as I suspected.”

Aoi stepped back. “One more set.”

She showed a simple front kick, low, fast, snapping out and back.

“Not too high,” she said. “Going high is for show offs like Riko.”

“Hey!” Riko complained. “What did I do?”

Aoi didn’t respond, smiling faintly for a moment.

Then she demonstrated a knee strike, pulling an imaginary opponent toward her as she lifted her leg.

“You don’t use your own power here,” she explained. “You borrow it.”

I practiced both slowly, paying attention to where my balance shifted, where it wobbled and where it surprised me.

Aoi corrected me constantly. A finger to my spine. A tap to my hip.

“Too much.”

…

“Not enough.”

Time blurred as we trained, and I didn’t care.

Moving my hands, feet and elbows. Again and again.

I stopped asking what each movement was for.

I started to feel when something worked on my own.

Eventually, Aoi stepped back and folded her arms.

“That’s enough for today.”

Abruptly I noticed that I was breathing hard, sweat dampening my temples, and sand clinging stubbornly to my damp legs.

“But—”

Aoi shook her head. “You want a memory, not a mess.”

I blinked at her. “What does that even mean…?”

She smiled patiently, like she’d expected the question. “If you keep going when you’re tired, you’ll just practice mistakes and get worse. And those stick better than the good stuff. You can mess something up in too many ways… but you can only get it right one way. I want your body to remember the right version.”

That made sense immediately.

Riko stretched her arms over her head. “That sounded cool, Aoi. But yeah… if you didn’t explain it, it would’ve gone right over my head too.”

Aoi snorted softly.

Yuna met my eyes and smiled gently. “You absorbed more than you realize today,” she said. “Even the parts you didn’t consciously notice.”

I looked down at my glistening hands.

Yuna’s comment felt as obscure as Aoi’s previously had.

In what way am I stronger from learning just a few attacks and how to dodge?

Aoi seemed to read the question on my face. “Speed comes with enough repetition,” she said simply. “Power comes after that. Real fighting comes after that.”

She stepped closer. “But none of that matters if you don’t know when to move,” she continued. “If you strike too early, you waste it. Too late, and you get hurt. Choosing the moment is what makes everything else work.”

I looked at her blankly again, blaming my currently tired brain and achy body.

Aoi paused and added quietly, emphasizing her words,

“First, you learn how to choose when to strike.”

I sighed and nodded. “Okay.”