With a deep breath, he tried to clear his mind of the doubts that clouded it. This isn't just her weapon; it’s mine, too. My choice, my path... Yet, the thought did little to lighten the load. Each movement of the blade was a reminder of the skills he was supposed to master, of the legacy he was expected to uphold.
Natsuki positioned himself, adopting the basic stance he had adopted as a child. The steel of the blade caught the sunlight, reflecting a glare that forced him to squint. He focused on the feel of the handle in his grip, the balance of the blade, and the placement of his feet. Today, he would practice not to meet the expectations set by others, but to find his own strength within the discipline of the blade.