Paul
To make war was the way of the bushi. Thousands of hours spent in the dojo, carefully honing techniques passed down for generations to bring glory to the clan and death to its enemies. The life of a warrior was an honorable one, but grim all the same. A single misstep could spell the end for a bright young soldier as easily as it could bring a close to a master's lifelong advance towards perfection. All the more reason to drill diligently. In the weeks since Masanori had arrived in Ryoko Owari Toshi, he had neglected such drills. 

It was not for a lack of wanting, of course. The young chui had been born for battle. He loved the song of steel and the roar of *Kiai* As much as any hot-blooded warrior did. But his duties took him away from the training yard and into the streets, scouring a maze of debauchery in service of the clan he served so ably. With a reshuffling of leadership upon the Unicorn, those duties too shifted. No longer was he to prowl the alleyways of Ryoko Owari Toshi. Now he was to serve at the embassy as an interim ambassador. 

Much as he disdained the position, it did come with its benefits—namely, ample access to the Ide residence's facilities. While the Ide themselves shunned battle, the previous ambassador had seen fit to alter the courtyard into an impromptu practice area for the multitude of soldiers that had accompanied him to the city. While Masanori found himself cross with much of Ide Nakato's legacy, a quiet place to train was something worth appreciating.

And appreciate he did. With wooden sword in hand, he ran through the kata of his forbearers. Step by step, strike by strike, his bokken cut through the crisp morning air in his unrelenting advance to fell an invisible enemy that never quiet seemed to perish. 

||
Ruth
Enough time had passed since his arrival that Temujin was more or less settled into the Ide Residence, the majority of his belongings stored in his room. He had to admit that it was a worthy representation of the Unicorn as a whole, and the Ide in particular, a curiously harmonious blend of the foreign and the local.

*Though I suppose which is which depends on the paths you trod. And harmony lies in the eye of the beholder.*

The thought brought a wry smile to his lips as he continued to explore the grounds that morning. He had asked the servants for a brief overview of what facilities were available, making mental notes of where he could find the baths and the gardens (and the names of the attendants who attended to him). As chance would have it, the mention of a courtyard repurposed for practice piqued his interest.

Perhaps the influence of the Ide had mellowed out Temujin's warrior spirit. Even so, growing up a Shinjo and serving in the Junghar were hard to shake off. The youthful urge of most fresh bushi to test themselves in glorious combat had grown quieter in him, but he still felt satisfaction at the growth of skill, appreciation for the dance of blades.

And of course, there was what Father always taught: Few things were sweeter for a warrior than a fair fight.

With those thoughts in mind, Temujin strode over to the courtyard, pondering the difference between the open yurts surrounding the grounds against the structures of stone and wood, built to last. He expected he would find some Unicorn warriors there, get better acquainted with those who would protect the Clan. But when he neared the open grounds, he perceived the familiar figure of Masanori.

*Makes sense; a true warrior in spirit. Politics seemed to sit ill with him.*

Without kicking up any fuss, Temujin found a spot on the yard's edge and merely watched, his eyes studying the techniques, effort, expressions of any fellow samurai practicing. Usually a fine way to measure a bushi.
Wendy
Moto Kahden was new to the city of lies, and had spent the majority of his time moving between trudging through the streets and making himself familiar with their winding twists, and riding in all directions to track down as many mercenaries as he could to use for hired hands for his previous lord, but with their absence now, he had been silently pulled off his steed and back to the Ide residence until further notice. 

This put him in a state of unease, locked behind the property walls until he were finally needed for what he did best. With his newly discovered off time, he made his way to the altered courtyard, examining from afar the practice items that would be free reign to strike, bash and maim until he were satiated. The idleness brought about discomfort in Kahden, and he needed his body to be moving.

This led to him crossing past a yurt and stepping into the designated area of the practice zone, snatching up a Bokken from the rack and moving to an open area adjacent to Masanori; beginning a standard routine with great force and high power, the whoosh of air the wooden sword made loudly audible. The technique lacked many parries when compared to the number of offensive strikes, the form specially made to overpower an opponent and strike with enough force to split the skull of an ogre. Kahden often did not fight opposing human Bushi, instead made for vanquishing those who were did not even deserve the annotation of being *'humanoid'*. And his combative moves and techniques displayed that tenfold. 

His breath was controlled and forceful to draw in as much air as possible, yet avoiding making too much noise so as to not seem like a raging boar to his neighbouring bushi, Masanori. After a decent length of time, he had completed his desired movesets, lowering his Bokken down and turning to Masanori, `"I hear they've got you on ambassador duty, how has that turned out for you?"` He asked in an attempt to make conversation on the current event.
Paul
It seemed he was not alone. Not too long after his rote performance of kata had begun, a familiar Shinjo manifested in Masanori's peripheral vision. It seemed the scout was all to fittingly content to watch from the sidelines, and take in the sights from afar. It was a little vexing, in truth. While his skill with the blade was entirely adequate, he had never prioritized the sword all that much over his years of training. His calling had always been the humble polearm, scoffed at by courtly samurai as the weapon of ashigaru, but supreme ruler of the battlefield all the same. Compared to his naginata, the katana he kept at his hip was little more than a sidearm, used only when he could not bring his true weapon to bear. 

It went without saying, therefore, that having someone bear witness to one of his weaker abilities was always discomfiting. Part of him wished to switch weapons, if only to give a better show, but that would defeat the point of coming to the training field at all. It was essential to hone his less advanced skills, especially if his posting was to keep him in the cramped streets and stuffy courts of Ryoko Owari Toshi. Though, as he carried on with his practice, another soul joined him. Like the first, he said little enough, and contented himself to training in relative silence. Relative being the key word.

The sound of the Moto's panting eventually gave way to some understandable speech, and as Masanori found himself ramping down another set of carefully executed kata, he felt the need to respond.

"I am the acting ambassador, yes," He answered, although the familiarity displayed did bother him somewhat, if only because he could not offer the same in good conscience, "Might I ask who you are? I do not believe we have been acquainted."

||
Ruth
Masanori's style was methodical, deliberate, yet also unrelenting. True to Utaku form, it seemed more like orthodox kenjutsu, but was influenced by Unicorn techniques. Perhaps a suitable fit for his personality, but the Shinjo tried not to take it for granted as his thoughts raced to adjust. Affinity was one thing, but a bushi was always forged to fit the mould of their school, not the other way around.

He imagined that the ambassador noticed him by now from the edge of his vision, and Temujin was prepared to enter the field in full; eavesdropping was unbecoming of a samurai, even if observation and discretion were what defined scouts. However, a new arrival, a stocky mass of what seemed to be scars and muscles, strode in and decisively took up a weapon to begin practicing. A new arrival among the Clan's samurai?

*Moto by the looks of it. Seldom got to see them in action up close, but I can imagine. Strong, controlled aggression, using mobility and endurance to get stuck in-*

Temujin suppressed a wince as the newcomer's kata delivered bone-crushing blow after blow in succession to an unfortunate imaginary foe.

*...Assume nothing, Temujin. Just focus on yourself.*

The lithe scout acquired a bokken from the weapon stands. A little straighter than the more curved ones he practiced with as a student, but more than sufficient. Temujin blocked out distractions, moving towards another clear area in the courtyard. And after stretching his legs and some practice swings, he assumed a long-familiar defensive stance, bokken held one-handed.

Muscle memory and practiced discipline kicked in, and the stance grew fluid. It started slow, solid, turning upon one leg while he trailed his bokken in smooth, circular motions. After one turn, he pivoted on the other foot, shifting his grip two-handed, the circle it etched growing wider. Another turn, and he repeated, returning to the one-handed grip.

The kata seemed meditative as he controlled his breath, but with each rotation, its speed grew. Footwork, grip, and technique were continuously refined in more intense twists, going from parry to riposte with increasing force, matching the speed to avoid too much stress on his limbs or too loose a grip. And in time, the defensive moves included offensive flurries, sometimes pressing forward from parry to attack, sometimes circling while delivering swift strokes that flowed from one to the next.

The Dance of the Blade, as the Shinjo called it. One of the fundamental techniques of their school, to shift defence into offence in almost the same stroke. It wasn't as dogged as the Utaku or aggressive as the Moto, but it made similar use of momentum. Temujin could tell he lacked the stamina and defence of the others... But he was content to grow. Mastery was a journey, after all.

He finished his set somewhat earlier than Masanori and the Moto. His focus broadened again as he cooled down, returning to simpler practice swings and stretches to wind down and work out the tension in his limbs from pushing their flexibility. Eventually, the ambassador and the newcomer finished their katas and were now speaking to each other. Shinjo watched, ready to speak if spoken to.

||
Wendy
`"You're correct. We have not."` He spoke in response, feeling as though he had slipped up as he continued to face Masanori as he finished up his training. Moto Kahden had failed to introduce himself prior, having heard of Masanori but never officially met him. This prompted him to give a bow, introducing himself properly at last. `"Moto Kahden of the White Guard. I've been summoned to Ryoko Owari Toshi to offer my hands and heart in the ongoing efforts against the spirits of evil, and the other issues we have on our path."` He placed a specific emphasis on the word '*Other*', being intentionally vague so that he could offer his services wherever he could for them, but his initial purpose being to combat the spirits that seeked to harm all those in Ryoko Owari, no matter what Clan or status they held. He rose from the bow, his eyes focused on Masanori's face as he engaged in the conversation. `"It is an honour to finally meet your acquaintance."` He noted, lowering his head slightly down and closing his eyes briefly before looking back up to Masanori, awaiting a response.

As he did, he glanced over to Temujin, briefly examining his kata as he saw it unfold. He was able to analyse it with ease due to his many years of practice, noting a few mistakes here and there, but the overall display was one of great technique, drawn from the Shinjo family and executed by Temujin in good faith. He said nothing of the minor mistakes, his mind more occupied with the drive that Temujin showed as he displayed his learnt talents. Kahden briefly considered giving a nod of appraisal, but did not want to break the consistent and respectful eye contact he was maintaining with Masanori, so he looked back to him and held the look, awaiting.
Paul
Masanori gave the Moto the decency of an appraising look—he certainly wasn't unfamiliar with the White Guard and the fearsome reputation they held. It was rather strange that so many of their number would end up so far in the interior of the Empire; he had met at least one other in his time in the city. Still, he couldn't exactly complain about having another ferocious warrior to direct at the clan's increasing list of enemies. His head eventually bowed, not so shallow as the one offered by Kahden, but crisp and formal all the same.

"It is an honor to make your acquaintance in turn, Moto-san. I cannot claim to be an expertise on the matter of evil spirits, but given that I have come face-to-face with at least one such creature in my time here, I am sure your services will be greatly appreciated."

How much information had managed to disseminate in the absence of Ide Nakato was beyond him, but he was sure the Moto would inquire further if he desired to know what little the chui could offer in regards to the monstrous beast that had met its end within the Leatherworker's Quarter. 

||
Ruth
As Temujin cooled down with lesser exercises, he did notice that his own technique was being observed. He also overheard some of the conversation.

*White Guard? Heaviest hitters in the Khol. No wonder.*

For a moment, he privately pondered whether it foreshadowed a larger war on the horizon, whether with the mortal or the spiritual. The former he could anticipate to a degree. The latter...

*And Masanori-sama has faced such a creature? I suppose in a city this big, it's not unthinkable.*

Regardless of the shadows of the future, however, the scout finally stepped forward. He first bowed respectfully to his immediate superior Masanori and a formal address of "Good day, Utaku-sama." Whether this new arrival knew of his name beforehand or not, it *Was* Sometimes useful for a third party to acknowledge one speaker's identity so as to avoid one or both groups having to admit their ignorance. Etiquette which the Unicorn thankfully seldom bothered with, but it was good to stay in practice. A Crane would definitely do it better, of course.

After whatever response Masanori saw fit to give, Temujin then faced the Moto with a small smile. His bow towards Kahden was fluid, going from a common angle for equals to straightening up with an outstretched hand.

"An honour, Moto-san. I am Shinjo Temujin, a scout of the Junghar. Like you, a new arrival. Welcome to the City of Stories."

One corner of his mouth raised into a smirk which reached his eyes, his tone of voice remaining even.

"Though you might know one of its many other...*Colourful* Names."

||
Wendy
Kahden turned to face the newest arrival to his space, a well kept and moderately strong and agile looking Bushi that fits the mould well for a scout of the Junghar, capable to move fast and strike hard. Kahden bowed equally, standing straight and looking sharply to see Temujin outstretch a hand to him. This led to Kahden bringing up his right hand, his left occupied holding his Bokken, and grasping Temujin in a firm handshake, comfortable to do so within the private walls of the Ide residence. `"I see you've heard of me already. It is an honour to make your acquittance also, Shinjo-san."` He gave a nod, his grand strength made clearer to Temujin as he grabbed hold of the hand and shook it. Shortly after, he released the hand and listened to Temujin mention the more colourful names, a smirk finding its way onto Kahdens face also. `"The things I've heard of this city outnumber the strands of hair on my head, and most of them say some very nasty things."` He gave a brief chuckle, letting his hand fall back to his side.

➖ 
Moto Kahdens attention was immediately perked upon hearing that Masanori had encountered such a creature in their time in Ryoko, and while Kahden was unknowing of how long Masanori had actually been in Ryoko, he was eager to know more. He knew some vague details when he was briefed a while back before making it to RoT, but he knew that asking someone who had seen it on the frontlines would prove beneficial to his understanding of the threat they faced. `"May I ask, if you would spare me the mention of such a horrid device of wickedness, but what did it look like? And how was it vanguished?"` Kahden was very cautious in his question, knowing that any mention of such a being to the average person would bring upon no emotion except pure disgust. Kahden was prepping his body to go into a low bow if needed in case the mere question sparked a bad response from Masanori. He was somewhat able to infer that Masanori would be fine to speak this information, but he did not want to take any big risks. Kahden had a slight issue of gauging what mentions of the shadowlands and it's minions were acceptable, his perspective warped due to his familiarity with the shadowlands.
Paul
Masanori could not bring himself to blame Kahden for his sudden curiosity. It only stood to reason that a man who had offered his 'hands and heart' in slaying the forces of evil desired to know what evils the walls of Ryoko Owari Toshi held. It was unfortunate that he could not offer the Moto all that many. While he had faced the creature himself, he knew precious little of spirits regardless of which realm they hailed from. But he decided to give an accounting none-the-less, if only to be thorough.

"It was a terrible thing. It looked like a man at first, but much larger. When we cornered it in the brewery, it seemed to grow larger, snapping its spine and twisting about like a centipede. The creature was intelligent enough to speak, and to hold hostages, and fought with obsidian scythes besides," It was difficult to encapsulate such a bizarre sight in just a few words, but he managed well, walking over to the side of the impromptu arena as he did to fetch a towel, "It was slain in the way most things are: several blows to the body and a decisive cut to the neck. If it survived that, it died when the brewery's roof came down atop it and burned it away to nothing."

As he wicked the moisture off his brow, he gave the White Guard an appraising look, as trying to decide on something. Then, with the smallest of smiles, he spoke again.

"You wish to have been there, do you not? There is no need to hide it. I understand better than most the dissatisfaction that comes with being trained for battle but finding no foe to face."

||
Wendy
Moto Kahden stood stationary, holding his ground and his fortitude as Masanori spoke of the Yokai. His facial expression remained neutral, blank and devoid, except for his eyes. Oh his eyes.. He stared down at the cobble pacing of the courtyard, unable to look Masanori in the eyes, unable to move them onto target as he envisioned vividly the appearance of the spirit he spoke of, the images and sequences playing perfectly in his head from memory. 

The blood sprays and contorsion of the Yokai's spine, he imagined in the same way his comrades and brother were flayed and disassembled into a bloody mess **By choice** Upon death. Nothing to be recovered. Though this would have sent most into hysteria, Kahden seeing many fall from sanity due to the memories, he remained determined. The fire of the brewery matched the drive and determination within him, burning to scorch away humanities greatest adversary. His eyes, previously envisioning and flashing back to the horrid memories, now displayed this fire within him as he looked up. 

*You wish to have been there, do you not?*

`"I yearn for nothing more."`
 He stated sharply, his voice booming and strengthened by his emotions - a cocktail of determination, hatred, willpower, revenge, fear and righteous purpose. Kahden was raised for battle, built by the White Guard for battle, adopted as a vindicator for battle, and now assigned in Ryoko Owari Toshi for battle once more. It is all he knew, all he has ever known, and he believes he will die knowing nothing but it. That cocktail of emotions poisoned with the drop of fear. The fear that he shall die knowing nothing more. Kahden was unsure exactly how Masanori would react to him, but he was far too emboldened by ambition to think on it currently.
Ruth
Temujin listened to the conversation, minding his distance and taking care not to butt in. He couldn't mask his own surprise to hear it spoken fairly openly; such things were often left to the experts forced to contend with them, their horrors kept from 'polite' conversation.

*Then again, after that year with the Crab, I could see how none could deny the importance of their duty. And if the threat is near, ignoring it only serves the danger.*

He noted Kahden's state, an expression either stunned or deadened, and eyes which gazed past the speaker with smouldering determination.

*I haven't been on battlefields as often as them. But I've seen that look on more than a few bushi. Mostly on the Moto... Or the Crab.*

He couldn't help but feel some sympathy for whatever experiences forged that look upon his eyes. But then he caught himself, remembering to spare his pity from any proud in their duty.

When the Moto spoke, it was indeed with what one expected from his family: controlled passion and grim, indomitable will. Temujin most certainly pitied whatever poor fool, yokai or mortal, stood before his wrath. Doubly so if it was driven by righteousness on top of duty.

Though there was something slightly off in the tone that he couldn't quite determine. A stray note in the arrangement?
Paul
It seemed that regaling the Moto with tales of his exploits had lit a fire within him. That only stood to reason. A bushi was much like the swords they wore at their sides—they existed to be drawn, and cast against the enemies of their clan. With Ide Nakato gone, the man before him was without a leader and, perhaps more importantly, without an enemy. The mishap at the brewery was but a single event. Whether it was isolated or not remained to be seen, but there was no way for them to know when another yokai would surface to cause havoc, nor could they know where it would appear. Sending Kahden out on a wild goose chase to find a creature suitable enough to quench the blaze within him was a cruelty. 

It was equally cruel to simply demand he mull about the embassy without direction, his only recreation a lonely set of kata executed ferociously in a mostly empty courtyard. There was little Masanori could do to alleviate the worst of his purposelessness: his hands were tied by both politics and the machinations of their superiors far from Ryoko Owari Toshi. But perhaps he could offer some small solace from the restlessness.

"I cannot claim to be as ferocious as the beasts of the Shadowlands, but perhaps I might be able to provide an adequate challenge in their absence," The chui gave the slightest hint of a grin to accompany the impromptu challenge, though his eyes did drift thoughtfully towards their spectator.

"Unless Shinjo-san would like to partake rather than spend the day watching us, that is."

||
Ruth
Temujin was not unprepared to be addressed, having listened to the conversation while "Sheathing" His bokken. He was also mulling over the most common questions of a bushi: *What would happen if we fought?*

He was no kensei or such, able to instantly read a warrior's very soul and skill by observing a single stroke. But he could tell: they were better than him. More experienced, to be sure.

*Comes from spending more time at court or scouting than in a dojo, I suppose.*

Perhaps Masanori's skill with a blade was less advanced, but both warriors conducted their katas with more practiced ease, better preserving their stamina. What's more, their movements betrayed few openings. And of course, taking a hit from Kahden would be disastrous for anyone.

But rather than make excuses for himself or hold resentment, Shinjo actually smiled when he was included.

"I may not be as fearsome a foe," He admitted with a modest dip of his head, "But I would be honoured to spar if you thought it worthwhile."

There was the desire to know his fellow Unicorn, break the ice as only bushi could. And much like how someone played *Go*, how they fought was another window into their soul.

And of course, even Temujin still felt those instincts bushi are trained to suppress but never really let go: *Can I beat them?* And *I want to show off these skills I worked so hard to learn.*

||
Wendy
As Kahden saw the approving state Masanori fell into, his fiery demeanor calmed and eased while still remaining strong due to the offer of Masanori's challenge. He were happy to see both of them step up to the challenge of combat, the art that Kahden relished most right next to hunting, he would argue. 

`"Those beasts fight ravageously and wildly, it will be a welcome opportunity to take on those with greater skill in their blade then in their rage."` He spoke heartily as he grasped tighter onto the bokken he held, 'sheathed' in his left hand. Without looking down, he held the well shaved and refined wood, the solid red oak light as a feather in the hands of the White Guard. He glanced off to his far side, eyes set on the rack of bokken. With one standing out to him, the weapon he were most familiar to. The Nodachi. 

After a beat of seeing the lengthened Bokken, Kahden looked back to Masanori and to Temujin. Thinking. He knew Masanori was capable, evident by their status, their kata moments ago, and their rank of ambassador. Temujin was not as experienced compared to the Utaku, but still more then able. Despite all of that, the spark inside of Kahden brought about cockiness, and a selection of words were hanging off his tongue, *I challenge you both.* 

As he thought this his eyes looked between Masanori in front of him, and Temujin to his side, having to slightly turn his head each time to glance between them. His eager burning eyes often betrayed his thoughts to those observing him, but he did not say what he was thinking so as to not insult Masanori, and to not seem lowly in his cockiness.
Paul
It seemed his challenge, audacious as it was, had managed to awaken something in both his fellow bushi. That was good. It wouldn't do for the children of Shinjo to lose their appetite for battle just because matters of court pushed battle ever further from their grasp. Temujin seemed rather unsure of himself, undoubtedly considering whether his skills as a scout would allow him to compete with two veteran soldiers. Kahden, on the other hand, seemed more than willing to have a bout, though his eyes did drift briefly. Masanori followed his gaze until his own landed on the nearby weapon racks. A soft chuckle left his lips.

"The katana has never been my weapon of choice either. The naginata was always my first love," Masanori held the bokken in his hand aloft as he explained himself, "I do not mind exercising with it if you desire: the purpose of sparring is to shore up one's weaknesses, after all. But if would prefer we utilize weapons we are more comfortable with, then I will gladly accommodate."

||
Ruth
It was a credit to Ide Yesugei that while he raised his wards with the Ide belief that swords were the language of the lost, he gave space for both Temujin and Kaede to learn and appreciate it as part of the heritage of their own families. So while he was nowhere near as competitive as the other two warriors, the Shinjo still felt suble anticipation rather than tedium.

Temujin listened while watching where he stood, passive but vigilant. It didn't surprise him that Masanori-sama, with his experience and family's training, would favour the naginata; it even reminded him of his spars with Kaede-san. Though as he fell under Kahden's battle-gaze, he began considering the possibilities.

*Looking between us. Probably means he sees each of us as a worthy sparring partner. Given my lack of conditioning, I'm honoured. But that's not hesitation before a choice. Too certain for that. Rather like when I'm sizing up a room with Ide-sama to see whether oh my word is this madman thinking what I think he's thinking?*

He then wondered about how this would play out. A series of one-on-one bouts? Two against one? Or a free-for-all? Each a situation covered briefly during his time at the Shinjo Dojo, though his focus remained on the ways of the blade, the bow, and the horse. Surviving any battle was good; so was being swift and wise enough to choose the terms yourself.

There was a hint of doubt in him, facing these two veteran bushi. But unlike the doubt he felt over his service in courts, this time he had the benefit of knowing he had trained for such, and took pride in that. Without thinking, he adjusted his grip on his bokken, resting a hand on it in a way that would make drawing it easy.
Wendy
Masanori had offered up the idea of using weaponry they were more familiar with, a greater exhibition of skill that would surely make for a grander sparring session. He approached the rack of wooden armaments, placing down the oak katana he held previously and grabbing the larger weapon that were the wooden Odachi, the only one present on site. Comparative to the bokken he just held, it were only slightly heavier - But compared to what he were used to it were much lighter in weight. He readjusted his grip a few times, bobbing the bokken up and down to get a feel for its weight. After only a few moments, he had adjusted - Already holding the weapon by the handle and down, slightly to the side. After walking forward back to the training area, he stared down both Masanori and Temujin. Waiting for if Masanori would like to take up their polearm, or continue with the katana bokken instead.

Kahden then looked to Temujin, spotting his hand eagerly adjusted to draw quickly. He initially had the idea of combatting Masanori in a one on one spar, but did not want to leave Temujin out of the fray that Kahden so very much enjoyed. Kahden moved to one section of the court, imagining the court split into 3 triangular segments that they each stood in, Kahden now equally spaced between them all. He widened his stance, methodically and smoothly raising up his Odachi overhead so that the live edge faced the sky above him, a heavily offensive stance that allowed him to quickly snap into an downward strike. Kahden were confident in his ability to combat multiple opponents at once, grinning. 
➖

`"What do you both say to a free for all?"` He offered as he awaited to see how the others would open into the spar, watching them very closely to see if he needed to change his stance to an alternate form to better counter them. He were more concerned for how his stance would have to change if engaged first by Masanori, already building a plan depending on the stance that Masanori took, and what their first strike would be..
Paul
Given found himself opposite a Moto, the matter was settled about as fast as Masanori had been made accustomed. He had never known the hot-blooded warriors of Khanbulak to refuse the chance to bear arms against their fellows in tests of skill, and he had been made to train with many of their number throughout his youth. The officer made for the racks of carefully maintained practiced weaponry, placing the wooden sword back where he had found it and instead perusing the polearms. There were a few naginata, the well-worked ash curved into mock blades that did not quite do justice to the deadly edge of his favored weapon. His stature being what it was, he selected the longest of the bunch, figuring it was near enough as long as his proper battle weapon. 

As he returned to the courtyard proper, Masanori continued to palm his practice weapon, getting a good feel for how it rested in his hands. It seemed the Shinjo had decided to remain with his bokken, an interesting choice, given that he had chosen a weapon with significant reach. Their shared opponent in Kahden had straddled the the middle ground—the no-dachi managed to occupy a strange place between polearm and sword. A battlefield weapon if he had ever seen one, and one he was particularly familiar with, given the Matsu family's affection for the weapon. He hoped that the Moto wielding it did not intend to bring such ferocity to bear as the Lion did during the War for the Plains. 

His family's reputation being what it was, though, Masanori had little expectation that he wouldn't. 

"A free-for-all is fine with me. I am no stranger to the chaos of a melee." 

When men meant to clash, there was always a moment of sizing up one's competition. There was an uncertainty to Temujin's stance that the lieutenant hoped would dissipate when the fighting began. Even in mock battle, there was no place for hesitation, and that much would be proven if he allowed his misgivings to grip him taut during the fray. Kahden, on the other hand, displayed a supreme confidence with his high stance. It was the kind of fearless posture a mighty Matsu assumed before the charge, forgoing all defense in favor of a single, felling blow. 

His naginata occupied the space before him, the curved tip pointed in the Moto's direction. He held it neither particularly high, nor particularly low. A neutral stance with the potential for offense and defense in one, depending on the inclination of the wielder and their skill with the weapon. Centered in his bearing as he was, the Utaku looked between his clansmen with a measured steadiness in both his voice and expression.

"So, who will start us off?"

||
Ruth
Temujin looked between the two warriors. While his prior observations also showed his own doubts, once their weapons were selected and the match took shape, his posture shifted into the ready stance of the Shinjo. Limbs limber, feet ready to leap, sidestep, pivot or dash. His eyes went from curiosity to focused vigilance, darting to their stances, weapons, and expressions.

In the mindset of a bushi, he pushed doubt aside. There was only the matter before him.

*Each has the range advantage. And can strike with speed if given the chance. Moto-san will likely be on the attack, not that I can take it for granted. Utaku-sama, a tougher fort to crack. In either case, I can't trade blows; the Dance of Blades always helps, but there's only so much I can absorb.*

One hand on his bokken's hilt, the other guiding it where it was sheathed, he shifted his stance, weapon away from the others. A position made for drawing. 

He knew barely enough iaijutsu to serve Ide-sama at court... And enough kenjutsu to recognise the worth of that first blow, and how to draw in a way that could flow from a straight strike to a circular parry. All backed up by the footwork he'd learned from the Shinjo school to better position himself.

Temujin smiled, his eyes alive with anticipation as he stepped forwards, inching slowly to the point between the three of them.

"Then I suppose I'll scout ahead. Feel free to meet me."

Closer, ever closer, expecting an attack from their step-in range rather than allowing him to get in range for his. And all the while, he stayed on the balls of his feet, keeping his grip firm and his wrist flexible.

Whoever struck first, he meant to intercept their blow before it reached peak momentum with his swiftest strike, ready to close in or evade to avoid being caught between both fighters. In the Shinjo style: attack and defence flowing together.

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Wendy
Moto Kahden saw the almost goading actions of Temujin as he stepped forward, aware of his movements and attention to his spacing. He were glad that he did not jump straight into the fray, instead keeping a good eye on his spacing. Out of respect for the combative skills of them both, Kahden initially wished to strike for Masanori, but the small footnote that Temujin spoke couldn't stop Kahden from rushing offensively, a grin forming on his face. 

`"Gladly."` He sharply spoke before taking one strong step forward, his stance focusing on lesser mobility to gain more power and stability throughout his body. The wooden blade immediately crashed downward like a rushing waterfall, primed to strike Temujin on the shoulder to neck area rather then down the middle of his head. Despite the blades being training appropriate, he did not wish to split open the skull of a fellow Unicorn any day. 

As his strike flowed strongly downward, he drew both hands slightly closer to his chest, bending his elbows inwards with the intention to preapre to pull the blade back towards him and down to the right side to parry any ripostes from Temujin if his attack were to not land. And, with Masanori to his right side as he struck for Temujin, he would be prepared to counter them both accordingly.

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Ruth
*Well, I set the bait. Now I've got the bear.*

Temujin noted the stride, less mobile but more stable, braced for a great blow from his readied stance. Sure enough, down came the odachi, as certain as a second's blade. Swift, too; he wouldn't be able to catch it at the start of its descent, only partway through. In that split second, he also saw him adjust the grip to minimise openings. This Moto knew his stances; a forward rush would be defended against.

Many an aspiring Shinjo bushi would ask: If we're so fast, why not just dodge blows as they come? And for generations, senseis like Shinjo Bing-Hyun would line those martial geniuses up and disprove their theory with a simple kendo strike.

Against Kahden, he had two options to shift his attack: meet the blow to slow it, or move with it to shun it. The former required a stabler stance than he had, leaving him one choice.

The Shinjo's hands and feet acted as one. One foot braced itself as the other prepared to slide with the blow, and he drew the bokken with all his speed, aiming as close to the practice odachi's tip as possible.

He was fast. He was used to maintaining strength and flexibility in both his feet and his wrist. To guiding a foe's force past him.

And as soon as his bokken made contact, it took all he had to keep his hold on the weapon and push. It was like trying to divert the course of a river, and Kahden's blow had picked up enough speed that Temujin struggled not to sink to his knees.

But if he had just enough in him to hold firm, to guide the blow for just a moment, he aimed to use the momentum and the instant the blade fell to turn on his back foot, shift into a spinning swing towards the Moto's side. Not expecting to slip past his defences, but to at least test them, keep him guessing, and place him between himself and Masanori.

*If* He could hold firm, that is. If not, well, hopefully it would "Just" Be a glancing blow to his shoulder.

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