Nickolas
Miho looked carefully at the selection of bokken in front of her, before picking one that would fit Umeo's size. As with all things, she had prepared carefully for this day: training plan, advices that would not be offensive, choice of clothes, everything had been planned in advance, tested and finally approved by the commission in her mind. Only the location had given her serious problems: on one hand, it felt inappropriate to invite herself into his embassy, but on the other hand she imagined he would not want to start getting back in shape in a public dojo, under the eyes of all. Umeo had respected her privacy with the opium affair, and she would respect his.

"Please, notify Yasuki-san I am ready at his earliest convenience." She ordered a servant, before starting her warm-up kata. To be honest, she was not an outstanding swordsman, but perhaps this is just what Umeo needed: a master might have overwhelmed him with their advanced advice.

||
Lynn
Umeo received the servant's message with a nod, a subtle anticipation stirring within him. Only recently had he sent a message to Ambassador Koyama's office informing him of his private calisthenics program with the lion soldier. The prospect of physical exertion, of reacquainting his body with the disciplined motions of kata, was both a challenge and a solace. He stood, his right leg protesting with a dull ache—a constant reminder of the tempest that had nearly claimed his life. Yet, it was not in his nature to shy away from discomfort; instead, he met it as he did all things, with quiet resolve.

He made his way to the appointed place, his gait measured, the drag of his leg almost imperceptible to those who did not know to look for it. When he arrived, he bowed low in greeting, "Ikoma Miho-sama," The Crab Merchant started, his voice carrying the weight of his position and the humility of a student. "I am ready to begin. I appreciate your guidance in this matter. Shall we start with the basics?" He asked, his tone even. 

He stepped onto the training mat, the texture beneath his feet grounding him in the present. He took the bokken she had selected for him, his left hand adjusting to its balance, his right hand joining in a loose grip. The bokken felt unfamiliar in his left hand, its weight a memory from a past life. He moved it experimentally, a shadow of discomfort crossing his features. The bokken trembled like a child was holding it. As it steadied, Umeo's expression set in a look of focused determination.
||
Nickolas
"Please, call me Ikoma-san. I am not a sensei, but mere sparring partner providing what little advice she can give." As she spoke, she sized him up mentally, calculating his strengths and weakness with analytical eye. His frame was strong, but his leg was clearly a burden of his, and the bokken trembled in his hands as if he had never held one... But she liked the fire in his eyes. Bushi or courtier, you could always count on the children of Hida to not give up.

"Before crossing blades, I would suggest starting with some simple kata: we do not want to pull a muscle from lack of warm-up. If you do not know any, follow my movements." She raised the bokken at the height of her eyes, and lowered it slowly, planting herself on the soles of her feet, and then followed with a horizontal slash. This was *Akodo's First Stance*, a kata that every lion bushi knew, and often the first that was taught to their children. She had chosen this one because of its simpleness, but at the same because it could be quite taxing if you did it slow as she was:she wanted to gauge the Yasuki's fitness level before going right to fighting. After all, a noncombatant would probably benefit more from a healthy body than an advanced knowledge of kenjutsu.

||
Lynn
Umeo watched Ikoma-san's movements with the keen eye of a seasoned observer. He mirrored her stance, raising the bokken with his left hand leading, his right hand's grip tentative but determined. The motion was slow, deliberate, as he followed her lead, his eyes never leaving the bokken's path. 

The Crab diplomat was not a small man, and he had the strength that came so easily to his clan. However, an experienced veteran might compare his movements to a gravely wounded soldier that refused to fall before the battle was done. Certain movements that should have been fluid were stiff and awkward. His muscles were already sore from the stretching he had done prior to the Lion's arrival, but he had not wanted to begin such an undertaking unprepared. 

His body protested, the legacy of his injuries making themselves known. He pushed through the discomfort and focused on the precision of the movement rather than the strength behind it. His breathing was controlled, a steady rhythm that matched the rise and fall of the wooden sword. As he completed the horizontal slash, he felt the strain in his right arm, the tremor more pronounced. Yet, he did not falter, repeating the movement as Ikoma-san had demonstrated. With each repetition, the tremble in his grip lessened, his body embracing the form and function of the exercise. It was not the swordsmanship of a seasoned warrior, but there was a methodical determination to his actions. 

As they progressed, Umeo's analytical mind worked in tandem with his physical efforts. He noted the symmetry of their movements, the cleanliness of their lines, and the balance of their forms. His obsessive-compulsive tendencies found a measure of satisfaction in the order of the kata, in the rightness of each motion, even as his body struggled with movements once taken for granted. He was mindful of his limitations, yet he did not allow them to define his efforts. Umeo's focus was absolute, his world narrowed to the space of the mat and the weight of the bokken in his hands. 

After several more repetitions, he paused, lowering the bokken with a respectful nod toward the Lioness. "Ikoma-san," He said, his voice tight but controlled to avoid betraying the effort it took to maintain the exercise, "Your guidance is most appreciated. The body remembers what the mind sometimes forgets."

||
Nickolas
*...Six out of ten.* She decided, at the end of the exercise. Honestly, better than what she had expected. He was still in great shape, and though his wounds obviously limited him, he still remembered the basics of kenjutsu. And most importantly, he had determination. She couldn't make a Kensei out of him, but for what he had in mind, this was more than enough.

"Indeed, Yasuki-san. It is good you can still listen to it." She lowered her bokken to the side: it was almost time to spar, but there was still something to settle. "Now, let us speak of your objectives. What are you trying to achieve with this training, Yasuki-San? Health benefits? Peace of mind? Self-defence knowledge? If have a precise idea of what you are seeking, I can steer you in that direction."


||
Lynn
Umeo took a moment to consider the Ikoma's question, his gaze shifting from the bokken in his hands to the Lioness before him. He appreciated her directness, which he found refreshing and conducive to honest discourse. "Control." He began, his voice strained but steady, "Ultimately, my goals are multifaceted. Primarily, I seek to regain a measure of the physical capability I possessed before my injury." He paused, shifting his weight slightly to ease the discomfort in his leg. "Moreover, there is a mental aspect to the work. The focus required provides a clarity of mind that I find invaluable. Training the body is meditative and a form of meditation I wish to find enjoyable again."

Umeo took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting a depth of introspection. "And lastly, there is the matter of self-defense. While I am no warrior, the nature of my work often places me in situations where the ability to defend myself will prove crucial. I do not aspire to match the prowess of a seasoned bushi... But I must at least return to the competency required to hold my own."

The Crab Merchant then readied himself, assuming a basic stance, "Some movements, I have clawed back from the edges of my weakness. Others? Others, I will no longer be able to make... Regardless of the effort. I must learn and catalog these failings and how to adapt the techniques I have learned to the new body I have been cursed with." As he awaited her response, his grip on the bokken tightened. "Today, we review the sword. But I have no intention of stopping there." 

He looked at Ikoma-san, his expression set. "I understand these goals may seem ambitious, given my current limitations, but I am committed to this path. A Crab's body is a weapon. It must be so, as our home is the most dangerous place in the Empire. Even our peasants must carry weapons and be trained in their use, lest they be lost to the darkness. Giving up and allowing myself to go soft is unacceptable. I will not be outdone by a rice farmer."

||
Nickolas
If Miho was anyone else, she would have smiled. Great answer. Wise, ambitious, and practical, a samurai's answer. But stingy as she was with the expression, her approval was only communicated with a nod. "I see, Yasuki-san. Then, I think I can help you."

Finally, she took a stance. Rather than an her usual sideway one, she rooted her legs steadily, blade straight in front of you. The most timeless of all kenjutsu poses. "You may go whenever you want, Yasuki-san. Attack me as you like: do not feel compelled to hold yourself to traditional duelling rules. All is fair in survival."

||
Lynn
"Ikoma-san," He said, his voice hoarse but firm, "Thank you for this lesson. I have much to learn, but I am ready for the journey." He bowed deeply, a sign of respect and gratitude. Umeo studied Ikoma-san's stance, his mind analyzing the possibilities and limitations of his own body. He knew he couldn't match her speed or agility, but he had other strengths- Patience and Observation. 

He began to circle slowly, his movements deliberate, his eyes never leaving Ikoma-san. Umeo's grip on the bokken was firm but not tense, ready to adapt to whatever response his actions might provoke. He remembered his lessons as a young Crab, emphasizing analyzing and understanding his opponent's traits and turning their advantages into his own. 

With a sudden burst of energy, Umeo lunged forward off his left foot. He aimed his strike not at Ikoma-san directly but slightly off to her side. It was a feint designed to test her reaction and create an opening. He expected her to move gracefully, easily avoiding the strike. But Umeo was not seeking to land a blow; he was learning her rhythm, her style.

Afterward, he retreated a step and reassessed his approach. His sword arm ached, a constant reminder of his limitations, but he pushed the pain to the back of his mind. For now, he would focus on the present and let everything else fall away while focusing on the upcoming dance of 'blades' before him. Umeo then shifted his stance, adopting a more defensive posture. He knew he couldn't outmaneuver Miho, but perhaps he could outthink her.

He waited for her to make a move, ready to counter. The obvious strategy against the more mobile opponent would be finding ways to use her momentum against her. Any block and return would be thanks only to his strategic mind and his ability to anticipate and adapt. He was not just fighting with his body here; he was fighting with his intellect, his years of experience in reading people and situations.
||
Nickolas
Indeed, Miho's first instinct was to evade, maybe counter with a wrist strike. But she didn't. Instead, she blocked the blow fully, putting all her weight in this defense. It hurt, blocking a strike from someone much bigger than her, but she ignored the sensation. She wasn't trying to show off her skill. She was here to teach, and by the gods, she'd do that well.

And as Umeo retreated back, she didn't chase. The Ikoma, indeed seemed perfectly content to wait as much as Umeo would want. Her stance almost seemed a copy of the Yasuki, indeed, quite alien to her usual style. She waited a little more, just to make clear she could have done it for longer if she wished to, and then started inching closer to the Yasuki, without changing her stance. Closer, closer, until she was well into his range, and just kept closer. Her eyes weren't on Umeo's face, but rather, on his torso and his shoulders. That was the real tell of when an hit was about to come. *You hold on a good defense, Yasuki-san... But what do you do, when your opponent doesn't play along?*

||
Lynn
Umeo observed Ikoma Miho's approach, her stance mirroring his own. The scent of polished wood and lingering incense added intensity to the air in the dojo. The light filtering through the shoji screens cast long, dramatic shadows across the tatami mats. As Ikoma-san inched closer, Umeo's mind raced. He knew he couldn't match her speed or agility. He noted the focus of her gaze, not on his face, but on his torso and shoulders. Ah. It was his move. 

Umeo leaned slightly to his left, pulling weight off his aching leg. A trained swordswoman, the Ikoma could almost watch his center-of-balance as he seemed to sink under his own weight.. Leaning and crouching and that center-of-balance began rushing downward, pooling. Concentrating. And there it was again, the Geyser! The same straightening, leaping forward, but his bokken was held across his body this time, prepared for a tight quarters strike. His left hand braced, his right guided. This was a forward charge. The cross-body slash was clearly telegraphed as coming from Ikoma's right to left. 

"**Kiai!**" A quick shout as Umeo executed his strike. His weak leg swung out and kicked the ground, suddenly forcing the solid Crab's mass sideways as it hurtled forward. The merchant's leading shoulder dropped; the river flowed downward again. He was set to narrowly avoid running into her, passing by her with the force of spring waters rushing down the mountains. Umeo was water.

As Umeo passed beside the Ikoma, he brought his bokken down and across in a swift, arcing motion towards her knees. His forward momentum combined with his swing as the wooden sword cut through the air with a whistle. Last time, there was a feint and a test of defense. Last time, Umeo was testing for patterns and rhythms. But, this time? This time, his whole intention was in the strike. His swordsmanship was inelegant, relying heavily on his athletic ability to compensate, but it was bringing with it the fullest concussive force that the former Yoriki could bring to bear. 

As he completed his swing, his injured leg would buckle slightly under the strain of the sudden movement. While the samurai would not let the reaction reach his face, the staccato step was clear and apparent. 
||
Nickolas
Miho waited patiently for him to make his move, observing the preparations that his body gave away. His leg was badly injured, indeed, but he seemed determined to not let that dictate his tactics. Was that a courageous or a foolhardy choice? Both were possible, depending on the situation.

When he finally attacked, she defeated the instinct to dodge like she normally would, forcing herself to an hard parry. The strike from the bigger man reverberated through her arms, but she had decided to adopt the defensive sword style of the Crab right now, and she would stick by it, regardless of the consequences. Then the second strike; now this was noteworthy, a follow up that spoke of previous martial experience. Umeo had not lied, he could have been a good bushi, once. But possibility and reality are well separated.

When the swing came towards her, she actually stepped into his guard, directing the block towards the base of the bokken. It was easier there, but not by that much: the blow still swept to the side a bit, despite her planting her feet. This caused a minuscule nod of approval: yes, his athleticism was on point. Thank the Heavens. One would be appaled by the number of courtiers who had the pretense to become masters of self defense without one day of training their body. *However.*

At last, Miho took the offensive. She started advancing, not as slowly as she had done before, but marching at him decisively, blade still in front of her. Her plan was to walk him down relentlessly, keeping him occupied with non-committal strikes until he was gassed out: for how many tricks he could pull, sooner or later his leg would give up completely and this bout would be over.

||
Lynn
Umeo breathed steadily, watching as the Ikoma advanced. He would not step backwards, instead moving sideways or at forward angles. He obviously favored movements that pushed off with his bad right leg and landed on his left. With each parry, Umeo's bokken met Miho's with a sharp clack, the sound echoing off the dojo walls. He shifted his weight, compensating for his weaker leg, using his stance to maintain balance and leverage. His eyes, sharp and focused, never left Ikoma-san's center mass, watching for the subtle tells that preceded each strike. As he searched for an opening, he was all too familiar with his own. Too much of his balance was resting on his good leg, a weakness that the merchant could not seem to avoid for long. 

The dojo's air was thick with the scents of exertion, wood smoke, and the pervasive aroma of sweet summer flowers that seemed to follow the Auditor wherever he went. The Crab's mind raced, calculating each step, each potential strike. His leg ached. Umeo stayed on the defensive and continued parrying as Miho's strikes came relentlessly, his movements fluid but growing more and more labored. 

Then, believing that he saw a slight overextension in one of the Ikoma's strikes, Umeo tried to seize an opportunity. He stepped in, closing the distance, his bokken moving in a swift, upward arc aimed at her side. As he was completing the swing, Umeo's leg gave a sharp stab of protest and began to buckle under the strain. He gritted his teeth, trying to fight through the pain. His grip on the bokken tightened and his knuckles whitened. He knew he couldn't keep this up much longer. His body was reaching its limit, but he would not yield. Not yet. 

He would also not being taking another step without assistance, today. 

||
Nickolas
She had, indeed overexteded a bit: it was good that he noticed that. Without realising it, she switched to her usual style, sidestepping the blow with a sequence of quick footwork, and kept moving around Umeo, until she found an angle that she appreciated. From there, she raised a leg and stomped forward, aiming to kick the crab's injured leg: using the bokken was risky, as it could actually cause serious damage in delicate zones.

For a split second she wondered if it this was too brutal of a move, but then she remembered their premise: he wanted to be able to kill a real enemy, maybe even some of shadows beyond the Wall. She could not in good faith offer him a watered down battle.

||
Lynn
Little did the Ikoma know, that leg wasn't going anywhere. It had already been pushed too hard, too far. All mobility was spent. Miho's powerful kick landed with the distinctive, sickening snap of dislocation. Umeo felt a searing pain shoot through the injured leg as the joint gave way. He crumpled with a pained grunt. The Crab Karo's leg was obviously pointing in an incorrect direction. The question in the air was clear. *Do you plan on quitting, Umeo? Are you not training for a real fight? Did you expect a Lion to coddle your Pride? Is this the point where you lay on the ground and allow your opponent to kill you?*

Before there was time for saner heads to call off the spar, Umeo launched into action with a singular purpose – adapt or be defeated. In a swift and practiced motion, Umeo raised and kicked his good leg out and to the side. His body twisted and flowed on the mat like spring rains running over dry earth. He shifted his weight, pivoted, and swung his bokken wide at her ankles, building momentum as he spun closer. He would defy the pain coursing through his knee. The question of what he would do if this were a real fight was a fair one for his training partner to ask. And it was one that could only be answered through action. 

Umeo had no time for hesitation. Collecting his fervor into another "**Kiai!**" This time low and growling, the Auditor swung up with his bokken from his position at the Ikoma's feet. He released his hold on the weapon at the apex of his swing, using the momentum of the feint as he transitioned seamlessly to a grapple. Yasuki Umeo wrapped his arms around the soldier's knees and arched his back with the full of his strength. The crippled merchant's grip tightened around Miho, his muscles straining like the ropes of a ship in a storm. There was a swift, calculated twist of his hips and a heave of his shoulders. ||jiujutsu 3, talked the outcome out in advance||

The technique successful; the double-leg takedown pulled Miho onto her back and on top of Umeo. He was perpendicular to the Lioness, her back pressed against his chest tight enough to feel the outline of the large puckered scar through his kimono. The cross-hold saw him controlling both of her arms: one was hooked tightly with his good leg, and he held the other with a steely grip. His body was a human anchor, pinning her to the floor. 

He rumbled something unintelligible before releasing his hold, and taking a few ragged breaths. He was easier to understand when he repeated himself, though.

"I'm afraid that I have need of a medic."

||
Nickolas
Miho's mind was out of the fight far before her body. The snapping sound remembered her that this was just a sparring match, and for a moment she was concerned that she might have damaged the Crab's auditor irreparably. They were just paving the way for an alliance with the Crab, they didn't need this now... She was already opening her mouth. 
But she had forgotten who she was fighting with. This wasn't just an out-of-shape courtier in need of training, this man was a Crab, and their people had held back the purest expression of evil for eleven centuries through sheer determination. And they weren't done till they were dead.

Her reflexes still gave her enough time to defend from the sword blow, but the feint left her truly unprepared for what came next. She tried to throw him off by twisting her hips the other way. But the difference in weight and strength was too much, and her visual shifted upwards. She was trapped in a vice-like grip, her arms blocked without possibility to escape, she was-

*-barely on her 20th summer, just appointed gunso. The lion on top of her helmet shone proudly with every time she turned to take out another arrow. The enemy had broken, broken already, so weak. Just a successful flanking was enough to make them crumble. Did she really have to learn anything from this new positioning. Her superiors should have quit with their pomp and gave her the next rank already. Her hand moved to her quiver again, almost bored- and met another hand there.*

*Suddenly, she was on her back, her arm in a painful joint lock. The ashigaru who had already fled had recovered their courage, they were back to serve their clan. Her ire swiftly turned into fear when she realised she couldn't see any of her bannermen around her. She let her elbow fall repeatedly, breaking the man's cheekbone, but he was fuelled by the strength of desperation and pulled out his dagger, jamming it randomly in any spot he could reach. She screamed as it found a way through her glove, and surpassed the concept of screaming as it began running upwards...*

It was Umeo's murmur that snapped her back into the real word, as she found herself raising her head probably to throw a headbutt. She sucked air in as she was released, just lying over him for a few moments, until she heard his words, and finally understood their sense. "Wait here. And Don't move." Miho's voice was almost gruff as she rolled off him and marched out of the room, face flush and hair out of place. Besides Umeo's health, she was also eager to get out of that room as soon as possible, to recover her composure. And to convince her right hand to stop burning. *It hadn't happened in... How long?* She bit her lip and accelerated her stride, chastising herself for her weakness. She thought she had learnt to not underestimate her opponent by now. But apparently, the ancestors had needed to remind her through Umeo.

*Is there not a damn medic in this whole embassy?*

||
Lynn
Lying on his back on the training mat, Yasuki Umeo stared at the ceiling. His breathing was heavy and the pain in his leg was sharp and unrelenting. Had he won? Perhaps. He had pushed himself beyond his limits and confirmed that he had at least not lost his resolve. As the pain from his dislocated knee throbbed through his body, he could help but question the cost.

Umeo let out a slow, ragged breath and a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. As he lay there, waiting for the medic, Umeo was already planning the next training exercise. A Crab's will could bend fate itself.

||