Soul of a Samurai

A month passed.

Every single day was the same.

Wake up. Eat. Train. Swing. Collapse.

But I was improving.

At first, carrying a sword had thrown off my balance. Every movement felt awkward, my footing unstable.

Now, my steps were firm. My movements were fluid. I could run, jump, and climb without struggling to adjust for the weight of the wooden sword.

I no longer hesitated before swinging it. The unfamiliarity was gone.

It was a part of me now.

The physical training had also gotten easier.

The weights on my body no longer felt unbearable. I could do more push-ups, more squats, more laps around the field without my legs turning to jelly.

But my father never let training get easier.

Every time I improved, he made the exercises harder.

More weight. More reps. Less time to rest.

He pushed me past my limits every single day.

And I endured.

I was stronger than I was a month ago.

But I wasn't strong enough.

Not yet.

After finishing the day's training, I stood in the field, my breathing heavy but steady.

The sky had started to darken, the sun lowering behind the mountains.

I knew what was coming next.

My father turned to me, his gaze unreadable.

"Now, swing. A thousand times."

I nodded.

This time, I would get closer.

I raised my sword and began.

Each swing was smoother than the last.

Each movement felt more natural.

The burning in my arms, the ache in my shoulders—I was used to it now.

I didn't slow down.

Not even for a second.

One hundred swings.

The weight of the sword was familiar.

Two hundred swings.

My stance remained strong.

Three hundred swings.

Sweat dripped down my face, but I ignored it.

Five hundred swings.

I focused only on the next motion.

Seven hundred swings.

Pain ran through my muscles, but I didn't stop.

Eight hundred swings.

My body screamed, but I kept pushing.

Nine hundred swings.

I could barely lift the sword now.

I took a deep breath, trying to raise it again—

But my vision blurred. My arms refused to move.

And just like before, my body collapsed.

I stared up at the sky, my breath ragged.

Nine hundred.

Not a thousand.

But I was closer.

Sleep took me, but this time, I wasn't disappointed.

Because I knew—

Soon, I would reach it.