The Grace of the Bokken

Weeks later, Mina stood in the center of the dojo with a bokken, a wooden training sword, held in both hands. The orb floated higher today, its light steadier, as if reflecting Mina’s growing confidence. Jiro approached, his own bokken resting lightly at his side.

“The sword,” Jiro said, “teaches clarity. Every movement must be precise, intentional. But even the sword is not just a weapon. It, too, can receive.”

He raised his bokken in a high arc, its tip aimed toward Mina. She tightened her grip, her muscles tensing.

“Breathe,” Jiro said. “Receiving with the bokken is not about meeting force with force. It’s about blending. Watch.”

He demonstrated a kesa giri—a diagonal slash—and then immediately pivoted into a fluid motion, his bokken turning the imaginary attack aside with a graceful sweep.

“Try,” he said, stepping back.

Mina raised her bokken, mimicking the angle of Jiro’s blade. He stepped forward and struck slowly, deliberately. Mina swung her bokken in a sweeping arc, catching his strike and sliding it off to the side.

“Good,” Jiro said. “Now faster.”

This time, the attack came quicker. Mina’s bokken clashed against his with a sharp crack. She winced, feeling the vibration travel down her arms.

“You hesitated,” Jiro said. “Receiving isn’t about strength. It’s about trust—trust in your technique, trust in the space you create.”

Mina nodded, shaking out her hands. The orb floated closer, its light warm and encouraging.

Jiro stepped forward again, his bokken slicing downward. Mina exhaled, turning her bokken with the motion of the strike. This time, the clash was softer, the energy redirected into a smooth arc.

“You’re beginning to understand,” Jiro said. “The bokken teaches us that even the sharpest blade can be met with grace. To receive is to remain open, even when facing danger.”

The orb pulsed brightly, as if proud of her. Mina smiled, feeling the connection between herself, the weapon, and the lesson.