Sirius, who had gone to bed after the discussion due to fatigue, woke up early the next morning for his training with Aurelius.
He wore a black and gold hanfu and left his bedroom, ready.There was a hint of excitement in his chest, after all, it was the first time he would be doing something with his grandfather.
Aurelius's story, though deeply tragic, had awakened in Sirius a quiet curiosity about martial arts.
He had no real understanding of what martial arts truly were, nor how to train in them. After all, he had only read a few basic books on the subject, shallow texts that barely scratched the surface. From his grandfather's story, Sirius understood that martial arts would require time and effort. But he didn't yet grasp why it would be so hard.
He walked out into the courtyard, slipped on his shoes, and headed to the location Aurelius had told him about the day before.
After a short walk into the forest though still within Aurelius's domain, he arrived at the designated place. There, he saw a wooden training mannequin, roughly his size, and Aurelius waiting beside it with a wooden sword.
"I'm here, Grandfather."
"Perfect. Come closer, please."
Sirius approached, and as he got near, Aurelius threw him the wooden sword. Sirius caught it in mid-air.
"You will now try, endlessly, to cut, pierce, and destroy this mannequin. I won't give you any advice. I'll observe how you hold the sword, your flaws, your strengths, then I'll begin creating a martial technique tailored to you. Understood?"
"Yes, Grandfather. But am I really supposed to just… randomly try to attack the mannequin without any technique?"
"Indeed. Start now."
For the first time in his life, Sirius tried to strike something. He swung the sword at the mannequin's shoulder with all his strength, attempting to cut through it, but as the sword struck, the impact sent a harsh recoil through his arms, and he dropped it.
"I'm adding a rule," Aurelius said firmly." You shall never, for as long as you live, drop your sword or be separated from it. Remember this: your sword is your life. Without it, you are nothing more than a target."
"Understood, grandfather."
Sirius now attempted to pierce the mannequin's abdomen. This time, he held onto the sword, but still failed to pierce it.
"Again !"
For twenty long minutes, Sirius did his best to cut, stab, and destroy the mannequin. He failed, of course, and exhausted, he finally collapsed onto the ground.
Aurelius, watching silently, was quietly satisfied. Sirius's stamina was quite low, but nothing to worry about, it would grow with time, discipline, and years of training, he was only twelve years old after all.
An hour passed. It was now ten o'clock. Sirius had recovered slightly and resumed his training. He was still wildly swinging his sword, hitting the mannequin again and again. And each time he nearly dropped it, he clung to it tighter, because Aurelius had said it was his life, he will never drop it no matter what.
Fifteen minutes later, Sirius fell again, his strength depleted. His body was too weak, his muscles undeveloped, his limbs unused to exertion. He had never truly pushed himself before, not like this.
But he was determined.
Not to really become powerful, but to become capable. To protect others. To never be helpless. To never again watch someone he loved suffer and be unable to stop it.
After all, if he was strong enough, he'd never lose someone he cared about , whether a friend or a lover. Even if he didn't yet fully understand what a friend or a lover truly was, he knew that losing one would mean pain.
Aurelius's story had taught him that much.
After training, Sirius went to eat with Aurelius, and resumed practice in the afternoon. Each training session lasted less than twenty-five minutes, Sirius was too young, too inexperienced, to handle more, it was even incredible that he can endure that much, after all, he never praticed a physical activity before.
At the end of the day, he asked his grandfather:
"Did you understand everything you need to create the technique?"
"You really think I can create a complete technique in one day?" Aurelius laughed.
"I definitely can't. If I were at the Pinnacle, perhaps I could perform such a miracle. But for me, it'll take several months, maybe a full year."
A whole year… Sirius had clearly underestimated how difficult it was to create a martial technique. He had thought it would only take a day or two. He couldn't have been more wrong.
The next morning, every part of Sirius's body ached. He tried to get up, but pain shot through his feet, his wrists, his shoulders. Everything hurt.
Eventually, with great effort, he got out of bed and asked his grandfather what this pain was.
Aurelius answered with a faint smile.
"This is called muscle soreness. It happens when someone pushes themselves too hard. It means your training yesterday was effective."
Sirius had never heard of such a thing, no wonder so many people gave up.
"Now that you've seen how painful it is to be a martial artist… do you still want to become one?"
"Yes, Grandfather! No matter how much pain I have to endure, I'll definitely become one!"
And so, Sirius continued his training.
He struck the mannequin over and over, aiming for the head, the shoulders, the heart, the abdomen. Diagonal strikes. Vertical slashes. Horizontal cuts. Piercing blows.
It was painful, extremely painful, but he didn't give up. Even at twelve years old, Sirius was resolved. This was his grandfather's legacy. He had to become strong enough to protect others.
Under the watchful gaze of an old man, a child trained with a sword. His body drenched in sweat, his hands shaking, his limbs burning. But he didn't stop. His gaze was serious. Every strike he made, he gave it everything, as if failing to cut through would mean death.
And so, time passed.