Today, Urusai feels like drilling in...larger weapons. So today, he finds a practice bisento--somehow, the Academy has one--and makes for the open-air training grounds. After bowing and centering himself, he moves into a deliberately slow series of forms that work with the blade, haft, and butt of the weapon in turn. Despite the cool air, he is soon dripping with sweat, and he shrugs out of the top of his kimono, lean muscles standing out as he moves the heavy weapon with precise control in patterns that, if taken at speed, would be ferocious, indeed.

And he begins to move faster, faster, the motions moving from pitch to molasses to syrup to oil to water, his muscles straining with each stroke and step and swerve and swing. The heavy pseudo-spear pushes back against attackers from all sides, outlining a ring of pain and death for any who would approach the almost-man in anger.

It is said that the Shika dance with their spears, but what the Seppun is doing is far less graceful, far more brutal than that. It is the heavy hammer of the Imperial ire against the slender cervid shaft poking and prodding, and the sweat flies from his form as he presses on, shoving away the sadness that comes with solitude in swing after swing after swing.

But the practice grounds are large, and others will need to train...

The young Crab has arrived to practice as well. She started with the bokken as she knew sword work would be required at some point.

Her skills were still very much those of the novice, but she persevered, seeking to improve.

Urusai reaches the end of one set of forms, sweat dripping off of him, and he nods to the Kaiu.

"Good training day, yes?" he asks, by way of greeting, and then adds "Urusai, son of Tokaji, of the Most Noble Family of Seppun" as an introduction.