After the event, Urusai knows that some things must be practiced diligently, and so he bows himself into the training rooms, takes one of the blunted iaito from the racks, and begins practicing his quick-draw kata. It's a simple drill, the gliding draw-strike and resheathing, done at an excruciatingly precise snail's pace, reinforcing in every fiber the exact position in which it needs to be every time...

The Seppun wouldn't be the only one interested in training. Hirame made his way to the academy, a determined look on his handsome features. He bowed as he entered, something he was pretty sure he was supposed to do.

Spotting the Seppun, though, Hirame paused. "Hey, you're Seppun Urusai, right?" He asked.

"For a few more days, at least," Urusai replies with a slight smile. "And you are Hirame of the Mantis, if memory serves."

He gives a short bow, some sweat dripping from him as he does. "You've been doing well in the contests."

Smiling, Hirame nodded. He was still wearing his sharkskin jacket; he hadn't taken the time after the competition to go home and change.

"Funegao no Hirame. It's a pleasure to meet you, Seppun-sama." He had some vague idea that Imperials should probably be addressed as -sama. "And not quite so well as you. First in the rankings, eh? Quite impressive." His tone was cheerful, but interested.

Urusai shrugs. "The Fortunes favored me. Today, I did adequately. Tomorrow? Who knows?" he says. "The day is yet young, as are we."

He gestures to the racks. "Would you care to practice? Drill is good, but there's only so much as comes from it."

Still smiling, Hirame shook his head. "No need to be modest. I mean, it's good to recognize the achievements of others, but don't neglect your own, eh?"

Hirame nodded. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. There's been so much to do..." He paused, instead taking a few easy steps over to the racks.

"What did you have in mind?" He asked as he hefted a training stick experimentally.

"Have you studied the Exquisite Art?" Urusai asks. "I ask because I am less familiar with your Clan's customs than might be the case; I do not know your training standards.

"If you have, then we could perhaps test ourselves thusly--perhaps against the dummies kept for such purpose," and he points at literal strawmen nearby. "If not, perhaps simply kenjutsu practice, and I will get a bokken rather than using the iaito. Or if you prefer other weapons, I am happy to ply my skills."

Hirame grimaced. "I've studied it. Some. Not as much as I'd like. It's not easy to practice onboard a ship, for all sorts of reasons." He chuckled. "At the very least, whoever's working nearby gets annoyed at having to keep ducking." It was mostly a joke, but not entirely.

"Uh..." Hirame scratched his head. "What do you suggest?" He looked at Urusai, his expression turning more serious. "I've been doing well, it's true, but there's also a lot I still have to learn. And since you've been doing better, well..." Hirame's chin tilted up. "I don't feel any shame in asking you about training methods."

"Hm."

Urusai nods along with the grunt.

"Makes sense, now that you say it, really," he says. "And I'd imagine there's not much dueling on ship, nor use of larger weapons.

"Let me think." He sheathes the iaito and taps his chin. "One thing the Seppun do is work on stillness--how to maintain it, when to release it. It begins with breath, of course, as all things do, but there's not time to go into all of that, and I am no sensei, anyway.

"Kanze-sempai showed me things, though, which I was doing even here. Work through the motions slowly--very slowly. It forces you to be correct in each part of every movement, so that your body learns where it is supposed to be and can go there without having to be told it. I'd imagine it's like tying knots; how much do you think about doing it anymore?"

"There is not. And you're right, I don't think about knots at all." Hirame smiled. "Nor climbing, even at the top of the mast."

He pursed his lips, studying Urusai a moment. "Would you show me again? I think I saw you doing it when I came in, but, well, there's a difference between seeing something and studying it." He said.

"It's true," Urusai says, adding "get an iaito."

And, as the Mantis goes to do so and returns, Urusai slowly returns his hands to a neutral position, much as a guard might adopt while standing vigil in a courtroom, with the hands folded, right over left, atop the knot in his obi. From there, he begins the slide to the left, to the handle of the sword, beginning the motion of the draw.

"Right!" Hirame gave the other man (well, teenager) a fierce grin before snatching up a practice weapon of his own, and jogging over with an abundance of energy to where Urusai stood.

Taking a deep breath, he settled himself, dropping into a similar stance as Urusai; if they'd been standing closer, it might have been a duel, but Hirame had come to stand out of striking range. He did not draw himself, instead watching as Urusai went through the motions.

He'll be watching for a while, because the point of the exercise is the slowness of it, as Urusai noted. And he'll see there is no shaking, no hesitation, in the motions for all their slowness. Nor is there any snapping of motion, no sharp jerk-and-pause, but only a flowing, fluid, stream of slide-and-grasp-and-pull-and-pivot-and-extend, until the sword arm is parallel to the torso, arm raised such that the hand is just above the level of the head, the blunted blade of the iaito curving gently towards the front.

It pauses there for a moment, then lowers, circling back around for the molasses-motion of returning to the sheathe.

"Like that," Urusai says, and returns his hands to the folded position, right atop left.

He didn't often give the impression, but Hirame was patient. His hazel eyes traced every movement, the lines of energy and tension, the arcs and curves as the sword came free. And he watched, just as patient, as the sword returned to the sheathe, equally slowly.

For a few moments, Hirame was silent.

"Thank you, Seppun-sama." He said. "May I ask, if you don't think about what you're doing... what do you think about?"

"Ideally, nothing," Urusai says. "Ideally, and perhaps it is connected to the stillness, the exercise is done in a state of no-mind, simply being."

He smiles, somewhat sheepishly, and adds "I'm not usually at the ideal, though, and I find my mind attending to the angles of my joints and the stretching I feel in muscle and tendon and sinew. I feel my feet upon the floor, a slight catch in my left little finger--I think I slept on it oddly or somesuch thing--how many cords are in the handle of the iaito."

And her, the voice in his mind notes.

"My ancestors and their eyes upon me. That kind of thing."

"Nothing..." Hirame echoed, frowning thoughtfully. After a few moments, he shook his head.

He started to reach for his iaito's hilt, but then hesitated again. "May I ask you, what do your ancestors mean to you?" After a moment, he cleared his throat. "I apologize for speaking so directly. It is the Mantis way. And it is a question that's been on my mind lately."

"We still have time to ask such questions openly," Urusai says. "I take no offense--and it's a thing I've considered long.

"For me," he nods, "my ancestors are a source of pride and responsibility. They have helped to govern the Most Noble House of Seppun across centuries, and they have stood guard over the Throne and its occupants, and for that, they have been honored and rewarded. It is no small thing, no small honor, and it is one that they bore bravely and well.

"But that also means I am responsible for maintaining the legacy they have built and nurtured. And being of the Family that I am, I have a duty to lead--perhaps in command directly, but certainly in terms of showing what a samurai should be. My ancestors have made it so that I have the opportunity and that I feel the need to seize it fully; I can do the thing that they would have me do, and I will be rewarded for doing it, but it is also the thing I have to do.

"But surely you, too, feel the weight of expectation upon you, certain as you are that you suffice to the demand?"

"Hrm..." Hirame said, crossing his arms over his chest, frowning. "Yeah, it goes both ways, huh? Honor and expectation..."

He chewed his lip a moment before speaking again. "I'm not gonna say that ancestors aren't important to the Mantis, because they are. If they weren't, I wouldn't know that an Imperial Princess is in my family tree. But the individual is very important. Just look at Lord Yoritomo, and his twenty best men." Hirame chuckled dryly.

A moment, and he shook his head. "I feel the weight of my own expectations keenly enough. To add more to that..." He smiled. "But then, I've always done well under pressure."

He brought his hand to the hilt of his practice sword. "Shall we try again, together this time?"

"Of course," Urusai says, and he begins the evolutions again, his precision no less solid the second time.

And, trying to suit his actions to his earlier words, he relaxes into the still center of things, his mind quieting as his body rehearses steps it has long known.

Hirame, too, lowers himself into the stance, and begins the slow draw.

He's pretty good, actually. Graceful. He can draw the blade in a smooth, slow motion, and bring it in a careful arc. But little signs of lack of mindfulness are there, a tension in the arm that suggests that that he's keeping it steady through force of will rather than a peaceful state of mind.

Arm fully extended, Hirame, paused, grinning, a line of tension visible in his jaw. "It's not as easy as it looks, huh? How long do you think you've spent doing this?"