[Prompt from http://daily-writing.blogspot.com/ .]
Sashimoto Yuri tried not to think about how trivial everything was. He tried not to let the part of himself that always craved a different life shine through and laugh at what he was doing. That wasn’t the path to the true Way.
In his hand was his sword. His companion sword was still nestled contently in its sheath, resting in his belt until he would practice with it. Just as Master taught him, he was holding the long sword in a way that made his hands pliable yet without play. He focused all of his intention on practicing the cuts he was recently taught on the tall icicles of the waterfall. By taking note of the size of the cut or of the piece of ice flung from its family, Yuri could tell whether or not his intention was strong. He needed to work on making his spirit reflect his body.
But then Kou’s face popped into his head and he couldn’t feel anything, not even the biting wind on his exposed skin.