cutting_edgex23 | (no subject)

Lan isn't bothered by an audience. Never has been.

Lan, when he's doing sword forms, allows himself to be bothered by very, very little.

When that audience is someone he knows, though -- and, particularly, when it's X-23 carrying a sword, as he's never seen her do -- well. Then he'll draw the form to a halt rather sooner than he might otherwise.

She waits for him to look at her.

Then--

"Hello."

"Hello," Lan returns gravely.

Light illumine you is still more natural, but he's an old hand at picking up the customs of a place. Insofar as he wants to, at least.

And, in his turn, he waits.

She is silent for a little while.

But eventually--

"Duo gave me a sword."

"Why?"

He doesn't disapprove, certainly. And, though it's hard to tell at a glance how good a sword is, he trusts X-23 to know a weapon's quality. (He trusts Duo's competence in some areas; he's not sure if swords are one.)

But the first time he sparred with her, X-23 said I do not need a sword, and proceeded to demonstrate her good reason for saying that.

X shrugs.

"He did not need it."

And it was part of his costume at the time.

"It has good balance."

Fair enough.

"You have studied swordwork?"

She is quiet for a while.

Then--

"My sensei had a katana."

Thankfully, both of these are words Lan is familiar with. If you had as much free time as he does, and the personality he does, you'd read for research a lot too.

A katana, then: not as dissimilar as it could be, but still different enough. The nuances change.

(And a sensei; she's never mentioned that before. He'll remember.)

"Did you use it, or only defend?"

She offers a quick, awkward shrug.

"He wanted to teach."

She doesn't know what else to say.

And speaking of defense in regard to her sensei is--

Difficult.

It's hard to tell when X-23 is upset, sometimes, and when she's only having trouble with words.

Lan nods, in any case. And waits to see if she'll answer the question -- that, while interesting in its own right, wasn't really an answer -- or if she'll say something else.

He has a decent guess of what she might be working towards, but patience is often fruitful in conversations with X.

"I learned."

She falls silent again.

"This sword is not the same."

Many things aren't, really.

Which is why she is approaching Lan.

"No," he agrees.

"And so you want to learn the style of it?"

Odds are good he knows the answer to that one.

She thinks about that a moment, then nods.

"Yes."

It's a simple enough answer, really.

And it explains a lot.

(Or so she thinks.)

The logic makes perfect sense to Lan, at any rate.

If you have a weapon, you should know how to use it, preferably with expert competence. Anything less is just sloppy, and might get you (or someone else) killed someday.

He holds out a hand, after a moment, with an infinitesimal may I? tilt of the head.

She pauses, studying him carefully for a moment.

And then she hands the sword over, one hand on the hilt and one serving as a resting place for the flat of the blade.

Lan accepts the sword, with a grave formality that's both courtesy and a habitual bearing learned bone-deep.

What he wants is to feel the weight of it, the balance, the way it responds to the slight tilt of a wrist. He's methodical about it, moving with slow care, but all the same it doesn't take very long at all to judge. He offers it back to her with the same gesture: one hand under the hilt, one supporting the blade.

X takes it, then stands there, watching Lan uncertainly.

It has been a long time. (And he is nothing like the man who taught her so not-very-long ago.)

She is not sure how this goes.

"I will teach you what I can, if you would like. Forms, and sparring."

"That sword is close enough to others I have used."

She's silent again, assessing him (or maybe herself).

Then--

"Please."

It sounds awkward in her mouth. Almost foreign.

Lan inclines his head slightly: acknowledgement, tinged again with formality. "All right."

A beginner he would start on forms. Instead, for her, he draws his own sword with a whisper of sliding steel.

The change in his posture is very slight. But, to the right eyes, nothing like imperceptible. "Show me what you know."

She removes the sheathe of her own sword, setting it aside very carefully.

Her eyes never leave Lan.

And then, just as imperceptibly, she nods.

"I will be careful."

Which is to say that she will try not to make him hurt her.

And then she attacks, a quick feint to the left followed an upthrust to the right.

Her balance is fine, and so is her speed.

But her torso is remarkably exposed.

It is, and his eyes narrow slightly.

Her defenses are wide open there, and he takes the opportunity. The flat of his blade slaps against her side, in a cut that would lay her guts open if he'd used the sharp edge instead.

An instant later, his sword clashes with hers to parry a strike angling down towards his leg, and darts towards her shoulder.

She huffs out a breath, eyes widening in slight startlement.

It's not because he got a hit in, but because he used the flat of the blade.

That is inefficient.

She, out of old instinct, moves into the blow, bringing her shoulder up into the hilt of his blade, pivoting to disengage.

Her own sword is now up in the guard position. It's--not entirely familiar.

It shows.

It does.

Which means he presses his advantage, going on the offensive. This isn't all-out, even as sparring goes; she makes him work with his speed and his defenses, but the sword is his weapon, the patterns graven in every fiber of his muscles, and it's not hers.

Which is to say: he's testing her.

She falls back, lifting the blade to block his strike.

Then, because she has never been good at defense, she shifts to attack, sliding her blade along his before disengaging.

X arrows in for a striking glance at his arm, remembering (at the last moment) to turn her blade to the flat.

Just in case she gets a hit in.

She's fast; that's her best strength here. He does deflect that blow, but he has to work for it, and without much room for error.

He angles his blade under hers and up again in a quick twist designed to shove her sword harmlessly high while his parry shifts seamlessly into a stab.

She manages to shift so that her size is barely grazed.

But her blade drops from its guard position, and her own return-strike is poorly positioned.

That one's easy to block, and so there's hardly a break before the next attack darts in.

She doesn't stumble, just parries that blow before extending herself in a hasty cut to Lan's midsection.

The expression on her face is intent.

Very intent.

She needs to be.

Off-balance isn't quite the right word, but she's not in control of this fight. He is, and he's not needing to work as hard as he thought he might to keep it that way.

"Watch your defense."

The words don't slow the exchange of blows in the slightest, of course; the feints, slashes, blocks and quick footwork and questing twists of bright lethal metal.

"You're letting me through. Guard yourself."

She tries, but it is incredibly unnatural.

Which explains why she redoubles her attack, instead.

Silently.

That's one kind of defense, some say.

It's just not a sufficient defense.

Her flurry of attacks is enough to keep him moving faster, and having to evade as much as parrying sometimes; it's not, however, enough to keep him from returning the favor with his own blows.

And he's not working quite so hard to keep all strikes to the flat of the blade, now, even if he's also not aiming for any major injury.

She ignores the blood, and the pain from the increasingly deeper cuts.

They heal anyway.

She is not even getting frustrated at her inability to get past Lan's guard.

It's an exercise in patience, if nothing else. And she will remember this.

All of it.

Just in case.

He's hardly worried about her stamina. So the fight carries on a while longer -- enough to begin to settle into a rhythm, and enough to see if her defense will settle better into place as they go. (It doesn't.)

Mostly, though, he's testing for the nuances of what he already knows.

And neither of them is breathing hard when he does call an end to it with a succinct "Enough," and a step back.

She, too, takes one step back.

Then, a little more slowly, she lowers her blade.

Her gaze never leaves Lan.

"You're fast," he says, after a moment. His expression never changes; his tone, insofar as it has any expression either, is thoughtful. And, of course, assessing. "And you strike well. Your footwork's not the same as I learned, but it serves well enough."

"When you're pressed, you turn your wrists as if that sword were a katana. Easy enough to train out, with some time, but remember to watch it."

"Defense is your weakest point, though. Your guard's open too often -- you strike, and leave yourself clear for a blow."

X listens patiently through that recitation, taking it all in.

But at the end, she frowns.

"I do not need to avoid being hurt."

Really, now.

"Not like most," he agrees.

Lan doesn't seek out pain, but he learned to ignore it long ago. Injuries do hinder him rather more than they hinder X, though.

"But it's still no sense to take a blow when you don't have to. Even if it heals, the damage will slow you for a time."

X hesitates a little, still frowning.

"Sometimes that is useful."

Lan nods. "Sometimes."

Sheathing the Sword, it's called: when you accept a fatal strike to gain one. When the goal you must achieve is worth the price of your life. Lan isn't troubled by the notion.

Granted, for most people it's more of a one-time opportunity.

"But that should be a deliberate choice, every time. If you know that the attack you can make is worth the price of a wound, that is one matter. But if not -- can you move as well with your arm muscles cut, or your hamstring?"

"Parry the blow, and you save yourself those instants of healing. There are times when that small a space can make the difference between ending a battle or prolonging it."

X falls silent, taking that in.

Then--

"It is different with bullets."

They are harder to dodge.

For instance.

"Because they are faster?"

This is a slight tangent, but sometimes those are useful.

"Yes."

Beat.

"And you cannot parry them."

She pauses, studying Lan.

"You are familiar with automatic weaponry?"

Edited 2008-06-09 04:01 (UTC)

"Somewhat. I am familiar with the theory, and what I have seen at Milliways."

"It is hard to dodge all the bullets."

That seems simple enough.

To her.

Simple enough to him, too.

"No one can dodge every blow," he agrees. "But in swordwork, your blade is a defense as much as a weapon. You must learn to flow from one to the other, with an eye always to each."

"If you choose to let your guard down, that should be a choice."

She bites her lip a little, not too deep. Then she licks the blood away.

"Okay."

Beat.

"I will learn."

That last part makes the most sense.

Lan notices the blood. Of course. And wonders at it, a little.

But he doesn't comment.

Just nods, and moves on to the first form it seems useful to teach her. No form is only for defense, or only for offense, but this one does have a strong focus on some of the things she's weakest on.

Drilling will teach her the precise balance and shape of this sword better than anything else, too.