The Skill Collector

"Instead of just repeating it, swing it killer and do your best!

"Ha!"

A feverish voice echoes in the dojo.

A magnificent man with a wound to his face raises his voice, and dozens of the doorman shouts back a loss.

This is the famous swordsmanship dojo, and I was given a tour in the corner to stay out of the way.

The dojo owner, even called Kensei, was told that if the strength of the sword, he would enter the five fingers in the world. Currently one of those five fingers is that clan that inherits skills from generation to generation.

The dojo owner is in the middle of forty. He has a body built up just for swordsmanship. The flesh that you don't need to wave your sword is the flesh that shrugged off, whether it's muscle or not.

It's like a sharpened body.

Young to call an old man, but old enough to call him a veteran. Still, the appearance of a temperamental man who never fades is reminiscent of his youth.

"That hasn't changed a bit."

My first time with him was when I was a child under ten.

A child with worn clothes and thin hands and feet, who was working hard with a wooden stick in one hand in Slam Street.

Giraffed and radiant, vibrant eyes that feel strong will, incompatible with a body with nothing but skin and bones. Fascinated by that appearance, I sold him my 'swordsmanship' skills on a whim.

Including telling him to pay for his birth and make sure he returns it.

Even if you say you sold it, it's level one. It was up to him to grow from it.

The conversation at the time was certain,

"Why, do you want to learn swordsmanship?

"Because I want to be stronger than anyone else! I want to be strong and make money, but when you're stronger than anyone else, you don't have to surrender and fight just because you heard my name, do you? When I get stronger and famous, my dad and mom won't beat me up! The truth is, I know it's wrong to solve this with violence with a sword or something. But when you get strongest, you don't have to have a sword to get away with it, so don't hurt yourself!

His answer derived as a result of a mixture of harsh environments and purity. It's a childish ridiculous idea, full of contradictions. But I wanted to bet on his future.

- The results are as you can see. I guess his obsession was just far beyond imagination, rather than there was foresight.

He pulled himself out of the battlefield ten years ago and is now a dojo owner and focused on backward education.

If he is as powerful as he is, it was no surprise that people begging for teaching pushed him in thousands of units, but all the gatekeepers currently in this dojo.

Dozens...... thirty-seven to be exact.

Three new students joined this year. - No, it's a little different that I joined. There were three of them left.

Speaking like this, they tend to wonder if the training has quit sounding harsh, but it's not.

Many prospective entrants will withdraw their entrance within the first day…

"Let's put on an archery. Three newcomers, anybody."

When the man, the dojo owner, cuts out like that, the three new recruits are face-to-face to talk to each other about who they're going from. Looks like the tallest and most physically fit youth of the three ran first.

"Normal, please"

He seemed to remember his arm and advanced in front of the dojo owner with a grand foothold.

He doesn't stand in front of a dojo owner who made a name for himself as a swordsman, but he doesn't even seem to care. I have a mocking grin on my mouth as to whether the two remaining newcomers feel the same way as the youngest.

... This year's rookie is terrible. A few people have these attitudes every year, but more importantly, all three of them do. Off this year.

Usually, in the sight of the dojo owners, many of those who wish to get started are disappointed and scornful.

Few of you are the gatekeepers here and have behaved similarly to them. There are those who overlap their past with their new arrivals and laugh bitterly.

The gatekeepers all seem to stop their hands and see new fights with the dojo owners.

Newcomers put the long wooden sword they had in their hands on the upper level, and the opposing dojo owner drips the sleeves of the long shirt.

"No need to hesitate. Seriously, punch in."

I don't know if you're hurt.

"If the attack plunders, I'll give it to the master."

"Remember that word! Ha!"

Exhale briefly, swinging the wooden sword down from the upper section at the same time as a sharp step in.

Instead of sneering, the opposing dojo owner moved forward, turning behind him through the side of the new arrival.

A unique gait that keeps his body from rocking up and down, slipping, is his forged leg muscles and daily workout moves.

"What, disappeared ⁉"

As soon as his body did not blink in front of him like a still image, and he saw the sight and closed his eyes for a moment of surprise, the newcomer could not see with his eyes the dojo owner who had passed through his neighbor at the fastest speed.

"This way, you immature bastards"

The newcomer, who fluttered to the voice he heard from behind, now just stood up to let go of the poke - the movement stopped.

The new recruit, who has been shot with his attentive eyes, is unable to move on to the attack with his whole body trembling into small pieces.

The dojo owner said, "Huh!," he said, stepping in with a cracking mood, the youth defeated the wooden sword to the side and took the defensive set-up.

I could see in the eyes of everyone in the dojo that the young man had been cut from his brain by two wooden swords.

The young man collapses from his knees and falls to the front of his lap.

Freshmen spraying liquids such as sweat and urine other than blood from all over his body had white-eyed spasms in intact condition.

They say they've been turned into two straight in front of you, but there's no scratch anywhere.

Newcomers and dojo people saw - phantoms.

It was a slaughter by an unlikely sword, shown by the temper of the dojo owner.

Everyone in this room knew that the dojo owner could not be slaughtered. That said, I saw a sword that no one should have seen, and I witnessed a newcomer torn apart by a blow from the top.

That can't happen. Everyone knew.

Because the dojo owner doesn't have - both arms.

Ten years ago I came under a soothing darkness and returned nearly twenty men, but the poisoned blade plundered both arms and severed them instead of my life.

Since then, he has been unable to wave his sword.

He still never abandoned his swordsmanship, knocking his skills into the doorman.

I heard that he would open a dojo where he had made a name for himself as a swordsman, and many hopefuls came from all over the world, but was disappointed to see him lose both arms...... he turned back his heel.

Anyone who has a cheap idea that it would be easier to train if it were a teacher without arms who ended up remaining, or a handyman who intends to take over this dojo.

Still, he continued his mentoring without breaking his heart. From time to time, this is how you beat the sweet-thinking people with one-on-one archery, with a look of respect in their eyes.

He also seemed to have talent as a mentor, and the level of 'swordsmanship' skills of the gatekeepers is uniformly high.

The activities of the graduated disciples became heard everywhere, and they could only be listed as one of the five major schools at any one time.

"Okay, that's it for today! Wipe your sweat immediately and don't let your body cool down! After the audition, your immune system is weakening and you're more likely to break your body!

"Yes!"

The disciples wipe their bodies with cloth and start cleaning the tools and the dojo.

The dojo owner receives the cloth given to him by his disciple with his toes and cleverly wipes his face and neck. It is the softness of the joints and the bleeding effort that moves the feet like hands.

"Excellent work"

"You've come a lot, collector. Thanks to you, I can handle it."

Lined beside him, he sees the side of the dojo owner looking at his disciples with tender eyes and exhales a relief (mostly) sigh in his chest.

Ten years ago, I had talked to him when he was in the dark and lost both hands, but at the time he was in a state of desolation and barely being able to eat.

Swordsmanship that hung everything in my life. Knowing that the sword could never be shaken again, his despair is immeasurable.

He was in pessimism at the time...... couldn't watch.

"Laugh at me, collector. I can't even hold my sword to hurt myself... Mine! Mine! What the hell have you been up to in the last thirty years? He has slaughtered demons and has also put hostile humans in his hands. I was ready to follow my dreams and die on the battlefield! I hold my sword to the end, fight and die... That's what I believed... He said he was only halfway down the path of the sword I sought, but everything was slashed to pieces... If this happens to you, your important skills will be sold..."

I still remember clearly what he looked like when he killed his voice and cried.

Brushing his arms with our style, he was about to see the culmination of a swordsman, who overnight ceased to be a swordsman.

As it was, it was visible that I would choose death myself. So I suggested to him the way to teach people my swordsmanship.

"If you can't shake yourself, why don't you entrust it instead? If you are no longer able to proceed in the middle of the road, ask your successor to proceed. Because your ideal path is still there."

There were also ways of transferring skills and entrusting them later, as they did in handing them over to their children in a monogamous manner. But if he does it, he loses the point of living.

Then I wanted you to find another life as a mentor. To him it could be a life of humiliation. Maybe it was easier to be dead here.

Still, I didn't want him to die. I wanted to see his eyes again with that ambition and hope.

So now we've decided to sell 'Instruction' to him.

"I will never give up again. The road is still here. Now if I get a leg, I'll crawl, but I'll move on. It was you, the collector, who gave me hope of living. I really can't thank you enough."

The eyes also bow their heads deep in the morning, so the gatekeepers are looking at us to see what's going on.

"Please don't. Everything is the result of your efforts. Keep your chest up."

Both "Swordsmanship" and "Instruction" I gave are level 1 only. It was all his strength that brought it up to this point.

I was also amazed by the sudden growth of 'mentoring' skills, but it was his' swordsmanship 'skills that doubted my eyes.

Before losing both arms, "Swordsmanship" had evolved into "Advanced Swordsmanship" of high skill, but since becoming a mentor, the skill level of "Advanced Swordsmanship" had increased.

The level of 'Advanced Swordsmanship' increases when he says he has lost both arms and can no longer wield his sword. I was stunned by that fact.

His swordsmanship wasn't just entrusted to the gatekeepers, but he kept walking himself.

"Yes, I want you to decide the name of our genre. I don't mind being anonymous, but my disciples are so loud. Seems inconvenient that the genre can't answer"

I was told that abruptly and tried to say no instantly, but when I could stare into my eyes that got the light back... I couldn't say no.

A genre. One of the five major genres but has not decided on an official name, so his teaching swordsmanship is called in various ways.

No double stream, no flash stream, no phantom stream, no designation defined.

As his genre, is it the most appropriate name? I'm honestly not sure about my naming sense, but there was one name I could think of when I looked him in the eye.

"How about swordless...... You can fight without a sword, the way you pursued it."

The ideals he told me as a child. Swordsmanship that wins without a sword and doesn't hurt your opponent.

"You remembered, tell me about when you were a kid.... Swordless? All right, from now on, let me name you that!

Swordsmanship taught by a master who can't use a sword.

It showers the gaze of curiosity, and those who visit his dojo for chilling purposes follow.

But whoever witnessed his battle never laughed again at the swordless.