A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

"No. That’s wrong, you need to feel the wind around your fingers before you strike, and then release. You’ll create a current within the air that will push your opponent back slightly."

Momochi instructed. It was he that was teaching Gengyo this morning, rather than Soroko. A fight was being organised for him that afternoon, in which he would fight one of the older, more experienced monks.

And for the first time in a while, Gengyo was struggling to master one of the techniques. The form was perfect, but the feeling was off. It was a grandmaster technique after all, so it would not do to look down on it.

He frowned at Momochi’s words. This was his third time practising the strike, and each time he tried to imagine the feeling the old monk spoke of, but was unable to. It was odd indeed.

"Can you do it against me? So I can feel this pressure that you speak of."

Momochi had demonstrated it beforehand, but he had merely targeted the air in front of him, and had performed it more as a display, than as a physical attack.

"It’ll hurt." The monk warned. The strikes were not designed to have their power limited, and if he wished for it to be demonstrated on himself, then he had to be prepared to receive the full brunt of the attacks force.

"I’m ready." Gengyo responded after gritting his teeth. Had he not known how strong Gengyo was, then Momochi would not have dared perform such a thing. It was only because he knew the boy’s body could handle it that he even acknowledged such a suggestion.

Kitajo was with them too, though he was practising one of the lower tier techniques. Still, he claimed it helped to be around Gengyo as he trained, as it motivated him more, because he could feel the immense gap that was between them. His words had been met with some doubt, as normally that would serve to demotivate someone rather than motivate him, but still, they had not rejected it.

"Strike of the Thunder King..." The old monk breathed through his teeth, lifting his hands with pinched fingers, as he raised his front leg, as though he were controlling it by strings. He continued upwards, until he was leaned back in a perfect high kick, and then he jumped, whirling his leg around in a vicious sweep, that covered the entire circ.u.mference of the area around him. And then he slammed his foot into the floor, and pushed forward with both palms.

WHOOOOSH.

"Gah!" Gengyo groaned upon having such an immense pressure exerted on his body. It was a force that did not move him much, but it had a suffocating effect on his organs, and made it near impossible to breath. As a man of science himself, it was astounding to see just how much humans were capable of.

"Well?" Momochi asked, helping him to his feet, as he had taken a knee.

"I think I get it now..." The only reason he was able to pick up techniques so quickly, was not because he was a master imitator, but because he understood how such things worked at a single glance, and was able to replicate that within his own body. Yet controlling the air pressure was an entirely foreign sensation, and had he not seen a human do it with his own body, then he would have scoffed, and called it impossible.

Now that it was performed on him, he thought that he understood. It was a way of manipulating the air, and the molecules within it. The momentum from the spin gathered the molecules in one place, and the palms were used to push them outwards, causing a large number of air molecules to collide with each other, and the opponents body, thus creating an increase in pressure that was unaligned with the pressure within the opponents body, causing rather serve internal damage.

He did as he saw Momochi do, only, the old monk did not dare stand in the way. Because he knew the boy to be more powerful than he, and it stood to reason that the change in pressure that he could apply would be more severe – it could even kill a man. He preferred not to take that risk.

WHOOSH

Even Kitajo had was training a distance away was able to feel it. A change within the air currents, as molecules - that were once distributed evenly and fairly - found a gap, a vacuum, and they moved to fill it.

"...Good." Was all Momochi managed to say. It was beyond good. On his fourth attempt, after getting a feeling for it, he was able to replicate it to an astonishing degree. There was only one man he knew of who could perform the strike of the Thunder King to such a degree, and that was the author of the technique itself. In the scroll, when the user struck, the air currents had been drawn, as though they were able to be seen, as well as felt. Yet it had become common knowledge that such a thing was not possible – it was merely done that way to aid understanding.

Yet here he was, witnessing such a thing. Such serve changes in pressure that the air molecules were grouped so tightly as to become visible to the human eye – though of course, only for the briefest of moments, before the forces once more balance, and equilibrium was reassumed.

"It feels powerful." Gengyo decided, having carried out the strike. It did not look too physically demanding at first glance, but in reality, he was actually having to shift a weight, and so needed a good amount of force.

"It certainly looks powerful." Momochi agreed. Almost all his strikes did. At this point, after seeing such high mastery of his first grandmaster technique, it felt unfair to pair him up against one of the normal monks – even if they were older and more experienced than the rest, knowing a few grandmaster techniques themselves. Yet still, it was necessary. They would make a spectacle of it, so that they could demonstrate the lad’s prodigy, and make it less odd when he challenged Kuraka.

"...This afternoon, go easy on him, aye?" He asked, a little worried. He didn’t think the lad would kill merely for the sake of killing, but he wondered whether he might get a little ahead of himself, and rush to show off all that he had learned.

"Haha, I’ll be sensible, worry not, Momochi-sensei." He was quite comfortable referring to the two old monks with such an honorific, despite being of the age he was, and the position he was. They were wise enough to warrant that and more, and they had greatly helped him. They were teachers, in the truest sense. Had the modern teachers of Japan had even a fraction of their wisdom, then the students would turn out mightily fine indeed.

"Imagine if you’d know such techniques in our battles, Miura. We would have been able to win no problem then." Kitajo murmured, in awe of the display that he had just witnessed. His master had grown terrifyingly strong now, and he did not doubt that he could take on a good number of men alone.

"Mm. I prefer to think of the future, and all that I might be able to achieve with it. The past is no longer something I can change." Came his response, as he toyed idly with the spear.

"A good response. The past is gone and the present... now that’s gone too. It once more becomes the past. To live truly, one needs to learn from the past, be moving in the present, whilst inclining himself toward the future. You merely need to decide how much of your future you are intent in controlling." He spoke. His years of experience had brought him to such a conclusion. The phrase ’live in the present’ had been passed around for decades, yet the present was the most fleeting moment of all, and so he had found balance in this way.

"What about you, young Kitajo? Have you decided?" The monk asked, turning to the lad. Whilst he was the teacher of Gengyo, and understood his might, he did not ignore Kitajo in the least, and still offered him all the wisdom that he could.

"Have I decided what?" Came the boy’s confused response.

"Just how much of the future are you content with controlling? One year? Ten years? A minute?"

"Eh..." The lad was stumped upon hearing such a thing. He had never considered it’s like before. He merely had dreams, and planned when he felt like it. He’d never really considered why he thought the way he did.

"Ten years... Is a little unreasonable. Maybe a month?" He responded tentatively, not knowing whether that was the right answer or not. But Momochi merely nodded.

"A month is a good length of time. If you plan to make progress within that month, then your approach to achieve those goals can be detailed. Yet it not too detailed that they become overwhelming. How about you, young Miura?"

Both of them looked his way. Momochi already had an idea of how he might respond, but Kitajo was intrigued. He was a man that he admired and looked up to, and he was finally being offered a glimpse ino how his mind worked.

"Mm..." Gengyo pondered, as he leaned on his spear. "I wish for loose control over 30 years, a firm hold over ten years, and complete mastery of a year." He decided.

Momochi nodded without surprised, whilst Kitajo looked down, ashamed.

"Kitajo. Do not compare your mind to Miura. His way is neither better or worse than yours, only different." Momochi reassured him. Of course someone like Gengyo - who was forever scheming - would have such far stretching plans. Else why would he work as hard as he did? But such a mindset was not for everyone. It made them neither a better or worse person. It only made them different. Ridicule would be easy, but Gengyo did not bother. It was himself he held to such a high standard, not other people.

"Hoho, it seems old Soroko is on his way. Are you ready for your duel, Miura?" Gengyo had heard the old man’s footsteps as well, and even now, he felt a degree of nervousness. From his understanding many monks had gathered. But it was a good nervousness, and he did not allow himself to be consumed by it. It merely reminded him to perform at his best, and even if he were to lose, not to allow it to become a true loss. He would perform to the highest standard he was capable, so even in defeat, he could hold his head high.

"I am."