He held the wooden training sword over his head with perfect form, inhaling slowly. Sliding forward on his front foot, the sword fell. It was all in slow motion. It always was lately. Breath in breath out. Step, slide, cut.
Training alone was difficult. Training alone could get monotonous very easily. The same movements over and over would in time sharpen his skills like a blade on the grindstone. Yet the true martial artists always sought a partner. Someone to test them, find their flaws, and make them better. That's what the martial arts were about after all. They weren't about trophies, how many bricks someone could break with their bare hands, or how quickly someone could beat a man into a pulp in an octagon shaped ring.
No, the arts were about peace in the end. They could be a swift and deadly force of destruction, but the objective of being a skilled martial artist was in the end to train the mind to understand the situation. That was one reason why Trey Freedman preferred the art of Aikido. The versatility and adaptability of the art to handle any situation against any number of attackers was unlike most other martial arts available.
Whereas some arts were designed to kill or maim no matter the conflict, the use of Aikido could be adjusted to handle the stupid and rowdy drunk without causing injury, or absolutely destroy the men trying to force you or a loved one into a van.
Trey finished his five hundredth cut with the sword and breathed deeply, sliding the blade along his arm and sliding it into his hand as if it were a sheath at his side. He bowed and headed for the door of the small yoga mat room at the local gym near his new home. Trey looked at himself in the wall mirrors that were there for the dance classes that took place in this room earlier in the day. His grey muscle shirt was crowned with damp sweat spots, and his lean muscular chest heaving with each breath. He grinned at himself and smoothed his damp, dark brown hair, even though it was really too short in his military style to worry too much about. His hazel eyes were turning a darker shade of green today as the winter approached, and he winked at himself in congratulation of another good workout. Then his smile faded.
Trey was tired of training alone. He longed for his old dojo in Arizona, and the weather was much to cool here for his taste. Still, the move had been necessary to stay ahead in his career. Trey had tried to start a new school on his own beginning here at the local gym. He was high enough ranking to teach beginning to intermediate students fairly well, and he had figured that the lure of a martial arts program at the gym would have brought in at least a few curious students. The gym was even more surprised that Trey wanted to do the class for free, and out of curiosity and in the name of publicity, the gym managers had let him announce his class.
Yet no one had come. Aikido was just not well known as either a workout or a viable means of self-defense. After all, the most basic skills of Aikido took years to develop, and most people simply did not have the patience. Trey packed up his sword in its protective tube-shaped bag and prepared to leave.
He reached for the door to the small mat room, beyond which was the main workout area. This area was, of course decorated with rows and rows of weight and cardio machines facing small portable televisions. But the door opened toward him before he reached it, and a beautiful young woman stumbled into the room.
She wore basic cotton sweat pants and a sky blue tank top supported by a black sports bra. She was curved in all the right places and only a few inches shorter than he was. Trey stumbled back in surprise.
She giggled in embarrassment and brushed a strand of blond hair from her face.
"Oh, sorry," the woman said in a cheerfully high voice. "I was looking for the uh... self defense class?"
"Well," Trey said, scratching the back of his head. "It's not exactly self defense, but it is a martial art and it will be better than any self defense class in the long run."
The woman nodded vaguely, smiling politely at him.
"Uh, never mind," Trey said begging to brush past her. "I think you want the class on Monday's and Fridays."
She caught him by the arm.
"Oh, no. Tell me about what it is you teach. I'm interested."
She looked up at him with pleading blue eyes.
"Please."
Trey felt something inside him melt just a bit. He wanted more than a student from this girl, he realized suddenly. Could he keep it professional?
"S-sure," he said after a long moment. "What was your name?"
"Emily," she said, shaking his hand firmly.
"Nice to meet you Emily," Trey said. "I have a feeling you are going to like this art."
************
They had been training together for two weeks, and already Emily was very much into Aikido. Trey was a good teacher. He was kind, patient, and willing give himself completely to her learning so that she got the feeling he was trying to make her better than him in the end. And he was also very easy on the eyes. She couldn't believe that after this long she was still his only student, but she certainly didn't mind.
They began the training session as they always did, by practicing the solo kata. Emily still felt awkward and clumsy going through the motions. She still watched Trey's feet and tried her best to mimic him as he moved, turned, and slid through a very simple dance that covered all four cardinal directions. She tried to remember that she was supposed to have the sensation of what Trey called "falling" as she moved. She breathed deeply, becoming lost in the movement.
When she finished, Emily took a deep breath. She turned facing the mirrors and adjusted the white belt of her gui. She wore a white t-shirt underneath to protect her modesty, but she loved the way Trey's gui hung slightly open, so that she glimpse see his very strong and smooth looking bare chest. He turned after a deep breath of his own and smiled at her.
"Good!" he said cheerfully. "You're starting to get the hang of the movement."
She beamed at him, waiting for him to describe what they would be doing for today's lesson. Sometimes he began with a lecture of sorts, other times he just started walking her through movements. His touch as he guided her movements, standing so close she could feel his breath on the back of her neck . . . it had driven her crazy. But she was already needing his help less and less.
