*Yukio doesn't practice kendo. He's not a fighter, but he is capable of appreciating the rhythm of sounds as people practice their movements. He puts his hand on the door and slides it shut. He leans against the walls, folds his arms protectively, and watches.*
Yet they have passed. How old are we now? *He waits for her to put the sword away, remaining still.* Twenty? Twenty one? And yet we look the same as we did before. But it's good to see you. *He smiles. Yes, Yukio is smiling wtf.*
Very well. *Ayako takes her bokuto and she has it gripped into her hands. She takes on her signature stance and has a determined look clearly noticeable.*
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Four years. I never missed a day.
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As it is to you.
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Where would you like to go first?
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Very well, I shall go easy on you.
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