“Could we just spar today?” Yipachai asked. “Without Lan Kuanghi?”

  Naoko cocked her head, her gaze drifting over to where Suiwei lay beneath a tree on the near side of their practice clearing. “Why do you want to do that? We need to keep working on team maneuvers. You’re still coming in too low, and I’m still half a step behind you when you fly past.”

  Yipachai held up his hands. “I know, but I was just thinking that we should work on our raw dueling skills as well. If we’re better-rounded as fighters, the masters are more likely to choose us for the tournament team, right?”

  Naoko let out a sigh, but then she nodded. “Fine,” she said, and raised her practice sword. “Whenever you’re ready.”

  Before he could stop himself, Yipachai bowed to her—a gesture of thanks. And one that was far too formal for the situation.

  Laughing, Naoko pounced.

  Yipachai barely got his blade up in time to block her thrust. “I thought you said whenever I was ready,” he growled. He aimed a counter strike for her left side.

  Naoko skipped backwards, out of the way. “I did, but then you waited too long.”

  They settled into the duel then, circling one another, each testing the other’s defenses, engaging in quick clashes before separating again.

  It didn’t take long for Yipachai to realize he was still outmatched. Naoko wasn’t as strong as the male Banqilun novices, but her reach was still a problem.

  Each time Yipachai attempted to press an attack, Naoko was able to lash out at him, the tip of her blade reaching far enough that he couldn’t land a hit without risking being slashed or stabbed himself.

  Yipachai pulled out of yet another whirlwind bout of strikes. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead. His usual tactics—the forms he’d been taught—weren’t working. He needed something else. He needed to think.

  What would it take for him to be able to slip past the edge of Naoko’s reach? When was she vulnerable, unable to halt his advances?

  Naoko came at him again with a sideways cut. Yipachai caught it on his blade and made his move. A counter-attack seemed like the most likely time for him to step in. He pulled his sword back, stepping forward as he angled a thrust at Naoko’s chest.

  Crack.

  Naoko’s blade connected on his ribs, the follow-up to her initial attack. A death blow, if they had been using real swords.

  Yipachai grunted and stumbled sideways. His counter had been no good—by pressing his attack immediately after a quick block, he had failed to make sure Naoko’s blade was no longer a threat.

  “Again?” he asked, rubbing at the spot where she’d hit him.

  Naoko grinned. “Only if you want more bruises.”

  Yipachai nodded, and they began again.

  And again.

  And again.

  He tried feinting first, then surging forward to get inside her reach.

  Crack.

  He tried pushing through after she blocked one of his strikes.

  Crack.

  He tried to overwhelm her with a series of quick strikes, feints, and finally—

  Crack.

  “What are you doing?” Naoko asked as they pulled away, her brow glistening with sweat. “Your form looks terrible.”

  Yipachai squatted down onto his haunches, panting. “I’m trying to figure something out.”

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  Only, the sun was near to setting, and he still had yet to find a way to win a fair fight against an opponent with greater reach.

  “Are you trying to figure out how many hits you can take before you’re so sore you can’t move? Because that’s what it looks like.”

  Yipachai gave her a hard look. “One more,” he said.

  Naoko shrugged. “You’re the one who’s going to pay for it tomorrow.”

  Yipachai stood and faced her, then sunk into his stance, holding his blade straight out in front of himself. “Come on, then.”

  Naoko obliged, dashing forward and swinging at him with an overhead strike.

  Yipachai blocked. But this time, he did his best to watch. Like a heron studying its prey. Patient. Learning its movements.

  Naoko swung again, and Yipachai side-stepped, his eyes taking in everything—the arc of her blade, the angle of her hands, the positioning of her feet. Those were the things she could hurt him with.

  Where were her weak points? What were the tiny moments where she’d be unable to attack him?

  Yipachai took a step backwards, and let Naoko chase him. He defended, but refrained from returning her strikes. It wasn’t about wearing her down, or letting her tire herself out. It was research.

  If he was going to strike, it needed to precise. Perfect.

  “What are you doing?,” Naoko asked, her neck and jaw clenched tight. “I thought you wanted to fight again.”

  “I do!”

  “Then fight. Back.” Naoko growled the last word and unleashed a wicked upward cut that Yipachai barely had time to block.

  But there it was.

  He’d been too slow to act that time, but with Naoko’s last strike, Yipachai had seen his opportunity. In that brief moment when Naoko had whirled her blade around, spinning it so that the blade pointed skyward, she’d necessarily pulled it backwards—away from Yipachai.

  That was when he needed to strike. If he pressed forward while Naoko’s blade was moving backwards, she would be forced to either block his advance or to make a weak, awkward attack in order to account for his new position.

  Yipachai felt a thrill go through him. He finally knew what he needed to do—and it didn’t only apply to upward slashes. Every attack he knew, every cut he’d been taught, had the same vulnerability. There was always a moment for loading the strike, for positioning the blade so that it would strike its target properly.

  He simply had to be quick enough to get in before the strike landed.

  Yipachai felt a smile creep over his lips as he settled in to wait for Naoko’s next strike.

  No, not her next strike. The moment before her next strike. He needed to see it once more to confirm his theory before he subjected himself to another beating.

  There. Naoko hitched, her hips opening as she loaded an overhand, cross-body slash.

  Yipachai leaned into it, catching the tip of her blade near the base of his own. A position of strength for him. Of leverage.

  Then, when Naoko pulled back for a follow-up strike, he made his move. Instead of preparing another block, the way his instructors would have advised him to do, Yipachai took another step forward, coming in underneath Naoko’s upstretched arms with a quick slash of his own.

  Naoko responded immediately, jerking her arms back to protect herself, her blade knocking Yipachai’s to the side just before his blow landed.

  But even though she’d been able to block his first attack, Yipachai could feel the shift. Naoko was now crowded, her elbows tucked in tight to her torso, leaving only her forearems and wrists as her remaining options for maneuvering her blade.

  Yipachai struck again, continuing his forward path as Naoko frantically tried to scramble backwards, to create space between them again.

  Yipachai refused to let her.

  He surged forward, leveraging strikes as quickly as he could, landing glancing blow after glancing blow as Naoko attempted to fend him off, until finally he landed a solid hit on her side.

  “There!” he exclaimed, and finally let Naoko stumble backwards and away from him, a look of breathless bewilderment on the sharp angles of her face.

  “What was that?” Naoko said at last, grasping at her ribs. “That’s not how we’re supposed to duel.”

  Yipachai grinned and brushed his sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes. “I told you, I was trying something different.”

  Naoko shook her head. She was still panting. “You’ll get yourself killed, stepping into attacks like that.”

  “I’ll get myself killed fighting Banqilun anyway,” Yipachai said, then tucked his practice sword back into his belt.

  “You’re crazy, Hetanzou, you know that, don’t you?” Though she sounded exhausted, a hint of a smile clung to Naoko’s lips.

  Yipachai responded with another smile. He’d been called far worse in his life, and by people who had been far less kind. And this time, he was almost certain there was a note of admiration in Naoko’s voice.

  So he let that little note fill him. He let it motivate him.

  He’d made progress today. Had found at least the beginnings of the edge he sought. It would certainly take far more practice before he mastered the technique, and there would most definitely be further techniques to learn, but he’d taken the first step down what felt like the correct path—the path that led to vengeance, and justice for those who had been wronged by Mangsut and his crew of bandits.

  And despite the heat of the fire that still burned in his belly to see his quest through to completion, Yipachai allowed himself to enjoy the moment. The feeling of progress. The feeling of a hard-earned victory.

  The gentle teasing of a friend.

  He thought back to Tianfu’s words. Enjoy the relationships you’ve made here.

  Perhaps, when his quest was finished—if he survived it—he’d have a place to come back to, here in Amigawa. Friends to catch up with, when he no longer worried about bandits and other evil men.

  That might not be such a bad life after all.

  “So,” Yipachai said, his spirits fully lightened after the weight of the last several days, “do you want to go again, or should we go see if they’ve left any supper out for us?”

  Naoko’s eyes sparkled. “I’m not leaving until I pay you back for this welt on my ribs.” She brandished her sword at him. “On your guard!”

  Yipachai smiled and drew his blade.

  The Rising Blade is set in the wider world of The Mhong Chronicles, only about a hundred years before the events of the main series.

  The Emperor's Dream, is out now! And you can . More on that below.

  have to read that series in order to continue on The Rising Blade—this story stands on its own.