The first step into the stream was a battle in itself. The water, though shallow, rushed around my ankles with surprising force, tugging at my balance, demanding my attention. It was nothing like the solid ground I had trained upon. Each movement felt uncertain, as if the earth itself had betrayed me.
Elder Sun stood on the bank, arms folded. "Draw your sword. Begin the First Form."
I hesitated. Practicing forms on the training grounds was one thing—there, my footing was stable, my body reliable. Here, every step threatened to shift, to slip. I exhaled and unsheathed my blade, its weight grounding me even as the water fought to pull me away.
I stepped forward into the opening stance. Immediately, the current pushed against my leg, nearly sending me off balance. I adjusted, compensating with sheer strength, planting my feet firmly on the riverbed.
Elder Sun clicked his tongue. "Foolish."
I gritted my teeth but said nothing.
"Water flows because it does not fight. You are trying to conquer it, and so you are losing. Adjust, or you will fall."
I exhaled sharply and reset my stance. This time, I did not force my weight downward. I let the current move around me, shifting with it instead of against it. My next step was smoother. Not perfect, but better.
I raised my sword and began the First Form. The arc of my swing felt strange—sluggish, as though my movements dragged against the air itself. The water changed everything. My usual power felt distant, ineffective.
Again and again, I moved through the sequence. Each time, the river reminded me of my mistakes. Each time, Elder Sun watched in silence.
The sun climbed higher, and fatigue set in. My legs burned, my arms ached, and yet I continued. Step, swing, adjust. Again. Again.
By the time Elder Sun finally spoke, my breath was ragged. "Enough."
I sheathed my sword and stood still, the water flowing past me as if my presence meant nothing to it.
Elder Sun approached the edge of the stream, his gaze sharp. "You learned something today. Do you understand what it is?"
I thought for a moment before speaking. "I relied on force before. But here, force alone is useless. I must move with awareness, not just strength."
A rare flicker of approval crossed his face. "Good. But understanding is not mastery. Tomorrow, we continue."
I bowed my head in acknowledgment.
As I turned to leave, I looked down at the water flowing around my feet. It had not stopped. It had not struggled. And yet, it had shaped me more than any strike ever had.
Slow. Steady.
Like the river, I would learn to move.