The book fell to the floor with a thud next to the pair of mudstained trousers. Up on the bed, Jaycee rolled over to stare at the ceiling. He probably should clean those up, but he was sick of anatomy for the time being. Some of the information he knew, the rest was either gross, or incredibly boring. While he might be able to use a bit of that knowledge, most if it he would have a hard time remembering. Very rarely had he been able to remember things that he didn't have any use for. On top of that, his eyes were begenning to hurt. Although he could read quite well, he hadn't had the opportunity to read as much as he'd liked. Even the books he had read, he wasn't always reading, as much as reciting from memory. The number of books back at home had been so small he could count them on one finger.
Sitting up and rubbing his aching eyes, Jaycee sighed. He wasn't in the least bit tired, and he couldn't stand to read a single page more. The bed creaked as he slid off of it and his legs complained when he knelt down. picking up both the book and the pants he had changed out of earlier that day. Setting the book on the counter, the young man turned to open the pocket door which he assumed was the closet. His suspicions were correct, and soon the floor of the storage area was the new home to his dirty pants. "
I'll wash later..." he thought, setting the now-repugnant anatomy book on the desk.
"
Now..." "
..what to do". Jaycee spoke the first part of the thought just to fill the empty air. If he couldn't sleep and he couldn't study, all that was left was to practice. It had been several weeks since he had practiced his
kata, or movement forms. The added benifit would be that he could exhaust himself doing them, and would be able to sleep after that.
Dumping the contents of his sack out on the bed, the young man shook his head. He had more than most servants, but was still a far cry from having much to his name. On the bed lay several changes of tightly folded clothes, a single blank scroll, an oilcloth pouch with tinder and flint, and his weapons.
A pair of steel Sais, simple wooden tonfas, razor Kamas, metal studded nunchuku, and a solid oak bokken lay on the bed. They always had a place in his pack. When Jaycee had first been assigned as a courier with William, he had been asked by the elder about those. At the time he was asked, he had only answered "
In case I need them". Now he would answer differently. "
I carry them because they each symbolize something to me". Each weapon had been awarded as a mark of his skill. As he had progressed through the ranks of his martial discipline, a weapon would be given to him for the accomplishment. Closing his his, Jaycee picked up the bokken and slid it into his belt, the memory of when he had earned it flooding through his mind.
The clipped accent of Tahiro, the weaponsmith sounded in his ears "
Bokken not like katana Jay-kun. Strong, they smash bone. Like bokken, you strong, but not refined. Once you refine yourself, you cut like katana. I already make, the blade for you half done is." That had been two years ago. Jaycee would have become a Sensei next year if he could have passed the test, and his katana would have been awarded to him. "
Would have. You'll never earn it now, you don't even need to practice your kata, it's pointless". Knuckles whitened as the young man held the handle of the bokken. Finally, his eyes opened and he picked a thick dark grey wool coat. He had no answer to the voice in his mind, but that wouldn't stop him from practicing.
Pulling on the scratchy woolen garment, Jaycee stalked to the door. It would be cold out, but he could handle that. Glancing around the room to make sure he wasn't forgetting anything, his hands fell to his belt to tighten it. Then, turning around, he shut the door firmly behind hin.
((Read my next rather short and nondescript post
here))
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