InsaneJournal

Section 4 (Installment 3)
Word count: 1 832

Magical training was, honestly, nothing like school. Or, at least, nothing like the school at the level Max had reached before running away, he had to admit later.

There was book-learning. There were whole days of nothing but book-learning. Reading from books, different books about all sorts of things - creatures, history, rules, spells, potions, more creatures, things to do, things not to do. Books that were almost too heavy for him to lift sometimes, and books that were so old that the Sensei gave him special instructions how to handle them. He also, sometimes - way too often - had to keep notes, or even entirely copy sections of some texts. And then to organize his notes.

Honestly, though, while it was hard to concentrate all the time for such long stretches, reading and learning from books again was a relief. He'd been so used to it that living on the streets and only getting to read discarded papers and books that ended up in the trash (and those were usually cheap paperbacks that, while interesting, didn't hold much food for learning) had starved him. It took him more than a year of being back to bookworming before he even thought of complaining. By which time he was so well-used to complying with what he was told, reasonably, that he didn't, in fact, complain. Just took the next journal of notes and started copying that in turn.

Then there were the physical training times. His mentor was a Warden, which seemed to be somewhere between a cop and a soldier, and his own routine included a lot of phsyical practicing. Some of it was very slow and Max didn't understand how it would help in a fight, but since the Sensei seemed pretty intent on doing it all, he joined just as he was told. It turned out more difficult than it looked too. Which, overall, Max decided that figured. He grit his teeth and carefully tried again. And again, and again. Until one day he could follow though the exercises, all of them, just as his mentor was doing them. It felt ... rather satisfactory. He never did get a chance to not practice running. Well, not for the next two years and a bit anyway.

The physical training also involved weapons. As with most things, Max was a quick study - when he opted for learning. For all the sword had been impressive when the his then-future instructor had showed up on that quiet street, when it came to being trained into the use of a sword, he mostly laughed it off. It was, after all, ridiculous - it was such an archaic weapon. He was taught some basics, but Katashi Sensei didn't press any more on him. There were things about which he was adamant. Others... were optional. "Wardens use swords, you know," he told him one day, after the habitual request to move on to the next kind of practice. "But then, I do not think you will become a Warden, unless you really want to be at that time. Your skills of fighting and thinking about fights are growing with every day, and all you learn can be used for that, but you think defensively. I do not think the Captain will want a defender-only in her numbers. Unless she had no choice, or you really decided it's what you want." Which I do not think you will wasn't said, but it was there, and Max heard it. Didn't object to it either. He'd seen enough of how the work affected his Sensei and was none too eager to take it up.
It also took decades and an entirely different kind of teacher to get him to seriously take up swordplay. Two-sworded, no less. Well, mostly. In actual fights, Max used a single blade. And how.
But not yet.

And then there was the training of the mind. Of course, with time he grew to see that all of it was indeed training of the mind, but there were specific times when he had to discipline himself. Meditation. Thought things - exercises - that he thought of as games in the beginning, but ended up understanding the sense of them eventually. And more.

It was this training that slowly started evolving into learning to use magic too. And by slowly... yes, it took a while. Enough for even Max to grow somewhat impatient, even if the memory of his whole body aching was a bit of a good enough reason to not insist too much. Obviously it wasn't just waving his fingers and things happening. But really. Sitting down and staring at one point and trying not to think of anything? How was that supposed to help?

But it did. Slowly, very slowly and with easy things, his Sensei got him to start using magic. Knowing what he was doing, this time. And it made a difference, a whole lot of difference.

And it felt just amazing. Feeling more alive, if that was ever possible. Feeling the power - power of life, in its way - collect in him, shaping it, and then letting it out to do what he wanted it to... It felt awesome. Great, and yeah, a bit frightening, but great. Sometimes it would be tiring again; other times, simply exhilarating. Whether it was defenses he was studying, or veils, or attacks, or other regular spells, or spells that weren't directly working but used foci of various types to be based on... it was all magic. Literally.

He understood then why there had been all the insistence on learning to discipline the mind. There were so many ways to distract yourself, and the spells wouldn't work if you didn't pay the proper attention.

In all, there was a whole lot to learn.

And there were arrangements. Max felt already too indebted to his mentor for offering to teach him to take up the offer - and the offer was made - to live with him. (It wasn't until later that he learned it was common practice, but even if he'd known, it wouldn't have changed his decision.) Or take money or even clothes and such from him. Sure, when there was food? Max would join in eating. Partly because he realized his host was honestly uncomfortable eating alone in his presence, and partly because damn he was hungry, and it was good - if... strange - food. But to live there, and all that? Oh yeah, he stayed and helped, just as he'd promised - on the one hand, he got so he had to give, that's how things usually worked; on the other, he'd promised. And he knew keeping a promise was important; and he learned it even better with this particular mentor. And then there was the obviously actual death threat if he broke the laws. In a way, keeping to all the rules that were set for him was easier than trying to avoid and dodge some but adhere to others.

They settled into a routine. Whenever the older man wasn't away on his work trips (a few times in the later years, he took Max with him - for help, and learning), the boy would show up at the appointed time. Spend the day at lessons. Eventually, if there was nothing else going on, some of the afternoon was left for him to do research or practice things on his own. Then when the day's work, as the mentor decided, was over, the apprentice would nod, leave his notes unless he had something he meant to learn by the next day on his own, at the much safer place, and vanished into the dimming light or the darkness, depending on the season. He didn't stop to watch, to observe, to learn all the time. He also got to realize that his Sensei didn't stop learning either, and at various times stopped to wonder what he was learning about himself, but this was working well, and he had a feeling of 'right' about it. And he was learning so much that even he felt content.

The first break in that routine came about two years after it got established. The night life of so much pleasure finally reflected on his ability to concentrate, and it was major. He was distracted, daydreaming. And while the levels of energy he demonstrated were higher (since lust is, after all, was energy as well, and not that difficult to use for magic), his control was quite unusually sloppy.

"Focus," his mentor snapped, again, and again, and on the fifth time he just had him stop and sat him down on that familiar chair by the fireplace. "What is the matter?"

"Nothing! I just can't seem to concentrate well today." His speech, with all the books he had read, had taken on a very literary use. He rarely curtailed the words' endings unless he was making a joke specifically; he was grammatically correct, and he had gotten to spell very well too, even if he said so himself and nobody really went to check his writing anymore. As far as he knew.

"It is not today only. Today is worst, but you've been like that for a week! Also, new smells. New place where you go to at night?"

The heat on Max's cheeks was from the fire, really. Well, mostly. Well, not at all. He took a breath, then stammered through the story of what had happened, and how he was now employed.

Katashi Sensei was quiet for a while after he finished, eyes heavy on Max, weighing what he was seeing. "Are you sure that's what you want to be doing? It is not something people your age should be made to do."

"Nobody's making me! I want it! I love it." The first part was slightly outraged, because really, it had been his choice, even if he really couldn't think of making another, not with ... his given incentive. But it ended seriously, honestly, as he'd gotten into the habit of talking with his mentor.

After another long moment, the older man nodded. "I see. But if you do that, you will need to learn again to concentrate. It will be even more difficult, but it can be done. I can teach you that too. Maybe with how you look and will look and how much you do love it, that will not be too bad an idea. But remember - magic comes from all of you. This is earlier for these lessons than I thought they'd be needed, but if it's happening... it is time for them too."

And so it was that the boy started learning how to be good both with lust and might, magical might, and how to keep them separate. And how to use the one to aid the other.

Far be it from Max Parker to miss on a chance to learn something. Especially something difficult.

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