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... fire in the depths of the abandoned temple, I tossed him a knife. It was a simple thing, a utility blade taken from one of the dead ronin. He fumbled it, the metal clattering against the stone floor.
"My lord?"
"You’re learning to fight," I said.
"But... this one is just a cook’s son. I chop vegetables."
"Good," I replied. "Then you understand how to separate things from what they were. Stand up."
He obeyed, his body a bundle of nervous energy, his stance ...
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