Morning Stance

The broad wooden windowsill offered a clear perimeter for morning practice. I planted my straw sandals firmly against the sun-warmed grain, assuming a low stance for my sword drills. Bracing the scabbard against my sash with one paw, I took the corded hilt with the other. A proper warrior must draw swiftly and without hesitation. Yet as I pulled, my round belly nudged against the hilt, wedging the miniature blade halfway in its sheath. I paused, exhaled with steady composure, and shifted my weight back half an inch. With a smooth, quiet sweep, the blade cleared cleanly into the morning light.