[Intro — snare drum, single rhythm, establishing the tempo] [Brass enters beneath. The training ground before dawn.] [Verse 1 — direct address, the instructor's voice] [No preamble. He was already watching before you arrived.] Your guard is low. It has been low since the third pass. I have watched you make this mistake four times this morning and I will not watch it a fifth. Two inches. That is the distance between where your hand is and where it needs to be. Two inches is also the distance between a parried thrust and a problem I cannot correct. Fix it. [Chorus — driving, the doctrine stated as refrain] Again. Set your feet and go again. The ground doesn't care how tired you are. Neither does the sword. Again. Everything you haven't learned yet is waiting at the end of the next pass. So. Again. [Verse 2 — the correction widening, the care in the precision] Your off hand is doing nothing. An off hand that does nothing is a liability you are carrying at your own expense. Give it a function. Give everything a function. A rider with decorative technique is not a rider. They are a problem waiting to present itself at the worst available moment. You have talent. Talent is not a strategy. Talent is where you start. This — [beat] This is where you continue. [Chorus] Again. Set your feet and go again. The ground doesn't care how tired you are. Neither does the sword. Again. Everything you haven't learned yet is waiting at the end of the next pass. So. Again. [Verse 3 — the standard, why it exists] I am not asking for perfection. Perfection is not a field condition. I am asking for reliable. Reliable means the form holds when you are tired. Reliable means the guard stays when the engagement stops going the way you planned. Reliable means you come back from something that should have ended you because the form was there when the thinking wasn't. That is what I am building. That is why we are here before the city is awake. That is why I will say this as many times as it requires. [Pre-bridge — tempo drops slightly, brass quiets] [The instructor voice dropping half a register] [Not softer. More direct.] I have stood where you are standing. I have made the mistakes you are making. The difference between then and now is not talent. It is not gift. It is this. [beat] Every morning. Until it holds. [Bridge — the only moment the thing underneath surfaces] [Not sentimental. Just true.] I correct the guard because the guard matters. I say it once because once should be enough. I come back the next morning because once was not enough. That is the only version of this I know how to give you. [Brass returns beneath, building] Take it. [Final chorus — fullest, driving, the refrain at its most insistent] Again. Set your feet and go again. The ground doesn't care how tired you are. Neither does the sword. Again. I will be here when you arrive tomorrow. I will be watching the same thing. Again. Because you are going to get this right. Because I am going to make sure of it. Because that is — [beat] Again. [Outro — snare continuing alone, brass fading] [His voice, quieter, the training ground emptying] Two inches. Remember it. [Snare stops. Silence.]
