Thang-Ta & Sarik-Sa

"Why are you my trainer?" Korou groaned.

"Why would you prefer it if it were Laishram?" Atla offered a wink with a sly smile.

"I am starting to believe that you derive some kind of sadistic pleasure from teasing me."

"I wonder."

"Say no!"

His class were all but standing in a straight column facing the sun. The ground, now weeded of grass, was barren with only golden sand. There were pells, hundreds of them, scarred with stab marks and some with blades, scattered over the perimeter. At the centre were racks of weapons, swords, spears, bows and daggers.

The Athongba for this final class was his father, Nongyak Kouburu Kshetriba, the warrior chief and the honorary champion of the Seven Silais. Drenched in sweat, Nongyak walked with his white, high-knotted loincloth: Pheijom and a vermillion-solar-patterned sash: Khamen Chatpa. This was the mark of his position as well as lineage.

"I am sure you all are tired after a day of bookish knowledge," His father always addressed with a soothing yet commanding voice. He could see him as a legion commander who would make merry even as they lost a war. "But that's the point of this class. Alleviate the exhaustion and let you drown in the ecstasy of martial arts."

"But Athongba..." Iromi, visibly confused, blurted out. "Isn't martial arts supposed to teach us how to kill?"

Korou pursed his lips, while Ibo and the third years broke into a grin. He could see the 'another greenie this year' look on their face. Only Atla had an understanding expression.

"No, it is the furthest from it." His father crouched to Iromi's level. "My job is not to train you to murder," He broke into a smile. "The Six Silais and the Military Institutes are doing that already. You will gain total control of your body, your surroundings and the strength to hold your ground here."

No one had any further queries, and the class began with a mild gust.

"The fourth year and later have specialised training at dawn," Atla explained as Korou punched the sand with an aching back and forced callisthenics. "We, the third years, though, are to guide you, the first, in the evening and second, starting next month, in a combined class."

"Why not laze around and let me off the hook?"

"Why do you think I specially took you under my command?" She sat on his back. "Ten more reps."

"I so much despise your tenacity."

"Oh, why? I thought you loved it."

"Not today."

"Keep your back straight and core tight." Atla commanded as she helped him with the posture.

Korou was purposely flailing his arms, putting the least strength in his limbs, and a wrong angle to his foot placement.

"I know your tricks, Korou." Atla grabbed onto his wrist, thrusted it forward, slapped his back, and kneed his limbs and shins. "And I also know you have the basics down thanks to Athongba Nongyak."

"I am tired."

"No, you aren't."

"The classes were tough," said Korou with trembling lips.

"Your lips quiver when you lie." Atla shook her head.

Iromi, Ibo, and Korou were coupled into a trio and put under Atla for a show of theoretical knowledge that merged with its application.

"This is so exciting." Iromi bobbed her head. Though listless, her eyes sparkled while Ibo had a smile break on his face.

"Is it though?"

"We get Atla Cheche as our trainer, Korou. The Atla!"

"You didn't show the same excitement at lunch."

"That was the mess; this is the training ground." Iromi grinned.

"Atla Che was the only one who got a draw out of our brother," Ibo added. "She is only one of the few women following the warrior's path. Cheche here has immense respect towards her for that."

Korou's eyes widened. Until now, he had taken the village's societal framework to be fair for all. Ibo's mention made him retrace his day. Even within the monastery, where education was deemed free for all, those of the opposite gender, though present, were a scarcity. Half a dozen in his year and over two or three in his section. This society, despite its female warriors, still treaded between patriarchy and egalitarianism.

"This decade has been fairly better compared to the last," Iromi added, her tone explanatory as if picking up on Korou's obliviousness. "Getting three or even four girls in the Monastery, let alone the warriors' path, was considered huge."

Ibo gave her a nod. "It was Grandma Naobi, she drilled the education for all into the Lamphi system."

Atla, who was late due to a fight that broke out between the first and third years, bowed in apology.

"It's completely fine, Athongba Atla!" Iromi waved her arms and shook her head. "You did the right thing by stopping them."

"She is right," Korou added. "On the contrary, I think they still need you; someone got punched again."

"We are not skipping this class, dumb brat," Atla replied with a scowl. "Also, Iromi, Atla is fine. I have yet to achieve the status of Athongba, and it's a long way."

"There are three martial arts schools that dominate the world," Atla used her finger to draw lines and symbols on the sand. "The Weapon style, Free hand style and Animal style. Any or every art you see is a sub-branch of these three. For example-"

She got up and unsheathed her bamboo sword. Her feet were placed firmly, a shoulder's length apart. Her right leg was slightly forward, and her dominant sword hand was left. She bent her knees slightly, leaning forward, with her torso in a relaxed motion. Her grip on the sword was relaxed, allowing flexibility, the tip slightly up and forward, angled to defend the torso. Atla took a breath and glanced at Korou and others. Her shoulders dropped, and the sword moved in a perfect arc. The air had parted as it came to a halt.

"-This is Thang-Ta, an art based on the flexibility of our body and using the weapon as an extension. It's a sub-branch of weapon style and similarly..."

Atla continued her lecture with applied examples.

Next was Sarik-sa, a sub-branch of the freehand school. It was based on flexibility and manipulating one's centre of gravity. Here, the user takes a similar stance as Thang-Ta, except their knees are bent for an even weight distribution. Hands remain open with relaxed fingers and bent elbows. Arms raised to chest or chin level for guard. Vision is an essential factor which focuses on forward reading of the opponent's movements while the chin is tucked in to protect the neck.

Sarik-Sa uses the strike of the opponent against them. A counter, but it also had the movements of felines, flexible and footwork of monkeys, versatile for regular attacks.

It was a sub-branch of both the Animal style and the freehand. Though latter more than the former.

By the time Atla had ended with the demonstration, the sun was touching the peaks of Meru. Dusk was a few breaths away, and Korou was a sweaty, tired mess. He was sprawled over the sandy ground, his breath ragged. Iromi and Ibo, though not as exhausted, were also beside him. Only Atla stood, with a satisfied smile.

"Didn't you guys train in martial arts since you could think?" Korou said, front in between his huffs.

"It's not the training," Iromi groaned, her braided hair undone.

"The classes were brutal," Ibo completed. "My brain is overloaded with too many terms. I can't think anymore."

"Want to skip classes and sneak into the sanctum to read books?" Korou suggested.

"I would rather take more martial arts than more reading," Ibo whined.

"You have to do both." Iromi corrected, her arms crossed. "Anything else is unacceptable. It goes for both of you."

"You want me to give you a piggyback?" Atla, who was kneeling beside a whining Korou, offered.

"I can walk by myself." He groaned but got up.

"I was trying to help." She grabbed his wrist, helping him. "Plus, you loved it when you were three."

"I didn't." Korou's lips were drawn in a pout as his cheeks were flushed. "Don't bring it up carelessly."

A gleeful giggle escaped Atla's mouth. The sun had already set, and most, if not all, the first years were on their way home. This was just the start of their arduous journey towards adulthood.

"Does the dumb brat not want his friends to know his past?" She teased.

"No..." He mumbled.

"Korou." Ibo, who was with his elder brother Laishram and a dozing off Iromi over his shoulder, waved at him. "I will see you tomorrow, let's try to sneak past my sister's eyes to escape this torture."

That idiot, you are not supposed to leak secret plans.

"What was that about sneaking classes?" Atla, no longer elated, shot a scrutinising glare.

"Oh, don't worry, that little rascal, Ibo, is making things up." He quickly grabbed Atla's hand and started to leave. "Ibo! Take care and don't talk to me ever, bye."