It's been two weeks since Frey started training under Shin on how not to die. So far, he had taught Frey little about anything aside Japanese Sword Art.

Everyday, Shin would wake him up before the sun even rose. After a quick breakfast of Corberries--black, apple-sized fruits that tasted like bitter seaweed, Shin would make him spend his morning doing five-hundred basic swings with a real Japanese sword, which was something Shin requested from an old smith friend.

Frey thought that five-hundred repetitive swings a day was a walk in the park, but that turned out to be nothing but a foolish assumption. The katana wasn't exactly light, despite having a thin blade and an overall sleek design, and five-hundred was a really big number. The first three days were hell for his biceps, but after two weeks of basic swings, he'd gotten comfortable with the weight of the sword, and could already swing it fast enough to actually hit something. Still not fast enough to land a hit on Shin, though.

After the practice swings in the morning came deflecting techniques. Shin happened to tell him during one of their training sessions that Shin's family owned a dojo on Earth which pretty much explained Shin's skill in both the sword and the art of using it.

Frey learned a lot from him, like the fact that practitioners of the Japanese sword don't use shield. They fend off attacks with their sword, but not quite in the same way the shield does. Instead of pushing against the enemy's attack with equal strength, a practitioner must learn to deflect blows by letting them slide across the blade and shift the weight of the blow away from the practitioner using minimal force. Clashing swords with the enemy by using brute strength will chip the blade of the katana, and that was one lesson Frey hoped to never learn the hard way. Shin loved his swords, after all, took pains to clean it every night with cloth. Who knew what he would do to Frey if he so much as dented one.

In the afternoon came the attacking techniques. Again the training was done solely by using a katana. For some reason, Frey got the feeling Shin didn't want him to rely on his arm-blade, and although he asked Shin why, the man dodged the question. It may simply be that Shin only knew how to use katana. Whatever the case was, Frey never bothered to ask him again. It didn't matter much, after all, he can just swing his arm-blade anytime, no training needed.

The attack techniques of the Japanese sword relied on swift attacks and the sheer sharpness of the blade, to deliver deadly blows with just the right amount of power. The katana's curved blade was ergonomically-designed to reduce the air resistance met by the blade during a swing, or so Shin said, allowing for faster attacks for less effort.

Shin taught him moves and styles that had long, weird Japanese names that translate to animals like cranes and snakes and dragons, and plants like grass and cherry blossoms. Frey aced the moves, for the most part, but the names were impossible to retain.

After the sun had set and Frey had learned the particular technique Shin taught him for the day, Shin would pack up the physical training and they would set a little campfire just outside the cottage and eat dinner. Dinner would always be an animal Shin hunted from the nearby forest, or fish he'd caught from the nearby pond, skewered with a stick and roasted above the campfire.

Today Shin caught fish that had the mouth of a squid. While they both waited for their food to cook as they held it over the fire, Frey saw this as a perfect chance to ask what had been bothering him for the past few days.

He made sure Shin heard him clear his throat. "Hey Shin."

"What?" Shin answered. Both of them sat on two logs facing the fire.

"I know you're teaching me how to fight, but I just have to ask. Why the katana?

"I mean, before we started with training, I thought you'd teach me a little bit of everything, like hand-to-hand combat, how to use my Player Weapon, kinds of monsters I should avoid, basically stuff about this world and the game I'm better off knowing."

Silence hung between them, only disturbed by the crackle of wood burning under the heat of fire. Finally, Shin burst into laughter as if Frey had cracked a joke.

"So that's how you feel, eh?" Shin wiped the corner of his eyes with his finger.

"Yeah and I didn't remember joking." Frey narrowed his green eyes at the man, like he was looking at an idiot.

"Sorry, sorry. Tell me, how do you think I've survived the game this long?" Shin's sapphire gaze pressed him for answer.

"You're pretty strong. You've been training all your life in your family's dojo, right?"

"Wrong, but that's a part." he turned his fish by the stick for the other side to get cooked. "In my opinion, I only managed to stay alive this long because I had discipline. And, to tell you the truth, I'm not teaching you the sword as much as I'm teaching you discipline."

"Huh?"

"There's a reason for everything I'm teaching you. Those swings you do every morning? You may see it as just physical training, but more than that, you learn patience. Learning how to deflect an attack is not just learning how to not get hurt: It's learning that raw strength is no match for true skill, that raw strength alone gets you nowhere.

"Last, the strokes of the blade teach you that there must be reason within your every attack. Each technique exists for different purposes. You can't just flail your sword around mindlessly, hoping you'd eventually hit your enemy. No. Whether it's to incapacitate, hurt, or kill, your attack must have a purpose, just like every living thing has the reason for existing.

"Those three lessons are anchored to discipline. If you're not disciplined enough to keep on training, forget winning the game."

Frey fell silent at Shin's profound reasoning. Clearly, he hadn't thought of his training as something so philosophical, so... meaningful. He only thought of it as learning how to swing a sword but in many fancy ways.

He pondered about Shin's words the whole time he was eating, thinking how he'd taken his training for granted. He was too deep in thought, that he didn't notice Shin going back inside the cottage. Frey only noticed he was ever gone when Shin returned to the campfire, a familiar object in hand. Shin sat beside him and held Frey's booklet.

"This," Shin said. "Do you know what this is?"

"My book?" Frey tilted his head.

"No. This is you, as a Player." Shin's eyes betrayed no softness. Cold as a glacier, the blue of his irises were. "You asked me to teach you the game, didn't you? Well, you got it."

Frey nodded. It was high time he learned how to play.

"Again. This thing, stop thinking it's your book. It's you. It's Frey Alcott in this world. This book will contain anything and everything about you, as a Player. All your weaknesses and strengths. Information about your weapon, your magic, your name, your Player number, along with a list of Players who have been eliminated. Well, it'd be pretty bare right now since the game starts slow. At least that's how it was during our game. This is a tool to track your progress and the progress of the game, but most importantly, to see yourself. And believe me, it's useful, but only for as long as you have it.

"Lose it, and you're dead. At best, you've lost your only way to know changes within you. The book doesn't stop writing itself, no matter how far the owner is. It will write everything about you, even if you're a million miles away from it. You also lose track of how many of your enemies are still kicking. Worse, a Broker gets ahold of it, assholes who'd sell your book to other Players. By the way, Brokers are also tools you can use to your advantage. After all, there are no rules to this game, you can play it however dirty you want."

"Right." Frey rolled his eyes.

"Your worst case scenario is if another Player gets your book. You're in deep shit, no question."

Kinda figured that out, Frey thought.

"However, there's a certain way to avoid that."

"Which is?"

Shin hung the booklet over the fire. "Burning it."

Frey understood quickly what Shin was suggesting.

"Now the choice is yours kid. Keep it and run the risk of it getting stolen or burn it now and be done with it."

"No." Frey shook his head.

"Why not?"

"I'm not stupid enough to get robbed."

"Correct answer." Shin put it away from the flames and handed it to Frey.

"No really, that was a trick question, wasn't it?" Frey took the booklet from Shin.

There was actually no upside to burning the book, unless he was careless enough to accidentally lose it. Otherwise, he'd have to be dead before someone else got ahold of his booklet, which will render the booklet useless. Besides, when two Players meet, chances are they will try to kill each other, not get their enemy's book. The game was to kill, after all, not build a collection. Shin was testing his confidence and how serious he was about playing this game. Well, if Shin only knew how far he'll go just to win.

Shin slammed his back and grinned. "I like you, kid. If and when you find my daughter back on Earth, you'll have my full permission to marry her."

"I have a girlfriend. Her name's Elise." Somehow, the warmth of the campfire stopped reaching Frey. Everything suddenly got cold, the freezing night wind seeming more real than before.

"Oh no... Now you have zero motivation to find my daughter. That's so sad."

"I will still find her, your daughter." Frey looked straight into Shin's cold blue eyes. "That's our deal, after all."