Kentaro, dressed in a blue-colored high-necked shirt and a pair of white shorts, flowed through the forms as his blade glided through the air as he stepped nimbly. His breathing was calm and precise, his mind emptied of all thought. He was one with the sword, and it one with him, an extension of his arm that moved as surely as he did. His black sandals barely kicked up any dust as his feet touched the floor though the throwing knives within the pouch attached to his right thigh clinked as he moved.