Assignment - Brave Little Toasters. Evan Hays, "The day of a bokken"

I am a simple thing.

As are all perceiving things.

I am a long, curved, piece of hickory wood stained in a dark brown.

As are my kin.

I am a "bokuto", the sword all samurai have when not using their steel, a training weapon, but nonetheless a weapon.

I know not why I am the extension of my master, but I am. It is cold today, and he has on his hoodie with the bear crest. He is already sweating, he must have just come from other training. Other physical meditation, the channeling of one's energy and fire through the world around them. The fists become weapons, clubs to beat back the world, the legs spears. Now, now I will give him his sword. Just as he channels his fury through his arms and into his hands, it now flows through me.

The cold is bitter, the sky gray.

I am drawn out, poised above the boy's head like a mighty tusk. Facing downwards, point to the target, forcing the enemy imagined into retreat and death.

Now in tandem, the master draws out my counterpart. Same size, same length, but a lighter shade of wood. Used in tandem we cut through swaths of hypothetical attacks.
Block
Slide
Jab

We feel the energy channeled through us and the tension of strength. Mental meditation, relaxation in though. Physical meditation, relaxation in stress and torsion. Throwing muscles in pain, agony, and fury, and still remaining calm, precise, victorious.

I am a simple thing.
I have complicated actions.