“You might be able to fix yourself, though. Give it a try, all right? I’ll tell you what I see, and you decide if I’m worth listening to. One thing’s for sure; you can’t get worse.”

His fellow army recruits snicker, and somehow this softens him instead of making him angry. He bends to retrieve the sword.

I size him up—his brick of a jaw and his rampart shoulders and his bulky, clumsy hands—wondering how to help him. What would Hector say?

“Pedrón, it might help you to think of your sword as a beautiful girl.”

He grins. Lifts the blade to his mouth. Kisses it, long and slow.

“Er . . . that’s not what I meant.”

Iván mutters, “That poor sword.”

I try again. “What I meant was, you need to treat the sword like an equal partner, not a tool. You need to dance with it, not bludgeon the air to death. Pretend like the two of you belong together.”

Pedrón holds the sword out and stares at it. “I don’t understand.”

“Let me see you Salute the Sky.”

He raises his sword in a furious thrust. It lists slightly leftward.

“Now do it again, but slower. Make sure your sword makes a perfect line upward; don’t let it tilt to either side.”

He tries again, slower this time.

“That’s better. Don’t fight so hard with it. The stabbing and slashing will come later. For now, think of your sword as a dance partner, not a weapon.”

“I hate dancing,” he says, lowering his sword to his side.

“And your enemy loves you for it. It makes you easy to kill.”

Which is exactly what Hector said to me once, in different circumstances. “Let me show you something. Go back into Salute the Sky.”

When he lifts his sword, I swing mine at him, slowly but aimed squarely at his chest.

Immediately, he swings his blade down to block me. The sharp smack of wood rattles my arm.

Pedrón is as startled as I am. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine! But you see why we learn Salute the Sky. You can defend yourself from that position, but you can also attack. If your form is wrong, your block will miss. If your form is wrong, your attack will fail. And then what?”

He hesitates. “And then I’m dead?”

The other recruits have stopped practicing to watch us. “And then you’re dead.” I turn to the others. “Every one of these forms is designed to save your life. Every one of them is a way to take advantage of an opening or to counter an attack.”

“She’s right,” Aldo says. “I’ll show you. Iván, Eastern Wind.”

Iván takes up the proper stance and Aldo swings his sword at him, shouting, “Path of the Sun.”

Iván moves into the form and deflects Aldo’s blade, so Aldo counters with an attack from the opposite direction. “Slit the Rope!”

Iván’s blade slashes downward and sweeps Aldo’s sword aside. Aldo is already shouting, “Salute the Sky!”