Author's Notes: No, I don't own the characters, attacks, etc. mentioned in the story. This is a little present for two friends of mine. And as always, comments/critiques would be deeply appreciated.
Panting, the young man eagerly used the few seconds pause to inhale the fresh air. Wiping his sweat-dampened teal hair away from his eyes, he could now see his opponent's chest rising and falling beneath their mail-clad tunic. He knew he'd worn them down, but his opponent's willingness to keep going was just as strong as his. He grinned at the challenge and undertook the weathered handle of Falchion beneath his gloved hand once more.
With a clang, his sword met fellow metal and his opponent was seemingly surprised unawares for a moment. He dashed a few feet forward before swinging in another strong blow. Falchion's gem was glinting in the sunlight and seemed to be waltzing in flame as he performed Dancing Blade, striking his foe once more. But this foe would not give up so easily.
A yell pursed forward from his opponent's lips and was followed by a devastating stream of flame and metal flying fast before his eyes. Barely before he could blink, the young man unleashed a counter attack; gritting his teeth against the superior strength of his enemy's blade and saved himself fatality and his opponent the winning title. But he knew he couldn't last long, being far surpassed in strength. This foe would require cunning insight to defeat, he knew, after having faced them many times before.
With a forward step, he hurtled himself towards the fray of flaming attacks, clashing Falchion on its side to deflect each of them but knowingly with time running out. This foe, he pondered, perhaps he was hiding a weakness?
His mind raced about these thoughts, all the while maneuvering the young man's body to and fro; missing a forward blow and twisting to his right side, the swordsman was grazed by a wandering strike from the tip of the opposing weapon, leaving him reeling in pain. But he would not see the end just yet.
In desperate strength, the young man darted across the battlefield and somersaulted away from his opponent, then paused, glancing straight ahead. Recognizing this foe at last, he knew there was only one way to defeat him.
Perhaps within a mere second's lapse, the blue-clad swordsman lifted Falchion above his shoulders as it glowed, gathering energy and released the wrath of his deadly Dolphin Smash. His foe was struck, blood trickling very slowly from his wrists in his shielding attempt and was knocked backward several meters. Just as he prepared to release a finishing blow upon his foe, he flinched in pain, clasping his own wound. Glancing down at the stain of deepened brown-red against the royal blue cloth that covered him, he realized he would have to stop here.
He sighed and slid Falchion into its resting place beneath the glimmer of its sheath, then raised a pale hand, signaling his opponent.
The other fighter padded across the ground in boots scuffed by blood and dirt towards him, then gazed questioningly. "Shall we call it a draw?" The other fighter's flame-brazen hair peeked through the mail mask he had worn for disguise as he sheathed his own blade. "Until next time, Roy." The opponent breathed deeply, seeming satisfied and removed his mask. He then motioned, pointing to the designs their blood had stained on the ground behind them.
"Good match, Marth." The young man showed teeth haughtily in return. "Indeed."
Panting, the young man eagerly used the few seconds pause to inhale the fresh air. Wiping his sweat-dampened teal hair away from his eyes, he could now see his opponent's chest rising and falling beneath their mail-clad tunic. He knew he'd worn them down, but his opponent's willingness to keep going was just as strong as his. He grinned at the challenge and undertook the weathered handle of Falchion beneath his gloved hand once more.
With a clang, his sword met fellow metal and his opponent was seemingly surprised unawares for a moment. He dashed a few feet forward before swinging in another strong blow. Falchion's gem was glinting in the sunlight and seemed to be waltzing in flame as he performed Dancing Blade, striking his foe once more. But this foe would not give up so easily.
A yell pursed forward from his opponent's lips and was followed by a devastating stream of flame and metal flying fast before his eyes. Barely before he could blink, the young man unleashed a counter attack; gritting his teeth against the superior strength of his enemy's blade and saved himself fatality and his opponent the winning title. But he knew he couldn't last long, being far surpassed in strength. This foe would require cunning insight to defeat, he knew, after having faced them many times before.
With a forward step, he hurtled himself towards the fray of flaming attacks, clashing Falchion on its side to deflect each of them but knowingly with time running out. This foe, he pondered, perhaps he was hiding a weakness?
His mind raced about these thoughts, all the while maneuvering the young man's body to and fro; missing a forward blow and twisting to his right side, the swordsman was grazed by a wandering strike from the tip of the opposing weapon, leaving him reeling in pain. But he would not see the end just yet.
In desperate strength, the young man darted across the battlefield and somersaulted away from his opponent, then paused, glancing straight ahead. Recognizing this foe at last, he knew there was only one way to defeat him.
Perhaps within a mere second's lapse, the blue-clad swordsman lifted Falchion above his shoulders as it glowed, gathering energy and released the wrath of his deadly Dolphin Smash. His foe was struck, blood trickling very slowly from his wrists in his shielding attempt and was knocked backward several meters. Just as he prepared to release a finishing blow upon his foe, he flinched in pain, clasping his own wound. Glancing down at the stain of deepened brown-red against the royal blue cloth that covered him, he realized he would have to stop here.
He sighed and slid Falchion into its resting place beneath the glimmer of its sheath, then raised a pale hand, signaling his opponent.
The other fighter padded across the ground in boots scuffed by blood and dirt towards him, then gazed questioningly. "Shall we call it a draw?" The other fighter's flame-brazen hair peeked through the mail mask he had worn for disguise as he sheathed his own blade. "Until next time, Roy." The opponent breathed deeply, seeming satisfied and removed his mask. He then motioned, pointing to the designs their blood had stained on the ground behind them.
"Good match, Marth." The young man showed teeth haughtily in return. "Indeed."
