The Master and His Student

Chapter 1

The black fox whipped around, striking his trainee's leg. She fell, letting out a yelp. Even though the training blade was dull, it would still hurt. The fox's white tipped tail waved calmly, his blue eyes staring at the fallen student. She was a fox, like everyone in the tribe. She had black fur like him, but with white highlights, and lacked his tail's white tip.

"Do not let battle cloud your mind, Kimono," Whitetail told his student, "You may love the fight, but that is your greatest weakness."

"How is that a weakness, Whitetail?" Kimono asked, "I fight to protect my tribe. That is not a weakness." He heard respect in her voice, but it was forced. Ever since she'd brought him into her tribe when he was three, she'd treated him like an older brother. He wasn't too keen on that.

"Your reasons are not your weakness, no," he replied, throwing his blade back onto its rack. The flowers were blooming. He could feel the dew dripping off of them, onto the ground. This world had been so foreign. Ever since he'd run away from Arthisgad, he'd been living here, in the Black Forest. Well, the natives called it Faust. "It is your eagerness. You strive to separate heads from their bodies, correct?"

"Yes," Kimono admitted, "But only to protect my tribe, as I just said!"

"You must not feel that joy, ever!" Whitetail lashed at her, "It is unbefitting of royalty to wish harm upon another!"

"Just because you're from Mobian Earth, C. Vulpine," Kimono growled, "doesn't mean your proper rules apply here, too!"

"And this is why I defeat ye each and every time, my princess," Vulpine growled in return, "and here, I am known as Whitetail, thanks to you. Keep it that way."

"You're such a jerk!" Kimono stormed off. The black fox let her. She needed to cool down. So did he. Though he was only sixteen, two years her senior, he knew much about arguments. He sighed, crossing his arms. Was he ever going to get it through her head, that killing was never a good thing. That royalty was not supposed to harm, but to help.

After a few hours, Whitetail knocked on the foxette's door. There was a short silence, and then it opened. Kimono held the wooden door open. She was wearing her standard gear, white leather padding for her chest and legs, and a white sword strapped to her back.

"What do ye want?" she hissed.

"You must know that death is not a good thing," Whitetail told her, "to take a lover from his or her spouse and children. What if someone took away your father?" He saw Kimono's face pale. "You wouldn't like that, would you? Every time ye kill someone, ye take away someone's mother or father."

"Whitetail, I…" she began. The fox raised his hand, cutting her off.

"Princess Kimono, ye did not know," he said, "I forgive you."

"Thank you," Kimono replied, "Come, let us get some honey and bread." She closed the door behind her, and crossed her arms. She stared at Whitetail, as if sizing him up. He wore the same armor as her, but his was black and made for men. He had a black sword instead of a white one, a gift from her father. He had openly welcomed the foreigner's arrival. "Blackwig," Kimono said. She'd made up the second name after everyone started using 'Whitetail'. "Why do ye put up with me?" He nearly froze. "I'm such a burden to ye, why do ye still train me, mentor me?" He wanted to say the truth. That he was infatuated with her. That he wanted her to be his wife. But she didn't like him that way. It wouldn't go over well.

"Because ye have potential," he said instead. It wasn't a lie. "You have the power to be a great warrior. But ye need discipline." The two arrived at a nearby tree. From inside, they could hear rowdiness and merriment. Even though the two were only a few centimeters tall like everyone else in Faust, they felt like they were in for something big. Whitetail had once been four feet tall. But then some dink from the Hedgehog Tribe had shrunk him. There was no way to return to normal, so he lived his life as one of the Fox Tribe.

As the two entered the Woodtable Tavern, seeing the frenzy of singing men. The drunk foxes stood on tables, on bars, and on the railings of steps. Each one with either an arm around another or with both hands firmly grasping a mug of alcohol. Whitetail took Kimono to one side to avoid any trouble. They sat at a table made of a seedling's stump. Whitetail watched carefully at the other men, making sure they didn't make a move on Kimono. Though she could hold her own, he wasn't sure he wanted them near the girl. Though women were respected in this culture, he shivered at the fact that the men were drunk. A server walked over. Whitetail was about to order, but Kimono interrupted him.

"Let me," she said, laying two golden coins on the table, "Two bottles of Banyan Rum." The server nodded, leaving the two. Kimono rested her head in her hands, and her elbows on the table. "So, has my father told ye anything about the warfront?"

"No, not a word," he looked down as the drinks were set before the two, "Your father is kind, but not one for co-operation." Kimono looked down, "I'm sorry. If I get any word, I'll tell you." Kimono and Whitetail both took a swig of their drinks.

"No, no, it's ok," she said. The foxette looked outside, "It's starting to get dark…" Whitetail nodded.

"Yeah, you should get home," he said. "I'm sure Petunia and Huskskirt wouldn't appreciate if I took you home, late."

"Whitetail, they're just friends," Kimono laughed, "Besides, Petunia will forgive you for anything!" He looked down, frowning. Petunia was a cute girl, but he still preferred Kimono. The grey foxette had the biggest crush on him. The two stood, taking their drinks and quickly finishing them.

"Huskskirt would have my head if she knew we weren't training," Whitetail laughed, "The complete opposite of her sister." The foxes left the tavern, making their way to their conjoining houses. Whitetail lived right beside Kimono, as he was still treated like royalty. Their homes were decently sized, both made inside tree stumps. Most other homes were made inside large mushrooms. They traveled on the hard ground instead of the vine roads. At night, they liked to relax from the day, a habit which Whitetail had passed to Kimono.

"Blackwig…" Kimono looked down, "There's… something we need to talk about." The black fox looked over, "My friend… We can't see each other, anymore."

"Kimono?"

"I… found your journal… Blackwig, I just don't like you in that way," she looked hurt saying the words, but Whitetail didn't care. She was hurting him. "I'm sorry, but my love is for my tribe. Nobody else." Kimono's face hardened. "Goodbye, Blackwig." Kimono rushed off, leaving Whitetail in shock. She'd completely obliterated him. Now he knew what it was like to have a broken heart. And this one, he felt, would never mend.