Weaklings, all of them, he thinks. He turns away, already discarding the fight from his memory. People are not worth the time it takes to think about them. How many has he fought? Defeated? He cannot recall, nor does he want to – if they are weak they are insignificant.
Every inch of his flawless steel weapons is stained with blood, even the tiny hooks along their length which tear into the flesh of his adversaries. He runs his tongue over his lips, savouring the blood from their bodies. He enjoys the taste – it is the taste of victory.
A small, glinting object swings lightly against his chest – a ring, hung on a chain, bearing a tiny coat of arms. The object and symbol are meaningless to him. Still – he wears it. It is his only link to that person. At the thought, his fingers tighten instinctively on his weapons and his frown deepens. He had never before suffered such a humiliating defeat until he had met that person.
They hang innocently above him, taunting him with their fragility. Their branches are spread across the ceiling, impossibly seeming to grow in the very room. That such an irritating thing should be a weakness…
"You really are weak to them, aren't you? To sakura…"
A shadow looms over him, obstructing his vision of the hateful trees. The shadow resolves itself into an even more hateful face. The deceptively friendly eyes, the pleasant smile: he detests it all.
There is a sharp pain in his ribs. His body flinches instinctively, but otherwise he makes no move to resist as he is abused. His weapons lie within reaching distance – useless. Even with fearsome resolve…flesh and blood has its limits.
"Oh?" His assailant crouches, grips his hair and pulls his head up so they are eye to eye. "Are you thinking, 'How did he know about my weakness to sakura'?" The assailant releases him. "I wonder how, hm?"
He says nothing. His teeth clench together and his body trembles trying to support itself on all fours. He manages to glare.
"Are you thinking that if there was no sakura you would be fine?" The assailant stands. "If so you are very wrong. I have seen many equal to your skill and I've buried every one of them…in a place much like Hell."
Almost every bone had been broken in his body. Not that he had noticed. All he knew was that he had suffered defeat which had humiliated him to the core. He had tasted blood that day, but it had not been his opponent's.