A Young Boy Versus Odin Lowe
By APs
A/N – So, this is going to be a series of one-shots and, yes, I am going to do them for all of the pilots (Heero got to go first by virtue of being pilot 01). I'm writing these when I have time and don't feel like working on anything more concrete. That being said, there is no set update schedule.
Thank you for reading. Please enjoy! Reviews are nice, too!
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It is not living that matters, but living rightly.
---Socrates
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"Good, Boy!" Odin laughed, easily catching the child's small fist in his large, artful hand. Deep azure eyes looked up through sweat damp bangs, a small triumphant smile threatening at the praise. The assassin smiled, too, then wrenched the Boy about by his arm, "Good, but you need to be faster. That's not going to help you survive."
The boy struggled and Odin let him slip away before he could hurt himself by dislocating his shoulder. The Boy faced him again, sharp, calculating, trying so hard to please. Odin wanted to call it a night and head back to the quaint little cabin, but the Boy always tried so hard and he wanted to go again.
"Once more, then?" Odin decided to compromise with himself. The Boy nodded with such conviction that a fresh smile brushed the assassin's lips. They watched each other for long minutes, dissecting shifts and eyes, trying to read the other's mind. Happily, the foundling's days of rushing headlong into these exercises were well in the past. Of course, that never stopped him from making the first move.
Odin went on the defensive. He liked putting the Boy through his paces, letting him tire himself out. It only took a few contacts for the man to notice something was different. The Boy was faster, hitting harder, and Odin was losing ground. A smile ghosted across the Boy's face when Odin barely managed to block one of his kicks. His blows were hailing like fury, now, with desperate hope and spurred on by the confusion on his teacher's face. A tiny fist connected with Odin's jaw. The answering blow came so fast, the Boy didn't even have time to register his victory before he was driven into the ground. Bounced twice.
Well, that had been different. Odin had never had to strike back before; certainly had never expected to be forced to out of reflex. He waited for the Boy to get up. When his charge didn't budge, he went and rolled him onto his back. Deep blue eyes stared at the sky.
"Staying down, Boy?"
"I can't win," the Boy theorized.
Odin smiled, "You're not supposed to win. It takes a long time before you can learn anything from winning."
"If I can't win, I die," the Boy explained, echoing Odin's own words, "I'm dead."
The assassin rubbed at the faint sting along his jaw, "Yeah, but you died well and sometimes that's more important."
The Boy finally looked at him, serious and silent, trying to comprehend. Odin was restructuring the Boy's training in his head. The Boy learned quicker than he'd thought initially. Not a bad thing. Maybe he should start him on weapons.
"Come on, Boy," Odin bid as he started toward the cabin, "Dinner, then bed. We're leaving in the morning."