Pure Magic

Chapter 3 - The Winner Is...


The harsh screams in the background went unheard as he tumbled to the left, out of the way of the slashing katana wielded by his fierce opponent. Sweat clung to his face in beads, some dripping onto the padded blue mat beneath his feet. The beating drum that was his heart and the thunderous clashing of metal against metal were the only sounds that reached his ears.

His opponent, a large man in width and height, had muscles larger than life, no doubt with the use of steroids and other illegal drugs that manifested the male hormone, testosterone, was known as Shinji Yamamoto. Shinji had a long, pink scar on the right side of his face that stretched to five-inches in length, obviously from a battle of swords years ago. In one swift motion, he brought his Ninjaken above his head and gave it a fanciful, skilled swing and aimed it at Shinji who had suddenly taken to attacking him from the side, but the katana was brought up to deflect the attack. He saw an opening and rushed forward, swinging his ninjaken towards Shinji.

Boom! His heartbeat pounded.

His ninjaken caught the mans shoulder, slicing a small portion of the skin and drawing blood that cascaded down his arm like a silk ribbon.

Boom!

The other man stumbled around in a drunken dance, grasping his nicked shoulder with a shuddering breath, wincing slightly from the pain. His grip on the katana visibly loosened, but it never fell from his calloused hands.

Boom!

Running forward, he kept his ninjaken pointed to a place behind him, literally charging head first into the battle.

Boom!

The other man seemed to be dazed from the pain in his shoulder, so he brought his ninjaken forward and in one lightening quick motion, he used the dragon-carved handle of his sword and jammed it into the man's sternum, knocking the wind right out of him and forcing him onto his back, gasping for air like a Koi fish out of water.

Suddenly noise flooded into his ears like a raging wave of water and the roars and screams of joy and anger made him no longer able to hear his heartbeat. His breath was quick and sweat ran into his eyes painfully, but he just blinked at the sting of pain, pulling his ninjaken across his pant leg, cleaning off any blood or sweat that clung to its clean-cut surface before sheathing it into the black case that hung onto his belt.

The judge walked onto the mat wearing the usual white collared shirt and black pants, silver whistle hanging around his neck on a braided rubber cord. He bent over to peer at the winded man on the floor before walking over and grasping the winners tanned wrist and raising his arm up into the air in a sign of victory.

"The winner. Kurogane!"

The crowd's cheers combined with the vicious claps sounded like the harsh pattering of rain against a glass window and gave the victor a warm feeling of satisfaction in his gut. Kurogane gave a small smirk as he accepted the bronze medallion for his victory as well as the 10,000 dollars in the form of a check. He swept the back of his hand across his forehead, collecting the mixture of sweat and oil. He looked at the back of his hand in a slight snarl of disgust.

Kurogane tucked everything under his right arm and made his way from the blue mat and towards the changing room for the showers to clean himself of the oil, sweat, and blood that mingled and dried to his skin like a thin sheet of membrane.

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Reaching out, Kurogane snagged the green, oval bar of soap that he placed in the corner of the shower where his shampoo bottle rested. He rubbed the soap along the contours of his body, every curve, muscle, and dip, letting the water cascade down his body and wash away the suds left by the soap. He made an extra effort to thoroughly clean his underarms and the places where the sun don't shine. Though he'd never admit it, he was quite obsessive about being hygienic. Sure, he doesn't care for getting down in the dirt, covered in mud, blood, guts, or whatever else, but during a shower he liked to be "squeaky" clean because it made him feel refreshed and ready for the day and whatever life had to throw at him.

When he was finished cleaning his body, he rubbed the soap between his hands, creating a foamy bunch of bubbles in his hands and then dropped the soap back in the corner, bringing his hands to his face, rubbing furiously, getting rid of any grime, sweat, oil, and blood that clung to his face. With that done, he put a dapple of see-through blue gel shampoo into the center of his palm and reached for his black hair, using his nails and digging in to get out anything that was stuck and clinging.

"Are you the one they call Kurogane?" A soft, feminine voice questioned from behind.

Kurogane growled, slightly, finding it irritating when anyone interrupted his moment of privacy in the shower. He placed his head under the warm spray of water to remove the bubbles that collected.

"Yeah, what of it? Can't you see I'm busy?"

"Yes, I can, and I'm quite enjoying the view." She purred.

"I'm happy for you," Kurogane snarled, "Now, what do you want?"

He wondered why a woman would even be in the men's shower room anyway. What business could she want with him? Why would she risk being caught by the officials in an area that restricted women from entering?

"I'm here to offer you 20 grand, that is, if you're willing to fight at a private home." She interrupted his thoughts.

Kurogane pulled his head out of the spray, letting his interest show with that movement.

"20 grand you say?"

"Yes."

Kurogane turned off the water and walked out of the shower with a white towel wrapped around his waist. He gave the girl a once over. She was small and thin and looked about as fragile as a thin sheet of glass. Her skin was ghostly pale, her veins nearly visible through thin skin, and her black hair fell around her shoulders going down to the mid of her back and eyes the color of wet wood. She wore a long, pink, flowered kimono with the traditional two-toed sandal shoes. Her face was void of the usual white powder the geishas usually wore.

"Give me one good reason why I should accept your offer."

"I will add another 20 grand, but that's only if you win." She replied.

"About how long until this fight is supposed to happen?"

"One Month."

"So, you're saying I should prepare, then?" He assumed.

"Of course. I'll be having a strong man coming to fight you."

"You're not going to tell me his name, are you?"

"No." She replied.

"Alright then. When do I see this 20 grand?"

"The moment you accept."

He paused for a moment, just to let the girl believe he was in thought, when in fact he had already made his decision the moment she mentioned what she wanted him to do.

"I accept." He said.

The girl gave a sly smile and Kurogane noticed it, but knew that no matter what tricks she pulled, he'd conquer all. She pulled out a check written to the full amount of 20,000 and handed it to him, letting him get a good look at it, verifying the authenticity of the thin, rectangular paper.

"I must warn you." She began, "I do not intend to give you that remaining 20 grand."

"I know."

"You do?" She seemed surprised.

Kurogane just smirked and gave no reply to her obvious surprise.

"No need to exchange numbers. I already have the information I need. I know your phone number and that you live in Kyoto." She let him know, "If you don't show to this fight, I will take more than just my 20 grand."

"Understood." He replied, knowing full well the threat that laced its way through her words of warning.

"I will contact you the day before the fight to let you know the whereabouts of the house."

The girl bowed then turned to leave, but Kurogane had just one question before she left.

"What's your name?"

"My name is of no importance to you."

"If it wasn't then I wouldn't have asked."

She looked at him for a moment before making her decision and turning towards the door, acting as though she was refusing to answer, but Kurogane knew better.

"Yuki Kano." She said.

Then, she was gone.

Kurogane stared at the check in his hand before walking over to his black bag of junk that rested on a bench and tossed it in with his filth-ridden, blood-soaked clothes from the fight. He removed the towel that clung to his waist, letting it fall to the cement floor and began to change into his regular clothes he wore when he wasn't working; a pair of dark jeans and a black t-shirt.

He let his mind wander to Yuki Kano. Was that her real name or an alias? He wondered if she actually wanted this or if someone superior to herself was controlling her like a puppet on strings. She didn't look like a person of ill will and Kurogane got the feeling that she wasn't too keen on having the fight. She put up a good act, but he was an Argus-eyed man who missed nothing and had vowed ever since he was young to never let anything slip through his radar.

A sudden thought graced his mind and his whole world froze for a moment, his eyes widening in remembrance.

How could he forget?

Today was the one-year anniversary of her death.

The death of his old childhood friend…

…Souma.


Hope you enjoyed chapter 3!

R&R Please!