VII. Marked.
The next night, the dream seemed to pick up where it left off.
The two had finally exchanged blows, with both swords clashing against one another, blades again and again striking hard metal, sparks flying upon impact after impact, where it looked as if they were trying to start a firestorm.
That was until one moment where Seishiro decided not to counterattack, but to hold off against Syaoran's rapier, staving him off, holding his own weapon steadily against the force of the other with predicted ease.
"You have grown much stronger Syaoran. You have greatly refined your talents as a swordsman since we last met," He paused, only to add, "And you no longer hesitate."
Syaoran must have seemed threatened, for his eyebrows furrowed and his copper orbs thinned. "You can say whatever you want to. But don't think I'll be fooled."
The older swordsman was amused at the younger one's dilemma. It was interesting, not to mention entertaining to see Syaoran in this state of harried self-preservation.
It reminded him of their training sessions together, ones that seemed so far into the past but so easy to recollect. They were very similar to the confrontation they were having right now, but with less trepidation on the student's part. This time, Syaoran had no trouble defending himself against his master, the one who had taught him everything that he knew, the one that had been in such high regard for the longest time.
But no matter.
"This time I'll be the one to attack."
With his lance at the ready, Seishiro lunged in, brandishing his weapon with the expert form that he had carried for as long as he could remember, fully prepared to defeat his former student.
Suddenly he stopped.
His grey eyes widened.
He looked down.
He could feel something within him, what felt like an electric current of sorts, traveling both within and against his body, tickling and torturing the nerve endings. His hands started to shake, sweat was forming along his brow – nothing was as it was supposed to be.
What was going on?
What was happening?
He couldn't remember being in so much pain in his entire life, a flood of memories, memories that he would sooner die than remember rushing back into his mind – memories of anything and everything.
Anything and everything.
He closed his eyes tightly, trying to block the images from escaping into his subconscious, the pain he was feeling increasing three-fold, until he couldn't take it all any longer.
He had to scream, scream louder than he had ever screamed before.
Before he knew it, a scream ripped itself from his body, reflecting and representing everything that was inside of him. It was then that the current consumed him, masking him until he was no more, until he was unable to see the look of shock and unprecedented horror on Syaoran's face.
Seishiro awoke again.
He had no idea what had just occurred.
It all seemed like an illusion, something that his mind was doing to play tricks on him.
But no – it was a still memory, a memory that would forever be marked upon him.
And there was nothing he could do about it.
