City in Pieces

Chapter Ten: Sword Fight

Chance stood in front of Bane; he handed her two Katana swords, held them by the blade so that she may take the handles. She winced slightly; Bane stitched her shoulder in a way that it would heal, but so well that the slightest movement made a slight sting. Bane strode behind her, only a few inches from her back side.

"Have you handled a sword before?" he asked her.

Chance stared straight ahead, though for once, she felt self-conscious. She licked her bottom lip nervously.

"No." Chance answered quietly.

"What was that?"

"No." Chance repeated, louder.

Bane's arms raised behind her; his hands fell on her knuckles that whitened around the hilts of her Katanas.

"Relax your grip."

Chance watched his fingers part her own. Her stomach tensed.

"Don't think of them as swords; imagine them as your arms. Not as a brother and sister, but twins." He pushed her hands together so that the two swords chinked as they contacted the fellow mate. Chance saw her reflection in them; behind her, she saw Bane's.

"Mind your footing."

Chance widened her stance; Bane made a sighing sound.

He kicked the side of her ankle with the side of his boot; she didn't stagger.

"Excellent," he told her quietly. "Sure footing is important, always. Never sacrifice it for a killing stroke. That one chance could be your last." He moved away from her. "You're utterly defiant, but a fast learner."

Chance grinned at him.

In next hours, Bane handed her clever ways to move with the swords as if they were one weapon instead of two different utensils. His teaching was clear; it was apparent that his previous teacher had been a very good one. Chance was distracted, though, every now and again when he appeared behind her. Her intense fondness for him was heating and cooling every day, and Chance decided that everything about him invited her in—she just wouldn't admit it aloud in a room by herself. As Bane assisted her in moving stances and parrying, she started to feel comfortable once more with him.

Now that she knew that his mask was to provide pain relief to an old injury, she found him to be less frightening, though he still had his moments. Her fear was death, but she feared him as well. It seemed that whenever he harmed her, it hurt a great deal compared to the wounds she felt at other times. Then again, Bane was very powerful. Fatal.

Bane reached for a sword of his own.

"Ready to put what you learned into practice?" he said.

"If I wasn't," said Chance, "I'd have to make myself ready anyway."

"That's right."

He swung his sword toward her; Chance stepped back instinctively and missed the strike successfully. Bane's sword collided with the floor.

"What have I told you about dodging?" he said in a tired voice.

"Instinct."

Bane and Chance battled for half an hour; though Chance parried several times, just trying to stay alive. Since Bane was stronger than she was, his strikes were much more harder to push off and counteract. Chance finally started to get a bit aggravated in the one side battle and did a roundhouse kick toward Bane's stomach; her swords followed. He caught her foot with an empty hand, ducked her sword-swipe, then threw her across the room. She skidded across the stone and ended at the opposite wall upside-down. Gravity pulled her legs back down to the floor. Chance pulled herself back up, wincing.

Bane sheathed his sword.

"That was impressive."

"Was it? I don't remember." Chance muttered, staggering.

"It was impressive," said Bane, approaching her. He withdrew her swords from her limp hands. "You did well for a first try. You're hiding your pain, too."

"Well," Chance said with a slight grin, " right now I'm just very numb. I'm sure in a few minutes, it'll go away."

"You're a very unusually humored girl." Bane told her after a pause.

Chance grinned.

"Follow. I'll have Rocco find you a drink."