Chapter 23: Fighting in a Field

"How long until we get to Ikira?" asked Yasuo impatiently. Lizard looked up at him from the bowl of rice he was eating, and he swallowed the last of the grain. Placing his now-empty bowl aside, he scratched at his thin beard, his one eye narrowing in concentration as he thought.

"At the pace we're at, no more than another week," he said finally. Yasuo nodded slowly in response.

A whole week…

They were sitting in the middle of a clearing of the forest, with Yasuo leaning against a nearby tree while Lizard had chosen to sit on a rock to eat his meal. The afternoon sun was high overhead, and its heat was relentless on their backs. All around them, the sound of rustling leaves was heavy in the air, coupled with the noise of the deep forest. They had been on the trail of Bakh and the group of bounty hunters for nearly a month and a half now, with no success.

Every time they arrived at the next village, it was always the same story: they had just missed them – always just a day or two late. Each close encounter was only adding to Yasuo's frustration, with the promise of revenge being so close and slipping away more times than he cared to count. His right hand clenched on the handle of his sword at the thought of Bakh, and he felt the anger rise in him once more. He looked away from Lizard, instead staring deep into the trees of the nearby forest. He looked intently at the greenery, seeing nothing in particular.

I will end him, he thought to himself. He will die by my hand. I swear it.

"Your sword," came Lizard's voice from where he sat. Yasuo turned to face the young man once more, slightly confused. He had his gaze fixed on Yasuo's blade and was looking at it with an interested expression.

"You a swordsman?"

Yasuo stared at him. Is he serious?

"Is that supposed to be a trick question?" asked Yasuo slowly. Lizard raised his hand defensively, standing and brushing it on his clothes.

"Hey, you never know. There are a lot of people who walk with swords on their hips with no idea of how to use them other than having used butter knives before. Some people like how they look, others just like them for intimidation. You'd be surprised at how many so-called 'swordsmen' don't know how to use them in the slightest."

Yasuo remained silent, thinking. He has a point… he admitted grudgingly.

"I guess," admitted Yasuo with a shrug. "But I am most definitely a swordsman. A good one, if I might add."

"Really?" asked Lizard, "I mean, I'd pegged you for one, but…"

"What, you don't believe me?" asked Yasuo ruefully, with a small smile.

"Well… I've faced a lot of swordsmen who called themselves skilled."

"And did you beat them?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" said Lizard with a small smile of his own. Yasuo laughed; it was true that failure for a bounty hunter almost always meant death.

"If you say so…" said Yasuo skeptically; he for one, doubted the skill of a one-armed, one-eyed swordsman. Lizard watched him with amusement, and the smile on his face grew slightly.

"Still don't believe me?" he said, placing his hand on his sword. "You want to see for yourself?"

Despite himself, Yasuo felt a feeling of excitement welling up inside of him. Battle was still a thrill for him, regardless of who he faced or what situation he was in. He stepped away from the tree, walking over to where Lizard stood, placing his own hand on his sword.

"Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief. "You want to fight?"

"Sure, why not? It'll be a good way to let off some steam, loosen up a little."

"And die," added Yasuo shortly.

"Maybe," conceded Lizard. "But that's only if we're not careful."

"Careful? With swords?"

Lizard shrugged. "We can certainly try." He grinned. "Unless you're scared of losing to a one-armed, one-eyed bounty hunter."

Yasuo scoffed. "You wish."

In response, Lizard pulled his sword from its sheath with a low rasping sound, holding it out with the tip pointing down. Yasuo ran his eyes over the sword; it seemed shoddily made, with a roughly made wooden handle and a long blade that was marked with numerous small dents and notches. And yet, it did not seem weak at all. On the contrary, it looked very, very dangerous; it fit Lizard: it was thin and razor sharp, with a lithe sort of menace emanating from it. Yasuo's grin widened.

That's a good sword, he thought to himself. That one's seen a lot of battle.

"What's it called?" he asked him.

"Its name is Venom."

"A little melodramatic, don't you think?"

"Even a lizard has its venom."

Yasuo chuckled. "Fair enough."

"So do you want to do this or not?"

Yasuo drew his own sword slowly, and his made a sound like the rushing wind as he did so. The faint wind patterns on the blade shone in the sun like smoke. He held it out at Lizard, the tip pointed at his neck. Lizard eyed it with interest, and Yasuo saw his eye flick down the length of the blade.

"Very nice," he admitted, slightly grudgingly. "What's its name?"

Yasuo blinked.

His sword had no name; others had called it things like Butcher and The Stained One and Cutting Wind, but he had not taken those. Especially not when those names had been spat at him as he walked; none of those were his blade. Naming a sword was something that the Elders had told him that would be the hardest thing he could ever do. They had told him of swordsmen who lived all their lives without ever finding a name for their sword, and who lived their lives as if they lacked a part of their soul.

Yone had given his sword a name, but Yasuo had not. Yone had called his Shyrugi, which in the old Ionian language had meant Righteous Path. Yasuo had laughed at him for it, telling him it was unoriginal and overdramatic, but he knew Yone would not care. Deep down, Yasuo had been jealous as well, jealous that Yone knew his own so quickly – jealous that he could not find his own sword's name. Along with that jealously, he had been proud of Yone for being sure enough in himself to name his sword. Righteous Path was a name that fit his brother better than anything Yasuo or anyone else could have come up with. The masters had told them that in time, they would learn the name of sword, but Yasuo had not found his. Not then, and especially not now.

"It… it doesn't have one," he said quietly, "Not yet, at least."

"No?"

"No. I have yet to find it."

Lizard nodded quietly in understanding, his blade still outstretched. Slowly, he lowered it, placing it into the ground and leaning on it like a cane.

"Come on, then, I'm waiting. Don't go easy on me," he said, his grin returning.

"Are you sure? I might kill you."

"Go ahead and try. You won't kill me. If you don't try to your hardest to kill me, I might kill you instead." He paused, giving another, more pointed smile, "And besides, I don't want you using you 'not trying your hardest' as an excuse for losing."

Yasuo did not deign to respond. Instead, he raised his blade, holding it horizontally before his face. Over the edge of the blade, he could see as Lizard pulled his sword out of the ground once more, holding it out before him. Yasuo blinked; he had never seen anyone with a sword stance like the one Lizard held now in front of him: he stood with his arm slightly bent, and he held Venom so that its tip pointed almost diagonally at the ground. Lizard flicked his head cheekily.

"Come at me."

Yasuo and Lizard began to circle one another slowly, taking slow steps over the grass of the clearing. Yasuo watched the single eye of Lizard closely, and it looked back at him intently. He noted the small intake of breath Lizard took the instant before he attacked, and he leapt back nimbly to dodge his blade. It cut through the air mere inches from his face, and Yasuo countered with a thrust with his own.

Lizard knocked it away with his sword, deflecting the sword to his left. Yasuo took the opportunity, intending to strike Lizard from his weak side. To his surprise, his sword was blocked, and Lizard forced him away with a grunt.

Yasuo spun swiftly in a circle, aiming once more for Lizard's left side. To surprise again, his sword was blocked for a second time. Yasuo jumped away from Lizard, his sword flashing in the afternoon sun. They dashed backwards away from each other and returned to their starting distance. Their breathing was level as they circled each other again, and the tip of Yasuo's blade traced a line in the grass.

He watched Lizard closely, keeping his eyes on the bounty hunter's own. With a sudden movement, he dashed at him, aiming once more for Lizard's left side. Again, his sword was stopped, and Yasuo grit his teeth.

How? He asked himself. How haven't I won yet? He only has one arm, for heaven's sake!

Lizard was not faster than him, nor any stronger. He had a large blind spot and could not put his full strength into a one-armed swing. So how was he losing? Or – more fairly – how had he not won yet? Against a one-armed, one-eyed swordsman, he should have won immediately. Even able-bodied swordsmen stood no chance against him. But he was not angry; on the contrary, he was excited – excited that he finally had a challenge again. It was not often that he found someone who challenged him so.

Yasuo could feel his pulse rising, and he gave a breathless laugh. This was fighting, this was war – this was what he lived for. His blade whistled through the air, and their swords collided with another crash. They were like lightning strikes, flashing and sparking in the bright overhead sun.

They had been fighting for close to 10 minutes before Yasuo could finally see the sweat beginning to bead on Lizard's forehead, and could sense that his swings were getting slower.

He may be blocking my attacks, thought Yasuo to himself, but he's getting tired faster than me.

He was tired himself, but Yasuo could tell that Lizard was far more spent than he. Evidently, he was not used to extended fights – neither was Yasuo, but he had been trained all his life to fight, so he was used to fighting at his limits. He could feel his own arms growing heavier with each passing second, but he was having too much fun to stop. He echoed the manic laugh that Lizard gave, breathless with exertion.

The end came quickly, as if both of them had been waiting for it. Yasuo swung again for Lizard's left side and feinted, ducking low to cover the distance between them. He jabbed out viciously with the butt of his sword, catching the bounty hunter in the stomach. Lizard gave a pained cough as he stumbled, and his sword fell from his hand. Yasuo kicked him, knocking him onto his back and placing the tip of his sword at the hollow of his neck.

They stared at each other, both breathing heavily, before Yasuo sheathed his sword and held out a hand to help Lizard up. He took it gratefully, wiping his brow when he had stood. He picked his sword up from where it lay, replacing it back onto the belt around his waist.

"Where'd you learn to fight like that?" asked Yasuo once he had caught his breath. He had never faced anyone who fought like Lizard did, nor anyone who had survived against him for as long.

"Taught myself, didn't I? Had to, unless I wanted to die," he replied, sitting down on the large boulder he had sat on before. He took a drink from his canteen, offering it to Yasuo. Yasuo took a long drag as well, throwing it back to Lizard once he had finished.

"I see. I'm glad I beat you; my masters would probably jump out of their graves if I lost to a one-armed, one-eyed swordsman."

Lizard chuckled. "I wouldn't bet on it. You're the first one who's beaten me in a long time. Most of the people I've hunted down were usually too surprised that I could even hold a sword to last more than a minute against me."

"How'd you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Kill them."

Lizard looked up at him. After a moment, he looked down and sighed, running his hand through his hair. "It's wasn't that hard, really," he admitted awkwardly. "Like I said, most people are surprised that I last more than a minute against them, and I use that surprise against them. They underestimate me, you know? It's not the most honorable way to fight, but it's kept me alive, so I'm not about to start complaining."

"That's it?"

"That's it. That's the problem with all the other swordsmen: they're predictable. Everyone who fights me is – or was. 'Go for his weak side' they think, 'Go for his left arm, go for his blind spot.' Soldiers, samurai, ninja, all the same. I've learned I don't actually have to fight. All I have to do is block their attacks until I see an opening. And when they all go for the same spot, it's not that hard to defend." He shrugged. "It's taken me a while, but I think I've got it down."

His eye looked back up at Yasuo. "You were a little more unpredictable; you still went for my weak side, but you also went for other places. That's probably why you won."

"Just because of that?"

Lizard grinned. "Well, and also because you're bloody fast and strong. I've never fought anyone like that before. You move like the wind."

Yasuo looked away. The wind. That's what I am, isn't it?

A silence of mutual respect stretched between the two companions, broken only when Lizard cleared his throat.

"Well, we should get moving soon. We already wasted some time with our little sparing session, and we don't want to waste any more."

"Good idea," said Yasuo, already beginning to pack up his belongings. It took them a few minutes, but soon they were on the road again. Yasuo walked slightly behind Lizard, looking at the back of the young man's head as he led him into the forest. He did not know why, but he could tell that his companion was one who knew far more than he was willing to let on.