From the what I'd heard around Tokyo, I was expecting a gruff, jaded man
would looked as though he preferred to hit first and ask questions later.
Or maybe not at all.
What I _wasn't_ expecting was some kid. It almost made me laugh, that this was the type of company the Battousai now kept. The greatest assassin of the Isshin Shishin now associated himself with common street trash. This would be even easier than I had anticipated.
But then again, living on the streets for more than half of one's life doesn't amount to nothing. The kid didn't believe me for a second, and within moments had grabbed my wrist, pointing out the palms roughed over by years of life by the sword.
Hmph. So much for my subtle attempt. But subtle actions always worked better on subtle people, and this kid looked like he much preferred the direct approach. All it took were a few snide remarks, and a fire was lit under that kid's ass. It was almost admirable, really, the drive behind the kid. A pity I had work to get done, or I would've played with him longer.
The punch was clumsily executed, easily dodged. However, it would be much more fun to let the kid think that he had easily defeated me. I wanted to see his reaction.
It was priceless.
\\Almost a shame, really.// I mused as the blade skewered his formerly unblemished skin. \\A waste of fine potential...but only potential, and not the reason I'm here.// The lunge had taken both myself and the kid into the sorry excuse for a dojo, via the wall.
The sword, living up to its cheapness, broke off, allowing the kid to fall away from me and to the floor. I straightened up and surveyed the situation critically. It had been a good strike, missing anything that would seriously damage the kid, but harming enough to coax out of consciousness.
Still, it would have been nice if he's held out a _little_ longer. As I turned to go, movement from behind told me the kid had found his feet. \\Impressive stamina, for someone so young and unexperienced,// I thought to myself. No matter, taking him down again would be no problem. Especially now that he had grown overconfident, now that my weapon had broken.
No matter how intriguing a round of fisticuffs would be with a street fighter, there was no time for it. It was cruel, painful, heartless...and so easy. A look of surprised pain crossed that kid's face and the metal was pushed deeper inside him. Before he had time to form some biting comment, his body made contact with the floor, and he was still.
Somehow, it didn't seem right just leaving him sprawled ungraciously on the floor. Not quite sure why I was doing it, I knelt down and untwisted him into a slightly more comfortable position. Doing so left a little bit of the kid's blood on my hand. I looked at the liquid for a moment, pondering. Then, like so many times in my former life, I sampled the taste of my prey.
His blood was sweet.
Just before crossing the threshold of the dojo, I turned back to look at the kid one last time. \\Soon kid, soon.// I promised silently.
What I was promising, I had no idea.
What I _wasn't_ expecting was some kid. It almost made me laugh, that this was the type of company the Battousai now kept. The greatest assassin of the Isshin Shishin now associated himself with common street trash. This would be even easier than I had anticipated.
But then again, living on the streets for more than half of one's life doesn't amount to nothing. The kid didn't believe me for a second, and within moments had grabbed my wrist, pointing out the palms roughed over by years of life by the sword.
Hmph. So much for my subtle attempt. But subtle actions always worked better on subtle people, and this kid looked like he much preferred the direct approach. All it took were a few snide remarks, and a fire was lit under that kid's ass. It was almost admirable, really, the drive behind the kid. A pity I had work to get done, or I would've played with him longer.
The punch was clumsily executed, easily dodged. However, it would be much more fun to let the kid think that he had easily defeated me. I wanted to see his reaction.
It was priceless.
\\Almost a shame, really.// I mused as the blade skewered his formerly unblemished skin. \\A waste of fine potential...but only potential, and not the reason I'm here.// The lunge had taken both myself and the kid into the sorry excuse for a dojo, via the wall.
The sword, living up to its cheapness, broke off, allowing the kid to fall away from me and to the floor. I straightened up and surveyed the situation critically. It had been a good strike, missing anything that would seriously damage the kid, but harming enough to coax out of consciousness.
Still, it would have been nice if he's held out a _little_ longer. As I turned to go, movement from behind told me the kid had found his feet. \\Impressive stamina, for someone so young and unexperienced,// I thought to myself. No matter, taking him down again would be no problem. Especially now that he had grown overconfident, now that my weapon had broken.
No matter how intriguing a round of fisticuffs would be with a street fighter, there was no time for it. It was cruel, painful, heartless...and so easy. A look of surprised pain crossed that kid's face and the metal was pushed deeper inside him. Before he had time to form some biting comment, his body made contact with the floor, and he was still.
Somehow, it didn't seem right just leaving him sprawled ungraciously on the floor. Not quite sure why I was doing it, I knelt down and untwisted him into a slightly more comfortable position. Doing so left a little bit of the kid's blood on my hand. I looked at the liquid for a moment, pondering. Then, like so many times in my former life, I sampled the taste of my prey.
His blood was sweet.
Just before crossing the threshold of the dojo, I turned back to look at the kid one last time. \\Soon kid, soon.// I promised silently.
What I was promising, I had no idea.