Sweet and Sour

He stood in the center of a large sandpit. The dirt walls were too high for him to even hope to climb out. Above him stood a stooped figure of an old man. He watched him with unnerving scrutiny. Dressed in overflowing robes of black, his silhouette was cast down on the small boy.

The wrinkled skin of the man visibly shook as he spoke. A baritone voice drawled out with the hint of liquor said, "You have done well, boy. But you have yet to pass the last test successfully."

"I said I will never fight for your pleasure, Grandpa," the boy growled insultingly. He hated this old man and never missed a chance to show his contempt.

"For your failure," the man continued. "You shall have a choice of punishment. You shall be left in here for three days with no food or water… Or you can fight Tadashi in mortal combat."

There was no choice. Either option had the promise of much pain and possible death. The possibility of no food or water was something he could've handle, if he wasn't starving already. To fight Tadashi in this condition, even as skilled as he seemed to be, would be certain death.

His jaw trembled from his suppressed fury. He could only look down on the sandy ground. How did I fall into this? He wondered from the umpteenth time.

It seemed years ago when he was a simple boy trying to find his place in life. Then life happened. This old man appeared one day and kidnapped him, or he'd preferred to think of it as kidnapping.

Promising to teach the arts of long-forgotten swordsman, the old man had only instructed him in the ways of suppressing emotions, particularly anger. When he had tried to flee, many times over the weeks, he had been stopped each time.

Of course, he wasn't the old man's only pupil. The teenager Tadashi had been with him for years and was his star apprentice. However, Tadashi seemed to feel threatened by the boy's sudden arrival and didn't hesitate to beat him while they were training. Tadashi had been trying to instill a fear of him inside the boy. However, all he succeeded in doing was adding fuel to fierce fire. Both boys would've killed for the chance to mutilate the other.

"Fine," he said quietly. "I'll fight."

A shadow moved above him and he reacted on pure instinct; throwing himself away from the object that was thrown down toward him. It was a long, narrow object bound tightly in black leather. Approaching cautiously, he picked up the object.

It was a katana.

"Use this, boy."

Unsheathing the sword, he couldn't help but admire it. Turning it over, he glimpsed a Japanese symbol. Careful practice and the need to learn were finally being beneficial to him, he could read the wording easily: Samurai of the West.

-

Snapping up his slumber, he felt his cold sweat beating down on him. Ignoring the cold, he threw his bed sheets from his body. Climbing to his feet, he wiped the sweat from his body. This has to end, he growled.

Moving to his dresser, he carefully opened it. Digging through his clothes, he brought out a familiar uniform. It was a black, sleeveless shirt and sweatpants and a pair of leather gloves that were worn from use.

Pulling his dresser drawer out entirely, he reached inside and extracted his katana. With it came a long strap of black cloth. Tying it firmly his waist, he stuffed his sword into it. Replacing the drawer, he went quietly to his window. Opening it, he dropped lightly to the ground.

After a horrible dream like that, the only way he could possibly hope to get back to sleep was after a nice, long training session.

-

Aelita's cool, delicate hand on his forehead brought much comfort. Opening his eyes, her sweet face brought a small smile to his face. He still couldn't believe that he wasn't dreaming.

Jeremy lay on his bed with a textbook on his chest. The light in his room was brightening as the day quickly rose up. Aelita sat on the edge of his bed with her hand stroking his face.

"Well," she said. "Good morning."

"Hi," he said.

"Were you dreaming?"

"Of you?" he asked. "Yes."

Aelita blushed as she grasped his hands. Pulling him into a sitting position, she said, "Now, isn't that sweet."

Kissing him light on the cheek, she said, "Haven't you slept long enough? Yumi wants to take us to a game shop."

"Oh, yeah." He had forgotten. "Let's go."

(A/N)Tantalizing, isn't it?

I'm sorry for the lack of length in this chapter. This one is merely a 'transition' chapter. The next chapter is an open doorway for trouble: the final conflict. The next chapter leads to the answers of your last two questions. Things are going to get very emotional for a certain character.

Here's a little hint: Someone knows something.

Can the victim handle the consequences?