Shinobi – The duel
Why did Hyuga give Haku a Donito match already? It's his first day and he's only been here for a few hours. And by the way, I'm his sensei! I should give Haku his first match when I think he's ready. But then again Hyuga's MY sensei so he should know best. I hope he knows what he's doing. Because if Haku gets injured it won't be my problem if he can't train properly.
I slipped on my dueling set, grabbed my sword from the chest at Hyuga's place and headed towards the dueling hall. This sword was my favourite and somehow gave me luck when I was dueling someone. I also felt like I was attached to this since birth, but no- this was a sword given by Hyuga sensei who said he had it made on my fourteenth birthday. He doesn't lie.
The immense duel hall came into view. A load of past teachers including Hyuga-sensei was there. What's with them and seeing me fight? I just have a quick hand and a sponge brain.
"I'm sorry, this is a private duel, so sorry," Hyuga-sensei repeated above the bickering crowd. Slowly the congregation dispersed and I pushed through the empty lane leading to the entrance.
I wonder why it's a private duel. I must be against a powerful person and Hyuga's come to see my abilities. How bothersome.
"Who am I against?" I asked my sensei as I brushed out of the warming up room.
"A sensei," his sharp mouth twitched.
I fixed on my weighty mask and stalked into the arena. My opponent was already there – not to mention shaking. Did Hyuga tell them about me being the 'pro' and scare off the little sensei?
Hyuga-sensei stood a distance between us, his arm stretched out in front.
"Begin," his arm fell and gave me full view of the opponent. Doesn't seem like a sensei to me. Hyuga probably said so I wouldn't waste me time here. Didn't seem to succeed.
I generously stood in defense mode and gave the signal for them to go first. They didn't have to but I thought I'd let them.
To be in a defensive mode the preferred leg and arm was stretched behind the body and the not-preferred leg and arm was lunged in front of the body to provide defense – so if the enemy attacked, the bad leg and arm would get damaged but the good leg and arm could still kick butt. A strategy I developed.
The enemy didn't quite get the message until about half a long minute later. They charged at me like an amateur would and headed directed the sword at my head. What an amateur. It had to be one. But the enemy did have some brains, the only thing that wasn't protected. In some duels if the mask was cunningly taken off the opponent, they win – except that was only if the adviser had mentioned it. Hyuga didn't so it's useless.
If you haven't noticed, my little opponent, to take off my mask is to cut the delicate string at the back, not poke through my entire head, even though it was quite hard as the mask is clay.
I ducked and head butted the opponent's stomach, at least I tried to. A fist clashed into my forehead and I felt the clay mask crack. There was no sigh of relief form the enemy but it turned into an 'oh-no' when I swung my good leg below to trip them. They did successfully trip but also grabbed my arm, either attempting to drag my down or for support. I was going to stand up, give them a good hard kick. By then a shout of surrender should be heard from the doubled over opponent, except for the fact that my whole idea shattered when I felt something crisp and sudden breaking through my arm. It seemed to by coming from the palms of the amateur. It was shockingly painful. Was the knee-knocking amateur a sensei after all? It was not possible for a beginner such a technique like mine – the Arms of Power. Could this be the one who carries the Arms of Electricity?
I grew stiff with pain and my eyebrows knitted together, trying to bear it. My head felt like bursting and hate filled my mind. I don't know why. I wrenched out of my opponent's grip and smirked. This is probably the first time I'd use my sword for actual butt kicking. Get ready show off.
I flung out my sword and trashed it down on the opponent. As expected, they leaped out of the way. The won't get away this time. I ran head on at the enemy, one hand holding the sword steady and the other reached out to make contact with their arm. DIE!
My sword successfully tripped them but the sword the enemy had cleverly shielded opened my hand's old wound from this morning again. My hand spilled blood again. Like last time, only worse I've been losing too much blood. The sword had been plunged right in the centre of my palm. Despite my horrid state, I continued to lurch forward. All I had to do was touch them and they'd die. I didn't care about my hand and the pain. There was none. The sword was already pierced completely through my hand. Through my flesh. I just didn't care – somehow. I lunged my hand achingly further down the sword, and the same time dripping my sword so I had backup with the other hand.
I know, the pain was unbearable, as if I were committing suicide. The look of a bloody steel right through my quivering hand scared me, but my mind seemed to be driving me away from reality and think nothing but the desire to kill the enemy with my own hands, since the enemy nearly killed me his their own. The nerve! I would be GLAD to know who was behind the mask! I could rip them to pieces!
My eyebrows furrowed harder in frustration and I gave it all I had to force my injured hand, also happening to be my good hand, to this madman/woman's shoulder.
VICTORY IS MINE! The blue light erupted from my palms and my opponent flew backwards, unconscious. So my powerful arms did something good this time. There was just one troublesome thing.
My opponent owned the Arms of Power too. Amazing. There were extremely rare and I had just met one through a Donito duel. No worries. I think they're dead now. Or sleeping unconscious at least. I glanced at my hand. It was gruesome. My nerves seemed to wake up and tell me that my hand was cut right through. It ached. Why didn't my hand throb so harshly before? I dropped to my knees and clutched my hand. Blood was pulsing out like the lava of a volcano. I forced myself to look at the enemy. They shouldn't be able to move now.
A thought hit my head. This was a Donito duel. Hyuga-sensei was conducting it. Hyuga never allowed a Donito duel that killed people. Like this morning, I just got scratched and he was fussing over it as if he were my mother. Now I had just got my hand fully pierced and he didn't say a word. Why?
And what was this crazed feeling that I just had? Just then I was almost committing suicide just to kill. There was such a strong desire to kill. Bizarre. I have never had this before. Furthermore, I've never tried to kill someone before, which was after the incident when I was a small child. I had tried to kill Hyuga-sensei once because I had thrown a tantrum. This was probably the first time I have gotten this wounded.
A million 'why's echoed in my head. I felt a headache coming. My vision was blurring. I've lost too much blood. My right hand was clutching the bloody twin of it so hard; I thought my wrist might break. I had started panting. What was the meaning of this? I turned my focus on Hyuga-sensei. How can he still stand there calmly like nothing happened? Especially when his student almost killed herself! I opened my mouth to yell at the old fool, but I was mentally halted by the unforgivable nod he gave. He walked casually out of the hall as if he were prancing around in a park
"Hyuga. What are you trying to pull…?" I muttered angrily under my breath. My opponent, I wonder who they were. They seemed like an amateur, for a sensei wouldn't stick their sword pointing at the opponent. Though there was quite some damage. I crawled on one hand towards my opponent. The duel was over. Normally the two fighters would take off their masks and bow. But in this condition I had to do it for them.
"Sorry. Hyuga's an old weird fool," I mumbled.
My hand failed to push the mask off. All I could see was the forehead with a scar the shape of a lightning on his left cheek, though high enough to be covered by the fringe. It didn't seem I knew this person. I pushed the fringe over the scar.
No. This is ridiculous. I won't and can't believe it. I gaped at the forehead. I did not need, nor would I dare to see the face. I have committed a sin.
I tore off my mask and trembled in shock. My legs scrambled to get up. They carried me to the blurry hut I lived in. The whole place was fuzzy. I closed my eyes and tried not the look at my soaked hand or the trail I had left. I groped my way to the bed and fell wearily on the comforting surface. The whole world was collapsing like leaves on an autumn morning.