Guess who I'm going to try and bring in this chapter? That's right… Seto-Kun! But shh, don't tell Gio! XD
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Gionoci yawned widely, stretching and cracking his neck. He went to reach for his tunic, then decided against it- it was hot enough already, and once training started he'd heat up quickly. There was no sense in wearing more than he had to. With that decided, he rolled out of bed and got to his feet. Riou wandered by his doorway, glancing in.
"Better hurry up, Gionoci. Training's going to start soon." A grumble came from the taller man in reply, and Gionoci forced himself out of the room and into the hallway, yawning yet again in protest of the early hours they trained. He made his way with Riou down to the field, walking slowly compared to Riou's quick stride. When they finally got there, Bacura had already begun giving out instructions.
"…and after you're done your laps, I want you all to bathe. I've trod on carcasses that smell better than you lot. Not to mention-" Bacura suddenly noticed the appearance of the tardy pair, crossing his arms and frowning. "I hope you two had a good sleep while the others were up at the hour they were summoned. Hardly fair that you should get extra sleep when they don't… wouldn't you agree?"
Riou swallowed, afraid to answer in case he said the wrong thing. "That's what I thought." He smirked dangerously, and Gionoci felt a chill run up his spine. "Since you two like so much extra of everything, let's be even more unfair, and give you extra wood to carry on the sprint today, hm?" Gionoci's eyes widened.
"That's not fair!" Bacura smirked.
"Exactly." Riou sighed, submitting to his fate as soon as he heard the tone of the school-master's voice. There would be no bargaining with him. Bacura quickly adjusted two extra log splices into each of the leftover packs, pulling the knot tight again. Riou's eyes widened when he picked up both packs and slung them over his shoulders like they weighed nothing. He handed one to Gionoci, and the other to Riou. Once the packs were strapped on, their posture was visibly worsened while they adjusted under the load.
Bacura shouted, and they all ran off. Gionoci kept up surprisingly well with the leaders despite his handicap, but Riou was under a lot more strain. Bacura could see from where he stood how even after the first lap sweat had already condensed on his brow. Riou fought his aching muscles with all his willpower, just to prove to Bacura that he wasn't a weakling like he thought. He'd prove to him that he could be a gladiator if he wanted to be. He'd show him. Bacura's eyebrow raised as suddenly Riou sped up, overtaking the people at the back of the crowd. When he passed by on his third lap, his chest heaved and his neck and face were bright red, but still he ran on. Bacura was almost sure that as Riou passed him, he sped up even more.
Riou was in a world of pain he'd never experienced, his mouth and throat dry, his lungs crying out in protest every time he inhaled. His backbone groaned in complaint, and his leg muscles were in pain to the point that they'd gone numb. He stumbled, and caught himself again, then continued running at a slower pace. Gionoci was worn down by this time as well, and had been dragged down to fifth in line. Bacura frowned, and motioned to a nearby slave.
"You there! Go get me some water." The slave nodded and ran off to do as his master bid. Few residences had water pipes leading directly into the house, but because Bacura was quite rich from his profession and had many needs for water, he'd been approved for a direct from the city reservoir.
When at last the group of men finished their fourth and final lap (having run about a mile in the course of less than six minutes) they were all tired, but none to the extent as Riou. He lagged behind at a jog, tripping the last few metres and falling to his knees. With a groan, he got to his feet and wobbly walked the rest of the way, his shoulders hunched right over under the weight of six pieces of wood.
Bacura came over to him when he collapsed, finally done with his laps. Riou didn't even have the energy to take off the ropes that held the wood to his back. Everything hurt; moving, breathing, talking, everything. Bacura produced a knife and sawed the rope from his shoulders, kicking the wood out from under him. Riou lay in the grass, panting heavily, being glared on by the harsh Pompeian sun.
"You know your muscles will clench up and hurt more if you don't walk around a bit."
"G… go to hell, Bacura…" Bacura blinked, taken aback at Riou's gasped insult. He opened his eyes, which were filled with genuine loathing. "I did… what you told me to. What m… more d'you want?" Bacura felt a sharp tug in his chest. It hurt. He knelt beside Riou, lost for words, and beckoned the slave over.
"Okay…" He muttered, after taking a moment to get over the initial shock. "I see your point. Here." He handed the bowl of water to Riou, noticing how he winced in simply moving his arms to take the offered water. It dribbled down his cheeks and neck as the young man swallowed eagerly, his throat parched and the cool liquid easing the burning sensation.
Bacura watched him for a moment then turned to the slave. "Get him some too," he commanded, motioning to Gionoci. The servant scurried to do as he was told, wary of Bacura's temper in this blistering heat. Riou set the bowl down, gasping for air quietly. Bacura then turned his attention to the rest of the gladiators in training, crossing his arms. "Alright. Stretch and then head to the baths. I've got a battle to go see over, so I'm leaving you under the command of Alexander. If you don't come out of those tubs clean, he's got my permission to throw you back in head first."
A light chuckle ran through the bunch; Alexander didn't have the heart to kill a beetle, let alone throw a man into a tub of hot water face first. Although he certainly had the bulk. Bacura knew this of course, and he was just being as friendly as Bacura could be. He glanced back over at his shoulder once, then walked to the front of the school and mounted his horse. It was off to the arena again.
The wind whistled beside Eugi's ear as the sword rushed past his head. His net lay forgotten on the ground, entwined with the other man's shield. He twirled the trident deftly, whacking his opponent in the ribs with the staff end and making him stumble back a pace. The crowd roared in approval, now standing and shaking their fists in encouragement, yelling out various cheers, both heartening and obscene.
Bacura sat down quickly, having arrived a bit late. Things were going very well for him these days; the crowd seemed to favour Eugi already, despite the fact that this was only his second match. The schoolmaster winced and then grinned as the two weapons shrieked against each other in a clash of strength. Eugi pulled back, turning his shoulder to the blade of his enemy. It clunked against his metal shoulder plate, and he flinched momentarily. Then he was on him again, jabbing out with his trident, parrying the skilled blows of the sword, using his light, mostly armour-free body as an advantage. The other man was fast, but Eugi was faster. There was a sick noise as the prongs of his trident rammed into his adversary's arm; the horde of spectators went wild, waving their arms and shouting praise. The crowd roared with sanguinary desire, lusting for the show of mortality that made their own lives so much more whole.
Eugi took his trident in both hands and pushed him back, throwing him to the ground. His sword was thrown from his grasp, and blood began to wind along his bicep, dripping from his elbow. The crowd howled its approval, crying out for the final act of this morbid play. The thumbs were formed, jabbing in the direction of the underworld to which this failure would surely go. Some took it a step further, thrusting their thumbs at their throats in indication of what they longed to see.
Eugi glanced at the host of the games, who formed his thumb and just as eagerly motioned to his windpipe. The loser's fate was determined. He turned his steely, unperturbed gaze to the gladiator at his mercy, meeting his gaze through the other man's helmet. He felt sorry for him, but if he didn't follow up on his duties, his blood would be shed to satisfy the mob. If Eugi died, he'd never avenge his family and his village. That was why he was here, wasn't it? He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the screams of delight from the onlookers as he rammed his trident into the jugular of another human being. Eugi's stomach lurched, but there was no regretting what he'd done. He had to consider himself lucky. Lucky that it hadn't been Gionoci he'd had to kill, or Riou, or Diodorus, or any of his other friends. Lucky. He left the arena, flicking the blood from the prongs of his trident. Lucky. Like hell.
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Short, I know. I wanted to update quickly. What do you guys think? Is there any romance you'd specifically like to see? Oh, btw, I know I said Seto would come in this chappie. Sorry. U I didn't anticipate Eugi's battle, and that stalled the plotline a bit. But I promise that Seto will come in next chappie. Promise. :3