AN: This chapter has NOT been edited yet! I'll put up an edited version later, just thought some of you would like to see and update.
Chapter 18
Everyone ate the pieces of various desserts Sarah had brought while she told them the results of the different divisions of the food contests.
"…and Aunt Rena should be here soon."
"Ten more minutes before the final match begins."
The people in the medics tent looked up to see the third judge, a swordsman known as Ren. The man left as soon as he was sure John had heard him.
Sarah helped John remove the love leaves' (more commonly known as "Burdock" to most in the healing profession) mash from his skin and Berin brought his mostly dried shirt.
"How's your leg?" Sarah asked, remembering her worries before she was sent to check on Brittany and Lindsey.
John stood up, putting pressure on his leg that he had favored almost an hour ago and said, "It's okay now. I probably have a large bruise on my hip, but it shouldn't affect me too much."
The young woman nodded. At that moment Aunt Rena showed up, a petite woman with light brown hair following close behind her.
Sarah noticed the top of the lady's head over Aunt Rena's shoulder and then saw the familiar triangular scar on the forehead.
"Nanaii!" Sarah called out, a smile stretching her face. She ran around the grandmotherly woman to come face to face with her long time friend.
Startling copper brown eyes smiled back at Sarah as the two women embraced, having not seen each other the whole summer.
"Sarah, it's so good to see you," the diminutive woman said after the two had released each other from an almost crushing hold. Nanaii looked up at Sarah, her head not quite reaching the level of the taller woman's shoulders.
"I saw Aunt Rena taking her pie pan from the display and thought she might know where you were. I should have remembered that you would probably be here to help your mother," Nanaii said, pushing some of her shoulder length hair behind her ear with her fingers.
"You barely come back in time for the festival most years, it's no wonder you wouldn't know where I am," Sarah replied, smiling at her dear friend.
"Will the finalists please come to the arena?" Dravel commanded, his voice back full force and booming over the crowd.
"Sarah, I need to go now," John said, having leaned down to whisper in her ear. His whisper tickled her, his breath going over her ear. In her excitement at seeing Nanaii she hadn't paid attention to anyone else.
She flushed, half in embarrassment at forgetting her surroundings and not introducing Nanaii to John. The other half of her bemused feelings was from the almost intimate way John had whispered into her ear.
"I'm sorry, I'll introduce you to each other properly after the sword match," Sarah stumbled out, then changing her tone to slight worry, "John, be careful and good luck!"
The pale man smiled at her, his red eyes softened only for her. He turned as he waved at the group in front of the medics tent and then threaded across the packed soil of the fallow field and made his way to the entrance of the arena.
Sarah and everybody else walked to the ranch-style wooden fence, trying to get a good view of the coming fight. Sarah turned to her friend and told Nanaii about John. Nanaii nodded and then said, "Yes, Kancia told me about him. Although we know how she likes to embellish things."
The two young women smirked at each other, Kancia's tales were almost a long standing joke between Nanaii and Sarah. They knew their red-haired friend had no malicious intent with the half-truths in her stories, she only meant for her stories to be more exciting.
"Who is John going against?" Aunt Rena asked suddenly, squinting, trying to read the board.
Sarah turned her head a bit and read, "Norin Munlou. He was the champion last year. But I don't like him," she added, "he rubbed that fact in every other competitors' faces. He's an arrogant jerk."
There was more to it than his behavior in last year's competition. Although she hadn't told anyone, Norin had picked on her during their years in elementary school. He probably had forgotten that he had, as was often the case with bullies, it was only their victims who remembered the taunts and whatever else.
Sarah had forgiven him since it had seemed he had matured, but his behavior last year elicited her previous dislike of him.
John entered the arena as his opponent did, entering from another entrance. The three judges, Linz, Dravel, and Ren, made their triangle around the two competitors, keeping a safe distance away. Dravel was centered as if on a horizontal line going between John and Norin, Ren and Linz took their places to make an equilateral triangle.
John studied Norin as they stepped closer to each other to cross swords. The man looked to be of similar age as himself, his black hair short, although the hair in font was a bit long, giving a rakish air. Dark blue eyes looked back at him, Norin's mouth in a confident smirk under an aristocratic nose. Smiling during a match was considered rude since competitors were expected to be serious, but there was no penalty as it was more of a practiced courtesy rather than a written rule.
John and Norin created quite a contrast, the audience noticed from the light complexion of the serious, tall metal-armed man to the dark, slightly shorter, arrogantly smirking man.
Their blades were slightly crossed, barely touching. Calloused hands gripped leather hilts that they kept centered to their bodies with their left hands, their right slightly more relaxed against the cross-guards. Each man had the tip of their sword pointed at the other's throat as they slid their feet into position. John was already refocusing his eyes to see more than just his opponent's cold eyes.
Dravel had his arms raised, waiting for the crowd to hush. He dropped his arms when he barked out, "Begin!"
Swords clashed, Norin had struck out his sword like a snake, great power coiled almost deceptively in the almost lithe figure. John had caught the twitch, his sword almost vertical to protect himself. The two men were pushing their swords and knuckles against the other. They broke apart, the dark-haired man striking towards John's torso as he retreated.
Fortunately for the tall, pale man he had pushed himself back quick enough, stirring up dust.
The two circled, inching closer imperceptively with each step to the side, trying to get into one-step range. Their swords just barely got crossed before Norin took a swift step forward and struck.
John's leg almost buckled at the pain as the other man passed him. He had hit him in the right hip, right where John had been injured before. Norin hadn't even aimed for the proper strike zone of John's abdomen, he had purposely aimed for the taller man's injury!
Dravel didn't call out a warning, nor did the other judges. To John's bad luck the three judges were at a bad angle and couldn't have seen Norin's purpose. The strike would only count as a miss.
John had quickly turned to face the other man just as Norin had. John's face was an expressionless mask, not allowing anyone to see his pain or thoughts. The shorter man flashed a smile when he saw the slight limp that betrayed John as they circled each other again.
John allowed the cocky man to make a few more attacks, although the last one hit him, but that was on his upper part of his metal arm. He wouldn't let anyone know, but he had slightly enjoyed the look of surprise on the blue-eyed man when the hit of the sword to John's artificial appendage rattled Norin's arms unpleasantly. John's arm had rattled him a little as well, but it was almost worth it to see the smirk disappear from his opponent's face.
John took advantage of Norin's distraction and lowered guard. He leapt forward and with a deep cry struck the open right arm and then head in swift succession, plowing past the shocked man John swung back around, facing Norin again.
Dravel had raised an arm indication that John's strikes were seen and counted. The other two judges also raised an arm in agreement. A scorekeeper wrote this down.
Norin's head was ringing and John saw the shorter man gritting his teeth. He had a feeling that he wasn't just doing that to bear the pain. The previous year's champion glared at the metal-armed freak, as he thought of John, but calmed himself at the thought of finishing him off quickly.
Just as John saw Norin set his jaw, he sensed movement and so reacted by propelling himself forward, his instincts saving him a doubly aching head as his sword again clashed with the other man's blade. He wondered if he imagined the spark.
They continued, trading blows, but more often than not blocking each other's swinging arc.
The minutes seemed to trickle by, just like the young men's sweat.
The two were audibly breathing hard, like horses after running a race course. And perhaps the analogy seemed to fit in some women's minds because to them the men looked like magnificent creatures.
Sarah looked on, worried. John's limp had become more pronounced. Although she couldn't be sure since most of the strikes happened so fast, she had a feeling that it was Norin's fault for aggravating John's injury.
Norin no longer looked as self-assured as he was at the beginning of the match, of which the doctor-in-training was glad. Even in John didn't win, Sarah would have been satisfied since he would have knocked the arrogant man down a notch.
Dravel watched, having the best view out of anyone. He shifted from one side to the other of the arena when the fighters' movements warranted it. The sword master loved the fight as a sport, the excitement, the raw energy of it all. He was quite experienced with more than his fair share of battle and knew that sword fighting was no game since often, especially in recent times, young men like them had to go out and test their skills, voluntarily of not, with sharpened swords to kill or be killed.
A high-pitched clang brought Dravel's attention back to the present.
John felt his skin burning from the sun and his salty sweat. His silvery-blue hair was wet, getting into his eyes, sweat slid down his face to drip off his chin. Both of the men's clothing clung to them, most notably their shirts between shoulder blades and on their chests. The two were almost evenly matched, but John knew that he was more likely to prevail because he had let Norin tire himself out earlier by allowing him to do the attacking, running past him while John stayed in place most of the time, using minimal energy to turn quickly on the balls of his feet to face the next charge.
John knew he had to go in for the kill, figuratively of course, soon or else he would lose out to exhaustion. His metal arm weighing down his side more than ever.
Renewing his grip on his sword John charged the wary Norin. Their swords and fists banged up against each other as they pushed. In a calculated move John pushed his hands up which caused the other man to quickly, instinctively jerk his arms down in an over correction to protect himself. Predicting this behavior from most experienced swordsmen John took swift advantage of the opening Norin unknowingly provided.
The pale man thrusted his blade past Norin's defense until the tip touched the tanned opponent's throat.
The thrust ended the match automatically, although they were only seconds away from the end of ten minutes.
As Dravel announced John the overall champion, Norin Munlou grudgingly lowered his sword. They brought their swords up to cross and stepped back to sheath their blades.
John extended his right hand and said, "Nice match."
Norin looked down at the metal with a sneer then walked away, head held high, back stiffly straight.
John lowered his hand, slumping a bit in a combination of tiredness, pain, and the weight of his arm. He felt the heavy pats on his back from a smiling Dravel, and many people from the audience crowded around him, congratulating him. He didn't feel as happy as he thought he should have been, thinking that he may have made an enemy of Norin Munlou.
All he wanted now, more than anything, was for Sarah to come and take him away in loving arms.
That day Sarah and John didn't go to the evening dance practice. John felt guilty believing Sarah had been looking forward to it even though on the third night of the festival there would be the actual, formal dance. He had apologized and promised to make it up to her tomorrow. Sarah wouldn't hear any of it and had to actually cover his mouth lightly with her fingers for him to stop apologizing.
They were home in John's room. Sarah smiled up at John, gently brushing sweat-stiffened hair away from his deep red eyes.
"Sit down," Sarah instructed, guiding the tall man to sit on the edge of his bed.
She left him a moment to pick up the bag of medical supplies her mother had left in the room. Her shoes padded against the floor. Sarah set the bag down on the bed next to John. She helped him pull his shirt off, his left arm stiff from wielding the sword a long time that day.
Sarah's eyes widened, taking in the sight of many angry welts and bruises on his body. She brought out a salve from the supplies for the bruises and some of the burdock mash Addy had prepared for the sunburns. She opened the glass jar and dipped her fingers into the thick, creamy substance. She began spreading the salve on a welt that went across John's torso, he hissed air between his teeth, the area where Sarah had put the substance on had heated up, but then it started to feel cold. Sarah continued to apply the medicine, rubbing it in on him until only the bump on his head was left. John looked up at her through his hair as he felt her gentle fingers shift through his hair. She looked very intent and easily found the bruise.
"Your hair is going to get sticky," she warned, already dipping her finger into the jar.
"I'll take a shower tomorrow," John answered.
The doctor-in-training parted his hair and applied the gooey salve, smoothing it on his bruise carefully, trying to avoid spreading it onto the surrounding hair.
"I think I'll bandage the mash onto you so it doesn't fall off of you and get the bed unnecessarily messy," Sarah said, more thinking out loud than consulting him.
The smell of the salve was a bit strong, some sort of minty smell mixed with the seemingly universal smell of medication.
Picking up handfuls of the love leaves mash Sarah spread it across John's red shoulders, his arm, and face. She laughed, trying to cover her mouth with her barely clean wrist. John looked like he was wearing the vitamin and mineral mask some women put on at night trying to retain their beauty, or become beautiful.
"You find my painful sunburns to be amusing?" John asked in a mock hurt voice. Sarah shook her head, trying her best to look innocent as she held in snickers. Suddenly she saw that he had sneaked a handful of the green mash into his left hand. Her eyes widened and she whispered, "You wouldn't dare."
She saw him smirk, she turned to flee, but he was already upon her. With his metal arm caging Sarah against him, her back pressed into his front as she struggled he pulled her back with him until they sat on his bed, she sat between his legs. She twisted against the tall man, frantically asking him to stop in hushed tones, not wanting to raise the suspicions of anyone who may be near by.
"No John! I'm serious! Don't-"
She was abruptly stopped by a gentle caress of John's lips against her cheek, his body curled around hers and she saw how intimate their position must look with her sitting between his legs on his bed, his arm across her stomach. Her face burned, but that too was suddenly changed as she felt cold, wet goop smack her face.
"John!" she yelled, almost angry as she felt the mash slide down onto her neck and then to her blouse. She tried to pull away, worried about her shirt getting a stain, but knew it was too late.
'Oh well, it was an old shirt anyway,' she thought.
John brought his other arm around her, his mood changing from mischievous to something that made Sarah feel strange, her heart beat a little faster, her face still flushed from before. He rested his chin on her right shoulder, quietly breathing her mixed scent of pharmaceuticals and a soft smell only hers. All the moving had caused the burdock mash to slip off, leaving behind pieces stuck to his face. Sarah twisted in his hold, John allowing her, sensing that she wasn't intending to escape. She brought her hand up, wiping away left over mash from his face, tracing an eyebrow, then the purple tattoo at the corner of his eye. John turned his face slightly, kissing her inner wrist. Sarah's breath lodged in her throat. She didn't know what had brought on his very affectionate mood, but it made her feel uncertain, not knowing what he expected from her. She brought her hand back down, resting it against his powerful arms.
John was studying her through his intense, deep red eyes. Sarah flicked her own light blue ones away from his gaze nervously then looked down at their arms, his wrapped protectively around her torso and hers resting on top of his.
"John," Sarah started quietly, still looking down at their bare arms, "why are you acting like this?"
"I have feelings for you Sarah," he replied, speaking equally softly.
"What do you mean by 'feelings' John?" her voice had gotten slightly sharp, more from the intensity of the mood than anything else.
"The kind I'm sure I've never felt before, even though," he smirked ruefully, continuing, "I don't remember my past. This deep feeling that makes me warm whenever I think of you. I don't know if it's love, but whatever it is I want to be with you."
A childlike smile played at Sarah's lips, a bit uncertain, but warm. Her heart was unsure and elated at the same time. She believed that she loved him, but a corner of her mind wondered if he only had these feelings for her because she was the one who helped him recover. She's heard of stories where at first a patient will find their attendant attractive, believing they had fallen in love, only to find that their feelings were false, and were only gratitude for being healed.
She wanted to think that they would be different and squelched that pessimistic voice, if only for this one moment.
Sarah turned in John's arms, his metal one feeling warm like his natural one. She slid down onto her knees by the bed and gingerly hugged John's torso, not wanting to cause any pain. She rested the side of her head against him, her ear pressed to his hard stomach.
"John," she mumbled, her eyes closed, "I think I love you."
AN: So… there was a little action and a little action winkwink. This chapter feels really weird to me, especially the last part, but I hope it was…interesting to you. The swordfighting rules are loosely based on what I know of the rules for kendo (Japanese fencing) tournaments. I've only started learning how to fight an opponent in kendo since I'm still a beginner and have just barely got into bogu (armor). Each match in kendo is 3 minutes maximum, 2 point win (or whoever got a point before the time runs out), there are 3 judges set up in a triangle around the competitors and acceptable hits are the top of the head, middle of the forearm, stomach, and for the skilled the thrust to the neck, which is really dangerous for beginners to do.
So I added a "bad apple" and there will be more to come. So yes, this story seems to be getting boring aside from the fighting, or so I hope, but I am planning for some excitement to come, although that will be in several chapters ahead. I hope the fluff breaks up the monotony.
Poco-poco Thank you very much. I'm actually updating again! Yay for me!
ArtemisMoon So since I had a lot written I had quite an itch to get another chapter out and updated (the rash is horrible! Joking, just joking.) I'm getting worried about the hurricanes down where you are, but what would I know about hurricanes? I've never gone further east than Arizona in the US.
Ah Young Song Thanks for reviewing each of my chapters! Sorry if my story is a bit boring, but I hope I can keep you reading it! Just warning you though, it may be a very, very, very long while before I finish this story.
KlutzyGirl Yes, when I thought up Lindsey asking if Sarah kissed John's boo boos all better I just couldn't resist and had to put it in there, all the while I had this interesting, er, smile on my face. I'm a little unsure, maybe it was a grimace of malevolence… Hey, now that I look at that word it looks like "male violence". Now would that translate to violent males, or violence towards males? I guess in this case we can take a guess. LOL!
Kae Noel Hey Kae! How're ya doin'? Have you been busy? I'm still waiting for an update to one of your stories, but I suppose we're all busy. Take it easy.