Young Huey held onto the sword with a hesitant grip. His hands shaking uncontollably at the hilt, not only from the fear of holding such a weapon, but the surprising weight that it carried from the blade. Though unique in its design, it was anything but light upon carrying it. He struggled to keep the sword at least above shoulders length, but his arms constantly dropping down from his shoulders, and the blade hitting the dirt. Heavy breaths inhaled and exhaled from his mouth as he locked eyes on his target, with his eyes diluting from trying to make sense of his actions.
Soon, his visions began to fade in and out in contrast, giving more than a hard time trying to detect what his target was doing. He took another deep and focused breath, attempting to lift the katana up once more. His coiled expression showed his struggle with its weight, even more so to what he was supposed to do with it. Kill the target that lied in front of him.
"Do you know what it is you're holding?" Afro calmly said to the eight year old, who had leaned up on nearby tree overlooking the entire process of his training. Though it couldn't be called training, not yet anyway. This was a test in general terms, but to the path Huey means to take, it holds so much more meaning."It looks like a normal blade. A means to defend, and kill if neccessary. But as a warrior, a samurai, it is an extension of you yourself. Your will, manifested as a blade to do with what you will."
Huey listened to the words spoken, but his focus was diverted to simply trying to keep the blade held up to a suitable position, so he could not offer a response. Afro knew this of course, and found this suitable. He did not need him to talk or ask questions, simply to listen.
"Of course, the length or strength of your sword is all moot to the power of your WILL, your sould itself. The stength of such an essence decides the power of your blade, not the blade itself. No matter how hard the blade is, a wielder of weak will and hesitation will find it breaking in almost no time flat. That brings me to your first duty as a warrior. Fear." Afro walked over directly into Huey's line of sight and grabbed his target lifting it high in the air. Though it was tiny, it was full of life, and had a will of its own that it could present to others, to show the world proof of its existence.
"Fear is the reaction of any human being. It allows us to react to certain situations, giving us the untapped ability to fight until our last dying breath, or to run, all in the means of survival at any cost. Fear can exist in any living thing, and can often be the very thing that makes or breaks us as an invidual. When fear breaks us, we become hesitant in our actions, frail even. Unable to make rational decisions based on rational thought. Hesitation can be useful on the path of self destruction of ones pride, and what makes them alive in the first place. So what must we do to rid ourselves of hesitation?" This time, the question was poised towards young Huey, who was still struggling with the blades weight. Afro waited silently for the answer as Huey attempted to divulge his focus into moving his mouth.
"C...Cast hesitation...out...of your mind?!" He said with obvious fatigue at the activity that he had been attempting for more than two hours already. Afro shook his head, disappointed in his answer.
"That was a rhetorical question. Hesitation serves as our means on what we should improve on as people. How we are still alive and we strive to live through any means necessary. Even means such as killing. But it is the holding of hesitation and the lack thereof that seperates man and animals. The animal feels no hesitation in his killing, because it is simply doing whatever it takes to survive in its environment even through preying on those weaker than it. A man feels hesitation because he knows that killing is not the only way to guarantee his survival in such situations. When he realizes this, he can run away, or simply carve open a new path. The question you must ask yourself, with all of this in mind, will that hesitation that you carry in your heart be your undoing, or your salvation when taking another's life? Will that be your only way of settling a conflict?"
"I...don't understand...Should I not hesitate when I...kill?"
"Hesitation has no place in the act of killing, but hesitation of dealing with the aftermath of the kill itself. That is always the hardest part to internalize." Afro then drew a small knife from his sash, and helf it close to the targets nape, the blade softly resting on its skin."With practice, anyone can kill, but it is the feelings of regret, the feelings of despair that linger with us afterwards, no such preparation exists." With one subtle movement of his hand, he brought the blade across the targets nape, drawing blood almost instantly. Huey watched in an fearful awe as the red liquid leaked down the dirt, soon forming a puddle near his master's feet. He didn't flinch, or turn away from it, focusing on it with concentration, memorizing the aspects that come with slaying the target of his choosing or of his self defense.
Afro tossed the lifeless carcass aside on the ground, with its intestines forcefully splashing out of its body from the impact. He walked over to him with the blood drenched knife still available in his hand and pointed it at young Huey. Although he had no intention of harm, his apprentice still remained on guard, finally managing to hold it up above his hips after only a few hours of just trying to lift it off the ground. Noticing his work in progress, Afro shook his head in wonder how we would ever progress even further in his training.
'Why did he take him on as his apprentice?' One had to wonder, including Huey as the question revolved heavily in his mind. A person in his position would be more worried about just trying to manage his standing in a foreign country after escaping a pre-destined life of being enslaved. Did he see some kind of untapped potential within him as a warrior? Is that why he took him on, and gave him is role?
The thoughts snapped Huey back to reality as much as the quick strike done to his stomach from his masters kick, sending him tumbling back several feet on his back, rolling clumsily on the ground. Giving himself a moment to breathe through the lingering feeling of the kick, Huey picked himself up from the dirt, holding his stomach together with the context that his guts were going to come spilling out from the hit, which would have been a lot more harder than taking a sword to it. At least it would have ended more quickly. Taking his sudden attack as a means to instigate a sparring match, or the simulation of trying to kill him, Huey summoned what little remained of his depleting strength and lifted up his sword with barely any effort, bringing himself to hold a middle balanced stance. Unexpectedly, Afro gave him a silent nod in approval.
"Just like that." Though confused at the sudden statement, Huey refused to take his eye off of him, or let his sword slip even just a little below his waist. "Remember that feeling next time you lift your sword. The feeling of having someones foot or fist put to your gut, and putting you down on your feet! Take that strength and let it push you through the fight!" Almost as if he were expecting to do so himself, Afro came charging at Huey with his knife, leading him to block almost instantly. Though sloppy, it still provided defense from the strike. Afro continued with a series of a few more strikes, aiming for several of Huey's vital spots, ranging from his legs, arms, and even head. Huey did his best to defend against them all, albeit poorly with the weight of the sword and his small stature working against each other.
"You must be prepared to kill! At anytime!" Afro exclaimed as every strike clashed against his apprentice's blade. They circled around each other with nearly in sync footwork, although Huey habitually checking his footwork, causing him to lose focus and for Afro to gain an even higher ground with his assault." Though preparation, is not a guarantee...for anything. It...is an insurance! You must be willing to take responsibility for your kill! Make the mark of your kill be one for self defense, to protect others if necessary. To be ready to kill others for the others, or yourself!"
The sound of the blades clashing to together echoed throughout the forest, even pushing to make the both of them go deaf. Afro kept his assault consistent, keeping up with quick strikes and jabs being his current weapon was a small dagger. A fact that Huey realized, and shuddered to give anymore thought. Though he was primarily focused on his defensive stature, he refused to let his guard slip, which was growing to be rather impressive considering the wide experience gap that the two held from each other. Afro started to become more fierce with his strikes, increasing the speed of his attacks, and causing Huey to do so in response.
"You must be ready to kill at a moments notice! Feel no regret! No hesitation! Bear the weight of responsibility, of the emotion that you take on, as your blade leaves your opponents neck!"
Huey clashed against the steel that came his way with his own, blowing past any that came his way. An unstoppable force started to become second nature to him following his days of training under the Number Two.
"You...you killed my brother!" The blind warrior bluntly barked at the young samurai as his blade came into a deadlock with his. Though unable to spot details hidden in his calm yet brisk face, he could clearly sense the killing intent tucked away from other methods. The way he held his blade just to name one.
Coming out of the deadlock, the warrior pivoted to his left, hoping to flank the young apprentice. From his instincts, and peripherals, he easily saw through the maneuver, moving to counter with a movement of his own that put the blind warrior in a pincer movement, slowly backing away from his current position to regroup in his standing. Huey saw this attempt, and cut him off, vaulting towards his torso to kick his opponent's sword out of his hand, impaling him through the chest, carving into flesh,piercing bone, and making its way to the other side. All the others could do is watch in shock as their comrade was routed in such haste that they couldn't react quick enough, a instant that Huey took full advantage of, making quick work of the other two standing in both of his directions from the left and right, cutting them both from the top to mid areas of the body with absolute precision. He fought with the undeniable poise and accuracy one would expect to from the apprentice of the Number Two. Using his knowledge of basic sword practices along with his natural speed and agility made him out to be a small yet mobile target to pin down, and his skill made him even more deadlier as he wasted no time taking down few whereas Zechal and Jazmin struggled with one.
"I-Impossible..." One of the last few remaining stood back, with sweat rolling steadily down his cheek as he heard two more sounds of impact in the dirt. He felt a sudden fear overcome him, his hands shaking and quivering as if he had just aged several more years from his current age, relaying the thought of fleeing in the most quickest of fashion. Most likely not wanting to make even more quick work, or at least give them a fighting chance, Huey took his time with his approach with the remaining blind warriors that stood only a few feet from him, eerily getting closer and closer with each footstep that their ears could pick up. It might have been a blessing in disguise that they had no means of seeing him now, covered in the brother's blood from top to bottom, and the steel of his sword sullied in the same red matter, running its course down the blade and falling almost perfectly by his feet. He took a breath each time his blade took to rest at his side as if trying to come for air from water.
No hesitation...He told himself continuously after each kill, echoing the words of his master at all intervals, playing the scenes of his training back with every motion to further enhance his future movements of style.
Princess Jazmin stood in awe at the whole spectacle. She felt no disbelief prior to seeing young Huey in combat that he had considerable prowess, but then again she felt no fear either, as this is not her first witness of battle herself. As the princess of a militarized country, she had been trained in many forms self defense at a young age that she still incorporates, and has even sparred against the great General Zahn, who is famous for his unmatched fighting ability, easily being able to best the most talented swordsmen of the northern hemisphere, but that is where the gravity of such credibility ends, though she knew those times were for her own benefit, and nothing to dote on in glorious means. She has yet to see real combat. The clashing of sword against sinew, and the exchange of blood that could only be described by Zahn himself as sipping poisonous tea with your enemy. She always thought such statements justifying the glorification of violence was primitive at best, but what she was witnessing currently was something different entirely. This was someone who had yet to come to terms with the thrill of battle judging by his look of indifference as he took down his opponents, but someone who was still trying to find his way.
Her eyes remained enchanted on Huey's as he routed four enemies in under a minute. His face was still, serene almost. Almost as if the process of taking another's life hardly phased through him. It disturbed her to no end. Was she afraid of him? His display of strength, or his potential as a warrior? She didn't know at the time.
"We...will not stand for this...disrespect!" Despite his threatening statement, he made clear on the suggestion or rather the human instinct instilled in him to run away from the impending doom that stood just a few feet away from him, thought his partner on the other hand, foolish as it was stood his ground. The escapee noticed the lack of additional footsteps behind, whipping his head around his neck. "Leave them! We must hurry now!"
The 'brave' one took out his sword from his sheath, holding it over his head with a reverse grip from the hilt, indicating a difference of stance from his other comrades, which Huey took notice of, stopping in his tracks. Judging by his expression, he was surprised by the change of pace that his opponent was taking on at this point, letting out a small sigh of disappointment. He has never bested an opponent to the very brink of their mercy, so he didn't know what kind of emotions the event would bring, though what he was experiencing was less than ideal. The screams of a desperate man seeking vengeance, were all that
"I will not leave...I will not leave...until I HAVE YOUR HEAD! DIEEEEE!" He came charging at Huey like a wild boar, completely devoid of any rationalization of the situation. There was no defense capabilities in his current strategies, nor any way of knowing that any strikes would fall through in such a manner of attack.
That stance he made, is this some kind of new style? Huey thought to himself, deciding to put himself on guard anyway. He was no stranger to not letting a supposed victory go to your head, and to remain on guard at all times, either until your opponent has left the battlefield, taking what little remained of his life with him, or he was dead by your sword. His master taught him to usually keep awareness out for the latter. 'There is no point in having an opponent you have already bested in combat once, come back for your head once more'. The words echoed in his head whenever Huey placed his sword against someone in actual combat where life was exchanged with life.
Taking to his stance, his blade met with the blind bandits on a high area by his head. The bandit swung vigorously from every direction, with brute strength instead of the previously swift style demonstrated by him and his pears. Huey defended perfectly at every interval, almost as if he was walking through basic motions for sword blocking. The clashing of the two blades rang off the metallic sound that chimed in everyone's ear that stood around it, especially the bandit, whose ears began to twitch and move almost in sync with it. It was a tiny detail that only more experienced warriors could spot when analyzing their opponent's style, or someone watching from outside of the fight itself, in this case it was the Princess.
Seeing the bandits ears twitch in response to each of their deadlocks became an indication that his style might be more than just some rabid form of swinging a sword, and playing to something bigger. Her own experiences justify this thought, seeing as how the bandits had almost an abnormal sense of hearing and detecting sound due to their blindness, further utilizing it in their style. Though she was no warrior, she had a remarkable gift detecting the sudden changes in a persons body language during almost any situation, from their demeanor, to muscle movement, how their shoulders shift when moving. A trait which many thought who ever sparred with her to be an offshoot of her 'abilities', though she has assured them it is a habit developed from years of watching Zechal fight with others in a similar manner.
Huey and bandit started to speed up their reaction time, with the clashing of the swords and their sounds become much more rapid and vehement with the dynamic they each displayed, which of the bandits strikes become more aggressive. Thinking that his opponent was seeking to fight in this manner in a way to get him to fatigue, Huey moved to capitalize on the exchange by parrying the latest blow to come to his mid section in the form of a forward riposte to the right, allowing him to move on in with a upper horizontal slice. In that moment, the bandits ears started to twitch like mad as Huey took one step off the ground instead of the usual pattern of backing up in his defense has he has been for the remainder of the fight. The motion itself formed a grin on his face that Huey had no awareness of. The same grin of a hunter that has caught a prey in its trap.
Jazmin's expression worsened as she saw what was about to unfold as the bandit quickly took one hand off of the hilt of his blade to reach around to his back, where a small tachi was hoisted secretly on his belt.
"Nooo!" She screamed in a high pitched voice as she jumped from her spot in an attempt to defend Huey, stepping in between the two as both of them stood on the verge with colliding with each other once more.
"DIEEEEEE!" He screamed as he took out his surprise tachi, moving to bring it toward Huey now opened blind spot provided by the earlier parry, which by Huey's sudden reaction, he suddenly realized was a plot this whole time in an attempts to let his guard down. The wild and irrational swinging, despite his style being a compromise of his own handicap had clicked in Huey's mind. His movement then dulled, inhaling greatly to push his body back before being exposed to the tachi that had been revealed by his hand.
No! Her thought screamed out loud as she saw the whole thing begin to unveil itself from the start, though silenced herself as to not make it obvious. She struggled to budge her body, wanting to take action to defend.
I can't move... a thought ringed in her heart on isolated sound, as if time had frozen around her, with nothing being heart but the rigg in her chest, and the only scene was that in front of her with Huey unaware of what was going to happen next. Why would she not feel such a reaction such as this? She was no warrior, and she knew that in absolute certainty. Was that an excuse to avoid preventing the inevitable when it's right in front of you? she asked herself.
I...won't allow it!
She pulled her legs from the ground, as if it grew hands to hold her back from moving. Before she knew it, Jazmin stood between the two, shielding Huey with extended arms, much to his surprise. Her mind overcame with high fevered emotions caused by the possible loss of one her guardians, her actions became unknown to her from this point. swiftly grabbing Huey's sword mid swing and bringing the blade forth to the bandit's stomach, halting his previous action. She felt a stilled force, an obstruction of some kind as the blade made contact with his internals. Driven by raw emotion and instinct, she told her body to drive through the obstruction, seeing it as no more than something that should be crushed.
Push it through...more... Her actions soon became silent thoughts, proceeding with her most logical course of seconds, the blade pierced cleanly through the bandits body, coming out on the other side coated in blood trickling to the ground. His groans became apparent as his mind struggled to make sense of the turn of events, and how much they had escalated from his original plan. Looking down, he saw nothing more than a blood covered child holding a blade that has been driven through him, silently laughing in disbelief that such an individual robbed him of his life.
The bandits body keeled over on his back as Jazmin let go of her grip on the sword, falling into the now blood soaked mud. Huey stood there in surprise at what just happened, thinking that it was a fever dream from the adrenaline that usually comes with such a fight. But it was reality as his mind kept telling him over and over. His eyes witnessed the hard breathing princess, who stood there motionless and with face devoid of awareness and life of everything around her covered in blood. It was a face that he never would get to see from someone as so pure when compared to someone like him.
As he moved to receive his sword from the corpse, her face suddenly came alive again, with a confused and daydream like expression, almost as if she was asleep the whole time. She looked around dazed at what was going on around her.
"What...what happened?" She softly asked thinking that someone would respond. She then noticed Huey unharmed which had brought a smile to her face."Ah! Master Huey! I'm glad to see you're well! I knew that you would make work of those bandits." She said with her usual eloquence and grace, that Huey almost swore what had happened had to be an illusion, or at worst, something other than what he could figure out.
"You're just full of surprises, aren't you?" He said with his usual scowl, while the princess responded with the confused tilt.
"What are you talking about?" He refused to believe that she was ignorant of what she did, and decided to nip it in the bud by nodding forward toward the corpse of the bandit. She turned around, slightly shocked by the sword stuck in his stomach."Is...that the bandit that tried to kill you? You fought back and routed him in return yes?" She loudly cleared her throat pretentiously."I don't approve of your methods...but as long as the farmers are safe, that's all that matters. I am so glad that you decided to help me in the end."
Her smile shined through her words, though they had no effect on the young one, falling short.
"I didn't kill him..."He said nonchalantly to her.
"You didn't? Then who was it? Was it Master Afro, Master B.D., or Zechal? Which...come to think of it, I don't see them anywhere. Zechal was still fighting the other bandit, but then again, this is the sword the samurai use, so it couldn't have been him. Someone had to-" Huey grabbed her arms holding them up to her in her face to see her hands. She paused all thought as her eyes registered her blood soaked hands, filled out in its creases and even getting under her finger nails. The liquid still fresh and warm as it started to trickle down her arms. Her breath halted, and the world around her stopped.
"You did. You killed him."
She shook her head in denial, or in attempt of trying to feign ignorance of her action from Huey of all people.
"You don't remember you doing it? Did you black out?"
Jazmin looked down at the ground in confusion.
"I must have...I don't remember doing it, but I do feel this...sensation in inside of me for some reason."
Huey tilted his head."Sensation?" His face scrunched up, as if trying to recall something."Didn't you say you felt some kind of...sensation when we first met as well?" He said halfheartedly, as if he was expecting an automatic dodge of the question.
"It's...something similar to that, but not quite..." She said in a reserved tone of voice, remaining rather calm despite the circumstances."What I'm feeling is rather peculiar. It's like something had came over me, possessed me even as my thoughts became actions. I could feel...emotions from the people around me as I stood there. As if the world stood still, and when it begun to move once more, I found myself in this position." Her eyes drew on the blood on her hands, feeling invisible weights in each of them which had spurred her curiosity as to how it got there, and why she couldn't remember.
Huey nodded his head, which Jazmin took as simply humoring her.
"It was probably instinct that took over."He responded to her statement with a vague one.
"Huh?" She said puzzled. "I don't understand. I'm not a warrior, as you might have saw, so what makes you say that?"
"Sensei. My master, taught me that when you act upon your instincts instead of your thoughts, you become...lost in your actions, and you body becomes reactionary. It moves without you even noticing." The halfheartedness from his earlier statement seemingly faded, speaking with a clear cut tone that made the princess relax slightly."I don't know about this...sensation that you felt...but you would have gotten killed if you didn't know what you were doing back then." He said in an almost disciplinary voice, which was a first for young Huey, as he was usually on the receiving end of such a tone.
"O-oh! You...saw what had happened?" She flustered at his observation
"I saw him pull the tachi out from his pouch, but since he had no idea of my reaction speed or that I could have just knocked it from his hand by hitting the pressure point in his arm, I had plenty of opportunities to take him out. I would have done it, but I guess I wasn't fast enough this time..."
"Quick enough?" She mumbled under her breath, relaxing her restless shoulders as she looked at the dead body of the bandit. She looked at the blood on her hands once again, feeling several emotions at once, but breathing at the grasp of each of them, making sure they do not get to her too much. Not many non-warriors would put themselves between a conflict such as that, and even more come out of it with almost their whole sanity intact. A detail like this drew Huey's interest as to who this Princess was even more.
He walked over to the body of the bandit and sat down in a lotus style position in front of his, putting his hands together in a prayer of sorts, closing his eyes and bowing his head in deep respect. Jazmin tilted her head in curiosity though kept her tongue noticing his concentration. For about a minute, silence was exchanged until Huey suddenly rose from his seat.
"How strange..."
"What is?"
"I didn't think that samurai had prayed for the enemies that they slew. That's almost chivalrous."
"They have their beliefs, I have mine. It's my way...coping with what I go through whenever I fight. It's no big deal."
Jazmin giggled which killed the previous tension in the air.
"You almost sound like Zechal, the way you talk about beliefs and ideals. So cocksure, and determined."
"I would rather not be compared to your paranoid bodyguard of all people." Huey caught a quick glance at Jazmin's appearance, noticing its disheveled condition as of just a short while ago."Are you going to be okay?"
She gave a strong nod."Yes. Though I am not used to seeing-well...doing such things, I am a bit shaken. But I will be fine regardless. The last thing I need to be is shaken up after all of this was due to my own habits."
"Is that right?" Huey shrugged."Since you stood up to Black Dynamite, I guess I shouldn't look at you as a frail little girl anymore."
"Anymore?" Jazmin puffed out her cheeks."Is that how you saw me before?!"
Huey shrugged, dodging the question and the sentiment behind it.
Zechal found a rhythm of moving around his stead with his opponent, blocking and even parrying his blows every time the event came to be, but with barely any opportunities to strike back himself. Capitalizing on an opponent such as this would be ideal, but it was one that he had never come across before, despite his Esmanian elite knight training, which guaranteed that just one unit could be a single army.
He circled around his blind opponent, attempting to pick at his surprisingly fortified guard. The difference between the two styles was almost polarizing to Zechal. Compared to his Esmanian style of fighting with involved quick pincer attacks at an angled range to pressure opponent's into revealing their weakness, his opponent's style involved waiting and listening for a capital
Shit. His guard looked almost easy to break through from here! No matter what spot I am for, he's already guarding it. He thought to himself as he gave a few vertical slashes to his opponent's middle section, with him meeting blade instead of flesh. The blind bandit chuckled at Zechal's futile attempts thus far. They've only been fighting for about five minutes, and the bandit has managed to pick off each of Zechal's attempts at attacking, such as an aggressive pincer attack from his sides, though they all fell short of attempt due to one defining factor that he held onto. A factor that Zechal was trying to decipher.
"I don't see what's funny here!" Zechal said to the bandit, cutting his moment to gloat."I still haven't given up, and you still haven't even managed to land a hit on me."
"Landing a hit huh? Didn't think about it until now. I've been having too much fun playing keep away with you already kid. Having trouble kicking the blind man's ass are you now?"
"Shut up!"
"Ahhh, I don't even have to see to know you're angry boy. I can hear it myself you know. Your heartbeat getting faster, the air traveling through your flaring nostrils, your hands sinking deeper into your swords clutches. It's a shame though, your style is rather unique with its pretty twirls and whatnot, but without substance to back it up, it's nothing but just fancy sword play."
Zechal bit his lip in irritation, seeing the truth in his opponents words, but not wanting to admit himself. He felt a an urge to lash out anger as he did many times during his training with his father whenever he stated a hard truth about his fighting style, which only used to accumulate his anger in combat even more. It used to upset him to no end, feeling constant inadequacy of the way he fought and feeling a drive to always improve on it and take himself out of his father's shadow. It wouldn't be until later on after his childhood, he would understand why he did what he did.
Although it's a truth...his father used to tell him...nothing is set in stone in the middle of battle.The words echoed through his mind to this day. He would still feel anger in his combat, frustration of the shortcomings when compared to his opponents, especially when the difference was so staggering, words weren't even necessary. He knew that well in this case.
"Sword play...huh?" Zechal said silently under his breath, with his grip increasing on his sword. The blind bandit shook his head in disbelief at his numerous attempts and for a change, had leapt forward with an attack, with his ears twitching with every step forward. As he wound up for an overhead swing, the bandit felt a hard body blow from the young knight's elbow go right through his chest, knocking him back several feet. Zechal stood in a new stance with his sword now pointing inward towards his body, his feet spread apart and his free hand stuck outward towards his opponent.
"Then how about I show you, some actual sword combat instead?!" Zechal shouted out with renewed vigor. His anger faded and a brazen smile to match, he stepped forward slowly and wound up for a right roundhouse kick towards his opponent. In just brink of a second, the bandit caught wind of the kick and stepped to the opposite direction to avoid being hit. His expression darkened slightly when he noticed that Zechal's hit barely had any force to it despite his leg being lifted in the air, and even having trajectory to it. Pulling his leg back, he swung his whole body around, giving a twist kick knocking his opponent back a few feet, allowing the momentum during the hit to draw his sword from his sheathed side in a upper slash. Although it met his opponents steel, Zechal kept up with the assault, giving flourishes and flurries of melee attacks mixed with advanced swordplay.
As his attacks continued to rein in on the blind bandit, the pressure began to accumulate in his regard, not even being given enough time to fight back or at least sense the opportunity to capitalize with a counter. That was good. Zechal didn't want him to think, or at least try and act about trying to get back on the offense, which was turning out to be the one method he had of leading this match into a turnabout.
The blind bandit's ears began to twitch, as he attempted to hone in on Zechal's fight pattern, which was proving rather difficult with his current style of fighting resembled something of a rapid wolf trying anything to get at its prey. Zechal commanded the battle now, compared to the earlier happenings, but he was hardly in the lane for victory yet.
Zechal came at the bandit with another flurry of quick sword jabs from the tip of his sword, which aimed above the body to allow at least some semblance of his opponent to try and defend themselves. The jabs met with his opponent's blade, with his parries becoming a bit more sloppier what with his window for reaction getting smaller as Zechal increased the pacing of his attack, becoming faster and more aggressive with each interval. Though this was a fight to the death by normal standards, Zechal's training wouldn't at least allow him to forget about battle etiquette during battle, with trying to make any bout that you had a fair one, despite cruel intentions. Or judging by the sadistic grin that would show up on his face after every strike, he was trying to make it more fun for himself by drawing it for as long as possible for him to get fatigued, or maybe bored.
"I thought it was that..." Zechal said as they came to another deadlock after an exchange made with such haste."You can not only see through hearing, your other senses are spiked as well, huh?"Zechal smiled boldly as he not only saw through an alleged invisible strategy, but the worried expression of his opponent filled him with a slight sense of joy."Smell, taste, feeling different sensations through the air. Pretty much everything around you can be felt making you the ultimate detector in combat. But there's your weakness..." Breaking the deadlock, Zechal gave a side kick to his opponent's rib cage, along with the force missing from his previous roundhouse, knocking an ample amount of wind out of him. The bandit groaned out of displeasure, not just from the pain, but how he managed to sense the attack coming from the force that the kick gave off, but how he couldn't react to it in time.
Am...I getting slower. His thoughts began to range on paranoia as the one thing giving him an advantage during this fight, was getting squandered.
Still reeling from its pain, Zechal hit his stomach with the butt of his sword handle to lead forth with a rising knee that sent the bandit flying backward and onto his back, splashing mud all around his spot. He then flipped into air using his blade as a platform to vault himself forward from the knee, holding the sword with both hands in front of his for one final blow.
Letting out a powerful roar, he brought down his sword onto the bandit, with the sword piercing just a few inches away from his head. Expecting to be dead by now given how things were proceeding, the bandit was genuienly shocked rather than surprised. Zechal closed his eyes and took a deep breath to regain his composure, and pulled his deeply buried sword from the ground and stepped off his opponent, sheathing his sword and begun turning on his feet in the opposite direction to run off.
"Wait!" The bandit arose from the ground, confused at the unexpected mercy."You aren't going to kill me?" The bandit asked with a curious expression.
"No." Zechal said bluntly."Don't get the wrong idea. I could if I wanted to. Your style gave me trouble in the beginning, but I found out that even though all of your senses are superior to mine, that still requires you to wait and listen for your opponent to make a move, predicting their patterns, method of attack, and the current rate of them, that would allow you to keep countering them every time. But I think you can only handle it at a certain frequency, seeing as how your reactions were getting slower and slower each time I got faster. He nodded towards the bandit pointing at the sword now sheathed at his side. He face palmed himself as he just remembered the one crucial detail about him that prevented from seeing that gesture."That style I used just now, that was something I copied from the man who taught me how to fight. It isn't a perfect copy, but it did the job well enough didn't it?"
The bandit was silent, as if he was busy contemplating instead of listening to the victor's lecture.
"That answer was a bit too long for you?" He said sarcastically.
"You don't know the rule of the land...do you?"
"The rule?" Zechal tilted his head in confusion."What rule is there?"
The bandit struggled to stand to his feet. Zechal didn't bother going back into a stance, utterly convinced that beating him was a good enough assumption that he wouldn't try anything else. Though the reality was that the bandit would see no point in doing so, and so put aside his killing intent.
"To death. That's how it has always been. The rule of the warriors that carve their own way in blood. To draw your sword upon on another, is to fight them until they, or yourself cease to draw breath. It has always been this way since the dawning of the samurai. To bring honor to both parties."
Zechal shrugged confidently.
"Well unfortunately, I'm not a samurai, nor am I interested in your country's rules. I abide by none other than the ones I have been disciplined with. I do not kill of my own accord, only when my charge, the Princess requests me to. I have no qualms in such matters."
"So not a samurai. But a loyal dog? How unscrupulous."
I'm starting to think that every guy here with a sword has this low opinion on authority. Zechal thought, feeling his eyebrow twitch in irritation from the repeated notion that already brought up a bad image of Black Dynamite.
"But a dog learns his lessons no? Than I shall teach you one right now...as a reward for your victory." Zechal's raised his eyebrow at the sudden proposition.
A lesson for a victory? I wasn't expecting such a courtesy.
"Know this, child. To a samurai...honor is everything to him. It gives him the reason to fight, to be able to kill with a sense of conviction. Such a thing can only be explained more through action than what mere words can allow the mouth to speak. Your training has obviously taught you different, but it does not prepare for the world, and its' reality. We must do as we must regardless of personal feelings, attachments for the ones we serve."The bandit said with a deadpan tone. Zechal looked at him puzzingly, trying to figure out what the origins of such a statement were, while at the same time feeling something looming behind it.
"Honor huh? What does a thug like you know about honor? Sacking the belongings of the defenseless? Killing them when they do not comply to your own selfish demands?! Where's the honor in that?! I serve one that has been ordained by our God, yet you don't see me performing such deeds, do you?!" The bandit offered a chuckle to the young one, thinking very lightly of his naivety. He grinned slightly, offering him no fault in his bandit grabbed the sword that fell beside him, and held it highly in front of him.
"I see there is no point in trying to educate one that refuses to listen."
"Wait, what are you doing?!" He said leaning forward.
"Honor is something that every swordsmen must claim. For if he has none, he might as well be dead..." Zechal's eyes shot open as he pushed his feet forward, knowing the event that was about to unfold, to stop him
"Stoppp!" Zechal reached out in desperation, but arrived a second too late, as the blade pierced his flesh through his throat, ending his own life. The young knight stood there in shock at what he just witnessed, even more so as the sword remained lodged in the bandits neck, positioned in a lotus style with fresh blood oozing from down the blade onto his robes, creating a stains that could never be washed out. Zechal gritted his teeth in frustration while stepping back slowly from the corpse that was once his opponent.
"He speaks of honor...fighting to the death..., and does this?!" He shook his head in disbelief. Why would a warrior that used his skill to make up for his other shortcomings be so keen to end his own life in the face of defeat? As chivalrous as Zechal was, mercy could have been seen as more of an insult than it could a privilege to fight another day, with death being the only manner of solution that could be seen. This way of thinking did nothing but irritate him as he kicked around the dirt like an upset child that couldn't get his way."Are all samurai like this...? Barbarians that will not do anything unless it involves blood and murder?!" He was angry that he couldn't understand such a philosophy, though at the same time he didn't want to, and wasn't required to understand it.
Such a foolish way of thinking! Is that what you were trying to show me just now?! He thought to himself as he looked at the bandits body, feeling his heart wrench in an un-explainable pain.If this was a lesson, I don't want it!
He then stopped suddenly when the image of the princess flashed in his mind, bringing back a sense of some renewed hope that there was still room for purity in the world, or at least the one he has taught to know. He shook his head, putting off all of his negative thoughts.
"I have no time to waste here. I have to get back to the princess!" Running at top speed, he left the corpse sitting where it was to the other side of the fields, hurrying to the scene to protect his charge.
Cesar paced around as he awaited the action of the two, who simply stood by, overlooking the whole situation from both fronts. His nails got shorter and shorter from biting them more often than he should have been, being in a clear anxious mood. Once every few seconds, he stopped in his path, as if wanted to say something to the still immobile Afro and Black Dynamite, but swallowed the words and continued his pacing.
Hearing the trotting going on just behind him, Black Dynamites fists balled up with his teeth grinning in around he then gestured a fist to the shocked Cesar, who became more lenient in his actions, sitting down in the spot where stopped. Fidgeting nervously, he took a deep breath before speaking.
"So, aren't we going to go to them now? I believe their battles are finished, and we can retrieve them."
Afro quietly held his hand in the air, offering silence to Cesar, slightly perked up from about to hear him speak
"There still might be more in hiding." He said bluntly, giving confusion to him rather than the levity that he was looking for. Unexpectedly, Black Dynamite nodded in agreement, breathing heavily through his nose while darting his eyes in both direction on lookout.
"That's right. And if there are more of them somewhere, they don't know that's more than three of us out in the field. That way, when they do come-" and I really hope they do"We can catch them by surprise!"
Cesar had a slightly hard time arguing with such surprisingly sound planning, though didn't feel inclined to exactly getting on their bad sides. Despite his rather mild mannered attitude towards the group, he did hold a rather moderate fear for samurai, which is mainly due to their current reputation as ruthless killers for feudal lords or outlaws at best with no ties to anyone in power. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the ones he was chosen to serve could fall in either category while also be accompanied by their great skill.
"So how much longer should we wait?" He asked the two of them. I am positive Huey-dono has the situation under control by going after our charge, but what about the other one? Zechal?"
Black Dynamite winced at Cesar's lack of an honorific for Zechal, snickering while managing to hold back his full laughter. Though mild mannered, Cesar had surprisingly high standards for judging people that he would meet, and referring to them in honorifics shows that he had a high respect for that person. Black Dynamite snorted when he came to this realization, but soon faded back into seriousness.
"That's up to our fearless leader here." He said nodding at Afro, who hardly acknowledged the concerns held by Cesar. His face scrunched up like an unsure puppy, ignorant on whether or not he had that much faith in his apprentice as a warrior, or was attempting to test him in some way. He even considered the worst possible scenario, wanting all of them to die by the bandit's hand. "Anyway, I'm sure they'll be fine from here."
Cesar sighed deeply.
"Coming from you, why do I have such a hard time believing such a thing?"
About ten minutes had passed of the three of them standing by in the bushes. Suddenly, Afro stood up from his seat.
"Afro-dono?" Cesar tried to question him as Afro moved through the bushes, running out onto the fields. His heart hastened slightly when he began to think about what could have made him move in such a manner. He then saw Black Dynamite do the same, taking off without so much uttering a word.
"Dynamite-dono? What has happened?!" Soon both of them left a confused Cesar in the dust. Seeing that he will get no more answers standing still, he followed suit behind them, making their way by the shack where Huey and Jazmin were with the bandits.
By the time they had made it, they had witnessed a scene that had been a complete downturn from what they had expected to see when Huey had went off after Jazmin.
They saw their charge, a princess thought of pure and virtuous, cowered to the ground in tears with her hands sullied in fresh blood deposit, and a lifeless bandit on the ground with Huey's sword lodged in his chest. Cesar stood there with his mouth agape as he struggled to put the whole scene together for his brain to process.
"What...happened here?" Cesar asked a question which the silence deemed rhetorical.
Afro stood forth to Huey, who stood by Jazmin with her previously lavish attire now uncouth and dirty with her hands drenched.
"We were attacked by the bandits...but Huey had fought them off."
"He fought them off?" Black Dynamite raised an eyebrow of concern."So why pray tell, are your hands covered in blood?"
"I...umm..." She struggled to give an answer, as the truth wasn't exactly an easy thing to disclose, as it was something that even Jazmin herself couldn't grasp. Huey knew this, and stepped forth in front of her.
"It was my fault." Huey swallowed his spit as everyone's attention had focused on him."I wasn't looking when I was fighting, she had gotten injured behind my back by one of the bandits." All of them had stood there stunned, even more when he had bowed his head in apology, to Afro in particular who stood there motionless."I'm sorry sensei. I...hesitated in my actions, which led to her injury." A few seconds passed, and Afro begun to slowly walk towards Huey, with his fist clenched tightly.
Cesar reached his arm out to Afro, only to be pulled back by Black Dynamite, who had an inkling of what was about to happen given the current state of things, and suddenly Huey ended up flying as his Master's fist struck against his face. Knocking him into the dirt, and feeling dazed, he felt his mouth with his hand, pressing his finger against his lips as he saw it drawing blood from the strike. He stood up on his feet, and gritted his teeth, knowing the punishment wasn't over.
Afro stood above him as he picked himself up, only to strike him down once more only with his knee to the apprentice's stomach. A strike so powerful, Huey felt as if a large force began to rupture his insides, keeling over trying to hold it together, and just breifly tasting vomit crawling from the back of throat and managing to swallow at the last second.
"Get up." Afro said bluntly, issueing the command to his apprentice, which he had managed to comply with. Once again, another hard strike had went across Huey's face, knocking down once more, with the process repeating for another minute or two until his face had swelled and ran red from its repeated punches.
Zechal arrived to the scene out of breath, witnessing the discipline proceeding. His eyes then snapped over the downed princess Jazmin.
"Princess!" He ran over immediately, embracing her without a second thought as she turned to face him.
"Zechal!" Her eyes turned big." You're okay!"
"Of course I am. An enemy like that couldn't take me down even if they tried!" He said confidently. His brain scattered around in loops as he saw the blood on her hands upon separating.
"Your hands! What happened?!" He exclaimed. Her eyes darted around until coincidentally landing on Huey, whom she could picture in her mind saying do not say a word.She decided to stay quiet because of this, and to not make his punishment even worse.
The silence only made Zechal more curious, and saw the afflicted Huey on the ground in front of his master, and begun to piece together his own version of the only an assumption, his gaze towards Huey gave him a solution, even being satiated through his means of being chastised with it bringing a slight grin to his face.
After another minute of the others watching, Afro had stopped his 'chastisement' with a final strike to young Huey's nose, knocking him on his back, and rendering him unconscious. As the others stood by, Afro walked off towards the shack without so much as uttering a word to the others, only beckoning them to follow. Zechal held Jazmin her shoulders and helping her walk. For a brief moment, he looked at the downed Huey with a piercing gaze which had said a lot more than speaking. An opinion of anger and confusion, only fueled by his recent experience.
Jazmin peeked over her shoulders to see Huey still on the ground, even twitching from the amount of hits he had taken, frowning over the risk he had taken for her, unsure of what to think of it.
Black Dynamite then walked over to Huey picking him up and slinged him on his shoulder,moving after Afro. Cesar stood there still processing the whole ordeal that witnessed while at the same time looking at the laid corpse that were once the bandits that he assumed Huey defeated, though the look of Jazmin with bloodied hands did leave a lot for one to ponder.
"Did...he know what happened? Is that why he did that? He didn't say anything." Cesar asked Black Dynamite, and with his back still turned, he silently replied.
"When a woman is standing by corpse with blood on her hands when a man was supposed to protect 'em. You ain't gotta say much."
Huey drifted off, still being slightly awake after falling unconscious, beginning to see the sun being set behind the trees, unsure of how much time had pass, and feeling his body feel some sort of bump every few seconds. As his eyes closed, the image of training with Afro played once more, with the words ringing ever more in his head.
No hesitation. Ever.
Huey knew the full intentions of his actions, and what they meant, but not why he did them. To let it happen in front of him, was it a sign of weakness? Or the taciturn that his master engraved in him that he ignored?
"I can't let it happen...Not again..."
Chapter 7 END
Fro Ninja; Hey guys. Thank you so much for reaching the end of the chapter, and for seeing the Apprentice of the Number Two, and Princess's Shield in action, which I can promise is only gonna get better. Also, very sorry that this chapter took so long to come out with. Expect the next one, pretty soon. Peace, and one love!