Series: Knight Tales||Title: Birth of a Knight
Characters: Shou, Barbamon||Romance: N/A
Chapters: 5-9||Words: 1,441||Total: 7,155
Genre: Drama, Angst||Rated: PG
Notes: This is an AU. A nice fantasy one. Written for remi.
Summary: Shou is the only survivor of the bloodthirsty raid on his hometown. Not even Peckmon made it. Desire for revenge keeps him going and the assistance of Barbamon gives him the tools he needs to gain what he searches for. For as Barbamon's Knight and Champion, he can make it all right again.
"Dodge." Muysamon said no more than that, but Shou already moved before the word properly faded. Slim, sharp-edged daggers coursed through the air, filling the space where he'd been. Shou ducked down low, rolling towards his trainer – if trainer was even the right word. Some would probably have thought 'tormentor' was more fitting.
Shou didn't care what the word was. He cared about what Muysamon taught him and about one day using those lessons to not only defeat Muysamon himself but the ones who'd slaughtered his people.
The daggers spun around and started toward him again. Shou couldn't take a moment to rest and scrambled the other way, taking quick breaths as he did. He needed to build up not just his agility but his stamina. He'd not forgotten how Muysamon ground him into the dirt on the day that they'd met one another, pushing him harder and harder until he couldn't fight back.
He still did it now, every single day. Sometimes Shou couldn't even drag himself back to his room, but fell into an exhausted slumber in the training square, awakened at the crack of dawn by Muysamon's prodding.
On those days he didn't get breakfast and frequently didn't get lunch, either. Sometimes he only got lunch be cause Sorcerimon or Barbamon-sama insisted that the training stop. He'd already learned to do more on less food than he'd thought possible.
"You want to eat, don't you?" Musyamon spoke as if he understood the thoughts slipping through Shou's mind. Shou did his best to keep his features as blank as he could. Anything that could give away a thought was a weakness and he dared not be even a little weak.
Weakness lead to the moment when he'd awakened in what had been his village, confused and dying and alone and with the strength for one last scream before his voice failed him forever.
Muysamon didn't wait for any sort of reply. With a wave of one hand, the daggers split into two waves, each one coming from two different sides. Shou sprang up and over them, though not without injury. One dagger sliced open his left leg, another raced down his right arm, and a third cut into his cheek.
These were hardly the only injuries that he'd received after weeks of training. They didn't compare to what he'd experienced in the raid and so they meant nothing at all except for something he would need to be aware of, to judge his endurance by.
The wounds also meant that he wasn't good enough yet. That time still stretched out between him and his goal.
A hiss of anger poured through his lips as he fled the blades again. If he didn't move fast enough they would pin him to the ground. And Musyamon would mock him.
Again.
Not a single day had passed since his training with the warrior Digimon began where Musyamon didn't spend at least part of it pointing out how weak and useless Shou was, how he would be far better doing something along the lines of learning how to weave cloth or cook or scrub dishes or sweep floors or dispose of refuse instead of being Barbamon-sama's Knight and Champion.
Every time, Shou dragged to mind the memory of when he'd woken to see the devastated ruins and the empty place in his heart where Peckmon had been and he pulled himself to his feet to begin practicing again. He didn't care what Musyamon said. He would see this through. The only thing that would stop him would be his own death.
No. That won't even stop me. His fingers bunched into fists, even as Musyamon's usual mocking words poured over him, commenting on his uselessness in a fight, the way he could do nothing to defend himself or anyone else, how the first time he was in battle it would all end for him, how much time was being wasted on him.
He didn't care. He kept doing it anyway. He'd heard Barbamon-sama's order to Musyamon: to make him into a warrior the equal of Musyamon, if not even greater. If Barbamon-sama believed that he could be that, that he held even that tiny scrap of potential, then Shou would strive for that goal until his dying breath.
More wounds opened up as the knives flew by again. Shou stared at them, trying to think of what he could do, anything that would let him avoid the attack. There had to be something.
His feet shifted, just a little. He needed to do something, and a ghost of an idea wafted by. It might not work. But even better, he decided, it just might, and it might even be something that Musyamon hadn't expected.
If he could surprise his trainer, that would be best of all.
He'd put in so much effort into training his body to be strong and agile, to move in ways that he'd never imagined that he could. Now he leaped up, higher than he had when evading the blades, and landed on two of the nearest. It took a few seconds to catch his balance, but nothing more. The daggers kept on flying, and now Shou ran on them, leaping from one to the other. Keeping his balance up there required constant focus, especially as Musyamon began to shake the daggers in an attempt to knock him off.
"Not a bad trick," Musyamon praised him, the words pulled hard from his lips. Shou didn't dare take time to enjoy them, rare as they were. In the last few weeks, he thought he'd earned praise from Musyamon perhaps once or twice, not counting this time, and those times involved his utter inability to give up, no matter how exhausted he was.
Now he did something else: he did what Musyamon demanded of him.
"Find a way to use these to your advantage, while not being hurt by them," Musyamon told him when he'd started this part of the training. It had been days. Long, hard days where he'd ended up not just worn to the bone, but with many wounds that Sorcerimon healed for him only because he needed to be at his peak constantly.
Sometimes Shou wondered if Sorcerimon enjoyed the chance to practice his healing arts. Shou certainly gave him lots of damage to practice on.
Now he grabbed for two of the daggers as some of them swept closer, finding their weight comforting in his hands. He hadn't picked out a particular weapon as of yet. He would need to eventually, but for now, he learned everything he could about every weapon possible.
Musyamon laughed at him. He didn't care. He'd heard it all before. Instead, he took aim and threw each dagger at his trainer. Musyamon managed to knock them away without harm, but Shou thought he caught sight of a rare moment of pleasure across the Digimon warrior's face. That had to mean he was getting better.
Without warning, Musyamon waved a hand and the daggers all vanished. Shou barely had a moment to catch his breath before he fell again, and quickly tucked himself into a rolling landing. When he looked up, Musyamon stood over him, arms folded, expression of expectation visible.
Shou only knelt to Barbamon-sama. He dragged himself to his feet, however, and stood with his head deferentially bent, but keeping himself aware of where Musyamon stood and what he was doing. It wouldn't have even been close to the first time that Musyamon attacked when Shou thought the training ended for the day.
But now, he stood there quietly, watching Shou. At last he broke the silence.
"Go eat. But I expect you out here again at sunset. Do you think for a moment that your enemies will be kind enough to only attack you by daylight?"
Shou shook his head; that had never once occurred to him. Hadn't the attack been at night? He thought it had been. There was still a great deal that he didn't remember about it.
But now he hurried away, wanting a hot bath before he ate. He wasn't going to shame Barbamon-sama by appearing in torn and muddy clothes with blood streaked here and there.
Musyamon watched as Shou vanished into the castle. He couldn't help but smile just the tiniest bit, little more than a bending of his lips.
He might actually be capable of what Barbamon-sama wants him to be. To run on the daggers – what an idea. He wouldn't have wagered a human could do that.
He looked forward to see what else Kahara Shou could surprise him with.
To Be Continued
Notes: I finally finished this! So, regular daily updates until I've completed posting.
