The trip to the gymnasium was taken in silence, and upon arriving I found that a room had already been reserved by the Owner for just such an occasion. It was not huge, but imitated a dojo, right down to the padded floor. It would make fighting easy, while minimizing the risk of injury to either Dragon or myself. One of the slaves at the door offered to referee the fight, but I turned him down. I wasn't worried that Dragon would seriously injure me if he had the chance, for he seemed honorable enough, and I knew that I would refrain from injuring him. I also didn't want any interruptions in our battle, for only with a true battle could I prove my superiority. There would be no rules in this battle save to fight honorably, and the outcome would conclusively prove the superior man.
"Weapons or no?" I asked, indicating the wall of blunted practice weapons. He merely hmphed and picked up a dull broadsword. I smiled, then choose a rapier and tested it for weight and balance. Finding it substandard, I chose another, finding this one to be suitable. Our weapons may have been comical to an onlooker, for I, the large, had chosen a small rapier, while he, clearly smaller, had chosen a large, heavy sword. But there was nothing humorous enough to entice a smile from either of us, and I wondered if the stone-faced youth before me had ever smiled.
We faced each other and bowed solemnly, each eyeing the other for weaknesses or flaws. Tension was high. Despite the fact that these weapons were blunted, they could still cause serious damage, or even death. But there was more than simply wounds on the line. We were fighting for pride, honor, and superiority. One to gain mastery, one to avoid servitude. Polar opposites of the same strength.
I hoped that my small, light rapier could find its way around his heavy sword, as speed would most likely be my main weakness in our battle, now one of my strengths. Dragon, likewise, had chosen a weapon that used strong attacks, to offset the fact that I was stronger. On the one hand, a direct blow from hi sword to mine would definitely cause mine to break, but if I could cause him to lower his sword for only a second I could win before he had time to pull his weapon back up. There was no way to tell who was at an advantage.
Dragon made the first move, as I knew he would, young and impatient as he was. He struck at me with the heavy sword, but because of the weapon's weight it was to slow to catch me, and I easily slid out of the way. I hoped to end the battle right there, by brining my sword to strike Dragon as his was still descending and, unable to turn the heavy weight so quickly, I would have had him had he not moved his body behind the sword, using it almost like a pointed shield. My blow missed him and met with startling strength of his sword. The reverberations of my sword went all the way up my arm and caused me to fumble for a moment, unable to feel my hand or get a proper grip on my sword. Dragon used this to his advantage and quickly swung his sword at me. I had not choice but to awkwardly throw myself out of the way. Those few seconds that I fled, however, allowed the feeling to return to my fingers, and I once again gained a hold on my sword. When he rushed me the second time, I was able to parry his blow, sending him stumbling past me with too much force. Concerned that he would hurt himself by falling on his own sword, I attempted to put my hand on his shoulder, but instead ran it down his back as he hurled himself to the side. He landed on his bottom, the sword beside him, which was actually a better position than landing with his sword under him would have been had it not been for the fact that he was obviously flustered.
"Don't touch me, kisama!" he yelled, his eyes blazing with fury, that I had dared to touch his person.
Ah. So that was his weak point. I may have underestimated him, since he obviously could handle a sword like a master, but he was only human.
"Afraid of a little human contact, Dragon?" purred, intentionally riling him. He, as I expected, bushed deeply and growled.
"Brazen cur!" he shouted, leaping at me. He brought his sword up in a smooth arc and sent it crashing down to the floor where I had been standing only a moment before. As I dodged sleekly behind him, I let my hand trail down his back, and gave his firm rear a quick pinch. He roared in anger, barely bothering to pick his sword up from the ground before bringing it around and trying to slices at my legs. He face was bright red and he was snarling like an angered animal.
I laughed, although it hurt me to have to do such a thing to him. Behind the anger that he hid behind, there was real fear and shame, and I felt like a cad for causing him to feel that way. I didn't so much feel bad about my method, for in a game of war the only true rule is to use your enemy's weakness against him, but I gained no pleasure in touching his body only to provoke him.
As his arm was across his chest, carried there by the momentum of his sword, I grabbed his wrist and dodged in, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Though it was merely a peck, he jumped as though I had licked him, then scrubbed his face with his free hand.
"You won't own me!" he shouted, rushing me again.
"You're already owned!" I responded, again dodging his blow. This time, as he went passed me, I managed to thrust my elbow into his diaphragm, knocking him off balance. He stumbled and almost fell onto me, but scrambled so hard the he twisted his ankle to make sure he fell away from me. He hit the matted floor with a thud and I paused to make certain he was alright, but he was on his feet again in mere seconds, favoring his injured foot visibly.
Now, with his injury, it was clear that he was on the defensive, and I had the visible advantage. Since my weapon was quick and his was slow, he had banked on being able to come at me, to put me on the defensive, so that I could not use my quick moves to get behind his. Despite this, he was able to dodge or shield my blows for several minutes, visibly becoming tired as the heavy sword weighted him down. The broadsword was made for short battles, while a rapier fight could go on for hours.
His fateful mistake came from desperation, as he could see that I would merely wear him down if he stayed defensive. So, impetuously, he turned aside my blow and attempted to strike his own, working with tired muscles, and in close combat. Easily I brought my sword around his and cracked his knuckles with the flat side of my rapier, knocking the sword from his hand, then used my shoulder to shove him away from where the sword had fallen, so that he could not leap to retrieve it. By the time he hit the floor, my sword was already at his throat.