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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 7, 2012 18:44:12 GMT -5
Marines.The word popped into Thomas' head once more. It was strange that even though it had been so long, they still effected him to this extent. Eighteen years old, the boy held his practice sword loosly in his hand, the sun high in the mid-day sky. Recently, Marines had docked in Loungetown. Not a common thing for them to stray too far from Shell Island in the Eastern Blue, it was just a testiment to the long arm of the organization that had placed the World under a single government, uniting the four blues under a single banner. He'd never been one for politics or judging what the best thing for the world was. Hell, for all he cared, the Marines could take over the whole planet and rule for a thousand years and he wouldn't care. But as soon as they'd--...
He let out a sharp tch. and his eyes averted down to the ground, a grimmace on his cold face. He hadn't always been as brooding and dark as he might seem now. In fact, he used to be happy, or so his mother said whenever she reminesed about the old days. It was as though she was reliving each moment in her mind every day, remembering her husband, their home, the trees... he felt a pang in his heart that he immedietly resented. No. It wasn't the time or place to be thinking such things. He would look weak. Shit. Why couldn't they have just left him and his village alone?
Revenge.
The word, unspoken, and much less a word than an idea forming in the youth's mind ingrained itself firmly in his skull. He could feel himself slipping to the anger that was seething through his body, that was urging him to take action against the injustice that had happened all those years ago. The men who killed his father. Who'd threatened to hurt his mother and the rest of the village. Who took away his opportunity at living his life in the comfort of Shimikatsu.
Suddenly, a sharp pain set off an alarm in his body, waking him back up to the world around him.
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Post by YOSHIRO MIFUNE on Apr 8, 2012 14:18:31 GMT -5
"Are you daydreaming again? No wonder your generation is so damned useless," a sharp, critical voice spoke. Having taken the dubious honor of smacking some sense back into his student's head, the older man stood beside him, his bony hand still raised after having smacked the far younger pupil upside the head. His other hand rested on a cane, clutching it firmly in his grasp. His hands weren't yet so withered he couldn't knock some sense into the youth of today. Sighing and muttering, he turned his back on the kid and walked up the length of the room. The cane made a distinct clacking sound with each step as he walked up, before eventually he turned right back to the kid, his sharp eyes like a falcon's staring down the kid.
"With a head so empty, it's a wonder you even knew where you were, let alone tried to fight. How did you survive again?" to say the elder man was highly critical was an understatement. Many often heard of old men who were cranky and crotchety all the time, incapable of being anything less than a complete grouch. But then you met Yoshiro Mifune, who seemed to have perfected being such a grouchy, bitter, cranky old asshole to an art form. He did not act like a grump so much as he was grumpiness incarnate. The embodiment of the thoughts of grouchy old men the world over taken physical form. "Now, if you're quite done daydreaming, perhaps you could take that practice sword and start swinging. Maybe you'll eventually improve".
With the way he spoke, people often wondered why, of all people, the old man would think of taking on a pupil. It defied all logic. He didn't simply pick up students. Hell, it was ambiguous whether or not he even wanted friends. The sheer fact he had once had kids astounded many in the area. Yet nevertheless, he had taken on someone as a student of the sword and he trained the kid. He criticized him harshly, but nevertheless he trained him. "Now, both hands on that practice sword. Spaced apart, mind. A firm grip, but not a tight one. You know at least that much, right?" he questioned the kid. Well, he had his own approach to teaching. It was just a wonder he didn't use a form of corporal punishment greater than slapping the kid upside the head. |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 8, 2012 15:28:32 GMT -5
That's right.The sharp pain in his head became evident as his mentor had taken advantage of his distraction to land a clean blow. It was already beginning to swell and leave a bump on the side of his face.
"The hell was that for you old geezer?!" Thomas had been about to yell at the old fool before the man cut him off with a cold glare icier than even his. It was a wonder the pair were master and student, seeing as the old man never took on students. It had been a question to many in the area as to the motives of the old man. Perhaps he was lonely, maybe he wanted to live his youth out through the boy. Thomas thought all these reasons were crap they threw on the man. If they had been his students, they would have known the old devil was incapable of the sentimental feelings they were speaking of. All Thomas could do was give a glare to him as he spoke on the most basics of swordplay. As though those things hadn't already been drilled into him by his late master. Taking his stance again, he faced down the straw dummy that was in front of himself. Winding up, he let out a yell as he lunged forward and struck the dummy squarely on the head, using his strength to come bearing down on the straw, denting it a little.
"This exercise is pointless!" He griped, "I did this when I was five years old! How the hell am I going to get any better if I don't take on real people in real situations? This is far too slow!" He yelled again as he wound up and struck the dummy in an upward cleave, striking it in the groin area, venting his frusteration on the imaginary enemy, striking it again and again in a hot passion. This wasn't like him, even his master would know that the normally level-headed Thomas was much calmer, much more rational than the Thomas that was standing before him now displaying his normally in-check passion. In his fury Thomas turned to the old man and pointed the practice sword at him.
"You're my master, so take responsibility, dammit!" He scowled, "I came to you to get strong, not to waste my time going through motions! How the hell'm I supposed to beat my enemies if I can only beat a straw dummy?"
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Post by YOSHIRO MIFUNE on Apr 8, 2012 16:10:50 GMT -5
Yoshiro watched, his gaze ice-cold as he observed the young student striking the straw dummy again and again and again. He'd begun ranting and raving within no time, descending into little more than a string of complaints fueled by anger as he struck the dummy without any form of restraint. Although they were hardly the closest of student and mentor relationships, even Yoshiro was aware that this was a bit of a swerve from how he usually was. Normally, he was far more, well, normal. He didn't act out or rave like this. Well, maybe a little here and there, but he didn't quite explode with irritation like he was now. If anyone else was here, they would probably declare him a lunatic.
"... Did I give you permission to bitch?" In Yoshiro's experience, he was a whiny brat. His steely gaze stared down the practice sword pointed at him without even a hint of fear or even intimidation. He'd seen far more threatening, not to mention stronger men point real swords towards him. A young brat with a practice sword was as intimidating as a kicked puppy. "You want to get stronger faster? Stop spacing out and grow a pair. I haven't got time to hammer lessons into a whiny brat," he told off his student, stepping towards him. Dropping the cane, he took hold of another practice sword on a stand and held it up in one hand, letting the sword point in the direction of the younger student. His gaze never left Thomas'.
"Let's see just how far you've actually come. Maybe if you're lucky, you can bore me to death," the old man snarked. "If a student's going to complain to his teacher, he better damn well know what he's talking about. Otherwise, he should shut his trap and learn," Yoshiro told him, more than a little irritated, yet his tone remained ice-cold. Well, he may as well remind this kid why he was still a student. No point letting the kid get cocky, after all. |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 8, 2012 16:34:13 GMT -5
About a Foot-long.
"I'm gonna do more than just bore an old fart like you to death." Thomas seethed, his anger flaring at the old man's arrogance. It was like his master to treat him like a child. Even though the old man was much older than himself, he was always telling Thomas that there was something wrong with the way he was fighting, something wrong in his stance or some pissant reason why he was still the weak kid he treated him as. It was true that the practice sword mimiced that of a katana, a two-handed blade that proved to be the more common sword-type used in the world. It wasn't what he himself was used to using, and there was no helping that this old man was drawn into the main stream of the modern day. However, there was no helping the fact that it wasn't the way he had been taught to fight back in Shimikatsu Village.
Releasing the sword with his off hand, he took a profile stance to his sensei, holding the sword with a single arm, he kept his off-hand raised, balancing himself as he stared down his sensei. "If I win, you'll stop treating me like a damn child, first off!" Farrell announced, his cold eyes burning into his masters' in a contest of burning wills. It was something that shone through during situations like these, how brightly the student's fighting spirit burned in his eyes, the will to succeed in any situation. It was beyond what most fighters these days had, the fortitude of spirit to win under any circumstance.
The eighteen year old would walk up to the old man before sinking into his fighting stance, crossing both blades in the old-fashion starting position warriors of the Shimikatsu Village would use.
"Body!" He yelled, his sword already taking the shortest route to the old man's chest in a single handed thrust, his back hand coming up to the hilt of the blade, grabbing the bottom of the hilt to better control the sword as he foresaw needing the extra mobility of the blade that he just didn't have. It was at this moment that he wished he was using a lighter blade instead of this cumbersome thing that restricted his ability to fight with a single hand as he'd practiced for so long. It only made him realize just how this training wasn't fitting in with his own fighting style at all. It felt awkward to rely on both hands to guide the sword.
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Post by YOSHIRO MIFUNE on Apr 8, 2012 16:50:45 GMT -5
The old man didn't back down. Why would he? He'd trained the boy himself. He didn't have anything to fear from the kid. He'd be damned if a kid struck any sort of fear into him. So he waited patiently for the kid to begin. First thing first, the kid decided to disregard the training and held the sword with one hand instead of two. A weaker grip. Not that it mattered to Yoshiro. If this kid was gonna fight like this, so be it. All the while, the older man took hold of the hilt of his practice sword with his second hand, holding it firmer in his grip as he stared down the kid. The kid slowly closed the distance, and now the two blades were crossed. It was just a moment for Yoshiro to draw his breath before the kid started with a thrust straight for the chest.
The sudden, direct attack was nothing to Yoshiro. Having spent years in battle, he'd known that the worst thing you could do right off the bat was a thrust. Thrusting attacks, stabs, or whatever else you wanted to call them, they were surprise attacks. You didn't begin fights with them. You ended them with them. So Yoshiro took advantage of the direct attack and parried it to one side, letting his own practice sword slide up the length of the blade. It barely took two steps to slide the practice sword all the way up and now Yoshiro brought his blade upwards, slicing with it towards Thomas' head. Of course, being a practice sword, the weapon would only strike, not cut. But even that wasn't important. Even if the kid dodged, he was ready.
"As I said. Boring," he remarked dryly. The swing at the kid's head wasn't just to strike back, but to take the kid's attention off of his feet - where Yoshiro's foot now threatened to sweep out one of his feet from under him and trip him. After all, in a real fight, you couldn't afford to make mistakes. Every movement wasted was a moment you could be dying. So he made sure that with his forward step into the swing, he'd use the step itself to trip up his student. Hell, maybe he'd learn something when he crashed face-first into the floorboards. For starters how he could improve on his chores. but who knew - maybe the kid would surprise him.
...
Unlikely. |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 9, 2012 10:49:17 GMT -5
Up yours too.The thrust had been a feint. Of course, the boy realized that his master was skilled enough to block such an obvious attack. The stab was an expected, unoriginal start for all intensive purposes and the only real effect was to make his master more aggressive and to try to press an illusion of an advantage. The old man was surprisingly agile for his age as the wood let out a whack as the wooden extensions collided. Actually, not even Thomas had expected it of the old man. However, Thomas had expected the parry and stepped to the side, shifting his body and raising the hilt of the sword so that it was now vertical to the ground, hilt toward the sky creating a barrier between the old man's sword and his own. The extra maneuverability he had gained by bringing his back hand around to the base of the sword was now revealed in the positioning he'd created. Now that his sword was back in a position to defend its wielder, the old man lost the advantage he thought he had in pressing inward. Thomas himself, however, pressed his own advantage in his overextended master, raising the tip of the sword toward the sky, shifting the momentum of the old man to complete the attack he had been readying to make with the modification that the sword would make a pass over Thomas' head. As the sword raised, the tip would point toward the old man once more, threatening to clip him in the jaw as the swords rose to the sky.
The old man had decided a small distraction of a quip while fighting was a good idea. Though Thomas didn't realize the old man was trying to trip him, the geezer sacrificed his footwork and his ability to dodge the dual-purpose movement Thomas initiated. If the old man continued on the path he was currently on, he would take a blow to the jaw that would probably disorient him and break his attack. If he was unlucky, he would bite his tongue mid-sentence with the speed the swords were moving. His teacher was discounting the years of training he'd received back on an island of swordsmen. Perhaps after this, he would take his job seriously and actually teach Thomas something other than the basics.
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Post by YOSHIRO MIFUNE on Apr 9, 2012 11:15:06 GMT -5
"A little better than I expected," Yoshiro thought to himself. It was the most he would give this young kid. It seemed whether accidentally or no, he'd avoided the tripping foot while he had blocked Yoshiro's blade. But the kid wasn't simply done with just that - no, instead he pushed with the sword to redirect Yoshiro's sword skywards - in the process raising his own with an upwards strike. It was a good tactic, the old man would give him that. But that meant little. Yoshiro's instincts and reflexes were not that worn. Yoshiro even allowed himself a little smirk as he looked back at the kid, as if to mock him as he did the simplest of acts one could do in this situation: He leaned back.
"No matter how old you become, you never truly forget," the old man remarked as he leaned back ever so gracefully, the tip of the kid's sword missing his face by mere millimeters. Without even a pause in his actions he brought his foot back, re-adjusting his footwork to a proper stance as he now swung his sword back around in a diagonal slash from his right to his lower left. The act wasn't meant to be impressive - he just wanted to put the kid on guard again as he now pressed forwards. He didn't have the strength he used to, true, but that didn't mean he didn't possess speed. On the contrary, he was quicker on his feet than you'd expect for someone who walked around with a cane.
But then, maybe that was the point.
"So tell me, didn't you say you'd do more than bore me to death?" he reminded the young kid, more or less just to annoy the brat. If he wanted to achieve anything, he had to keep his cool in the middle of a fight. So Yoshiro was deliberately going to push his buttons. Besides, it'd be amusing if the kid got a smack across the head because he got annoyed. At any rate, he eyed the young kid with an icy gaze, refusing to miss even a millimeter of movement. No reason to get careless and let this kid have his laughs, after all. He had to face pain before he could learn anything. |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 9, 2012 11:39:37 GMT -5
"You ain't dead yet!"
Oh... Thomas hadn't thought of that... It was a little embarrassing to the swordsman that his master had done the one thing he hadn't thought of when setting up the strategy. He'd thought he had his master with that one, taking advantage of a single movement to defend and attack at once, using the old man's aggression against himself. Actually, while the old man dodged, he had thought he saw a smile... Nooooooo. That was impossible. A smile on his master's face? But then again... Nooooooo.
Sensing his own distraction, Thomas broke off with his master by creating a bit of space between them both rather than pressing in on the retreating old man. Mistake number one. He gave his master time to regain his sense of balance after fatally shifting it to a position like that. By now, the ghost of a smile seemed like a distant memory in the fire of the fight, which had died down somewhat from the disciple's eyes. The attack by his master was easily blocked by simply adjusting his sword's position. Another crack resounded as wood struck wood. The practice sword quivered in Thomas' hands. It almost felt as though it was going to break at any point with the assault the geezer was laying on him.
"So tell me, didn't you say you'd do more than bore me to death?" The old man jeered.
"Well, you're not dead yet, are you? I can't be doing that bad." Thomas returned with a confident smirk. Feeling pretty good about himself with that last pass, he decided it was time to press down on him. If only he'd done so sooner he could have perhaps come out on top, but the kid's inexperience shone through as he took a quick step forward to bring the sword around in a wide horizontal slash to the man's legs. Even though it may not be a killing blow, any blow landing on the legs impeded movement. Any loss of movement could translate to a killing blow later. Every good swordsmen knew that.
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Post by YOSHIRO MIFUNE on Apr 9, 2012 11:58:39 GMT -5
The kid did well enough to avoid being struck, but that didn't mean he was doing perfectly. The kid seemed to back off a little from the attack even though he blocked it, but nevertheless the kid was still determined to continue. Yoshiro would give him that much - he wasn't a quitter. He was a determined little brat. But determination and conviction meant nothing if it meant lunging into the jaws of a dragon. Metaphorically, of course, but if the kid ever met a real dragon Yoshiro could expect similar results. Yoshiro's blade was held low now, which put it in a perfect position to react to the kid's low strike. So even as the kid's slash came in, Yoshiro's blade moved to stop it.
But just stopping it wasn't all. In a fashion similar to what his student had already shown, Yoshiro's blade pushed upwards from beneath the kid's practice sword, forcing it abruptly upwards. But forcing the sword wasn't everything to the maneuver. As Yoshiro's sword forced the kid's up, Yoshiro pressed forwards, intending to force his young student backwards before the sword was even forced over his head. The movement of Yoshiro's blade was practically a reverse of his earlier attack, moving diagonally upwards from left to right. By the time both of their blades had been forced upwards, Yoshiro decided to finish not with a strike of the blade, per se, but something that suited his now very close proximity to his student.
He moved to smash the hilt of the practice sword into the kid's face.
"Could've fooled me, brat," Yoshiro told him, a smirk on his face. Well, it would be quite the surprise if the kid could manage a counter from this close range. Maybe he'd try to dodge. In any case, it all depended on whether or not he could react quickly. The old man wasn't giving him a lot of chances. The great thing about striking with the hilt was that immediately afterwards Yoshiro's sword would be back in a perfect position for him to defend himself. The poor kid could dodge the attack and he'd still be unable to do anything - or at least, so Yoshiro envisioned it. But he was the master, he was allowed to be arrogant and proud as he wished. Not like this kid was doing anything to change that. |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 9, 2012 12:23:49 GMT -5
Ouch.
It was at this moment that Thomas really thought about how he was attacking. He himself was now overextended as he was attacking his master. Though he had done some pretty good things in that first pass, he could feel as his master's sword blocked his with another clacking of sticks as he was cleanly blocked. With surprising strength for an old guy, he felt his own sword being lifted now in a fashion similar to what he'd used on his master just a moment ago. Though he thought of moving, he realized now that his feet were far out of position, overstretched so that he couldn't move without being open to another attack. Unable to get out of the way, he could only rely on his hands which were being pushed upward by his master.
"Could've fooled me, brat."
A sharp pain slammed into the side of his jaw as he was propelled backward from the force of the hit to the face with the hilt of the practice sword. That was the second time today that he was struck by his master. Losing his footing, Thomas crashed to the ground, rolling on his side to come to a stop some meters from his original position. Dazed, he could only lay on the ground blinking as his ears rang from the strike. His jaw steadily throbbing as it was raw from the strike. He could taste the blood on the inside of his mouth. It was obvious that his master hadn't used all of his strength, plus he himself had jumped back a margin in order to blunt the force of the attack, both of their momentum canceling the force out a little bit to make it more bearable. However, it still hurt a lot. Reaching up, he touched the part of his face that was hit. It was obviously bruised judging by the lump that was forming.
"You can't take me out so easily." Thomas spit a little blood on the ground, raising back to his feet shakily. "Ya had enough yet?"
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Post by YOSHIRO MIFUNE on Apr 9, 2012 12:35:31 GMT -5
"Says the brat spitting up blood," the old man deadpanned as he held his sword in front of himself, staring at the young kid as he shakily got to his feet. He hadn't even used his full strength and he ended up pummeling this kid hard. The youth of today, he noted with a disdainful look. They were always so hardy, so full of vigor and confidence that if they just got up one more time, or if they pushed that little bit harder, or if they stood back on their feet just one last time they could realistically do something. Yoshiro, having lived quite the life, knew that to be a load of crap. Sighing, the old man shook his head and looked back to the brat, his eyes still sharp and focused. He didn't care if the kid was on his last legs. He had a point to prove.
"Honestly, do you know how many brats like you rush off to the Grand Line? You're not special, you know," he told the kid, his voice harsh and condescending. "I swear, every single one of you thinks you can get somewhere just by being stubborn about it. There's bravery, and then there's suicide, brat. If you want to take the suicidal option so badly, take a blade and gut yourself!" he reprimanded the boy, feeling it something he needed to hear. Maybe he wouldn't like it, and maybe he wouldn't agree, but it needed to be heard. If he didn't tell him now, the kid might never learn.
"In any case, I've grown tired of your foolishness. If you can still fight, then dodge this," he told the young student as he took a step forwards. That was followed by another step before suddenly the old man broke out into a forwards run straight towards the kid. Raising his sword up, he began to strike downwards in a vertical slash, aiming to smack the kid in the head or shoulders. Maybe if he took another knock to the head he might learn something, the old man thought dryly. This fight was long overdue to end anyway, he noted. Then perhaps the kid would start listening when he spoke. It would be decided in a moment if the kid couldn't fight back. |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 9, 2012 17:44:03 GMT -5
Ignis Eternus.Within every warrior, there is the flame of passion that drives each of them to fight. Their passion is inspired by a purpose their fighting brings to their life in some way. Some find it in vengeance, some find it in protecting friends. However, it all comes out the same way, in their actions when things get too tough for others to continue in the fight. It is during this time that their true fire is revealed, their true strength is called upon to win out in the end. Even though it was currently one of those times, Thomas' true potential remained locked inside, unrefined enough to be brought out in actual combat. However, he does pull out a skill he picked up in Shimikatsu Village he had yet to reveal to anyone in Loungetown.
With his master quickly approaching, Thomas held the katana back as though it was sheathed, waiting for the old man to approach. It was a little odd that his master would throw caution to the wind as he was doing. However, it was the old man's ego that was going to be his downfall. The old man began to bring down his sword and Thomas began to bring his own sword around. However, something happened at that moment that may have surprised his teacher. The step he used was extremely fast for one at Thomas' level. Even though it was only a step's worth, it was enough to strike out at a fast speed at his teacher's abdomen. His teacher probably wouldn't be expecting the move from his student, nor would he have much time to alter his weight to properly dodge, nor would he have time to bring down his raised weapon in time to block the strike. In all honesty, it seemed to Thomas that he'd waited 'till the last possible moment to reveal his trump card.
"Hirameku." Thomas said, after a moment. "That's what I've decided to call it."
The flash of lightning.
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Post by YOSHIRO MIFUNE on Apr 10, 2012 12:30:26 GMT -5
Well. He would admit, this kid had just a little more to him than he gave him credit for. Just a little. Even as he barely stood on his feet, and even as Yoshiro went in for the finishing blow, it seemed he'd kept something in store for Yoshiro. Although it was only a single step, the step was executed in such a way as to put him at top speed forwards, almost as though he'd accelerated from 0 to full throttle in a moment. It was sudden, and it was somewhat unexpected of a kid who'd just gotten smacked to the floor a moment before. But Yoshiro was quite fortunate. He didn't get to where he was in life by getting smacked full-force with an attack he didn't see coming. Fights were always unpredictable.
So as the practice sword came, the old man pushed his front foot to the side, taking a forwards step whilst side-stepping in a diagonal movement that just barely, barely avoided the practice sword. So barely he could practically feel it a millimeter away from his own body, coming so close yet ultimately failing to hit anything other than empty air. Now the old man's weapon had been brought down, where he could easily make use of it as his opponent's weapon remained outstretched. The old man's cool gaze sharpened, much like a hawk's focused on its prey. He said it before - he'd end this match in an instant. He was about to make good on that promise.
Now swinging in horizontally, the practice sword moved right towards his student's side, right under the ribcage. With any luck, although Yoshiro was confident luck wasn't a factor here, he'd strike directly and finish his opponent off. "Still too early, brat," he remarked, convinced and sure of himself this kid wouldn't be standing up anymore after this strike. At least, not for another while. It was harsh, and it was tough, but as a teacher he felt he had a responsibility to knock it into this kid's head just how low on the pecking order he really was. That was probably the most important lesson he could learn. |
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Post by THOMAS C. FARRELL on Apr 10, 2012 13:09:56 GMT -5
Black.
There were screams in the distance. Thomas couldn't make out the words, but he could hear their voices clearly. Crying. Why were they crying..? He felt as if he should know, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Taking long, heavy steps forward, the lanky body of the youth pushed through the hostile feeling in the air. Everything was so still. He couldn't understand it. Usually there was a wind through the trees surrounding the village, or people outside, training. Generation to generation of swordsmen carrying around katanas or claymores, or longswords. Every fashion of blade conceivable fitting into the swordsman's style of fighting. But now, there was no one. That wasn't right. It was still evening with several hours of light to spare. Why did the place seem so...
Empty?
Almost as though he were in a dream, he could feel a premonition creep up on him as he made his way toward the crying voices, wondering why they were crying. Now that he came closer, it sounded like children voices. He passed by building after building, made of a sturdy wood that testified to the age and wear they had seen through the ages, providing families with refuge and income. They were all familiar to him as he picked out the butcher's shop next to the tailor's place. His master's house. Typically, he would be outside smoking his pipe or gardening in the patch of flowers he took pride in growing this time of year. The beautiful colors dancing in the breeze. Looking again, however, Thomas could see no colors... instead was a bare patch of land that used to hold such life. Fear gripped Thomas' stomach as his pace picked up, scrambling faster and faster up the hill as more and more of the village seemed to be less and less like the home he remembered. The crying voices became more hysterical as he got closer, turning from sobs of sorrow to screams of anguish, pain, the invitation of death.
What... happened? Thomas wondered to himself. For some reason, he was laying on his back looking up at the sky. The blue looked peaceful with traces of white clouds sailing past as though they didn't have a care in the world. There seemed like there was something important that he was missing... in all this. There were children crying... and..? He just couldn't remember the dream as a whole, but he could remember the fear he'd felt, the fear the children he'd heard had felt and he knew its meaning. The Marines. He remembered what had transpired down at the docks. A division of Marines chose Loungetown to be a good place for a checkpoint. Probably going to leech off the town for a few days before meddling in some other town's affairs. The bitterness of the thought left a scowl on Thomas' face... even that wasn't what he had forgotten and it was starting to bother him... His grip on the practice sword tightened as he sighed. Practice sword..?
Ah! The fight!
Thomas' eyes widened and he sat up, remembering the fatal move he'd made. Instead of attempting to dodge away, Thomas had tried to roll under the swinging sword of his master to reach an advantageous position. However, that move hadn't gone over so well. He must have misjudged the speed of his master's swing. Whatever the case, there was a third lump forming on his head where his master had hit him. Defeated, Thomas lay back down on the ground, not caring about anything. He was weak. What was the point in trying if he was just going to be beaten down so easily? He'd tried so hard, and yet for what? The emptiness was consuming. The cries of the children still ringing in his ears though years had past. Still he was as helpless as that time... still as weak...
What the hell am I doing?
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