As the door slammed behind him Omoi sat down gently, careful of his injuries. The blood upon his body was cold and beginning to dry, congealing and thickening.
"I see you've survived your first trial." Old man Daihei said, a fleck of hope and mirth peaking through his sombre voice.
Omoi did not speak immediately, still reflecting on the events of the battle.
"Why?"
"Hm?" Daihei's head tilted up at Omoi's question.
"Why was I put out there?"
"Ah, I see. From what I've gathered, the name of the fighters are drawn at random, so I suppose you were just part of the listings"
Moving onto his knees, the old man scooted up to Omoi, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder as he continued, "Listen well dear boy, often times the world and the people within are cruel, though I suppose you've already had experience with that. Sometimes those acts don't have a purpose to them, their just a chance bit of misfortune. The best thing we can do as warriors and as people is to make the most out of the situation at hand. And for that..."
Daihei slowly rose to his feet, "from this day onward, I will train you in everything I know, so that you may survive. Both in here, and out there."
There was a slamming of the bar as the guard approached again, "Daihei, you've been selected."
"Very well," Daihei said calmly, "I shall be back shortly, and when I return I shall have a present for you."
For the next hour, Omoi was left to reflect on what he had done. He could remember how it felt, taking his first life, how the knife felt stabbing into flesh, the squelching of muscle and eye. It was harrowing.
And yet, the rush of battle, the intensity of each attack, the feeling of his envigorated body. It was...exhilarating, and the fact he enjoyed it terrified him more than anything else.
The door clanged open and shut again. The old man stood at the entrance, drenched in blood, with the same neutral look on his face from the other day. In his one arm was a sword, coated in blood. In the other, was a small wooden cup filled with oils and a brush.
"I said I would get you a present." Daihei said, presenting the sword to him.
Omoi carefully took the sword from his soon to be master. The sword was like the ones he had seen on the demons in steel. The handle was dyed black and the blade itself looked slightly worn, minor chipping in certain sections.
"How did you..."
"When your as strong as I am, it is far less of a burden to just allow certain demands. Once I explained my situation, they were happy to left me keep the blade, with a little convincing of course."
Omoi did not want to pry into what "convincing" meant.
Finding a couple of pieces of cloth with as little blood as possible, the old man tore the pieces from the rest of his clothing and handed them to Omoi.
"Why are you giving me this?" Omoi questioned, taking the piece of cloth.
"To clean the sword, of course! All weapons must be cleaned, and the first lesson of a swordsman is how to clean a blade."
The cup was placed next to Omoi, ready to be used. Taking the first cloth, Omoi cleaned the blade of blood as much as possible. Once the blade was clean, Daihei instructed Omoi to brush the oil onto the blade to prevent damage from water and other liquids (such as blood). Omoi brushed carefully, trying to avoid cutting himself. Once complete, he was then told to use the other cloth to wipe of the oil until there was no more excess. Omoi worked diligently at cleaning the blade. Finally, Omoi was left with a shiny new blade, ready for use.
"This is your first step as a swordsman, it is vital to take care of one's weapon. No man needs their weapon breaking in the middle of a battle. Health of the weapon is the foundation of battle... as is that of one's body. I want to see how much you are able to endure."
The old man then asked Omoi to do as many push ups as possible. Omoi may have been young, but he had at least some experience in the field, however little it was. Omoi strained, managing around 30 before his arms gave out. Omoi was then asked to do as many sit ups as possible, Omoi managing around the same number.
"I see. I'm impressed with the level you are at right now, greater than I expected. Still, you have far to go."
The clanking of the bar signalled the arrival of the guard. "Dinner is here." The guard stated plainly.
The dinner consisted of bread, water and some slices of meat. The meat was cold, leftover from a previous meal by the owners. It wasn't much, but it was the first food he had gotten besides the bread and water.
Omoi scarfed down the food like a wild animal. By contrast, Daihei was far calmer and slower with his meal. "Patience, young pupil. You need to enjoy the luxuries you get in here. You never know when you'll recieve them again."
Omoi listened to old man's words. He knew he was right, but he could help it, it have been so long since he had truly been able to eat a meal, not just scraps to survive. He was brought back to memories of his home on the farm. Of how simple and peaceful it was. He thought about how little he had taken the time to appreciate it when had it.
The memories steeled his resolve. Someday, he would be free. Someday, he would find his family. Someday, he would build back his life.
Right now, he had to fight and he had to prepare.
For over 6 months, the shows slowed, talks of wars and bloodshed taking the countries attention and resources.
This time was used fervently by the master and student. Everyday, Omoi trained his body into a weapon. Push ups, sit ups, side jumps, high jumps. Each time he got comfortable with a certain level, he would increase the amount. 40, 50, 60, 70, 80, 90. By the time he was doing 100 of each exercise each day was when he started to train with the sword.
He began with getting used to lifting and holding the blade. As it was a blade meant for full grown fighters, it was big for a boy of Omoi's age and size. The uneven distribution of a sword did not help.
It took a while to get comfortable with the blade. Everyday, he would train with blade after training his body. 10 thrusts, 10 downward slashes, 10 sideward slashes, 10 blocks. Those foundations would be the first stone on the mountain of his training. The foundations of his strength as a warrior.
The spring turned to summer, the games picking up again as whispers of a grand game being planned passed about the cells. The game happened to be set on Omoi's birthday. It was a funny for the boy, to be thrown into an arena only 7 years after he was born. He thought of all the birthdays he had experienced.
'This will certainly be my most interesting birthday.' Omoi though grimly.
Then his thoughts turned to his master.
Why was he here? He seemed too good to be here, a master above all others in this whole city. It was odd for a man of his calibur to be locked in here.
That night, whilst they were preparing to sleep, Omoi took the oppertunity.
"Master Daihei, may I ask you a question?"
"Anything?" The old man replied warmly.
"Why are you here? How did they get you?"
The old master's mood turned sombre, yet also wistful, "I went with them willingly."
Omoi's head snapped upwards, confusion on his face. "Why?"
The master then regaled his student with tales of his home in the mountains. Like Omoi's life, Master Daihei's was simple but peaceful. He talked of his family, his son, his granddaughter, and most of all his brother.
"He was an abrasive bastard, but he loved us all the same. He fought and trained to protect his home, perhaps even more than I."
"Then why did.." Omoi sentence trailed off, confused, possibly even a little afraid of the answer.
Master Daihei soon eleborated.
"Roughly 5 years ago, King Hairota invaded the mountains. We fought varaciously, trying to drive them away, but the war seemed endless. For every one defeated, it seemed as if 10 took their place.
I, in particular earned the King's enmity after besting his brother in single combat.
Eventually, our efforts proved futile. The soldiers conquered the mountains, but at a great price. I knew the King wasn't going to be merciful, unless I did something about it. The king was a man of great wroth, but also of honour. So, I struck a deal with him. I would be amongst the enslaved if he showed my people mercy. I just hope they are all ok.
The king was ruthless on me. He made me suffer for my slights towards him. Then, once he was done, he tossed me to the arena to watch me stuggle."
The master sighed deeply, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. "I dream of the day I am finally free, that I may see all my loved ones again. All I have left of this is this." Daihei said solumnly, presenting a small necklace with a blue orb as it's centrepiece.
It was saddening to see the pain of a man he considered a friend, but at the same time, it was comforting, knowing the pain was shared.
"Perhaps we will both be free, one day."
Master Daihei smiled "Perhaps."
The day finally came, the signature clanking of the bars could be heard as more and more were released for the games. Finally the guard banged on their door. "Both of you up, you've been selected for the games."
Daihei stretched leisurely, as waking from a rest for supper. "Shall we go, young one?"
They were led out into the arena, extra guards accompanying them due to the weapon already in Omoi's possession. They passed under the decorate remains of a ship onto the open.
"Watch me closely, I'll be demonstrating something new today." Daihei whispered to Omoi.
The sun beat down on them as the announcer forward, "My Lords and Ladies, welcome to a special day. In honour of our Noble warriors successes in the field, we had gathered you here today to for a delightful day of chaos and carnage! Joining us today are our lovely Royal family."
Omoi looked upwards to these Royals. Placed in a special stand, sheltered from the sun, was a woman in deep purple with blonde hair, an equally blonde boy around his age, dressed in white, and a girl, slightly younger, with brown hair and in a blue dress.
"At one end of the arena we have the wretched pirates of Fretford the Black, on the other, the grand fleet of Hairota. When the battle on the waves ends, the battle on land begins. Are you all ready for the show?"
The crowd cheered.
"Then let us begin!"
The two sides moved slowly trying to get a feel of the other. This continued until they reached the centre. The battle switched in that moment into an all out war. Both sides hacked at each other furiously.
Omoi, for his part was doing well. His training made him alot more efficient and deadly than before. The beast clung to the back of his head urging him to fight on, but it was more mellow this time, allowing him to do as he was. He cut into his opponents, managing to best two in direct combat. Of course, that meant little in comparison to his master.
The old man transformed when in battle. Far from the meandering old meisure, he moved smoothly and gracefully. Dozens, if not hundreds of blows were sent the old masters way, but they all sailed harmlessly past him, before he would strike back with a lethal shot.
Soon, half the field had gone, especially with the skill of his master. Omoi managed to take the head off of another opponent before a new one stepped forth to challenge the master.
This one was different from the rest. Dressed in heavy plate, the man was well built, with thick, broad shoulders and an imposing stature, standing half a metre taller than Master Daihei. But it was his eyes that were most intimidating. There was a hardened resolve to them, the kind only found in experienced warriors.
"Omoi!" His master called out, "Do not worry about the rest! Watch what I do!"
Omoi was confused. He couldn't just ignore the other fighters on the field, not when they were still trying to kill him, could he?
The battle began with a few quick strikes, as the two sized each other up. Then Master Daihei said something loud enough for Omoi to hear it.
"Special 17."
The master planted his feet, blocking each blow from his opponent. Several of the enemy tried to attack Omoi, but before Omoi could even lift his sword, all of them were struck down faster than the blink of an eye.
"Watch." Master Daihei repeated.
Omoi could see his master's muscle tense, he could feel the aura of power eminating from him, growing with each strike. Then, he switched up deflecting his opponents blade to the side.
Raising his sword into the air, he roared "SPECIAL 17: RELEASE!"
The opponent tried to block the blow with his sword, but it was too late. Master Daihei's sword smashed through his opponents, before cleaving through his body, plate included. The former warrior's body slid into two pieces that dropped onto the floor.
The rest of the enemy side, immediately tried to surrender, now fearing for their lives more than ever.
"Well Lords and ladies, in a major twist, it appears our noble sailors wish for mercy. Since the King is not present, what will our Queen decide?"
The Queen stepped forward her fist slowly placed outward as the whole arena went silent in anticipation. Then the thumb went up; the signal for death.
Omoi and Daihei looked on as their now terrified enemy, having lost all resolve to fight, was butchered. Omoi felt sorry for the men, they weren't the same bloodthirsty kind that killed whatever they could. They tried to seek mercy and it was denied. It was a stark reminder for Omoi; no matter how beastly the opponents in front of him were, the true monsters were the ones above him.
Once the slaughter was over, the crowd cheered the victors.
Daihei turned, "Come child, our business is finished here. You have more to learn."
They made their way back into their cell, along with the rest. Once inside, Omoi immediately asked his master, "What was that?" Child-like wonder returning for but a moment.
"That, young one, was Special 17, one of 100 diffenent techniques created by my people in the mountains, taught to us over generations. Special 17 in particular allows one to take the energy of an opponent's attack and store it, increasing one's strength. With enough energy built up, releasing that energy can lead to a nigh unstoppable attack."
Omoi stood in awe, a bit of the old Pako peaking through. He quickly regained composure, asking "So how do I learn it?"
Daihei smiled, "We shall start without your sword, so that you may get a feel of the technique.
The sword was placed to the side as they prepared. "Try to block my punches, you need to take the attacks to gain strength from them. I'll start easy."
The exercise began, the master starting slow allowing Pako to easily blow them. "Feel the flow of my blows, let the energy of my fists transfer into you."
The blows began to get faster.
"You must maintain your resolve, no matter what is inflicted onto you. Stay strong like the mighty oak, else that energy will be wasted."
The blows got faster.
"Hold."
Stronger.
"Hold."
The energy was building.
"Hold."
A blur came towards him like a lightning bolt.
The next moment, he slammed against the cell bars, his head swimming and ribs cracked as he slumped to the ground in pain. Master Daihei rushed to his side, slamming himself into the bars. He heard his master utter "Special 17: Revitalize", his bones healing and the pain soothing.
"Dear boy, are you okay?"
"What happened?" Omoi asked wearily.
"Your resolve broke."
"Oh." Omoi said, his head turning to the ground sullenly.
"Do not fret. Most fail their first try, what matters is that you get back up and learn. But perhaps not today."
"How did you heal me?"
"Techniques aren't only meant for destruction. But perhaps we should leave that for a different time
And so, from that day on for the next month, when ever they got the time between matches in the stadium, Omoi would practice on the use of Special 17 in addition to his regular retinue. Each day he would edge ever closer to taking hold of the ability, but it was just out of reach.
On the last day of the month, Omoi took his stance once again as he prepared to train.
The punches started slow.
'Feel the energy' Omoi repeated the words of his master in his head like a mantra.
The punches grew faster.
'Feel the energy'
He relaxed, focusing on the now. He began to feel the energy, how it travelled from the hip, to the arm, to the fist and finally into him. It was painful, but he grit his teeth, planred his feet and endured the pain. He felt the energy settle in him, filling his body with energy.
The punches grew faster. Stronger. The energy was building.
Then came the big one. The punch flew at him, bit it wasn't the blur he had so often seen. It looked like any other punch.
'Let my resolve never break.'
The punch connected. 29 times before, it had sent him into the bar. But this time, he held strong. The energy flowed into him, filling him with power.
"Now, Release!" His master commanded.
Drawing back his fist, Omoi finally said the words he had waited so long to say.
"Special 17: Release!"
He swung forward. His master blocked, but the blow was strong enough to send him off his feet and into the nearest wall.
After a moment, Master Daihei rose to his feet.
"Congratulations, my student."
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" Omoi cheered, relishing in the feeling of accomplishment.
The bang of the bars interrupted the moment. "What's going on here!" The Guard shouted.
"Nothing, nothing, just a little training. Move along now." The guard gulped, before backing off and scurrying away.
"You have done well. But you have only just begin to tap into this power. We will continue to train you to be the best warrior you can be."
Omoi smiled, "I'm ready".