As Omoi walked to the back, he collapsed onto his knees, his new technique having taken it's toll on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Master Daihei looking at him for the first time since the tournament began, a look of approval yet slight sadness over his face.
The head guard stepped in front of them. "Well now, there are 4 of you left, 3 fights left to go. Let's make sure you go out there and give them a show" he turned to look at Omoi "and don't try anything stupid again".
He tapped on the paper, "Next up will be Daihei and Norigata. Give them a show and hope to survive."
The two men walked out, and selected their weapons, a routine at this point. The announcer came out over the arena, "and now we move onto the semi-finals, as two masters seek to make their mark and secure their freedom, The God of the Blade goes toe-to-toe with the Silent, Norigata. It's going to be a great match for you all.
As they prepared, Omoi could just about hear what the two were saying.
"So you are the legendary hero, Master Daihei?" Norigata asked.
"I am, and you are Norigata, one of the students of the chief, if I remember correctly."
"Master Yamahashi taught me well." Norigata reminisced, "We've all grown quite strong in your absence, but unfortunately not to your level."
"I see, I'm glad you've flourished since I've been gone."
"Begin!" The announcer shouted.
Both men rushed towards each other, blades drawn, and in the blink of an eye, had slashed each other.
Norigata's blade sliced into Daihei's arm, droplets of blood quickly running down the limb and dripping off the fingers. But what Daihei had done was far greater. Daihei had cut deep into Norigata's chest, cutting though vital organs, the blood dyeing the tattered clothes red.
Norigata collapsed. Daihei rushed over, catching his head before it could hit the ground, holding the man carefully.
"It-it seems... you are ju-just as good as they say." Norigata congratulated.
"Don't talk, it'll only worsen the pain." Daihei softly warned.
"It needs," Norigata wretched, "needs to be said. You are our greatest hope. Y-y-you need to get back to the moun... the mountains, far more than I."
Daihei leaned in, whispering something to the dying man. Omoi couldn't male out what he said, but it certainly had an effect.
"Are you sure?" Norigata questioned.
"With all my heart." Daihei answered.
"I hope... you are right... but I need tell you something."
"What is it?" Daihei asked calmly, alnost soothingly.
Using the last of his strength, Norigata pulled himself up to Daihei's level, and whispered in his ear.
"I see, thank you for telling me this. Your message will not go unheeded"
"I'm glad I could... could meet a master like you. I wish... I could have seen... the cherry blossoms... one last... time..." those were his last words as he faded away into eternal slumber.
"I'll be seeing you soon. I hope the blossom is bright for you, young one." Daihei said, placing his friends arms across his chest as a sign of respect.
"And as quickly as it began, the God of the Blade will battle in the final round of this great tournament!"
From behind his he could hear Butcher laughing, "Oh man, a kid and an old man, those are the guys I have to fight. You might as well give me my freedom now."
As Master Daihei entered into the back, he tore off a piece of paper from the stack that the head guard had on him, as well as a quill and some ink, writing a short message on the paper.
The guards tried to protest, but one look from Daihei shut that down. They knew that it would be challenge to subdue him, even at his old age, trying to stop him now would be pointless.
The head guard called up Omoi and Butcher, "Alright you two, you know the drill, put on a show and try not to die. Now get out there and fight."
'This tournament is even wearing him out.' Omoi thought sardonically.
As the two fighters entered the arena, he could see that Butcher was all confidence, thinking Omoi would be an easy fight due to the severe disparity in age and size. Omoi was determined to show the Butcher the error of his ways.
As they took their weapons from the table, he could see Butcher leisurely inspecting his axe, looking over every fine detail. Omoi decided to do the same. Though Butcher was so thorough with his axe out of arrogance, looking over the weapon would be ideal. Omoi inspected his own weapon for any weaknesses. He noticed a small chink in the weapon where the weapon had been dulled. If done right, he could use that to his advantage, but he would have to be careful.
Both men walked out into the open and took their spots, Omoi focused and resolute, Butcher casual and relaxed.
"And it is time for the second match of the Semi-finals, as the Butcher of Gorbourg goes up against the Dragon's Claw, Omoi. It's a real battle of speed against strength, who will come out the victor? You're all about to find out."
Omoi's grip tightened on his blade as he readied himself for the oncoming battle.
"Let the battle begin!"
Butcher charged in like a bull, wind and sand blasting behind him as he did so. With great effort, Omoi dodged the rush, knowing that even his Special 17 couldn't take the force of that attack, not at that point. He would need to build up first if he ever had a chance at dealing with Butcher's titanic strength.
He swung his sword horizontally, trying to cleave the Butcher's head off as it resurfaced. The Butcher blocked it with his axe, before swinging the mighty blade at Omoi's head. Omoi took as much of the blow as possible, before parrying the axe away.
Omoi felt the large amount of energy rush into his body, like water rushing from a river into a bucket. The power nearly overwhelmed his senses, but he held steady. He would need to be careful with how he dealt with those monstrous blows.
To add to that, Omoi had another problem. Just that one blow had done damage to his otherwise sturdy sword, the one small dent in the blade had now tripled in size. Omoi really had to be careful how many attacks he took, too many and he was sure to lose.
Omoi jumped back, sweat ran down his face as his heart started to beat faster. He breathed deeply, trying to steady his rhythm.
Butcher twirled his monstrous axe around as if it were a small ring, a grin stretched wide upon his face. "Wanna give up now, boy? If ya get on ya hands and knees and beg me, I may be merciful enough to spare ya."
"Do you enjoy making people suffer?" Omoi muttered under his breath, trying to calm himself.
"Hmm?"
"Do you enjoy making people suffer?" Omoi repeated, louder this time as the anger began to slip through.
Butcher stroked his chin as he took a moment to think over the answer. The grin returned to his face as he laughed, "What kinda question is that?"
Omoi however was silent, staring daggers into his enemy.
Butcher was not intimidated, slowly rolling his eyes as he sighed. "Won't matter to you soon enough."
Butcher bull rushed Omoi for the second time, Omoi tried to dodge, but this time the Butcher was prepared, swinging his arm out and catching his smaller opponent with a thunderous backhand directly to the side of his head.
Pain coursed through Omoi's entire skull, feeling as if his jaw was shattered by the blow. His body tumbled to the floor was he rolled, kicking up sand as he went. After a moment, he tried to rise to his feet, but it felt as if his head were about to implode.
Butcher ran him down and planted his boot into Omoi's chest. His ribs nearly broke as he was sent several metres into the air, before falling back into the sand. It was hard to breathe, the blow having knocked the wind straight from his lungs.
"But I s'pose I oughta give a dead man 'is last wish. Let's see..."
Butcher's boot found its way to Omoi's torso once again, forcing Omoi onto his back. "The beating of my heart, the breaking of bone, the feeling of my axe carving into my opponents flesh." The butcher gave a dark, mocking chuckle.
"I wouldn't say I like killin' people. I just like to watch 'em break."
The next moment was a blur in Omoi's mind, his world a flood of red. When he came to, he saw that it was the Butcher on his knees, screaming in agony, his foot twisted at a truly sickening angle.
"YOU LITTLE WRETCH! MY FOOT!" the Butcher hollered.
"Like to watch them break, huh?" Omoi retorted sardonically, his anger boiling as the growl of the beast grew louder and deeper, "How does it feel to be on step onto the other side?"
The Butcher eyed his enemy with raw hatred, gripping his axe, "I'll show you how it feels, you li-" Butcher was cut off as Omoi smashed his boot into the middle of Butcher's face, splitting his nose.
"Shut up, you've already dug your own grave."
The next kick forced Butcher up from all fours, splintering or knocking several of his teeth from his mouth. "You knocked away my sword, so I'll be doing this the hard way." Omoi said, grabbing his foe by what hair remained on his head. Butcher tried to lift his axe to strike his smaller foe, but Omoi seized the weapon and with a tug, yanked it from the butchers hand.
A storm of blows followed, blows raining down on the Butcher like hail. With each passing second, the blows got faster and faster. Omoi's anger had finally overtaken him, the callous cruelty of this man being the spark to finally set him alight. Omoi roared as the Butcher's skull began to liquify. He could hear a multitude of voices getting louder but he couldn't care less.
Only one could break him from his fury.
"That' enough, Omoi!"
Omoi froze the paste that was once the Butcher's head slippling from his hands. From across the arena, he saw his mentor walk into the light, his face one of melancholy yet still determined, knowing what he would have to do as he stared his pupil down.
"I-it seems that Master Daihei has appeared early to fight. With Omoi's brutal victory, it seems that the final match has been decided, as Master and Student are set to go head to head in but a few moments!"