"I'm not completely blind," Aza'zel argued back. "You can practice a full set right now in front of me, once is enough as long as I can listen to your movements."
Saxon had a weird expression. "You mean to say that your version of seeing things is actually listening to things? I don't want to say I don't believe it but…"
Butch also shook his head, clicked his tongue, and tossed the butcher knife over to Saxon, saying, "If you're expecting those guys to make a hit, at least tell me you've made your preparations. Now that you mentioned it, those kids dropped by and emptied the entire storage, what's that about?"
Saxon laughed. "What stupid preparations? We're leaving this fucking trash dump of a town and making our own squad in the wastelands."
"What?!" Butch's fatty belly bounced in circles as he rushed at a speed disproportionate to his weight, grasping Saxon by the collar of his leather jacket, eyes red.
"What do you mean you're leaving?! Where am I supposed to earn a living?!"
Saxon patted the big guy's thick shoulder and replied, "This town is too small for me, Butch! Me and my little guys belong to the world out there, the damn wastelands are large enough to accommodate a group of vulture hatchlings like us. As for you? Heh!
"You're some hot commodity if you're willing to work for anyone, and no one is willing to make trouble for you in this town. Come on, you're the only person who can dissect efficiently, why would they make things hard on you?"
Butcher still refused to relent, his eyes red but it was hard to tell be it from anger or some other, stronger emotions, He hissed through his mustache, "You kids have been a pain in the ass for so many years! How many of my beautiful knives have you ruined so far? Hm?! Now you wanna wipe the slate clean, wound up, and leave? Just like that?"
"You're making it sound like we'll never make it back, Butch!" Saxon rolled his eyes as he sighed. "Your name can only do so much to protect us, little guys, you know? It could work on those who want some dinner on their plates, but a Raksha is different. A Raksha isn't that desperate, and my talent is something that breaks their bottom line."
Aza'zel chose this opportunity to interject. "I'm not leaving town."
Both Saxon and Butch paused, dazed. Then, it was Saxon who dropped from Butch's vice grip and lifted Aza'zel by the collar, his healthy eye growing red. "Are you mad?! Do you wish to sit around and wait for death to descend?!"
Aza'zel felt shaken and dizzy as he responded, "I'm not going to die! Stop with this nonsense, Sax!"
Saxon breathed in and breathed out, exasperated, "You're already marked as one of mine, you idiot! The moment we leave this town, everyone else will get their eyes on you! Fuck! I mean, there are only three Rakshas left in town at the moment, the other eight frequently return to check on their territories and business, but that's beside the point! Fuck! Even their minions would understand the gravity of my talent, and if they can't get to me, they'll target your lone ass!"
Aza'zel was stubborn. "I can hide! If you're that worried about my safety, just show me the forms you obtained from the military, and you don't have to worry about anything else."
"Ugh! Lil Aza, you're such a blockhead!"
Saxon tossed Aza'zel back on the ground, crouched down, and violently ruffled his own crimson spikes of hair. He felt utterly frustrated at this point.
Butch said, "You know, Sax, you can't impose your convenience on other people."
Saxon suddenly looked up, gritting his teeth. "Fine! Do you want to get the practice forms from me? You can have them, but not for free! In exchange, you'll suck every fresh prey dry from the blood for Butch… No, once every three days is enough!"
Aza'zel immediately protested, but Saxon was just as stubborn. Ultimately, the two came to an agreement that Aza'zel would drop by the butchery every three days to drink fresh blood before it thickens and congeals, but he also stipulated that he would not drink the blood from totemic warriors, only those set out for dissection and organ transfer.
"Miss Sax, still as kind as ever."
Butch shook his head. When Aza'zel heard these words, he felt like punching someone in the face, what kind of kindness was this? Forcing him to drink blood was a kind gesture.
Butch simply chuckled. "You'll understand in the future. Well, help yourselves, little kids… I've got better things to do now that I suddenly got so much free time on my hands. Sigh, finally I don't need to deal with those little shits every damn morning, evening, and afternoon."
Saxon watched Butch's lonesome back disappear behind the rows of meat with a heavy sentiment in his healthy eye. However, recalling the nutcase by his side, the young boss felt like slapping the idiot flying.
"Let's start, then! I'll make sure my movements are loud and clear for you to see or hear, whatever it is… Fuck, you better stick around till I make it back from the wastelands with my personal crew, I can't topple any of the Rakshas without sufficient manpower and support anyhow."
As Saxon spoke, he stepped a few paces away from Aza'zel.
"Don't worry about me, I'll survive one way or another," Aza'zel responded, not at all bothered. He didn't believe that they would make things difficult for him just because of some random thing Saxon said the other day, and even if they did, he can explain himself and clear all misunderstandings.
As for the forms, he was paying for them by helping Butch with the excessive blood. The smell of this place is agonizing to both the living and the dead, and Aza'zel was willing to bet that Butch had long since lost any semblance of a sense of smell after working here for so long.
The fierce and loud wind kicked up, and Aza'zel immediately focused his world of echoes on Saxon's silhouette as it shuttled about in a small area that could contain about five young adults.
The movements were slow at times, and fast at others. They were sharp at times, swift at others. Saxon stretched his arms, folded them, swept the floor with his feet in full circles, and performed a complex array of movements.
Aza'zel focused his entire perception on that small zone taking form following Saxon's movements, while also registering the multiple forms his body struck each time his movements paused to switch over fluidly.
After giving it some thought, Aza'zel took a step forward and began to follow Saxon's rhythm. He didn't need his eyes, and so, he could focus his perception on Saxon within close proximity while emulating the practice forms.
Saxon's eyes were closed as he focused on reviewing the forms in his mind, completely unaware that Aza'zel was attempting to synchronize both their movements.
In the beginning, Aza'zel's movements were stiff and offbeat. However, when focused on a specific area with his acute hearing, coupled with his world of echoes, Aza'zel slowly began to shape a clear imprint of Saxon's figure in his mind.
Just like that, Aza'zel went from rigid and gradually smoothed out his forms. There were thirty-six forms in total, split into three stances, each stance with twelve forms.
It took Saxon at least twenty minutes to go over the forms of a single stance, and since he had to repeat each stance and every form, things quickly got tiring.