Steam Through - 1x1

[Greirat The Thief]

This is a 1x1 between me and fattiest fat cat.


Plot: 


Master gets an order or a mission from the Lord of the nation. And the Master knows he can't go at it alone. So he takes one of his students along with him.


But along the way, and with dangers they have to get by, they perhaps start form a close relationship with each other. At first just good friends. 

 

[Greirat The Thief]

Takashi was sitting just outside the barracks enjoying the rather unusual warm weather. He smiled softly to himself, knowing it wasn't going to last long either. He glanced to the inside of the barracks, staring at the weapons and shields that were stacked neatly in their slots. Sighing the elf stood to his feet and put a hand on the hilt of his scimitar. Well, I guess it's time for training. Takashi thought as he started walking towards the arena. He had just brushed a few strains of hair out his face as the wind picked up, blowing more strains of hair into his face. He moved them behind his ear in the hopes that they would stay that way.


"Jun! Time for training!!" The teacher called out to his student. Where was he? He wasn't in his sight. Turning to his right he saw a dust trail that seemed to be coming towards Takashi. Could Jun have taken a horse out for a ride? The elf glanced behind him to the paddock. No, all the horses were there. He looked back to the oncoming dust trail, Takashi tightened his grip on handle of his sword, ready for an intruder if it was one. But as the dust cloud came closer, he realized it was a messenger. A Messenger? Out here? He became confused. It was true, they were considered an outpost, however small one at that. But they hardly got any messengers. Curious, he approached the person on horseback. 


"Who are you?" Asked the elf. "What news do you bring?" But his questions were replied with an answer.


"I am looking for Takashi Kimara. Do you know where I can find him?"


"I...am Takashi." The teacher replied, baffled that a messenger bearing the symbol and outfit of their King would be looking for him. The messenger handed him a scroll.


"From the King. He wishes you to take the task and complete it." Takashi opened the scroll and read it's inscription. His eyes widened. He was...supposed...to take this?


"Wait! I think you have a mistake! We never get this kind of request here. Let alone any requests." Takashi stated. The messanger shook his head and smiled. 


"I, and most importantly, the King, do not make mistakes." The messenger turned his horse and spurred it into action, away from the elven teacher. Takashi looked down at the scroll. Was he really to take this? Takashi turned his attention from the scroll to finding his student.


"Jun? Where are you?" He called out a second time.

 

[fattiest fat cat]

Jun rises with the sun.  He makes himself a breakfast of oatmeal, shaves, dresses, then polishes his katana until it gleams dully under the blinding light of the sun.  He is the ideal student: obedient, dedicated to his craft, and wise enough to realize that arrogance will not serve him in this place.


He came to his master 5 years ago, squeaky-voiced and overeager, insistent that Takashi take him in.  His parents had been killed in a fire in a village nearby, and having nowhere else to turn, Jun had made the trek to Takashi's home with only the bag on his back, containing his remianing belongings.  He had been lucky that his master had taken him in.  He knows that there was no real reason to take him in at that time, undisciplined and untrained, nothing more than a village orphan.  Jun will be eternally grateful that Takashi accepted him into his home and chose to train him.


Now he is practically grown, taller and wider than he was once, and graceful with a blade.  Of course, he does not have the grace of his master, but he is proud of how far he has come.  He is, in fact, standing out in the fields, practing on a tree when he hears his name.


Lifting his head, he runs a hand over the stubble of hair on his head and then begins the trek back to his home, picking up his pace when his master calls him name a second time.


"I'm here!" he calls out, raising his hand into the air.

 

[Greirat The Thief]

Takashi saw the raise of his student's hand and could just make out the "I'm here" call. So he was in the field, eh? He had managed to get past him without his knowing. Smart kid. Takashi walked towards the wooden fenced in area, the training arena. The patch of area was dusty and little crops grew here. When Jun came to him, asking to train him, Takashi saw the opportunity to turn it into a training area. The boy had grown quite fast in the five years that he had been here. Takashi was proud of the kid. Jun would make a fine swordsman one day. As Takashi stood at the wooden fence, he looked down at the scroll in his hand. He began thinking about why he was given the task. Sure, Takashi was skilled. But he certainly couldn't be that skilled, could he? But he couldn't think of it much longer, he had training to do. Takashi hopped the fence and landed softly into the arena. He took the scroll that was still in his hand and held it in his palm. Turning to his student, he smiled and nodded towards what was now about to be used as a coaching object.


"Let's see what you've learned so far. If you manage to take the scroll, I'll let you come with me." Takashi stated. The elf drew his sword from its holder and held it out in front of him. He beckoned his student forward with a nod. He hoped the Jun would take it from him. But the teacher wasn't about to just hand him the scroll. Jun had to earn it, fight for it. Takashi was in his regular cloth outfit, a basic, almost samurai outfit. It offered no protection from a sword; especially since both he and Jun kept their blades in peak condition. But even if Takashi suffered a few scratches from his opponent, it would be well worth it. It would mean he spent his years training his student well. Something any master would be proud of.


The wind picked up again, nearly tipping over the scroll in the elf's hands. He re-positioned himself so that his back took the brunt force of the wind, saving the precious scroll from its enemy. Takashi held is sword at the ready again, turning his head to face his student. The wind died down, leaving the elf's once blonde braided hair, a tangle of messy strands. Dust that had once been airborne, settled back down to the ground. Takashi leaned forward, putting his weight on the balls of his feet. He tensed and waited for Jun to make the first move.

 

[fattiest fat cat]

A challenge, eh?  Jun smiles, eyeing the scroll.  Perhaps... it's just some paper?  A rewardless challenge, but his master does seem rather determined not to lose it.  So, it's probably important after all, right?  Only one way to find out.


Neither of them are wearing armour, and the one rule of gettig into a sword fight is whoever gets cut loses.  Why?  Because a blade is deadly, and if you are struck with one, you will probably die.  If not from the injury itself, then probably from an infection, or collapse from exhaustion, or something else.  Most likely, however, it will be the blade.


The two of them at least have the sense not to strike at each other with enough ferocity to kill, but keeping in mind he wants the scroll without killing his master in the process does make it more complicated.


Still, he is not one to turn his master down, so he takes a guarded stance and begins to circle.

 

[Greirat The Thief]

Takashi followed Jun's movements, slowly turning himself in step with his student's circling. He gave a small amused smile at his student, happy that he would accept the challange that he had set for Jun. The wind kicked up, creating a strong breeze, kicking dust up into the air again. As the wind continued, blowing more dust particles in the air, the elf saw his chance and charged at his student. But before the elf came into striking distance of his opponent's sword, Takashi sidestepped and crouched low, still in position of the scroll. He took this opportunity to swing his sword low, aiming for Jun's ankles. He hoped that Jun would make an interesting move. But he wouldn't know until his student acted upon his own.


Takashi had brought up the boy from the age of 15. The day Jun came to him, he could see the rising smoke from the nearby village. The village had gone up in flames due to a neighboring kingdom raid. There wasn't much Takashi could have done. He didn't see the smoke until it was already over with. But when his student came out of the field, Takashi had a feeling that his parents were dead. Truth be told, he had no idea why he took Jun in and raised and trained him. Maybe it was because he saw a bit of himself in Jun. But regardless, they had spent a rather large majority of their time training or just talking. Sure, Takashi had told pleasant memories to Jun. But most of his adult life, the elf was a mercenary for hire by the name of Black Leaf. The name became feared through most of the eastern land of the kingdom; a place where the scroll said their destination was. He just hoped no one recognized him. This thought lingered on him. If any of his former comrades were still in the area, what would happen? Would the openly enter a fight? Or would they walk harmlessly away from him? Takashi broke the train of the thought with a shake of his head. He turned his attention away from his sword and to his student, eyeing Jun and trying to guess what his next move might be.

 

[fattiest fat cat]

His master makes the first move, and Jun steps back, pivoting out of the way before moving in.  There is no way for a smaller opponent to stay out of weapon's range while trying to strike.  The opponent with longer limbs is at an advantage, but a sword is a long weapon.  It's purpose is to the one's opponent in danger at all time.  Being unwilling to step into range would mean an eternal standstill, and Jun is intent on taking that scroll.


He strikes without thinking, the movements ingrained into him.  To take the scroll from his master without injuring him, he must drive the other man to drop his bounty, and then go in with aggression, force him to move far back enough that Jun can simply pluck the scroll from the ground.  So... he moves his weapon towards Takashi's face, intending to drive his instincts.  They are a difficult thing to resist, and if Jun does this correctly, then his master will instinctively move to protect his face, and hopefully drop the scroll.

 

[Greirat The Thief]

Takashi was quick to react to his student's actions. He tucked the hand holding the scroll behind his back and in a swift movement he brought up his curved blade to block the attack from his opponent. He leaned away as the swords collided with one another, but even with his swift movements, Jun's blade was inches away from his face. Fearing the student might try to take an impulsive drive at his face, Takashi jumped back and away. He looked at his opponent and smiled to him, nodding at a job well done.


"Good. Very good. You have learned well these past few years." He said encouragingly. Again, the master motioned for his student to come at him again. He was going to have try harder then a frontal attack to take the scroll away from him. The wind that had kicked up moments before, suddenly died down. It was here Takashi noticed just how warm it had gotten. Was it late afternoon already? It couldn't have been, could it? But then again, time stood still when battling. What seemed like a long time, typically wasn't when the two were practicing. 

 

[fattiest fat cat]

The move is a crude one.  Frankly, it's an insult to his master's intelligence.  All that Jun has learrned he has learned from his master.  When he was a child, he had never had much in the way of education.  His family had not had much money, though his mother had been a blacksmith.


He remembers her vividly, a woman with a stature much like his own.  She had stood even taller than he did now, broader too, with rippling muscle rather than the athletic strength which he has.  Her hair had always been tied up, out of the way of the fire and heavy instruments.  She had also never worn makeup, never even bothered to pinch her cheeks to give them a red flush.  The flames of the forge had always made her red enough, so she said.  He had never seen her start or stoke the forge.  Nor had anyone else.  A curious fact, but certainly not the most curious thing about her.


She never spoke of home or her childhood.  Whenever he had asked her, she had always joked that she came from an egg.  She was the creative sort, always full of stories like that.  Always ready with a bedtime story, spooling tales of dragons and far away lands.  The evil wizards in her stories had always been the most despicable, the knights the most mighty, the dragons the most powerful.  She had spoken, too, of those who would earn the trust of the dragons and be blessed with their breath.


He had once asked her if such a place could ever be real.  Of course not, Jun.  We humans are far too wicked to let such a place ever thrive.  Then she had run her large, calloused hand through his hair and smiled at him before tucking him under his blankets and blowing out the candle by his bed.


His father had been more of a scholarly sort, but even for him it had been little more than a hobby.  His days were spent at the village's shrine, a place dedicated to the god Izanagi and goddess Izanami.  There, he had learned some things from the other parishioners, and became a man with a modest education.


Had Jun wanted to, he doesn't doubt he could have learned many things from him, but he had had very little interest, and indeed had rarely visited the shrine except on holidays in order to give offerings.  He remembers only the shrine's torii, which is the only part of the shrine which still stands in the midst of the ruins of the village.


He was slight, with dark skin, but not nearly as dark as Jun or his mother.  Maybe it is this which made Jun feel such kinship with her, or perhaps it was simply a mutual interest in smithy.


It had been his intention to take over the blacksmith's shop when his mother finally grew too old to work (or, more likely, when she passed).  There is no longer a blacksmith left for him to take over.  It had been one of the first place's to burn down.


The only thing which remains of it is Jun's sword, which he now holds in front of him, circling his master again, waiting for an opportunity to move in again.  His master is swifter than he is, more likely to anticipate moves and react before Jun even has the chance to finish moving.  It would be frustrating if it didn't such a thrill of pride through his body.


The tip of the blade is not straight as a katana should be.  There is a slight bend to it from the over enthused fall of hammer on hot metal.  This weapons is one which him and his mother crafted together, spending the hot summer evenings after the shop was closed for the day working away.  When he had misstruck, the blow far too rough for the metal, his mother had laughed and put a hand on his shoulder.


Next time, she had told him. Next time you will make the perfect blow.  Then she had given him the sword and said to him he should wield it with pride.  The first weapon is always the most precious.


However, it had been his first and his last, for two days later he had woken in the middle of the night to a mighty roar which had rumbled through his teeth and bones, a surge of dread going through his body.  Then there had been the heat as the town burst into flame.  He had sat, dumbfounded, on his bed for long moments before his father, only in his night gown had burst through the door.


Jun!  Go!  Go now!


He can still remember he look of pale horror on his father's face.  So he had gathered up his back of meager things, and then he had run as fast his legs would carry him.  Even now, he can still remember the look on his father's face with absolute clarity.


The hand which hols the scroll twists into his view, and in an impulsive move which he barely even thinks about, Jun moves his imperfect perfect blade towards the scroll, intending to spear it with his blade and take it from his master that way.