Krieg Senju awoke early in the morning. He had trouble sleeping that night, which was the first night he had spent in his brand new apartment. Yesterday, Krieg received his forehead protector, which showed he was not a kid anymore, and he had gotten his own place as a further sign to that fact. The sun was only just peeking over the horizon, and even though he had gotten little sleep, he felt refreshed. I am not a kid anymore, Krieg thought to himself. The next thought that entered his mind of his newly bought katana. He had gotten home late last night, and thought it would be best to go to sleep before he practiced with the blade. He should act like an adult now, no longer carelessly trading needed sleep for practice with the blade. Although, he admitted to himself, he probably would have slept better had he trained at least a little bit the night before.
Krieg gently lifted his brand new katana, barely feeling the weight of it. It was a simple, very common looking blade, yet as he unsheathed it, he marveled in the elegance of the simplicity of the blade. Krieg walked into his next room, which was slightly larger, though it was still small. Krieg pointed the blade toward the ceiling, trying to make himself one with the katana, closing his eyes and focusing his thoughts completely on the blade, as he had done many times before. He did not know why he did this, only that it felt right, even if it did not seem to change anything. Krieg drew in a deep breath, letting it out slowly, opening his eyes. Sing for me, steel. I am ready.
Krieg could hear the air whistle as he twirled the blade back and forth. It gave him an odd exhilaration, watching his blade cutting through the air. It was as if he watched through slow motion, as it had always been. His fascination with the blade seemed to slow the world around him. He gradually picked up his tempo, though he always maintained control, being the master of the sword. Without slowing, Krieg placed his other hand upon the the grip, done with the warm up, ready to begin going full speed. He mentally pictured enemies around his room, as if they were actually attacking himself, in this imaginary fight to the death. Duck, twist, slide the blade across their torso, sidestep as other blades crash down, narrowly missing him. Be a leaf on the wind, he thought to himself.
Lost in his fantasy world, Krieg ferociously did battle with the ghosts. He imagined the spurt of blood each time he supposedly made contact with his katana. He always managed to avoid the blood, in his mind, it spraying a different direction. To be honest, he did not know how blood would spray from an injury such as he was inflicting on his imaginary enemies, as he had never actually fought anyone the way he was doing so now. Krieg threw the thought away as a blade came entirely too close for comfort, him twisting around and away in the nick of time, dragging his hand around, causing the blade to slide upon the throat of the enemy.
Every time he mentally vanquished one enemy, another charged in. Krieg never allowed the blades to touch him, twisting desperately, and cutting into his attackers. When he felt the fatigue ebb its way into his muscles, he doubled his determination. He did not have time to be weary. It was life or death. Entranced in his daydream, and for better or worse completely ignorant to the real world, Krieg continued the dance. Deflect, thrust, dodge. Krieg never let up, against this unending amount of foes.
He felt the nagging effects of weariness creep into his muscles. Constant, consistent voice in his head. "Your arm is too heavy. You are too weak. There are too many. You can not do this", The voice mocked. That condescending, drowning voice. Krieg hated it. Hated it with a passion. He was not weak. He did not lose, to anyone, to anything, ever. He would fight on, until his dying breath. His conviction and willpower were not those of some small child. Krieg twisted past the thrust of one of the specters, slamming his elbow into its face, using his katana to block the slash of another at the same time. He jumped back, panting heavily.
"You are too weak. Too slow. You can not--", The voice echoed, mockingly. He would never give up, it did not matter whether he was alone, or if they were real enemies. It would be too big of a disgrace to ever admit defeat. He would rather be dead than a disgrace, especially against fake enemies, where only his own willpower was needed. He treated it like a real fight, not letting the lack of actual danger to make him take it easy. In a real fight, a moment of weakness would mean death. "SHUT UP!" Krieg yelled, and swung his sword mightily at the closest specter.
SSSHHHHHHNNNG! Krieg froze as he felt his blade stick. The fantasy world fell instantly as he looked down his arm to his hand, gripping the blade. His eyes followed the blade, hesitant to see what it was stuck in. Krieg yanked on his katana, pulling it out of the wall. He felt blood rush to his face. He was glad no one was around.. How embarrassing that would have been, to seem so out of control like that. Krieg sheathed his sword with a sigh. One day in his new apartment and there was already a solid slash through the wall. He really should not be practicing his swordplay in such a small room.. He would have to go see what he could do to find someone to spar with, outside. He would not be able to afford fixing the wall every other day, just to keep training in privacy. Not to mention he disliked the fact he never got cut when he imagined fights like he had just done.. It felt like it was not real, his mind made them slow, or stupid enough as to never catch him.
Krieg looked up, noticing the sun was high in the sky. He guessed it was nearly two hours since dawn. Well, that hole in the wall is not gonna fix itself, Krieg thought to himself as he exited his house, heading toward the market district...
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1102 words. Not sure if it counted bbcode as a word, like some seem to do, but either way, it wont be less than 1000 words.
