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The 7 year old was drenched with sweat. Six hours ago he had begun his katana practice under the watchful eye of his father. He battled the elite royal guardsmen, his father's best soldiers, battled and bested them one by one. The final warrior was Suragamo, Master of Arms. Rumor said he was the best swordsman in the realm. Suragamo entered a scathing series of attacks, using the two sword style he had developed, attacking high and low, left and right, all the time moving irregularly and swiftly around the youngster. Kirin responded with fluid grace while barely able to avoid being struck. "I must finish this," he thought, "Suragamo is a dangerous opponent and I must not lose before father." Feigning a stumble, the boy left a slight opening through which Suragamo's attacks could reach him. Suragamo, his reflexes honed through years of combat, seized the opportunity without thought. His attack missed by the slightest of margins as the boy did the unexpected. Dropping to his back he thrust upward, landing a telling blow to the groin that were it not practice would have opened Suragamo's pelvic region and left him incapable of proper ambulation. Suragamo stepped back, sheathed his weapons and gave the boy a bow of respect. "Master Kirin, you have learned all I can teach. You make me proud, son of my master." With that Suragamo turned and left. "Well done my son! You are ready now to begin your real training, for now I shall personally teach you," his father proclaimed. |
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