King Make Believe

Chapter 10

Hirokazu

"One...more time." I panted. Hoping to hell that I would get right. It had be happen, sometime or another. Whether it was tomorrow, next year, or five years from now. I would master this ability, and avenge my father's death. I'd been practicing since my birthday, surely some luck would arrive.

"As you wish." The man replied. He repositioned himself and I prepared myself for another attack. His sword gleamed and shimmered. The theory mother spoke of rung in my head.

What if you could transfer a specific amount of your Mist into the Moon Spirit Sword? It could be why the sword allowed you to pick it up so easily...? 

 I grunted as he flung his weight onto me. Our swords clashed together and from it erupted a resonate ring that stung my ears. The vibration rattled through my bones as he came at me, again and again. He was relentless, like he hated me for long and this was a chance for him to finally vent it all out. 

I frowned as I pushed his sword away, spinning away from his next attack. I hoped he didn't hate me too much. I kind of liked him. He lunged forwards, grabbing out with one hand to hold me in position as the other hand holding his sword came down for the inevitable blow. I saw the vicious gleam, almost as if this sword about to strike was against me too. Like it had a conscious only for the hatred of me. I closed my eyes. Childish.

When I reopened them, it was as if the world was ten times more visible. Like it had revealed a secret only for me. Everything was brighter, clearer. Stronger. I lashed out with my sword, everything slower and more precise. The sword in my hands was almost whispering what I needed to do next. Implanting them in my brain and allowing them to grow. To expand their branches and command my arms as they trembled against the force of my opponent. Elbow...in his gut...

I listened to these words, not sure if it was abasing the rules. But, something my father once said; you have to know the rules to know when to break them. I held on tight to my sword and released my grip from one hand. Thrusting my right elbow into his abdomen. He grunted and spat out a few droplets of blood.

"Well...done." The man said acknowledged respectfully. He then spun around, suddenly not affected by my blow and cut rather deeply into my upper arm.

I felt the once calm voices buzzing in my ears. Their frantic cries as I watched the red spill down in a manner that reminded me of water running through the cracks in a floorboard. The blood dripped off my fingers and the voices began screaming in alarm. Their screams echoed loudly and I could make a patient, more sincere voice behind all the madness. It just repeated one word, over and over. Healhealhealhealheal.

I frowned, trying to block out the rest of the shouts. This voice was the reason I healed, it seemed to be the sensible, more confusing part of this Mist inside of me. And this part was responsible for me. It healed me. I closed my eyes, maybe I could talk to it. Maybe I could make a deal...?

"Prince Hirokazu!" The man's voice was imminently angry. His tone implied I get up off my ass and bow and thank him for the fight. I stood up and tried to hold back the cough threatening to spill out of my mouth. I bowed as non-stiffly as I could and then sheathed my sword.

I ran off to the bathrooms hidden behind a grove of lush trees and bent over the sink of three in the men's toilets. I allowed myself to cough up the remaining blood. Staining the pure white sink with splotches of metallic red. I let out a soft wheeze and brushed the hair out of my face and looked up at the reflection in the mirror.

The boy staring back at me didn't look like a fourteen year old. His skin was pale and the usual light flush had disappeared. His hair was a tangled mess slightly above his bony hunched shoulders, framing his face. His eyes were something I'd have to get used to. His left pupil still scared me whenever I caught a glimpse of it. The contrast of my gold right iris and my smokey blue-grey left one had me confused. The colours didn't seem right, and yet they did. The blood smeared around the corners of my mouth left me looking even paler still. And I then looked at my throat, the few lightly coloured veins that sat there caught my attention. If I didn't figure out a way to safely control this Mist inside of me...I inspected the vein lines on my neck, then they would become more and more visible. And I would look like I'd been poisoned black in my blood.