"The ravenous fire that crackled in your souls was one and the same, stoked by repressed fear and the overwhelming desire to survive in a world that only valued material power."
In their desperate battle to survive the harsh aristocracy, the desire...
Iron screeched against iron as your Kizāri clashed with Hyunjin's. The two of you were the only viciously active beings at such an early hour of the day. You were sure that if you squinted at the sky enough, you would notice the sun's frown for having been awakened by your sparring.
You spun, directing your Kizāri away and around to aim at Hyunjin's legs instead. He foresaw your actions and leaped backward, arcing his weapon down to meet yours. If he succeeded, then he may be able to trap you.
You weren't willing to give him the chance.
Flicking your wrist upward, you swung your Kizāri at his with increased force. It won't disarm him, but it would divert his aim and switch your position in that second from defense to offense. And it was always better to be the one on the offense.
Clang! and Hyunjin's weapon was sent arcing away, his attack foiled. Any average Azārāhi would've lost their grip on their Kizāri after such an assault, but the Sōrsānt was anything but average.
The sheer strength of your training partner was evident in the way he maintained his hold and redirected his Kizāri's path to pierce the ground. He halted its hurtling all while righting his footing with immaculate grace. It was impressive, you'd hand that to him.
The sand in the air had barely settled before you unleashed another attack and Hyunjin reciprocated. You took turns parrying and ducking and jumping around the square, destroying the circular indentations on its surface and creating newer ones with the movements of your weapons. Like the masterful strokes of a painter's brush.
It was easy to let yourself get dragged by your Kizāri. The heaviness of the weapon's head, paired with the way it was wielded, resulted in a tremendous force that was enough to knock its user off their feet. As such, Azārāhis were trained to become the unmovable center and source of the torque. Taught to control the force and understand its nature in order to utilize it at its highest output. It was ingrained into your muscles and mind like a primal instinct.
When you swung your Kizāri wide, you expected Hyunjin to counter with a similarly large move. Instead, he chose to tread closer and direct his Kizāri up in a pointed attack, turning this into a close-quarters spar and safely leaving the range of your Kizāri. In less than a second, he had put you in the worst situation imaginable.
It felt like time had slowed down. Your weapon was out of range, leaving you defenseless and open for attack. You couldn't move or dodge, not without abandoning your Kizāri. Abandoning your Kizāri meant disarming yourself, and once the weapon hit the ground, you would lose.
An embarrassing loss.
You weren't such a coward to disgrace yourself like that, but you weren't willing to let Hyunjin best you so easily either.
A wild idea crossed your mind at that desperate moment. You were the center of the torque. Your Kizāri swiveled around you. If so, then—
You let the handle of your Kizāri slip out of your grip and swept low to evade the silvered blur coming for your neck. With a pivot in a direction you loosely guessed, you stretched your arm out, barely touching the smooth handle of your flying Kizāri before you clasped it fully.
You reclaimed the upper hand.
If so, then you could vaguely trace the path the weapon would take if you let go.
Your Kizāri swung at Hyunjin again and he blocked your attack with ease.
"That was good," his remark cut through the tension of the fight, and you scowled. What the hell?
You decided to remain quiet, but it seemed to urge him on. "Letting go of your weapon is a risk. People don't use their Kizāris like that often."
The Sōrsānt seemed to make a hobby out of confusing you each passing day. He was hostile sometimes and once threatened you into keeping his secret. Then came mornings like this, where he pretended to indulge you like one would a proper training partner.
The two of you would never have that kind of relationship, yet he rambled on, "I knew one person who used the Kizāri as more than a blade. He would propel himself into the air with it, much like a catapult. Though I suppose his Tilt might've aided him."
He tilted his head at you, as though expecting you to add to his one-sided conversation. Curious, calculative eyes, but there was a strange expression of mourning ghosting his features. As if his words grazed a wound he didn't realize wasn't fully healed yet.
Your scowl deepened.
When your last practice session had ended, he'd said he wanted to show you something and you hadn't turn him down. Realistically, you couldn't, but part of you argued that you did it for the vulnerability cowering behind his tone. Not typical command, but like that of a hesitant, excited child.
Then he made a flower bloom in the sand, frail and pale, and you couldn't help but compliment it. It only felt right to do so. Though that was all you'd said.
Did he think that exchange made you friends?
You lessened the force holding your Kizāri against his and narrowed your eyes. "If you think that—"
A dangerous grin split his features and he pushed against your weakened Kizāri before swinging at you with full force, barely giving you time to process his actions. "We haven't drawn new half-moons yet. Don't you dare let your guard down!"
Damn bastard. You gritted your teeth as you brought your Kizāri up to deflect his blow, narrowly avoiding a serious injury.
What's with him today?
You put some distance between the two of you, and he seemed to be amused. Twirling his Kizāri in his hand, Hyunjin shrugged. "See? I have dirty tricks of my own too."
A dumbfounded blink.
Was all that talking just a trick? Infuriating shame prickled over you before bursting into a fierce inferno. You would play his game if he wanted.
"Talkative today, huh, Sōrsānt?" you brandished your Kizāri, prepared to counter any sudden attacks. The timid breeze chose to kiss his cheeks then, meddling with the dark wisps of hair framing his face. Unkempt, yet eerily perfect.
That curiosity glinted in his eyes again, and he regarded you as if he were weighing an idea in his mind. Perhaps deciding to spare you a witty response, he trailed a new half-circle in the sand around him instead. An invite to another round.
You relented, drawing out your Kizāri for a start-over.
As your Kizāris flashed in the sun's disgruntled glare, you ignored the murmuring voice in your head. Hate him all you wanted, sparring with Hyunjin was its own twisted form of fun.
And you were beginning to enjoy it.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
