Jashin's Blaze

A boy of the Seventh

My feet shuffled the dirt of the sparring circle; pivot after pivot I dodge the swing of my training partner Gomen. His smile was as cocky as ever, emboldened even while his wooden practice sword swayed closer and closer to my head with every thrust, and he continued to shuffle forward, preventing me from having a solid step in this loose pit of dirt; truly one of the oldest warrior tactics. No footing, no game; and here he was so sure that it would be that simple while I back-tracked ever closer to the edge.

Still.

Mobility was always a value to me over brute force, this is why whenever I trained I made sure to wear this weighted vest, it could only serve me better to move easily whenever I had to dawn it. Clearly though this wasn't the case when it came to Gomen. His next swipe was so slow before my eyes, and yet the way his blade pounded through the air spoke of how heavy the swing was. 'He's trying to take my head off!'

Shoulder first I rolled beneath the swipe; dust filling my lungs from the sudden undertaking but I rose with little hesitation to my feet while Gomen was barely turning through with his swing, and unfortunately for him...

Now my feet were planted.

My blade was at its highest, my itching palms grappled around the Atawan ebony wood handle, before I slashed downward into his foam shoulder pad, folding it beneath my blades blunt edge. The reverb that came back to my palms was so satisfying as Gomen had fallen to his knees in front of me and our overseer shouted "Yield!" raising his white flag high in my favor and I had to no choice but to fist pump and grunt in the same instance.

That celebration was short lived however as the overseer cut his eyes in my direction and a mug that demanded I hold my baring and not gloat. My heels clicked together immediately and I raised my chin straightening my expression while slamming my hands to the seams of my slacks while holding my blade firmly in my right hand.

Gomen's low grunts drew my gaze towards him, he was clasping at the very shoulder I slammed into just earlier. 'Did I go too hard?' I wondered silently as the overseer walked over and knelt down beside my peer. The overseer reached for Gomen's center and separated the Velcro to remove his padding tossing it to the ground to give him a once over, and once he rolled up the sleeve of where I had struck I had my answer.

Hisses and gasps from our audience made the purple bruised not I had created on his shoulder so much worse. "Get up and get to the infirmary." The overseer demanded. "You better hope that you will be cleared to take the final exam Tomorrow."

Gomen got up gripping his arm. "You seventh trash! You better not have dislocated my shoulder!" he said with a sharp turn to me. His glare made my stomach drop, instinctively I took a slight step back until the overseer stepped between us.

"Ah-Ah! None of that, get outta my circle kid bicker with him on your own time." He ordered.

Incoherent was the mumble that followed from Gomen's lips before he hunched over and and grabbed his vest marching out of the circle. 'Probably shouldn't have just taken the loss' I believed. There was no way that Gomen, a Courtguard's son was just going to let it be that he was beaten by a refugee.

For now however, I gripped my sword making sure its blade was ever pointed to the ground and planted my fist to my heart extending my thumb up and my pinky out sounded off to the overseer. "Sir. Permission to be dismissed."

"Granted."

Inclining my head in thanks I turned swiftly to rush out of the circle and towards the bleachers where I sat down and began unstrapping the vest that had protected me so well from the fate that Gomen was suffering at my hand. Placing it beside me, I took deep inhale as my chest was freed from the restraint of the plates that were just so snug against me.