The second day passed almost identically to the first, at least for the morning. 427 had slightly different plans for the afternoon. For that, he needed someone else.
Now… who do I get to help me?
Realistically, there was only one choice.
Dragging the resigned 341 behind him, they reached the plaza from yesterday. 427 dumped his bag under the tree, and spun around to face 341, who had stumbled to a stop.
"Alright! I need you to hit me!" 427 said.
Crack!
341 didn't hesitate: he slapped him clean across the face.
427 sputtered, a red handprint throbbing.
"What the hell! Not yet!" 341 shrugged.
"Sorry."
"You don't look sorry, asshole!"
This training was for Nagashi Uke, a move 427 hoped would become the cornerstone of his defense.
The technique used flowing, circular movements to redirect force. At higher levels, the moisture in the air would flow alongside the move like a current, enhancing the redirection.
Once 427 figured out how to return the impact, the framework for Flowing Water: Crushing Rock would be complete.
Of course, this was assuming he ever figured out the technique. After three hours of trial and error, he was realizing something:
Damn, I suck ass.
The most important part of Nagashi Uke was the balance of redirection. You needed to instinctively judge which point of contact would offer the least resistance. Clearly, he wasn't great at it.
It just comes down to practice, I guess.
He looked at 341, who was absolutely exhausted. Normally, he might have felt a little bad. Maybe.
No, probably not.
In this case, he didn't. That was because he had agreed to treat him to sea king meat afterwards.
For now though, they collapsed under the shade of the tree. After a few minutes of recuperation, they sat up, and drained their water canteens.
It was a peaceful break during a stressful time.
As they got up to head to the stall, 341 grumbled -
Not really, but you can feel it in the way he speaks
"Will this 'something good' actually be worth it?" 427 grinned like a cat that caught the canary.
A guy who's never had anything but slop, going straight into sea king meat?
It's gonna hit him like a bomb.
"Trust me, it's good."
They reached the stand. 427 paid for two portions, and handed one to 341.
"I do not understand," 341 said. "What is the problem with our rations?" 427 didn't respond to the question, just smiled.
My foolish disciple… soon you will realize the error of your ways.
427 watched with anticipation as 341 took a reluctant bite. He froze. His expression didn't change. Then he started chewing, slowly.
If his sunglasses had been off, 427 would've seen his eyes go wide.
"Holy shit."
"I know, right?!"
---
The next morning found them ready for their briefing. It was the same layout, only the stool-bearers weren't present this time.
So no appearance from Ichiji, then?
In the silence, a soldier approached the lectern.
The same one as last time?
"Ahem, Ahem."
Yeah, probably.
"Today, we will retake the city of Ironreach. Once a prosperous mining and forging town, it has since fallen into destitution. Be prepared for desperate civilians. Anyone raising arms against us is to be killed."
Yikes.
It was one thing to fight armed insurgents, but civilians? 427 could only hope he wouldn't hesitate when the moment came.
The briefing concluded shortly after. That was the Germa style - cannon fodder didn't need information.
427 couldn't help but notice that they didn't say anything about the Revolutionary Army.
Then again, would warning us even matter? We weren't given geopolitical knowledge.
They headed back to their snails. The area around the capital had been cleared of rebels, meaning a few snails could leave the defensive line.
With a rumbling noise, six snails, including 427's, started moving deeper inland. 427 lay back, enjoying the wind flowing over him.
Rolling onto his side, he looked off the snail. The few villages they passed were desolate. Even though the fields looked healthy - he knew jack shit about fields, but the wheat was golden - the people he could see were emaciated.
Judging by the rebellion they were quelling, he could guess why. It only made the thought of facing desperate civilians worse.
He could only pray that he wouldn't hesitate when the time came.
A screeching noise blared over the snail's loudspeakers.
"All soldiers, prepare to fire. I repeat, all soldiers, prepare to fire."
"Welp, that's our cue," 427 muttered, standing up and picking his rifle off the ground. He lined up at the edge with 341 and the others. As their snail neared its position, they readied their rifles.
Just like during the siege of the capital, the snails broke into two columns. Theirs was at the tail end of one.
The distant pop of gunfire echoed as the lead snails opened fire. The acrid stench of gunsmoke slowly muted the scent of grass.
Ka-Thoom!
All of a sudden, a massive explosion rocked the front two snails, creating plumes of smoke obscuring them. The shockwave was strong enough to reach 427's group, making several of them stumble and fall.
What the hell was that? A trap?
A distant roar of celebration could be heard from the city. It didn't last.
Like the Kool-Aid Man through a brick wall, the snails burst from the smoke, shells singed and cracked.
The gunfire resumed, more intense than before.
As their snail completed the circle, they readied their rifles. 427 started scanning the buildings. He wasn't going to kill innocents unless he had to.
Revolutionaries? Sure, they were fighting for the right cause, but they knew what they were getting into.
Steading his sights, he looked for people who looked a bit too much like they knew what they were doing.
It's like my old job - you can't look too competent or you get all the work. And by work I mean get shot in the head. Here, not at my old job. They weren't executing people in their cubicles.
Snapping out of his admittedly shitty monologue, he spotted someone taking cover behind a chimney. Their firing posture and technique all looked too polished to be a miner.
Steadying the sights, he readied himself to pull the trigger. This time, there was no hesitation.
With a crack, blood sprayed from the revolutionary's head. He dropped sideways.
427 didn't stop. He just reloaded and aimed again.
Every one I kill here is one I don't have to face on the ground.
He had no doubt that they were thinking the same thing.
That thought was quickly validated when a clone besides him had their head explode. Literally. It popped like a watermelon wrapped with too many rubber bands.
The blood coated his white mask and thankfully closed mouth. He couldn't hold back a flinch. Wiping the blood and brain fluid off, he thought to himself:
What the hell was that?
He only survived because they shot the clone one step to his left. The thought sent a chill down his spine.
In his shock, he didn't question how the head had completely exploded. Even Germa rifles - stronger than most - couldn't obliterate a skull like that. Not through a softshell raid helmet.
A horn blared. With a roar, the clones started sliding down ropes to the ground, charging the city. 427, caught up in the momentum, charged along with them. The scent of blood hit him like a truck as he approached.
The clones swept through the resisting civilians like a battering ram, leaving bodies in their wake.
They weren't planning to exterminate everyone in the city. The king still needed the population to work the mines for him, but everyone holding a weapon and resisting would be dealt with.
As 427 ran - more like lightly jogged - along with the group, a glint of metal caught his eye in an alleyway.
A sword?
He split off and walked in. Silent. A few trash cans and a dumpster in the back of the dead end. He walked in deeper. His muscles were tense and ready for action. His nerves were screaming at him. He knew the swordsman - or woman, I'm not sexist! - was hiding somewhere, but he wasn't sure where.
Scratch that, he was sure where. The literal only place to hide was in the dumpster at the end of the alley.
Do they really think that worked? Or maybe they think I didn't see them at all?
He walked all the way to the end.
Seriously? Are they even planning to attack?
He sighed mentally.
Time to bring out the good ol' classic.
"Must've been the wind."
He turned and began walking back toward the entrance, every sense straining behind him. The moment he heard something, he would turn to strike.
Klang!
The sound of the dumpster's lid made him spin around. He had underestimated his opponent. She was faster than he expected, but not faster than his reflexes. He took a quick step back, letting the blade whiff, and then shot forward.
His right claw swung forward, left claw up in guard. With a screeching sound that made his ears ring, she blocked with the sword. During the block, she kicked off the wall, like something straight out of Shadow Fight.
This person is a hell of a lot better with a sword than the other guy.
Landing, she backed away as 427 walked forward, until they reached around the middle of the alley.
"You knew where I was hiding and baited me out. Clever."
"Was it? There was literally only one place to hide in the entire alleyway." She flushed.
"You fuc- Arrgh, I'm just gonna kill you." She stabbed forward in a blur of motion. Slapping the flat of the blade with his right palm, it skewed off to the side. She stumbled, trying to regain her footing.
As his left hand stabbed forward, she dodged with a slick Matrix-style lean, then cartwheeled away. He didn't let up the momentum, rushing forward with a front kick for extended range. It connected, and with a wheeze, her ribs snapped.
Showing impressive willpower, her non-sword arm wrapped around his leg. She brought the blade down hard, aiming to sever it.
Bending at the knee to bring himself closer, he once again slapped the blade with his left, and stabbed with his right.
She let go, taking a quick step back. He almost followed her, but stopped instinctively. Her sword snapped back up in a lightning-fast reverse slash.
Despite the breaking of his momentum, he had her on the ropes, and she knew it. Behind her was a street full of clones, and all he needed to do was wait for her injuries to weaken her.
He met her eyes, which burned with resolve. An instinctive sense of danger prickled at him.
One final move?
Her next attack was clearly going to be powerful. She gripped the sword with both hands, holding it upright in front of her.
"Ittō-ryū: Shomen-Giri!"
In an explosive burst of movement, she took a powerful step forward, raising her sword and bringing it down.
427's pupils contracted. What should've taken time - the raising, the fall - happened in an instant. It was deceptively fast. He was sure that she had honed this strike to perfection, or at least as close as you could get at their physical level.
Damn it! He screamed internally, trying to get himself to move.
Almost instinctively, the words burst from his mouth:
"Nagashi Uke!"
His left arm soared upwards, almost graceful. It was paradoxically slow and fast. Meeting the side of the blade, it gently rotated outwards, carrying the sword like a leaf floating on the current.
With a clang, the blade struck the ground, chipping. 427's right arm swung out like a scythe, severing her head completely.
Holy shit. I did it.
It wasn't perfect - his gauntlet had sustained a deep gash from misjudging the point of contact. Despite that, it was a tremendous achievement to learn a new move in only a day of practice.
I need to get into more life or death fights.
In truth, he was being a bit lenient with himself. The idea of redirection had stuck with him for a while, so he had been practicing the fundamentals for more like a week. Nagashi Uke was simply the culmination of that foundation, however short it was.
Shaking off his bloodied right gauntlet, he stepped over the body and rejoined the tide.