The environment was cloudy as little drops of rain poured down, making a splattering noise on the rooftops of the houses around. A boy, holding a sword in its sheath, ran and smiled under the rain.
Darkness enveloped the earth, pierced only by the translucent glow of illuminated neon light bulbs and the faint light of the half-moon. Different scents wafted through his nostrils as he ran, and he smiled in satisfaction. He watched as people opened their shops, a new day beginning. He passed a woman selling various weapons and equipment and smiled again. He had always wanted a golden sword sheath with a dragon design. It was four thousand yen, and he had been saving up his feeding allowance for months to buy it. He had three thousand yen and hoped to get the rest from his father. His father owned a dojo where he trained young boys in his Sadeo sword technique. There were many dojos in the city, each with a different sword technique. Most times, competitions were held to determine the best dojo in Japan.
He got home and greeted his father, who was talking to another man, the father of his best friend and head of Akida Dojo, with the Furious Sword Technique. Knowing better than to interfere, he went to his room but caught a bit of their conversation. "Dojo challenge." Although he didn't get all the details, he hoped his father had accepted the challenge. He had never fought in a dojo challenge before and was looking forward to it.
The next day, his father called him and told him about the challenge.
"Tsuoma, you saw Mouya when he came here last night. He came to challenge us for the title of Lead Dojo, and I accepted and chose Tona to fight for us. Many other dojos will be participating, and I wouldn't want us to lose." Don Sadeo said, looking at his son.
Tsuoma was shocked. He couldn't look up at his father, but mumbled incoherently. He spoke up after a few minutes of silence.
"Sure, father, he is a strong swordsman." He said, but his soul didn't agree with his words as he gripped his right fist tightly. His father noticed it but said nothing. "Dismissed," his father said, and he stood up to go to his room. There he jumped on the bed and wept his eyes out.
He took his sword, admiring it. It was a sword his mother had bought for him when he came of age before she died. He never parted with the sword; it was a gift from his mother that he used to think about her whenever he felt down or depressed.
"Why won't father allow me to participate? Is it because I am weak? But I trained hard and have mastered many techniques. He must not want me to participate because of all the important people coming, but still, to deprive his own son like this is bad."
He got down from the bed, took the sword, and jumped off the window. He went to the garden and trained until daybreak.
The environment was filled with fallen leaves. A shirt could be seen hanging on a tree trunk, which had several slashes on it. A boy was lying on the leaves, gripping a sword. He was oblivious to his surroundings as he slept soundly. His white 'chiyokki' was stained with sweat, but his blue 'hanzubon' was spared. A curly-haired, blue-eyed, and red-haired young girl came out to the garden. She was well-dressed in a white floral gown with a jacket. She giggled, seeing the boy with his mouth open. Her eyes glowed mischievously. She looked around and saw a little shard of wood. She picked up the stick, edged close to him, and put the stick in his mouth. The boy jolted awake and in a split second pinned the girl down. The girl grinned as she looked up at him. He became shocked and speechless, gazing down into her eyes, his face turning red from embarrassment.
"If you're finished appraising me, Tsuoma Sadeo, I'd like you to get off me," she mocked. The boy instantly stood up from her. He looked away from her shyly and mumbled a greeting. The girl laughed in her little voice.
The scene changed to a room decorated with many pictures of swordplay and swordsmen. The square-shaped room was decorated with a table and a chair. A bed was situated not far from the only window in the room. The sun shone its ray gently into the room. A mirror also revealed the boy, now dressed up, admiring his long, wavy black hair, blue eyes, and muscular body. He wore a white shirt and blue baggy trousers with outdoor slippers. He came out and crashed into the girl, sending both of them down.
"Sumimasen," he shouted to the girl.
She groaned. "You are awfully clumsy today, hentai."
The boy bowed his head in shame. "I'm sorry, Teruki."
The girl grinned and stooped to peck his cheek. "I'll accept your apology when you win."
His face took on a shade of dark red, and he was surprised.
"Surprised, right? Well, Tona said he was sick, and your father decided to choose you. When he tells you, act genuinely surprised because you heard nothing from me." She eyed him mischievously, and he gulped hard and nodded. He was happy; his father had chosen him.
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Meanwhile, two figures were running from six men behind them. The figures turned out to be a male and a female. The male was adorned in knight robes while the female was dressed in a manner befitting a princess. The six men looked murderous and hungry as they pursued the duo. Suddenly, from nowhere, a woman landed, facing the soldiers and backing the duo. "Rine, cads, vso, mekai, saver, shine, holfast me ba soff," the woman chanted in an unknown language. The six men stopped moving, screaming and attacking themselves. She looked at the duo.
"Hurry, go, find somewhere to hide and cast the summoning. We have to get our hero, according to the prophecy. I will try to hold many of these soldiers off. Now go, Princess Emile, the fate of our world rests on you." The woman said and turned back. "More of them are coming, go." The princess looked like she would argue, but the sound of boots came nearer to them. The knight grabbed the princess and ran away with her. "Please be safe, supreme mage, Agnolia," he whispered and kept on running.
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The scene revolved to a stadium filled to capacity with various people. A cool wind was blowing, reducing the ferocity of the blazing sun. The arena was empty until a man walked to it, holding a sword in his left hand and a megaphone in his right.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the Dojo Challenge, one of the most interesting fights in history among various skilled swordsmen. Today, you will see swordplay like never before. The rule of the game is… there are no rules. Go all out as you want, but don't kill or maim your opponent. Once you are the last one standing, you win. So, let's get this party started. From Maseo Dojo, we have Temari Ako. From Sadic Dojo, we have Zaragoza El. You have read the rules your leaders gave you, so let the swordplay begin."
Tsuoma wasn't interested in the match; he was busy developing winning strategies. The winner would receive a diamond crest longsword, which was said to have been wielded by the strongest sword master before his death. It was believed the sword could cut through anything, and he longed for it.
The girl won the match, and other matches followed. Tsuoma also participated in some, winning all of them until he faced his best friend in the final match. His best friend from Akido Dojo had defeated the girl and entered the finals.
Tsuoma saw his friend's eyes, and they were cold and devoid of emotion. He wondered what had happened. In a flash, Tsuoma's shirt had received seven slashes, and he began to bleed. Everyone in the stadium was shocked. Mashas hadn't used that skill during his previous battles.
"This is the final match for me to defeat you," he said to Tsuoma, who was struggling to stand.
"I see you have learned a new technique, huh, Mashas?" Tsuoma said, groaning.
"Yes, friend, and I will take you down with it and my other secret techniques. That was Furious Blade Attack 0.5," Mashas said, taking a stance.
Tsuoma sighed, tearing his clothes from his body to reveal his strong physique. "I have been training also, in order to catch up." He removed his sword from his waist, leaving it in the sheath. He took an X-shaped stance with his sword held in front of him. His legs were together.
"Tsuoma Sword Technique, First Form: BLUNT STRIKE." He ran and moved around Mashas, darting left and right, then smashed the top of the sword on Mashas's head, sending him flying backward and crashing on the floor with his back. Mashas groaned in pain. Tsuoma sped, looking as if he teleported, and continued bashing the sword on Mashas. Mashas wasn't bleeding, but the sickening sound of his cracking bones could be heard. Mashas raised his hand, wrestled the sword from Tsuoma's grip, and kicked him backward. He tried to raise the sword, but it sent him falling down away from his hands. Tsuoma picked it up with ease and smirked.
"Only someone as strong as me or stronger can lift my sword, and believe you me, I have trained hard." Mashas groaned and stood, grabbing his own sword. "Furious Technique, Fantastic Fury." He dashed, slashing wildly with the intent to kill, which was evident on his face and demonstrated by his sword.
They kept on attacking each other fiercely, none holding back. It was Tsuoma's longest and last fight in this world.
"Why do you want to kill me so badly, Mashas?" Tsuoma asked, pain evident in his voice as he fell, still holding his sword with one hand and his chest with the other. His face was contorted in pain.
Mashas grinned. The spectators didn't understand what was happening. They had thought Tsuoma was winning, but now he was suddenly on his knees, and the next thing, he was vomiting blood.
From the spectators' side of the stadium, Teruki ran and jumped. She yelled for Tsuoma, who couldn't see or hear anything. Before he fell unconscious, he saw Mashas stealthily wiping his sword. Tsuoma saw it—the poison that killed him. And then he died. His eyes welled up with tears for the betrayal by his friend.