Renji blinked with heavy eyelids. He struggled to focus his blurry vision, as sleepiness washed over him. The boulder he sat on was rough, but grogginess made it feel like a soft cushion.
"Yo!"
Aki eyed him from below. His face was bright, and his expression showed no hint of tiredness.
Sliding off the boulder and landing with swayed balance, Renji yawned. "You ask me to get here at six in the morning… and…" Another yawn. "You're late."
"I'm going to attend the Six Styles Tournament!"
It took him a moment to register what Aki had said, but once he did, his eyes snapped open and every trace of tiredness vanished.
"You… WHAT?!"
"Yeah!" He poked Renji's shoulder with the butt of his spear. "And..."
"And… You need my help don't you?"
"Yeah…"
Renji heaved a sigh and rubbed between his eyes. "Goodness me…"
Despite Aki not being capable of utilizing any of the Six Styles, there was a way for him to enter the tournament and participate.
He'd go on to explain the process to Renji. While the tournament was, as the name implies, focused on the Six Major Styles, it allowed fighters of other elements or bare combat to participate for the sake of entertainment.
Aki cupped his chin. "The problem is, I need a way to travel to the Kazehara village."
The Wind Nation consisted of seven clans, and the Hayate was one of them. However, by far, they were the weakest and less reputable.
The Six Styles tournament had been active for centuries, occurring every year or two, and yet the Hayate clan had never hosted it.
While its lack of strength and reputation was a factor — the biggest remained the fact a disciple from the clan had never won a tournament.
It was one of the reasons they had placed so much expectation on Aki's potential. Had he been what they hoped, he would've brought grace to the clan in the tournament and allowed them the honour of hosting it
But, Aki's intention to join it had nothing to do with winning the tournament — obviously, who would hate that — but the prize.
The main obstacle in his way was travel, as he was prohibited from leaving the clan grounds until he turned 18, and the tournament was a month away, three months too early for his birthday.
"I can't smuggle you out, bro."
"Obviously it's not that."
He raised a brow. "Then what?"
Aki stabbed a finger at him. "I want you to win."
"What."
"It's easy. If I manage to attend the tournament, I'll simply wait until you face a stronger opponent, and then steal you from him. And then, I'll let you beat me, plain and simple. You'll get the reward for advancing so far, and acquire some reputation."
"You're ignoring the obvious flaw in your plan."
"Hm?"
"Once our clan elders find out, and they will, you're surely done for. I'm done for!"
"If they find out." A smug look was plastered over his expression and frustration began to brew inside of Renji.
"They're not blind, Aki. That has to be the dumbest plan you've ever come up with."
"Remember the tournament last year?"
Confusion grew on Renji's face for a brief moment as he recalled his memories, not catching anything notable.
The last tournament was utterly mediocre, the Empire of Fire had dominated the tournament like usual, and the Kazehara clan gave the best performance representing the Wind Style.
The most exciting part was the orchestra delivered by the Sacred Lands of Earth.
"The masked swordsman!" Aki said.
"Ohhh. What about him?"
"The masked Fire swordsman."
"Yeah, what about him?"
"The masked Fire swordsman."
"Ohhh! I see what you mean! That's clever!"
"Exactly!"
"So, how are you gonna pull that off?"
"Well… I haven't thought of that yet. But, what I know is, I need to prepare. Man, we're gonna make so much money!"
"I'm gonna invest it in a bamboo juice business!"
"I'll buy elixirs and become stronger, then I'll participate next year and win the whole tournament!"
The boys snickered.
***
To prepare for the tournament, Aki needed to get stronger. While he was physically stronger than most fighters his age, due to the high amount of Ki circulating his body and the circumstances he had gone through, strength was only half in the Six Styles.
What good was how hard you punched when a fire artist could simply burn you from ten feet away?
The thought sent shivers down Aki's spine. Being burned alive was not on his dream list for this year. He silently prayed that none of the opponents Renji faced would have the Fire Affinity.
Renji wasn't horrible, but he was far from great. He was a below average Wind Artist, and Aki witnessed peers best him many times.
Which, indirectly, was a slap to the face to Aki, as he never managed to beat Renji.
'Damned cyclone of madness!'
He watched the crowd ahead split as he approached, paving way to him. Half of him felt like a king, while the other, repulsive.
He was too accustomed to this to even acknowledge his feelings.
The village martial arts shop wasn't the largest, but it housed everything a Wind Artist would need.
The ring chimed as he stepped in, Wind Aura dragging the door shut behind him. A construct door, how fancy.
A skinny man with tired eyes stood at the counter, his elbows resting on it as he struggled to stay awake, slowly blinking one eyelid at a time.
"Hello." Aki waved to the cashier, adjusting the cloth wrapped around his face.
The customer beside him chuckled at his pathetic attempt of concealing his natural voice. Aki shot him a glare from the side of his vision and the customer straightened and cleared his throat.
The cashier returned the wave with a nod of acknowledgement, yawning.
Perhaps arriving so early wasn't his best course of action. The excitement had carried him away and he ran from the meeting Renji to here within an hour.
"Can I have two basic scrolls please?" He dropped a bag half full with coins on the counter.
The cashier squinted. "Akihito, is that you?"
"What? Who?"
The cashier heaved a sigh and pushed the bag away. "Come on, you know I can't sell you that."
In their first encounters, the cashier had been repulsed by Aki from what he'd been told by the village folk.
However, over the years, he grew a tolerance for Aki. He tried to steal from his shop so many times that it became a weekly tradition.
"Come on, I won't tell anyone!" He whined, neglecting the fake voice.
"Shoo, out before I call the police."
Aki left the store, shaking his head in disappointment as he let the cloth loosen and drape onto his shoulders.
"Oi, you interested in some scrolls?"
Aki whipped his head to th
e direction of the voice and the customer met his gaze. A dirty blonde man with short hair, his face littered with scars.
"...Yeah?"