Samurai ↔ Nishimura Riki

nine

Shadow magic. He had read about it in one of his classes, but he had never encountered it. Shadow wielders were rare, uncommon. And incredibly strong.

The mercenary simply flicked his hand. "Pin him down," he commands the shadows.

Riki could only stand wide eyed as the shadows launched at him. Instinctively, he slashes at the shadows, only for his sword to be swallowed by them. His weapon went right through the shadows, barely making any damage. It was futile, but he swung his sword repeatedly, trying to get rid of them.

A chuckle. "You're only delaying the inevitable. The shadows cannot be stopped by your puny weapon. You can't slash at them forever, Your Highness."

As much as Riki wanted to salvage his pride, he was right. He was quickly losing steam, each attack becoming slower than the last. Eventually, he stumbled, dropping his sword, allowing for the shadows to crawl over his arm and legs, solidifying into shackles. They didn't have a particular sensation, as if nonexistent, but he knew if he struggled against them, there would be a consequence and he wasn't eager to find out.

"For causing me all that trouble," the man hovers over him and smirks, looking down at him victoriously, "we should play a bit before getting right to it, shouldn't we?"

"Let me go!" Riki snaps, growling at him. "Don't you dare touch me?"

"Whoops." He flashes an innocent, mocking smile as he drags his sword against the prince's pants, leaving a cut on the fabric. Riki could feel the sword dig deep into his flesh, possibly even to the bone. He grunts as his nerves scream, pain washing over him. "You son of-"

"Choose your next words wisely, princeling," the mercenary warns, "Or you may get another wound on the face to match the cut on your leg." Leaning down, he whispers, his terrible breath reeking of dead fish. "I'd shut my trap if I were you."

Riki bit his tongue. It was clear that he was going to die. Or kidnapped. Or maybe something worse. He had lost. As soon as the man had decided to stop toying with him, he'd be a goner. He closes his eyes and braces himself for the pain.

"Drop your sword."

His eyes flit open, latching onto a new, familiar figure. Their, no, her, back was faced to him, standing over him, clad in a plain, white tunic. By her side was a silver sword. Her raven hair billowed around her shoulder. He blinks in his confusion. Who was she? And why did her voice sound so vaguely familiar?

"Get out of the way, girl." The one-eyed man growled. "Stay out of this if you value your life."

"Afraid I cannot," the girl replies. "Bring it on."

"Me? Fight a girl?" Laughter echoes through the alley. "Interesting. You must be either courageous or a fool for challenging me."

"I'd like to think I'm the prior." she shrugs slightly before suddenly pouncing on the man.

The battle had begun.

Their swords clashed, flashing through the air. The mercenary's sword sliced through the air, about to cut the girl's abdomen. She dodged in time and countered with a strike of her own. It was hypnotizing for Riki to watch them, each attack was a blur and easily countered.

As they fought, he caught a glimpse of his supposed savior's face only for his eyes to widen in shock.

Hyewon. Cho Hyewon was the girl. How in the world did she manage to find him?

A fierce look was upon her face as she whirled around the man. Every time their weapons came in contact, a loud clang resounded the walls, neither of them being able to land a hit on the other. He grins crookedly. "This one's got spirit, eh? Feisty girl." he comments with malicious glee, avoiding another blow.