Before the Battle

Enemies and Friends 1/8

~~~TAIRA~~~

"Taira, you're pathetic."

Shira sighed and threw me the practice sword that he had managed to knock out of my hands for the second time in the last minute.

I had no idea that there were abandoned barracks outside the city where the former Imperial assassin liked to train. Sometimes he would even stay overnight when he didn't want to return to Kashima.

Not many people knew about this place, so it was quiet and no one disturbed him.

Only me.

We found ourselves in a spacious gym that was already showing signs of decay, however just a few years ago, Imperial soldiers had been training here. The morning sun streamed in through the dirty windows, hiding occasionally between the grey clouds moving across the sky.

But despite the cool autumn days, it was warm inside.

I gripped the hilt tightly and attacked again with determination.

Within two strikes he had me, and a light blow to my left hip should have reminded me that if this had been a real fight I would be dead by now.

"You're not covering your sides. What's wrong with you today? Focus, Taira."

I ran my eyes over him.

He was wearing only a pair of old, tattered jeans, a few beads of sweat glistening on his bare chest, though training with me hadn't really cost him a great deal of effort. One of the black strands had come loose and fallen into his face, the rest of his long hair pulled tightly back on top of his head. His muscles flexed under his skin as he moved, each strike precise and perfectly executed.

I'd like to say that in the last six weeks that he was back, the sight of him couldn't distract me any more. But that would be a complete lie.

"Maybe if you dressed up more I could concentrate better," I smiled at him before stepping closer to pull him in for a kiss.

He didn't let me. He pushed me away gently with his training sword and ordered like a stern teacher, "Again."

I obeyed with a sigh, only to end up empty-handed ten seconds later.

He was right, I was pathetic. Sometimes, when we were practising shooting, the difference between us didn't appear to be that significant, but as soon as we picked up the swords, I didn't stand a chance. I soothed my bruised ego with the thought that no one would be a match for someone like him.

That was the reason I had asked him to teach me, and I usually appreciated his meticulous approach. But today I was doing worse than ever, my mind drifting and I couldn't bring myself to concentrate.

My eyes kept wandering over Shira's body, over his shoulders and perfectly shaped arms, over his chest with its fading scars, over his flat stomach and... My gaze went even lower, to his jeans, tight around his hips, where the exposed skin disappeared beneath the fabric of his trousers.

"Ow!"

This time, not only did the sword fly out of my hand, but I also took a hit across my fingers from Shira.

"In the eyes, Taira," he reprimanded me, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. "We look into the opponent's eyes."

I hid a grin from him and got back into position.

Another attempt and another mistake.

"You're holding the weapon too tightly," he remarked, coming over to me. "A light grip."