"Faster, faster!" Rake's yelling echoed loudly in the silence of the night. He ran on the sandy street a few steps ahead of Kaido, a cigarette dangling from his lips. "How do you plan on being a swordsman if you can't even run?"
Kaido groaned as he picked up his pace. His mouth was dry as sand, his lungs screamed for air, and the muscles of his legs burnt so bad he could swear they were on fire. He almost reached Rake, and coughed as he panted in the smoke of his cigarette.
"Don't break down now, kid." Rake took a turn out of the street, and ran on faster, showing no sign of discomfort. "We're almost there."
The flagstones turned into sand, and lifting his feet only got harder as they sunk in it. Kaido was in such agony he barely noticed the golden fields at his sides. He slowed down, and it took all his willpower to not stop running.
"Come on kid!" Rake called at him over his shoulder, exhaling smoke. "Just till the river!"
Kaido saw Sky River in the distance, and pushed his muscles back to pace. His stomach stirred, and he was glad he hadn't eaten anything, else he would have puked. The bank of the river approached, the sheen of moonlight on its dark blue surface beckoning him like paradise.
Rake stopped before it, and smoked the rest of his cigarette by the time Kaido arrived. He dropped to his knees, then to all fours, chest heaving, and sweat dripping from his forehead.
"Running's fun, eh?" Rake laughed, his breath but slightly heavy, and clapped Kaido's back. Kaido hawked up phlegm, and spat. A dangling string of spit clung to his dry lips before dropping to the sand. Real fucking fun.
He crawled to the riverbank, cupped its cold water in his palms, splashed his face, and drank thirstily.
"Drink slowly. In small sips. And don't drink a lot, we're not even done with the warm up, you don't want a gallon of water turning in your stomach."
Not even done with the warm up... Dread fell upon Kaido.
"We swim upstream."
Upstream? Kaido's jaw slacked. Rake unbuttoned and shrugged out of his shirt, tugged open his belt, and pushed down his trousers, stepping to the riverbank. "Make sure you give it your best efforts. The farther you let the river carry you, farther you have to run back."
-
Rake made him swim against the stream until his limbs could no longer resist it, and then, as he promised, run back all the way the river carried them, to where they left their clothes. He was given but a short minute to dress before they ran to Rake's house.
By the time they reached it, dawn lit the skies, and the cool water of the river on Kaido's skin was replaced by hot sweat. He collapsed to his hands and knees on the yard's cobblestones.
All the curses he learnt in his life in the streets and orphanages rewinded in his mind as he ran and swam. But now, he was so tired he lost the ability to think. So tired he couldn't fully comprehend how tired he was.
"Stand up." Rake said. "Never show your weakness. Swordplay is every bit as mental as it is physical. Look tired, and you will encourage your opponent. Look fresh as he gets tired, and you will crack his confidence."
His muscles wailed for him not to, but he found himself slowly standing up. Rake nodded, and handed him a waterskin. He squeezed it eagerly, spilling the water on his head and into the drought of his mouth and throat.
"Small sips." Rake reminded as he paced to the far end of the shelves, where swords forged of iron laid dark and solid. He crouched and glanced along the blades, then picked two by their hilts, drew them out, and looked to Kaido. "Take these."
Kaido walked to him and grabbed the iron swords. Rake released, and their weight caught him by surprise, the larger of the blades clashing against the floor.
"Take the smaller one," Rake said, and drew another iron sword. The blade was broader than both of Kaido's, and the muscles of Rake's arm tense as he raised it.
"We're gonna' swing a hundred uppercuts, a hundred overhead cuts, hundred backhand cuts, a hundred forehand cuts, a hundred cross cuts, and a hundred thrusts. First with the right hand, then with the left, then take the heavier iron sword and swing them two handed."
Kaido grinned. He understood running and swimming were to strengthen his body, but he was excited towards an exercise that related directly to swordsmanship. Rake stood before him, face to face.
"Mimic my movements, and improve according to my pointers." He said, and his iron sword arced up in the first uppercut.
-
Done. Kaido let the iron sword drop off his hands, and clatter against the yard's flagstones. The skin of his palms was scraped red, and parted raw with burst callouses along his fingers. His whole body was a pulsating knot of taut, overworked muscles.
Done. He could hardly believe it. When he began swinging, he felt the weight of the iron strain every muscle in his upper body, he never imagined he would finish. Surely, Rake was jesting with these impossible numbers, he had thought.
Done. Every swing was torturous, and for every time he let the iron blade slack, Rake made him swing it twice more. Then came the numbness.
His mind blanked, his sense of time lost, and his body moved on its own. Like all he had ever done, and all he was ever going to do, is cut air with an iron sword. He had never experienced such thoughtlessness. Even Rake's corrections were absorbed in the back of his brain and passed on to his muscles without breaking his trance.
Finally fucking done.
"You're listening, kid?"
"Yeah." Kaido spoke over the blood thumping in his ears, looking up to Rake.
"Every night, I wake you up, we run to the river, we swim upstream, we run back, and we swing iron. At noon we eat and rest, and in the evening we train in technique and spars. Understood?"
"Yes." Kaido heard himself say.
"Good." Rake patted his sweat-soaked shirt at the shoulder as he stepped past him, and into the house. Kaido stood still, his eyes glued to the sands ahead in a blank stare, dry lips parting in a silent murmur.
"I am going to do this... every day..."
-
A year passed, and the routine Rake dictated wasn't broken even for a single day. Every few weeks, when Kaido got comfortable with the pace, Rake would double it, crushing him all over again with faster runs, longer swims, and heavier iron swords.
In the evenings, he taught him how to recognize the sword swings aimed at him, when to dodge, when to disarm, and how. The start of every session was dedicated to a specific technique, which he repeated almost as many times as he swung the iron in the mornings.
He repeated until even the most complicated techniques became deathly boring. Then until the boredom broke, and the movements came to him as natural as breathing.
When Rake was satisfied with his mastery, he demonstrated various scenarios, swinging at Kaido without true speed and strength, letting him put the techniques he learnt to use.
He didn't get a chance to do so at the spars.
It seemed that Rake was not at all interested in allowing Kaido to take the sword. The hardwood didn't hit him as frequently, now that he learnt to dodge, and occasionally, he managed a grab at Rake's hand, but at the next instant, he always found himself sprawled on the ground.
A year, Kaido spent either full intensity, or utter exhaustion. He woke up at the dead of the night, trained until noon, ate, collapsed, woke into more training, ate, and slept again. So his days mixed into an odd, endless cycle of training, eating and sleeping.
It was satisfying, to feel himself become faster, stronger, and sharper, and nothing could lift his spirit higher than one of Rake's rare praises. But his frustration was building.
"He's always two steps ahead." Kaido said. His head rested on Siera's lap, and his eyes closed as her fingertips brushed back and forth over his brow, ever so gingerly passing over the recent bruise at its side.
"I hate it when he hits your face." Siera said, anger hissing in her voice. He loved that protectiveness of hers.
"It's alright. He hits my face so I'll learn to protect it. What drives me mad is trying to take his sword. I must've tried every technique he taught me a thousand times by now."
"Maybe that's the problem."
Kaido looked up at her with one eye. "What do you mean?"
"Like you said, you tried every technique he taught you." Siera shrugged a shoulder. "Everything you try, he knows to expect."
Kaido's eyes opened and his brow furrowed beneath her stroking hand. "But I only know the techniques he taught me-"
"Everyone I ever crossed swords with taught me something." Kaido heard the words Rake told him last year in his mind. There were techniques Rake never taught him, but used against him in the spars. All I have to do is find the right one, and surprise him with it.
"Siera." Kaido cupped her face in his palms, shifted up, and kissed her lips. "You're a genius."
-
It was easier thought than done. While Kaido was unarmed, Rake sparred with the wooden sword, and the difference of size between them left him little he could use. But he found that his attentiveness to Rake's every move benefitted him in ways he didn't expect.
Once his eyes were freed from the ceaseless hunt for Rake's weak points, he began noticing the strong ones. He learnt them, and embraced them. Every day he moved more like Rake.
Circled him like a prowling feline, with the same, slow, smooth steps. Stood with the same, loose, versatile posture. Lunged with the same, abrupt ferocity. Stared with the same unmoving, predatory gaze.
"You're improving, kid, and even faster than I hoped." Rake said as Kaido slipped beneath his swing. He grabbed for his wrist, but his teacher's hand retracted, and his knee came forth in its stead, thrusting into his chest. "By next year, you should be able to get my sword."
Kaido grimaced and grabbed his ribs as he stumbled back. Rake stepped to him, and Kaido foresaw the swing by the shift of the shoulder, and a turn in the waist. He bound to the opposite side, but the hardwood never came. A feint.
He realized a moment too late, when Rake crouched to his side, pulled his leg up by the ankle, and pushed a shoulder against his thigh. His leg locked straight, and the pressure at his knee dropped him onto his back.
Kaido hit the ground with a grin. That day, he found what he needed.
-
He was patient. Kaido knew that if he tried and failed, Rake would be prepared the next time. And if Rake is prepared, he will never succeed. Also, he knew he won't be able to do it as smoothly as Rake, and that he had to make up for the difference of weight between them. So he sacrificed a precious hour of sleep to practice on Siera every night.
Even with perfect grasp over the technique, he waited for another month. He waited day after day, spar after spar, swing after swing, and finally, a chance exposed itself. Rake stepped in too far just as Kaido ducked beneath his sword. With no time to think, Kaido dove for his leg.
He pulled at Rake's ankle with both hands, pushed at his thigh with a shoulder, roared, and kicked against the floor with all his strength. Rake's knee locked, and for a moment, time stopped. Then he fell.
Kaido's blood gushed with adrenaline, and his heart thumped in his head. At the instant Rake hit the ground, he was atop of him, leaping onto his arm. He clutched the cross guards in both hands, thrust against Rake's body with both legs, and wrenched. The hilt tore from Rake's grasp.
Kaido couldn't believe his own eyes. Rake's wooden sword was in his hands.
"The sword is yours, kid." He felt a hand at his shoulder and found Rake standing over him, grinning. "You earned it."
-
Six years ago
Kaido and Rake sparred on top of the garden's canopy canopy. The sun beat in the cloudless skies above them, glinting along the dull-edged steel of their blades. Twisting vines covering wooden boards.
There was little space to run. Step too carelessly, and you'll find yourself stepping on thin air. That's why Rake loved to spar there.
They bound and danced around the roof on bare feet. Swords cutting so fast they seemed naught but metallic gleams, barely stopping to clash.
Rake thrived as the spar intensified, his grin bearing more teeth, the fire in his eyes burning brighter with every screech of steel.
His blade came faster and faster, and soon, the pace got so breakneck Kaido's brain felt detached from his body. Parried Rake's strikes even when he hadn't seen them coming. Dodged by the inch, feeling the wind of Rake's steel brushing against his skin. And struck on instinct, his sword blurring in a constant search for a Rake's body, but finding only his blade.
"Yes... Yes...! This is how I like you, kid!" Rake cackled in excitement. Kaido grew wary.
The more excited Rake got... the further he lost himself in the spar... the deadlier the spar became.
It may be dull edged, but steel still fucking hurt when it slammed against your skull.
Rake snapped his blade from side to side in two swift crosscuts, and then whirled, slashing out wide. Kaido deflected the first two cuts, and twisted away from the blade as it arced towards him. He didn't see Rake's leg coming behind it.
Not until it was too late.
Rake's heel crushed against his cheekbone, bouncing his head off the impact.
The world tilted around him.
He stumbled, and his foot slipped over the canopy's ledge.
"Shit!" Kaido dropped into the air, but his arm shot up, and his fall halted. He hung from the ledge by his fingers.
He flexed them, trying to establish a grip and pull himself up. Then Rake loomed over him, a tall silhouette backlit by the sun. His foot lifted, and moved over Kaido's hand.
Kaido knew Rake too well to expect mercy. Just before he stomped on his fingers, Kaido released.
He bent his knees as he landed, and rolled as his back hit the ground. The landing throbbed in his ankles and ribs, but it didn't feel like he had broken anything.
"Look alive, kid!" Rake shouted, and Kaido looked up.
His eyes opened wide in shock. Kaido knew Rake sparred with furor, but leaping off the canopy made him reconsider his teacher's already doubted sanity. He fell towards him, his long black hair winding behind him, and his broadsword cutting earthward, shimmering with speed and sunlight.
"Shit!" Kaido rolled aside. Rake landed beside him, the bang of steel against the stone floor screaming into Kaido's ear.
He pushed against the ground with an arm and a leg. Breaking his roll to the direction he came from, leg kicking out and around.
"Fucking bastard." He staggered and rubbed his skull with one hand, and the other pulling up the broadsword. Kaido picked up the narrow-bladed sword that dropped from the canopy with him, and stood up with a grin.
They faced one another. Skin soaked with sweat. Chests heaving.
In the eight years he trained under Rake, Kaido was defeated so many times that every fantasy he had about victory perished. But not anymore. Their spars ended not with a victor, but when they were both too exhausted to swing their steel.
Was he as much of a swordsman as Rake Blackrose?
A part of him couldn't believe it, and the other wanted to scream it to the heavens.
"What are you smirking about so smugly, kid?"
"I think today's the day I'll beat you, old man."
"Hah," Rake snorted a laugh, and threw himself forward, broadsword skidding across the pavement behind him. "You and your stupid thoughts."