The crowd of the class buzzed with excitement as the fourth match began. Tension filled the air, and all eyes were on the circle. In one corner stood Jao Pedro, a 14-year-old with a lean, agile frame and sharp blue eyes. His fingers hovered over a 3x3 cube in his hands, the multi-colored puzzle ready for action. His stance was firm and focused, each movement calculated and precise. Across from him, Noah Maxwell stood tall and imposing, his broad, muscular build casting a shadow over the small arena. With fierce blue eyes and messy hair, he exuded raw power, fists clenched, ready to unleash destruction. I sat down on my seat, eager to see who would win.
The match began with a roar from Noah, his body charging toward Jao with explosive speed. His first attack, a wide swing of his arm, sent shockwaves through the air. Is that a. "3X3 puzzle?" "Huh." I turned to see Kaede, who continued my mind's voice creepily. "Say something?" Kaede asked, with no idea what happened.
Jao darted to the side with impressive speed, narrowly avoiding the blow. He didn't hesitate, his fingers already moving over the 3x3 cube in his hand. The puzzle clicked as he solved the red side, and a surge of energy filled his body. He stepped forward, his legs like coiled springs.
"Puzzle manipulation. Crimson Rush!" Jao shouted, launching himself at Noah.
With blinding speed, Jao closed the distance in a fraction of a second, landing a powerful punch to Noah's ribs. The force of the attack sent Noah stumbling back, but his footing remained strong.
Noah grinned, unfazed. "Nice speed, kid. You'll need more than that."
Jao didn't respond. His fingers were already moving, scrambling the solved side of the cube as he focused on solving the next one. His eyes narrowed, and he silently muttered under his breath, "Blue."
He solved the blue side, and a ripple of energy coursed through his body. He lunged forward with a burst of speed, this time faster than before. His fists were a blur, each strike coming faster than the last as he pummelled Noah with a rapid barrage of punches.
"Blue Barrage!" Jao yelled.
Noah's arms were up, trying to block the onslaught, but the speed and force of the punches were overwhelming. One hit his chest, pushing him back, another slammed into his shoulder, and another hit him square in the ribs. Each punch felt like a freight train. So hard!
"You're quick," Noah grunted, rubbing his shoulder as he steadied himself. "But let's see if you can keep up."
"This is better than I thought." Akira smirked in satisfaction.
Jao didn't wait for him to make a move. His fingers flew over the cube again, solving the green side in record time. As soon as it clicked into place, the earth beneath his feet seemed to tremble. Jao's body pulsed with power.
"Green Surge!" he shouted, his body surging forward like a missile.
Noah barely had time to react before Jao's foot slammed into his chest with a shockwave that sent him flying back. The ground trembled as Jao's fists followed, a blur of speed and force crashing into Noah's defences. Each punch landed with brutal precision, shaking Noah's body with each impact. Noah was winded, struggling to regain his footing, but Jao was relentless.
"You don't get it, do you?" Jao said, his voice calm and focused as he readied himself for another strike. "I'm getting faster every second."
Noah growled, anger rising. He swiped at the air, forcing Jao back with a wild swing, but Jao dodged, weaving around him effortlessly.
The sound of cracking knuckles echoed as Noah tightened his fists, narrowing his focus. With a roar, he swung his arm in a sweeping arc, creating a shockwave as his fist cut through the air.
"Technique of the Titan. Titan Sweep!" Noah bellowed.
The force of the swing sent a blast of air hurtling toward Jao. He dove under the attack, feeling the rush of wind as the shockwave passed overhead. Noah followed up with a series of devastating jabs, his movements too fast for Jao to dodge them all. One punch landed hard against Jao's side, causing him to wince, but he gritted his teeth and countered with a quick swipe of his own, his fist slamming into Noah's stomach.
Noah stumbled, momentarily winding, but he quickly regained his stance. He was already preparing for his next attack. Wow. Is he in a cube competition?
Jao's fingers were back on the cube, solving the yellow side this time. He worked with speed, turning the puzzle with practiced ease. As soon as the side clicked into place, he muttered under his breath, "Yellow Tornado."
The ground shook as a vortex of wind erupted around him. A swirling cyclone of energy roared to life, pulling debris into the storm as Jao moved effortlessly within it. His body was a blur, the tornado amplifying his speed and power.
Noah raised his arms to block the intense winds, but Jao was already closing the distance. With a surge of energy, Jao unleashed a punch that sent Noah flying back, his body crashing into the ground with a violent thud. The tornado roared, but Jao didn't stop. He followed through with his assault, the winds making his movements faster and more powerful than ever.
Noah pushed himself up, his body bruised and battered, but he was far from finished. "Is that all you've got?" he snarled. "
Jao didn't respond with words. His fingers were already working on the cube again, solving the orange side with ease. The puzzle clicked, and a wave of energy surged through him.
"Orange Vortex!" Jao called out.
The air around him seemed to warp as a second cyclone formed, but this one was more intense. The winds howled, and the very ground seemed to tremble beneath Jao's feet. A vortex of orange energy spun around him, and with it came a devastating barrage of blows. Each strike was faster, each punch more powerful than before. The cyclone amplified Jao's strength, and he slammed into Noah with a final, crushing blow that sent Noah crashing across the arena.
The crowd roared as Noah struggled to stand, barely able to maintain his balance. Jao stood tall, breathing steadily despite the ferocity of the battle.
"You've got guts; I'll give you that," Jao said, his voice steady. "But it's not enough."
Noah's eyes narrowed. His body was battered, but he wasn't done yet. He took a deep breath and cracked his knuckles. "You've got speed, kid, but I'm not going down that easily."
Jao didn't wait for Noah to make his next move. He charged forward again, fists flying, his body moving with the speed of a blur. His movements were a whirlwind of power and grace, each strike aimed with precision. But Noah was no slouch. With a grunt, he met Jao's attack with his own devastating punches, each strike creating shockwaves that rattled the ground beneath them.
The two fighters collided in a brutal exchange, trading blow for blow. Jao was fast, his attacks coming in quick bursts, but Noah's raw power and explosive strikes were a constant challenge. The arena seemed to shake with each punch, each collision sending tremors through the ground.
Jao twisted and turned, dodging Noah's heavy punches while countering with swift jabs. He struck Noah's ribs, his fists landing with precision. Each punch felt like a thunderclap, but Noah refused to give in, swinging back with equal ferocity.
Noah swung his fist in another arc, trying to catch Jao with a devastating hook. Jao dove under it, his body shifting with grace as he slipped past Noah's attack. He grabbed hold of Noah's arm, twisting it to throw him off balance, but Noah's strength was too much. He yanked his arm free, landing a powerful jab to Jao's chest that sent him stumbling back.
"You're tougher than I thought," Jao muttered, his breath coming fast. He wasn't about to let up.
His fingers danced across the 3x3 cube again. Solving the red side once more, he quickly leapt back into the fray, ready to continue the battle. "Crimson Rush!" He dashed towards Noah. He raised his cube and smacked it on the head of Noah. Noah lost his balance and almost blacked out. Jao landed a quick uppercut at Noah's chin. Noah went flying in the air. Jao jumped towards Noah. He then punched Noah. Noah fell right inside the borderline. Inches away. "Hmm, should I use it? " Yeah." Noah got up. He coughed blood.
I should win! How is this guy so strong? A worthy friend indeed. Jao fully solved his cube. Noah lunged towards him. "Capture. Activate." Jao took his cube and made it touch Noah for 3 seconds. Jao then pushed Noah. My energy is getting drained! Jao's cube burst and split into 10 chunks. (Including the core of the cube.) 9 of the chunks surrounded Noah (the 9 mini cubes that make up the 3x3 cube). "What the hell?" Noah screamed. Noah's energy started getting extracted. Noah started getting sleepy. What the hell is happening? "Woah. I am impressed." Akira exclaimed. "Yeah." Kaede agreed.
The core that was separated was pitch black, but it was emitting light. It started sucking Noah in. Noah got sucked in like dirt getting sucked by a vacuum cleaner. The whole stadium was shocked. The cube got reassembled and fell in Jao's hands. "Success!"
"Match 4: Jao Pedro wins." Mr. Sigan broke the silence. "So, do I put him back?"
"Yes please."
"Yeah... How do I put him back?"
"What?"
"Shhhh. Let me concentrate. Hmm, I guess I will use the easy way. Rescue." The cube started glowing. Jao's concentration was peak. The cube burst into the 10 pieces. Noah came out of the black core. He came crashing from the core. "Where am I?" He looked at Jao. "Ahhh! The realm!" "You are back. And Jao won." Mr. Sigan said to Noah.
Jao walked towards Noah and extended his hand. "Try not to lose it that easily next time."Noah chuckled as he took Jao's hand. "Yeah, I will remember." He managed to get onto his feet with the other boy's support, and the two started walking back to the bleachers.
"Yeah, that was awesome!" Akira exclaimed, his eyes wide with excitement. "What was that move you used to pin him?"
He leaned back, catching his breath as he explained, "It's a sealing technique. Basically, it saps someone of his chi, then leaves him defenceless and traps him in a realm that keeps him conscious but isolated in total darkness. It's like mentally trapped in a conscious coma where you can think while you are also physically there. It is not easy to escape."
Kaede raised an eyebrow. "So, how does someone get out of there?"
"There are only two ways," I cut in. "First, the person who sealed them can release them voluntarily. But if that's not possible—if the sealer refuses, loses their chi, or dies—there's one other way: entering through a gateway."
"A gateway?" Akira echoed. "What's that supposed to be?"
Jao took over. "Each one of these sealed realms is in our world, but each has a different physical entrance. These entrances are often concealed, sometimes inside other things like a cave, an ancient tree, or even a rock that's sunk into the wall of a mountain. And they are only visible when certain conditions arise, for example, perhaps only at times of the day or during particular chi alignments. You can't really go into the realm. But you can release someone or something. Well, I mean, when you go in there is like something you have to do to release it. It's like going to a hotel lobby to receive someone."
"So, even if one finds it, can anyone just go in?" I asked, leaning forward.
Jao shook his head. "No, it's not that straightforward. Each of these gateways opens with a certain chi technique required, perhaps, or a puzzle being solved, or the performance of a ritual unique to the person's energy. Sometimes it requires something to be broken. Actually, they're constructed to be immensely hard to pass through, even by someone who knows their whereabouts. So, this is a risk. Going through a gateway is more of a last resort."
Akira's face showed wonder and scepticism in equal measure. "So, if you actually manage to open one, is it easy to get back out?"
Jao smiled wildly. "Not exactly; getting into a gateway does not guarantee safe return. If you get in and cannot handle what's inside, you could well become stuck. It is why most people avoid trying to rescue someone that way unless there is no other choice whatsoever. Even though the last sealing was 500 years ago." "Match 5. Hiroshi Suzuki vs. Satoshi Sato. Please come to the circle."
Hiroshi and Satoshi were already standing in the ring with their cool and alert attitudes. Hiroshi was tall, at 5'9", and had an incisive look in his hazel eyes. The way in which he carried his body implied an amalgamation of precision and aggression. His hair was dark, cut short, and neat, further adding to the intense atmosphere surrounding him. Standing across from him, Satoshi was several inches shorter but not any less intimidating; he moved with a calm steadiness. He was possessed of a cool, calculating gaze—two pinpoints of bright blue against pale skin. He was standing balanced.
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They each waited upon a sign from Mr. Sigan. When it came, a small nod, Hiroshi and Satoshi sprang into action. "Start!"
Satoshi began by shifting weight; he seamlessly moved into his style's fluid motions. He stepped lightly forward, his hands prepared, and he garnered a small rotation to sidestep Hiroshi's advance.
"Flowing Rush!" Satoshi exclaimed, using his first move. His body in a spiralling pattern, an elegant yet powerful series of strikes against Hiroshi from many angles—in a very graceful manner.
Hiroshi answered with a quick sidestep, his eyes narrowing as he began to feel the rhythm of Satoshi's movements. "Sound Pulse!" he shouted, sending a shockwave of sound toward Satoshi. The vibration forced Satoshi to fix himself, momentarily breaking the flow of his movement.
But in another second, Satoshi recovered, grinning. "Not bad, Hiroshi." He shifted, moving with the blow rather than against it. "It's all about the balance, Hiroshi. Your strength is tremendous, but with every move you make, you leave an opening." In a flash, he was forward, dodging Hiroshi's blows with an almost magical dexterity, slipping and contorting like water.
Hiroshi snickered, unfazed by the criticism. "Just watch, Satoshi. Sonic Slice!" From his outstretched arm, he let out a focused wave of sound, cutting through the air towards Satoshi. This powerful slice oscillated, leaving a soft reverberation afterwards.
Satoshi disagreed, dodging under the slice with a smooth crouch. "Flowing Guard!" he shouted, swinging his arms in a circular motion and catching part of the residual sound energy, dissipating it into the air around him. He came up from his stance with a centred gaze and serene eyes. "Your attacks are strong, Hiroshi, but too loud."
Smirking, Hiroshi accepted the challenge. "Too loud? I think they're just right. This isn't a silent battle, after all!" He lunged forward, using his raw strength to continuously press Satoshi, who shifted and sidestepped to avoid each blow.
Satoshi spun around. His footwork was as smooth as his fighting style called for. "That's the thing with balance," he replied in his measured tone. He thus sprinted forward, his energy compacted. "Flowing Strike!" He suddenly brought his fist forward with a powerful surge of energy, striking Hiroshi's shoulder in full.
Hiroshi stumbled a step backward but did not fall. Instead, he seemed to draw power from the collision, his face reddening even further. "Fine, you wanted it, Satoshi." Hiroshi lifted his arms, gathering his energy. "Echoing Boom!" A great harmonic rumble exploded forward, shaking the air and echoing toward Satoshi.
He caught Satoshi's gazelle and held on, his Flowing Guard stabilizing him against the waves of sound. The sound vibrated his movements, but he didn't let his calm leave, his rhythm sure. Precisely, he shifted forward, the distance between them closing until he was right in front of Hiroshi.
Balance is knowing when to move and when to wait," Satoshi replied. "And you, Hiroshi, always seem ready to move." In one swift, flowing motion, he leveraged forward, sweeping Hiroshi's legs out from underneath him. Hiroshi fell but kept his feet.
Hiroshi narrowed his eyes, admiration tinged with competition. "You're really trying to lecture me mid-fight?"
"It's part of my fighting style, Flowing". Satoshi replied, smiling. "Control, balance, adaptation."
"Then I guess it's time to shake things up a bit." Hiroshi leaned back, took a deep breath, and centred himself for a second. "Let's see how you handle this." He darted towards Satoshi, using his fleet footwork to gather momentum in a hurry. "Sound Strike!" he exclaimed loudly, shooting a concentrated pulse of sound directly toward Satoshi's core.
Satoshi twisted his body just in time, letting the strike of sound graze his side. Even with the glancing blow, the force of the sound left tingling along his ribs. He didn't stop there but continued to move, absorbing the impact and shifting his energy with it.
He stepped forward, his balance perfect, before starting to channel his own technique once more. "Flowing Rush!" This time, he struck with more power, his movements so smooth and slick, they seemed almost one continuing strike. Each attack flowed seamlessly into the next, leaving Hiroshi struggling to predict his moves.
He guarded as best he could, and his body was taut with the on-and-on beats. He balled his fists, refusing to back down. Giving one last lunge forward, an even more powerful Sound Pulse came out of him, trying to break through Satoshi's defenses once and for all.
Satoshi, however, expected it. He deftly dodged to his side, the Graceful Flow guard right on target. "See, Hiroshi? Control and balance." He took a steadying breath, then, in one swift movement, swept the legs out from underneath Hiroshi. Hiroshi fell back to the ground but kept alert, panting.
Seeing him struggle to get up, Satoshi stayed back, extending a hand. "No need to force it, Hiroshi. This match was about more than just winning."
Hiroshi hesitated for a moment but finally accepted the hand, allowing Satoshi to pull him to his feet. "Fine, Satoshi. I get it. Balance and all that." He chuckled softly, rubbing his shoulder. "Guess you win this round."
As the crowd began to applaud, Hiroshi gave a slight bow to Satoshi and stepped back, catching his breath. But he wasn't finished yet. He took a few steps back, raised his arms slightly, and began to move to an unheard rhythm.
Satoshi watched, a wry smile on his face, as Hiroshi started dancing. It was a slow, methodical rhythm at first, but then Hiroshi's movements became expressive. Astonishing to behold, he whirled and stepped lightly, his arms tracing some invisible pattern in the air. An uncanny, somehow fitting way to end this fight, letting his energy shift from combat into an artful expression of release.
Hiroshi cast a quick smile towards the crowd, allowing his dance to finish with one smooth, flowing motion. With that, he walked off the stage, his energy serene, his mind clear as he knew he had given it his all—even though Satoshi took it this time. "That was quick." Akira sighed. "Yeah," Sakura agreed.
Daichi Tanaka was a solid 5'8" with an almost lean build, taut muscles rippling beneath his clothing. Eyes of deep brown surveyed across the training ground to his opponent, quiet seriousness underlying the fabric of his being. His hair was black, only slightly muted from that morning's breeze, contrasting against pale skin. Daichi's posture was calmed, almost aloof, save for the tension within his shoulders, an energy held just beneath the surface. The edges of the falchion were serrated, and the coloration was pitch black.Kenji, on the other hand, stood opposite him at about 5'8" with a slightly more muscular build. His deep blue eyes reflected focused intensity as he stood with his arms loosely at his sides, awaiting Daichi's first move. His dark hair was swept back, almost as though he didn't mind the fight or the outcome. Mr. Sigan commanded, "Start!"
Every movement was a dangerous gamble, with tension palpable in the air of the arena. Daichi's falchion, the serrated edges glinting brightly in the dim light as it sliced through the air towards Kenji, let out a heavy clang of steel as it crossed the space. Kenji, his right arm wrapped in the thin iron strip, blocked the strike just in time, the reverberation of Daichi's blow threatening to knock him off balance.
Kenji grunted, shifting his stance to absorb the impact. His eyes locked onto Daichi's, searching for any sign of weakness. But Daichi's expression remained unreadable, his movements methodical and precise.
Kenji couldn't help but speculate about the sword. The way it moved, the way it felt. different. Dangerous.
Daichi grinned, catching Kenji's curiosity. "You're wondering about the sword, aren't you?"
Kenji's gaze narrowed, his iron-wrapped arm shifting to block another strike. "Yeah, I'm wondering what it feels like. like the sword is biting."
The question hung in the air, and for a moment, there was a brief pause in their fight. Daichi's smile twisted, darkening as his eyes locked onto Kenji's. He shifted his stance slightly, his falchion resting at his side. The sudden change in his posture was almost unsettling.
"I knew you'd eventually ask," Daichi said, voice low, almost to himself. "The sword. It's different from any other weapon. Generation after generation in my family have had it passed down, yet it is not a mere blade—it's a curse."
A moment longer, Kenji said nothing, the weight of his friend's words hanging in the air. He had heard stories, of course, of weapons passed down through the generations, but nothing quite like this. Daichi's sword wasn't just a weapon; it seemed to carry with it a dark history, a force that transcended mere combat. "This just got more interesting." I muttered in excitement.
Daichi's voice had hardened as he continued, "It's cursed because of the conditions it carries. You see, for anyone to wield it, he has to give up something dear. My father couldn't pass it on to anyone because he couldn't find someone who would make that sacrifice. No one else in my family wanted the sword, not even my mother."
Kenji's eyes grew wide. "Wait, so you're telling me your father. couldn't pass it on? But you're using it now."
Pride mixed with something darker flickered in Daichi's eyes. "I'm the only one who chose to take it up. My father wanted me to take the sword, but not because he forced me. I wanted it. I wanted to keep the tradition going on."
In a flash, he took one step forward and whipped his falchion around in an arc, right at Kenji. Barely enough time to react; in came Kenji's iron-wrapped arm, swinging upwards to deflect the strike. The force of the blow ran down his arm, but Kenji held.
As he steadied himself, Daichi's voice came through, quiet and measured. "The sword was to protect my clan centuries ago because the people in my clan stopped being born with unorthodox chi. When we started to be born with it again the current wielder of that time couldn't pass it on because we had unorthodox chi. So, the next wielder had to sacrifice his unorthodox chi. Well, sherlock. To wield this sword, I had to give up my unorthodox chi. Completely. If I break that pact, if I try to use any unorthodox chi. I die."
Kenji's grip on his iron wrap tightened in shock. "You gave up your unorthodox chi? For the sword?"
Daichi's face darkened further, and his falchion pulled back, but not before he slashed at Kenji again. This time, the blade missed, cutting through the air with a vicious hiss. "I didn't have a choice," Daichi continued. "The sword demands it. That's how it works."
Kenji's breath caught in his throat. "But. You can't use techniques anymore?"
"No," Daichi said, his voice cold. "The sword demands the sacrifice of unorthodox chi. I can't use it anymore. If I do, I'll die, and the sword will pass down to the next in line. It's a curse, Kenji. But it's my curse. And it's one I've accepted."
The air thickened between them, thick with the intensity of the fight, further deepened by every word Daichi spoke. The sword in his hand wasn't just a weapon; it was the embodiment of his choice, of his burden. And that was a burden that, even in every clash, every parry, Kenji could feel. It wasn't about fighting; it was about legacies and sacrifice—the weight of a bloodline.
Kenji's mind raced as he tried to understand what was going on. "But what if you were to break that pact? If you use unorthodox chi, then what happens?"
Daichi's grin returned, and this time it was bitter and twisted. "For the billionth time, I die. Simple as that. That's the price of continuing the tradition, the price of carrying this sword."
The gaze hardened, and his stance shifted as Kenji's spine steeled for the next exchange. "And you're willing to do it?"
Daichi's eyes gleamed with something dark, something almost disconcerting. "I'm not fighting for myself. I'm fighting for the future of my family, the legacy of the sword. For the honour of the clan."
Kenji leapt again, his arm clad in iron flashing with brutal speed. Again, he sought to catch Daichi off his guard; yet again, Daichi had been prepared. His falchion flashed in a blur of movement, slicing through the air with terrifying speed. Kenji could only just block the blow, and even then, the force of the strike sent him tumbling backward.
Daichi's face did not flinch; he simply stared into Kenji, his eyes unblinking, almost chillingly calm.
"You see, Kenji," he said in a low, lethal tone, "it doesn't matter whether I win or lose. The sword is mine to wield. And the price paid for it is one that I'll carry with me to the very end."
More specifically, there was a battle of Daichi and Kenji in ceaseless strife. The tension between them was palpable: Daichi was a precise, purposeful, relentless strike; his falchion moved with deadly grace; a person merged with his weapon. The air around them crackled with intensity in their combat, but it was not all physical skill that was involved here.
In the dim light, Kenji's arm, wrapped in iron, shone as he blocked yet another strike-stiffening with the impact of the force. His muscles screamed in protest, but he held tight, his brain stampeding into overdrive on the weight Daichi had placed there. Daichi's sacrifice began to sink in—the curse that bound him to the sword. Yet, something in the bearing, the steeling, of Daichi's focus ignited a fire within Kenji. It wasn't just the sword; it was about an iron will to keep going.
Daichi's voice then pierced the chaos: "You're thinking too much, Kenji! Focus!"
Kenji returned just in time, barely deflecting the ruthless overhead blow. The power of the strike shook his bones, but he pushed back stronger, his iron wrap coiling tightly around his arm like a second skin that gave him that strength to push Daichi away.
The two fighters froze for a moment, eyes locking in silent understanding. In Daichi's gaze lay respect, but something more—perhaps colder and darker. Kenji could feel it—a shadow lurking just beneath the surface.
Daichi's falchion whirled in his hand as he retreated, the lull before the tempest. "Let me tell you something about the spirit," Daichi said then, softer, almost musing. "The one who blessed the sword." What? There
Kenji stepped back, his breathing in short gasps. He actually hadn't expected Daichi to say more, but the moment was almost too perfect to let go. He nodded, intrigued. "What do you mean? The spirit? You didn't mention it before."
Daichi's mouth hooked into a brief, grim smile. "The sword wasn't always this way. Wasn't cursed. Centuries ago, our clan didn't have unorthodox chi but only Orthodox chi. The then clan leader sought an audience with the Spirit of Chi, hoping to find some sort of balance."
Kenji's eyes narrowed. "Balance?"
Daichi nodded. "Yes. You see, the Spirit of Chi was the guardian of all chi in the world. The clan leader wanted to maintain peace, to preserve the flow of chi. But the spirit had its own ideas. The spirit told the clan leader that one day the balance would shift and that the clan would be born with unorthodox chi."
Kenji scowled even further. "What does that have to do with your sword?"
Daichi took a deep breath; his gaze went distant, as if recalling an ancient memory.. "When the next generation was born with unorthodox chi, our clan leader knew it wasn't just a blessing—it was a responsibility. The sword—the falchion—was the key to unlocking that power, but with a catch: to wield it, you had to give up your unorthodox chi. The sword could only be taken out by someone willing to make that sacrifice."
Kenji stared hard at Daichi, his heart racing. The weight of what Daichi was saying was only now hitting him. "But you did it. You gave up your chi. your ability to use techniques?"
Daichi's eyes flickered with something akin to regret, but then it was gone. "I had no choice. The sword demanded it. And when the time came, when I chose to wield it. The price was clear.
Kenji's grip on his arm wrapped with iron tightened, and in front of him, Daichi's falchion hovered, the tip of the blade gleaming with an almost otherworldly light. "But what if you break the pact? What then?"
Daichi's voice dropped to a near whisper. "I die. The sword shall choose the next wielder. It shall be passed on to the oldest descendant, whether they want it or not."
Kenji felt his blood run cold as what Daichi had said registered in his mind. The sword was a curse, a plague that would not let him be anything different from what he was. Daichi had taken that curse upon himself, and now he could find no way back. If he used unorthodox chi, if he tried to break the pact, his life would be forfeit.
Daichi's eyes met Kenji's again, and there was something almost sinister in the stare. "But I'll never break the pact. I've accepted the price."
Kenji's voice was tight as he spoke, the weight of Daichi's sacrifice heavy upon him. "And what happens if you die? Who inherits it then?"
Daichi's face shifted, a ghost of a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. "The sword chooses. It doesn't care about the question of who inherits. It's only about the price. When someone is worthy, it finds them in my clan. And if they are not, then the sword passes down by force."
Save for the heavy breathing, there was silence in the arena as Kenji reflected on Daichi: the weight of the sword, the weight of the tradition, the curse that was on him. This was the weight that none else in the clan had tried to bear, yet he did. Now it would be his to live or die with.
The silence between them was heavy.
Kenji clutched his arm, the iron wrapping tightly around it, his body ready to move again. "So you gave up everything for that sword. Everything."
Daichi's eyes darkened, and within their depths rested the weight of his decision. "Not everything. Just my future. The future of the clan is worth far more." He looks at Kenji's eyes and continued, "Well are you going to stand there or what?"
"Ugh!" Kenji charged at Daichi. Daichi smiled, "Too aggressive."