A year had passed and the old man recovered some of his health. The two were now running around the beach, in a game of sword tag. It was a simple game of hitting each other but were not allowed to fight back until a hit was landed.

IT: should chase the other one and could attack freely as long as he was the IT.

RUNNER: cannot counterattack but could use the sword to block the sword, once hit by a sword he would become the IT immediately.

Simon has always been the IT ever since this training began. The boy ran while the old man stood still.

Although the old man was not moving, the boy was using his feet to create different angles of attack and since then he had never successfully landed an attack.

“You are getting better boy… but it doesn’t work on me… if you want to hit me, you have to work for it!” it was words of pure confidence and the boy knew that the old man could back it up.

The boy began a zigzag move in an attempt to confuse the old man but the old man cleanly parried his attack, it was aimed at a strange angle. The old man held his sword backhanded.

Before the boy could quickly retreat the old man used his own arms and Simon’s wooden sword to lock it in place effectively touching the wooden sword, and twisting it off the boy’s hands then he kicked the boy in the stomach creating space then landing a hit on the boy’s shoulder.

“OWW!” the boy muttered as he fell down. “Arms bridges!” he said, realizing what the old man had used on him. The wooden sword was already in the hands of the old man.

“Yep! Hahaha! What now boy?-” The old man threw the wooden sword back to the boy catching it properly. “-You could read the attacks because of the arm’s bridges but it could still be used in other ways!” he smiled, he knew that when the boy widened his eyes with his jaw falling he was probably learning something if it's not about the food. “Last one, stand up boy!”

The boy stood up. Although he learned something, it was impossible to apply it to the old man. Simon knew that the old man was in a weakened state but the display of his swordsmanship never dulled rather it was getting sharper each day.

Rather than finding angles to attack… ‘Think from the beginning of your movement and go through with it’ words from the old man that flashed from his mind.

Simon has been using the sword for quite a time now, the boy has gained experience. High-quality experience coming from the old man.

The old man felt it. The boy had some breakthrough, he smiled and raised his stance ready for the next actions of the boy.

Slowly the boy walked closer. Once their wooden swords were almost touching he stopped.

“I can see your snot boy!” the old man teased. The boy was obviously thinking, a strange or probably a rare feat from the boy but the old man was glad.

Simon moved his wooden sword gently gliding on the old man’s practice sword. He was aiming down into the handles. The old man reacted by pushing off the glide to his surprise he couldn’t move it.

“Arrgh!” he used his whole body but the gliding won’t stop. Eyeing the boy’s stance, Simon’s back feet were raised ensuring the flow of the glide not to be stopped. The old man was annoyed, especially with the boy’s smirk.

Against the unstoppable glide, the old man decided to move into the side letting the attack slide through but the boy followed the shift of his blade to force it closer to the old man. In the old man’s reaction, he pushed against it turning the sword lock platonic, or rather the boy was under control of it.

The boy let go of one of his hands to land a sucker punch to the old man’s face.

Simon could see that the old man twisted his sword, without forcing so much, the old man wittingly used the wooden sword to block the punch.

“You are open to the right!” the old man notified and then with one step to the right and his stance he was ready to exploit the opening.

Using the same glide Simon used before the old man forced the half of his sword to twist and poke the boy’s shoulders. It was another quick step generating a hit.

“I haven’t hit you yet!” the boy smiled and muttered, it made the old man stop.

Instead, the old man withdrew from the lock and then hit Simon’s sword twice creating a space for another wide swing.

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The boy flew a bit but landed on his feet. The sand blew behind his feet, the boy checked out the old man and the old man just used a proper sword strike.

“Told you, you don’t need to have to use too much force, remember the three parts of a sword strike, Position, Momentum, and Aim,” ever the teacher was the old man, he wanted to make sure that his lessons would be drilled on the boy’s head if not, on his body.

“... I understand,” the boy spoke as he dashed in for another strike.

<--->

At night time.

The 2 had already adjusted to life on the island. A year really flew by like it was nothing.

The fireplace crackled as it produced enough warmth to make the sleep without the use of blankets. It was summer season and the island’s temperature didn’t change that much all year round. It was always cold and damp during the night. The village was hidden against the weather by its naturally formed surroundings.

Simon slept soundly, since it was summer he kept his coat on his stomach. The old man was the same but he was dreaming something. Grunting and murmuring words, his face contorted as he saw familiar faces and faces he didn’t want to remember.

Suddenly the old man snapped out of his dreams, he opened his eyes, and using his hands as support he sat up. Looking around, checking if he was still inside the house.

Tensions diffused as he saw the boy sleeping soundly “Damn brat!” the old man muttered.

He knew by himself that he could not sleep back again. He stood up and breathed deeply, it should still be dark outside, the windows told him. Still, he found the door that led outside, taking his sword that was hanging near the door he went outside.

The chilly wind was a welcomed feeling. He was currently dressed lightly. He drew his sword… checked its condition and began swinging. He could tell that his life was already fleeting. This thought made him calmer.

But he started remembering things… the reason he was in the frontier. He wanted to die… not peacefully, not like this. He could tell that there was still a fire burning inside his heart it would be a shame to let it fade away along with his death.

He looked back at the house. Was the boy ready? A question that plagued his mind. He suddenly sat down, not because he was tired, but rather because his feet and knees felt weak. He cursed the gods of his feelings.

“I don’t want to die like this,” he finally said it himself, who would want to?

<--->

Simon was starting the day, his chores included collecting wood, preparing the dried fish that hung outside their house, and collecting salt that was dried up on the wooden board at the back of their house. Usually, the old man would still be sleeping if not he would see the old man sit by the veranda of the house and sometimes would begin a sword practice by himself.

But that morning when he went out, the old man was not in his usual place. The boy still began his routine, checking out the dried fish and in a moment he headed into the small forestry above the cliffs of the house, he used the roof of the house to jump into the higher elevation. There he would spend time looking for a good wood.

By the time he was finished, he was expecting the old man to be sitting on the veranda. The boy began to feel worried for the old man, he planned to search for the old man but he didn’t need to because when he finished storing the dried wood the old man arrived, it seemed that he had come from the direction of the beach.

The old man upon seeing him waved at the boy “Simon! Have you seen my tumbler?” the old man asked as he walked closer to the house.

Simon knew what the tumbler was, he had seen the old man hold it or even smell it a few times. “No! Isn’t it not with you?” Simon retorted.

The old man sighed and continued into the house where he planned to search into.

Simon didn’t mind as he continued his chores but then the old man tapped his shoulders. “Try to find it if you have the time…”

The boy nodded as he went back to the house, he could tell that the old man was shaking. He remembered that time when the old man used his magic after drinking a drop from the tumbler.

Simon walked into the back of the house to collect the dried salts but then a crash came from the house. The boy immediately ran to check out the old man. The old man was on the floor while some of their utensils were scattered. The boy immediately ran to his side to try to pick him up.

“Boy… I can’t see…” the old man muttered, he struggled as Simon tried to pull him up.

“Just sit…” the boy said.

The old man followed and sat. Calming himself down, his head began hurting followed by his blackout and collapse. “It seems that our training will be canceled today,” the old man frowned.

“It's okay… do you need anything? Can I do anything for you?” the boy asked but he was calm.

“No… just continue your work, I will be sitting here on the veranda,” the old man said as he began copping around to know where he was. The boy guided the old man until he reached the edge of the veranda. “I will be here.” the old man said assuring the boy.

“... Okay… tell me if you need anything,” the boy stood up and went to the back of the house to continue his work.

When the old man felt that the boy’s presence was gone he began crumbling. He was not crying but his face distorted. He thought that he wouldn’t be afraid but look at him now… his time was running out.

<--->

It was another day, Simon was on a fishing trip in the boat together with the old man. The purpose of the fishing trip was to familiarize the boy with how to read the waters.

“Simon… feel the wind, watch the water,” the old man said as Simon slowly rowed navigating. He then raised his hands to stop the boy from rowing “This spot is good, see that to your left?” he pointed and in a few moments, a whirlpool was made in the spot the old man was pointing.

“The wind… I see…” the boy carefully watched and used his skin to feel it.

“Good boy, you must use your senses and instinct, now let’s get to fishing, the fish here is much more bland but putting some sauce and salt it will be more tasty,-” he then began preparing their things. “Fish here also has a low chance of having parasites, but better cook them properly okay?”

The boy nodded, there was a certain mood to the old man and the boy understood it… time was running out for the old man. But he didn’t feel sad, rather he was just looking forward to spending the day with the old man that raised him. He promised himself to remember the things that he taught him, the experiences he had… the deadly battles that he had had with the old man.

The boy snapped back to reality as the old man swung his rod. This was one of those moments.