Chapter II: When mind and soul clashes…

As Ryu exited the small tavern, he could see that Kenzo had already drawn his sword and waited patiently for him. A small crowd of peasants was already gathering around them. It didn’t make sense to him. This man had walked over the mountains, made a journey through thug infested lands, judging by the shape he was in, made several unnecessary battles, obviously dangerous ones too, just to face him. The criminal glazes that he was giving him were completely opposite to the nature of this fight. He slowly raised his sword and greeted his opponent. There was no reaction from Kenzo, as he patiently waited to defend himself.

Kenzo’s voice ripped in the wind. “A nodachi Ryu? Where is your mind? Do you see me in horseback and want to strike me down? Or have you sold your weapons with your honor too for the sake you drink? I can lend you a real sword then and not one just for show.”

“You? On horseback? You think that horses that will let you ride them exist? I’m not going to change my customs only for your. Even a nodachi is almost too much for someone I could beat with my hands alone…”

Kenzo saw Ryu’s hands suddenly raising his large sword as he lunged forward. Ryu’s half body, below the arms, was left undefended as he moved forward… As Kenzo quickly slashed with the katana in a low arc, expecting to just cut Ryu’s clothes, a metallic sound resonated. Still shaking, he lowered his eyes to where the swords have clashed.

“…No way…” He muttered as he realized the speed that his opponent had, even when wielding such a heavy weapon. As he saw the metal slowly gliding to the air again, instincts prevailed. He was an animal now; an animal pissed off by an opponent that was playing with him. He came here for revenge and he found himself willing to learn again the art of the blade from his sworn enemy. He couldn’t allow rational thoughts to invade in this duel. They served only to cloud his judgment. And so, he shut them away. He bent low, a viper ready to spring towards its victim. Years upon years he relied on those instincts to keep him safe. Now, it was time to judge how well they were developed. All of his muscles were being fine tuned by a single thought, a mere emotion.

It always worked, Ryu thought, as he executed the move that he had trained through countless of hours of hard work. The moment he let his middle undefended the fool had attacked. And then the blade would rapidly slide and the weight of his sword would force the opponent either to surrender or to lose his head. But the situation changed rapidly. His sword met air as he saw Kenzo jumping sideways less than a second afterwards. Those reflexes were unnatural. He could swear he saw the surprised look of his opponent, and yet he had reacted so fast… No mind could think that fast. He quickly swung his sword towards Kenzo, believing that he would charge the moment he was at his flank. But again the steel met air.

Kenzo was standing still, looking straight at him. Ryu saw him charging right towards the blade. Confusion clouded Ryu’s mind. Kenzo wasn’t executing any move; his katana was just resting by his right side, the hand that was holding it was limp, as if he was waiting for something to happen. This was against all known tactics that Ryu had studied and practiced, it was completely illogical…

Kenzo saw the fine point of the blade closing at him as he was speeding towards it. All his muscles were one right now, but he still hasn’t decided what to do. He saw the blade rising a little and immediately he ducked towards the ground as he raised his sword to deflect the incoming strike. When he heard the clung he was already behind his enemy and swinging with all his might towards him. But again he was deflected. He saw Ryu’s piercing eyes looking straight through him, full with disbelief.

Ryu was stunned. He realized that Kenzo forced his actions. That was not possible. The first move was so unpredicted that he had responded almost instinctually, of course afterwards he knew what was coming, and so it was easy to deflect it, but he was wondering what might have happened if Kenzo decided to strike and not parry… most probably both of them would have been dead…

He continued to look at Kenzo. His eyes were the eyes of a madman now, a beast. Everything he did was beyond any reason at all. Ryu had studied so many hours to become such a swordsman that he knew almost all kata and tricks that an opponent could bring forth. He could predict the pattern of the moves. But he needed a starting point, a point that Kenzo seemed to totally pass over. Ryu won his battles usually before they began, but now he could only predict Kenzo’s moves after he had initiated them.

Ryu had doubts about the battle from the beginning, and now his worries seemed to manifest. He needed to win this battle, not for him, but for the village. If he lost face in the eyes of the surrounding governors, they might start to push the village even more. On the other hand, those stupid soldiers that invaded almost everyday the village were boring. His warrior spirit ached for a true competitor to break the monotony of this life. He had to win this battle, but if he could repeat his actions, he would again embrace this duel. Pushing aside any doubts he charged again.

Kenzo was sure of only one thing. He hated the bastard that he was fighting. He had robbed him of his life, and now he was here to reclaim it. There was no more future in his mind. He could die peacefully if only he could beat this one opponent. But he was used to fight through subterfuge. And this man seemed to be able to predict all of his follow up moves. Kenzo was frightened that if he gave him enough time, then Ryu would be able to even outguess his reactions before he even think them. He had to end it now. But his body was still strained from the journey here; he felt his reflexes starting to slow down. As he saw the slender man charge, he decided. The battle would end now. Either he or his opponent would lose right now. Disregarding any defense he charged back.

Ryu saw him charging. Kenzo’s stance, his sword’s position, the subtle moves of the muscles, all betrayed Kenzo’s intentions… Ryu knew what was on his opponent’s mind. And he put all of his strength to change the direction of his sword, so as to deflect the blow.

Kenzo felt his right arm being pushed towards outside, his katana almost slipping from his grip. He felt the movement of his opponent blade as it was passing just next to his neck. Only a thought remained on him mind.

“…steel on my neck… death…”

His left hand moved of his own. His tanto, a knife so small and so deadly, was drawn from his clothes and continued to easily slide all the way into the unprotected belly of his opponent.

He slowly turned his head towards the sword that was resting on his shoulder, as if to make sure that his head was still attached to his body. The edge of the blade was looking away from his neck, towards his arm. His clothes there were neatly sliced open and a thin river of blood was gushing out. Underneath the recent scar was an older one, one that had cost him the life as a samurai, one made by the same person so many years ago…

As he felt the warm liquid of his opponent covering his hand, he looked at Ryu’s eyes. Ryu was like frozen in space, looking directly in his eyes. A single tear was staining his cheek.

Ryu wept. He didn’t think so much about his past life. He was happy about all of his choices and he would easily do them again. He didn’t cry for his death, for he had lived a good life. Those tears weren’t for the village; after all, he had given to it all that he could. He mourned for the monster he was looking at. The monster he had created…

Kenzo felt his muscles loosen. As Ryu’s last breath, like that his rage was leaving, the only emotion that he allowed himself when he fought. It sipped out of him. His muscles were tied to this feeling, his mind was focused by it, and now, after the battle ended, he allowed rage to subside, to give it’s position to logic…

The sound of Ryu’s body as it crashed to the ground never registered in Kenzo’s senses. The silence around him was deafening him. Everywhere he looked, he saw eyes staring at him. An elderly man’s eyes were burning holes in his skull. An old woman was looking in disbelief at the dead body at his feet. He felt as time himself had stopped and watched. A feeling was trying to force itself into him, almost as if the whole village was an entity that screamed at him for his acts. He felt a set of eyes focus at him, it was a small boy looking at the bloodied tanto. Weirdly there was no hatred on this one’s stare. Everything was still. The only movement was a hand in the distance, an old man looking at him and drawing something on a blank canvas. He knew that a legend was already being born right now, but he didn’t feel as it was the kind of legend he wanted to leave behind. He felt obliged to say something. Those people were expecting for him to justify his acts.

And he did need to justify them. Not for them, but for him. He really didn’t want the old man to die. He just needed to win. He knew that on a clear mind he would have lost. That rage was his power, and so he had let the control slip out of him. He just said what he needed to hear, hoping that it was enough for them also.

“In life, you either kill or die…”

On the other hand, neither did he really care if they liked him or not. If they hated him… well they just had to join in the line…

And with that he left the astonished crowd and entered the tavern. His body was begging for rest, his mind for alcohol. After all, those peasants would be too afraid to actually try to assault him right now.

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