So I wrote this a few nights ago. I'm not totally sure how great it is since I was writing it somewhat quickly so I could keep in mind what I wanted the story to be about. Read and give me a critique of it, tell me if you liked it
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A weary swordsman looks down into the crest of his blade; a small emblem of what his love once was. His enemy, another man who is noticeably younger with great prowess and sauve movements, stared him down. The sweat on the enemy became very noticeable to this weary swordsman. He knew his opponent was beginning to feel tired and weary from their long battle. "Why don't you fight with all you have? Why are you holding back?" The enemy muttered this, in hopes this swordsman would have something to say back. He kept nothing but a straight look and a sword held down towards the ground. He takes his sword and throws it into the ground. "Strike me down," these were the first words he spoke since this battle began.
This, in turn, confused the enemy. "Why on Earth would anyone ask to be killed? Is this some form of retreat for you, sir? Do you think you're winning this battle by letting me kill you? Don't make a mockery out of my style." The opponent's fighting techniques were a bit unorthodox and unclean. You can tell he never learned from any kind of dojo. He swung his sword in rage and fear, not in humble spirits or with any purpose. "I never had a reason to fight you, boy. I fight only the strong."
This set the boy in an outrage. He clenched his red, gleaming katana with both hands tight and ran straight in. He raised the sword over his head, keeping pace towards the swordsman. He does a clean vertical cut, which was suppose to hit a devastating blow into the head of the man. Instead, he dodged, pushed the sword's hilt aside, and gave the boy a quick punch into the gut. This confused the child, why would you tell someone to strike them but not allow them to do it?
"You show no remorse, do you?" The swordsman said, this time with a clear voice.
"What's it to you? You told me to kill you, and I tried. You didn't allow me."
He took his sword and threw it into the ground as well.
"When two people of near equal calibur fight, you should show remorse. You should thank me for giving you an equal fight. I could of tried to kill you, but to have someone at the same kind of technique as myself is a blessing. You should remember that."
The swordsman, who won't give any kind of name, is a valiant man around the land. He's fought and slaid many different kinds of samurai, for intentions he won't reveal. He goes town to town, always slaying anyone who chooses to duel him. Some say that this man's secret intentions is to find someone that can always try to get in par with him. This man is and always has been a quick learner. He can analyze a fighter's stance and, right after, understand what they're going to attempt to do to him. He thinks of a counter before a move is even made; in some cases, he sees things he never expected but yet finds a counter to them within a split second. He has never given his name to one person he fought; how all of this madness to kill him started is something not known to most people in the country. EVeryone knows of his great power and ways, and in turn they want him dead. It is a human trait to kill something that isn't understood.
"What do you mean, keep it as a blessing? Why would I want someone even close in par with my abilities to stay alive? I want to be the one everyone remembers, not you."
The swordsman takes his sword out of the ground. He grabs the end tight and gets into a stance. His right foot is a little out, further than his torso, and his left is in a position that he can't be pushed back so easily.
"I don't think that you are worth the effort to be honest. We have equal par; however, this blessing I'm trying to explain to you is the blessing of life. When do you feel you'll meet someone like me again? What makes you think that killing me will resolve anyone's problems? I'm here to prove one point to this country, and that's the ways of a samurai isn't some kind of ancient art passed down generation to generation. This is a lifestyle. I choose to slay enemies in my path, but I wish I hadn't."
He moves back a few steps, wiping his sword down with the holder of his katana and slips it back into it.
"I never thought I'd see a day like the one we're experiencing, young boy."
The boy pulls his sword back out in immediate anger. This anger is unknown to the swordsman. What reasoning does this child have to kill him? His father being slain by him? To kill someone in perhaps greater strength than him so he can prove his power? To gain a reputation?
"Why are you so in peace with me? I want to kill you, and yet we're still standing here talking about how we should stay alive and keep in peace. **** you."
He had a tear come in his eye. The swordsman had a small gasp for once, he can finally show some emotion.
"I want people to know me. I don't want to die young without anyone to remember me. I don't want to be known as a common man. I have a whole life ahead of me, I accept that part of your Godly speech. I understand that to waste my life is stupid. I get the morals of what you're telling me. But the truth is, I want memories of me to stay around. I want to make history. Maybe this is something you don't understand. You already made it. You could care less about being remembered."
The swordsman looked into the boy's eyes and gave a more serious look. He backed down into a stance he once had, sword back to where he once had it. He peered straight into his soul it seemed like. The look was so odd that it was confusing the child. He didn't understand why he was giving him such a strange look.
"Memories? What memories? This is life. You should live your life for yourself, not others. You want a reputation by killing another human being? You want to be remembered as a murderer? I have nothing against you. I do not know where you're going to be needing to be remembered. You're a strong child, and I don't want to see you die. However, I do feel a bit of understanding for someone of your posture."
He takes the tip of the blade and puts it to his neck.
"I want you to cut my head clean off."
The boy felt no hesistation and made a small slice into his neck. It was almost like a papercut.
"Fight back, dammit! I'm not going to kill you if you won't even put up a fight! I want to be remembered!"
The swordsman had blood gushing out of his mouth. The boy never moved his sword, so he showed a bit of surprise. The boy looks down, and he sees that the man stabbed himself straight in the stomach.
"I hope you enjoy the memories. This is the first battle in which I won by dying. Thank you, child."
The boy felt indifferent. 'I killed him? But no, I didn't. This isn't how I want to be remembered. I won't be remembered.' Thoughts flew through his mind as the swordsman fell to the ground with the battle wounds they had prior to battling.
This isn't something I wanted. I wanted to kill you in a fair fight. I lost the battle I've so keenly wanted to win.
After seeing the swordsman's death, the boy felt tears gushing up. "This isn't a memory. This is murder."
///
A weary swordsman looks down into the crest of his blade; a small emblem of what his love once was. His enemy, another man who is noticeably younger with great prowess and sauve movements, stared him down. The sweat on the enemy became very noticeable to this weary swordsman. He knew his opponent was beginning to feel tired and weary from their long battle. "Why don't you fight with all you have? Why are you holding back?" The enemy muttered this, in hopes this swordsman would have something to say back. He kept nothing but a straight look and a sword held down towards the ground. He takes his sword and throws it into the ground. "Strike me down," these were the first words he spoke since this battle began.
This, in turn, confused the enemy. "Why on Earth would anyone ask to be killed? Is this some form of retreat for you, sir? Do you think you're winning this battle by letting me kill you? Don't make a mockery out of my style." The opponent's fighting techniques were a bit unorthodox and unclean. You can tell he never learned from any kind of dojo. He swung his sword in rage and fear, not in humble spirits or with any purpose. "I never had a reason to fight you, boy. I fight only the strong."
This set the boy in an outrage. He clenched his red, gleaming katana with both hands tight and ran straight in. He raised the sword over his head, keeping pace towards the swordsman. He does a clean vertical cut, which was suppose to hit a devastating blow into the head of the man. Instead, he dodged, pushed the sword's hilt aside, and gave the boy a quick punch into the gut. This confused the child, why would you tell someone to strike them but not allow them to do it?
"You show no remorse, do you?" The swordsman said, this time with a clear voice.
"What's it to you? You told me to kill you, and I tried. You didn't allow me."
He took his sword and threw it into the ground as well.
"When two people of near equal calibur fight, you should show remorse. You should thank me for giving you an equal fight. I could of tried to kill you, but to have someone at the same kind of technique as myself is a blessing. You should remember that."
The swordsman, who won't give any kind of name, is a valiant man around the land. He's fought and slaid many different kinds of samurai, for intentions he won't reveal. He goes town to town, always slaying anyone who chooses to duel him. Some say that this man's secret intentions is to find someone that can always try to get in par with him. This man is and always has been a quick learner. He can analyze a fighter's stance and, right after, understand what they're going to attempt to do to him. He thinks of a counter before a move is even made; in some cases, he sees things he never expected but yet finds a counter to them within a split second. He has never given his name to one person he fought; how all of this madness to kill him started is something not known to most people in the country. EVeryone knows of his great power and ways, and in turn they want him dead. It is a human trait to kill something that isn't understood.
"What do you mean, keep it as a blessing? Why would I want someone even close in par with my abilities to stay alive? I want to be the one everyone remembers, not you."
The swordsman takes his sword out of the ground. He grabs the end tight and gets into a stance. His right foot is a little out, further than his torso, and his left is in a position that he can't be pushed back so easily.
"I don't think that you are worth the effort to be honest. We have equal par; however, this blessing I'm trying to explain to you is the blessing of life. When do you feel you'll meet someone like me again? What makes you think that killing me will resolve anyone's problems? I'm here to prove one point to this country, and that's the ways of a samurai isn't some kind of ancient art passed down generation to generation. This is a lifestyle. I choose to slay enemies in my path, but I wish I hadn't."
He moves back a few steps, wiping his sword down with the holder of his katana and slips it back into it.
"I never thought I'd see a day like the one we're experiencing, young boy."
The boy pulls his sword back out in immediate anger. This anger is unknown to the swordsman. What reasoning does this child have to kill him? His father being slain by him? To kill someone in perhaps greater strength than him so he can prove his power? To gain a reputation?
"Why are you so in peace with me? I want to kill you, and yet we're still standing here talking about how we should stay alive and keep in peace. **** you."
He had a tear come in his eye. The swordsman had a small gasp for once, he can finally show some emotion.
"I want people to know me. I don't want to die young without anyone to remember me. I don't want to be known as a common man. I have a whole life ahead of me, I accept that part of your Godly speech. I understand that to waste my life is stupid. I get the morals of what you're telling me. But the truth is, I want memories of me to stay around. I want to make history. Maybe this is something you don't understand. You already made it. You could care less about being remembered."
The swordsman looked into the boy's eyes and gave a more serious look. He backed down into a stance he once had, sword back to where he once had it. He peered straight into his soul it seemed like. The look was so odd that it was confusing the child. He didn't understand why he was giving him such a strange look.
"Memories? What memories? This is life. You should live your life for yourself, not others. You want a reputation by killing another human being? You want to be remembered as a murderer? I have nothing against you. I do not know where you're going to be needing to be remembered. You're a strong child, and I don't want to see you die. However, I do feel a bit of understanding for someone of your posture."
He takes the tip of the blade and puts it to his neck.
"I want you to cut my head clean off."
The boy felt no hesistation and made a small slice into his neck. It was almost like a papercut.
"Fight back, dammit! I'm not going to kill you if you won't even put up a fight! I want to be remembered!"
The swordsman had blood gushing out of his mouth. The boy never moved his sword, so he showed a bit of surprise. The boy looks down, and he sees that the man stabbed himself straight in the stomach.
"I hope you enjoy the memories. This is the first battle in which I won by dying. Thank you, child."
The boy felt indifferent. 'I killed him? But no, I didn't. This isn't how I want to be remembered. I won't be remembered.' Thoughts flew through his mind as the swordsman fell to the ground with the battle wounds they had prior to battling.
This isn't something I wanted. I wanted to kill you in a fair fight. I lost the battle I've so keenly wanted to win.
After seeing the swordsman's death, the boy felt tears gushing up. "This isn't a memory. This is murder."
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