The Tale of the Sage: A Battle to Remember
The Tale of the Sage
A Battle To Remember
As the jock launches his frontal attack, Kashiriku sets his feet and blocks the first punch with his left forearm. As Mike fails to recover from the blow, Kashi takes the initiative and cross jabs Mike in the cheek, cracking his knuckles while doing so. Mike lands on the long grass next to Kashi, spitting up blood. The buff gets up from the ground, while Kashiriku takes another fighting position. Mike, more cautious this time, runs towards Kashi again.
“This again?” taunted Kashi.
“This time will be different you Pepper Headed bastard!”
“I told you to never call me that again!”
Kashi sprints towards Mike, an enraged look on his face. Kashi leads with a couple of jabs, all landing on Mikes forearm defense. Kashi brings his right fist up in an uppercut, penetrating the forearm wall, throwing Mike into the air. On the way down, Kashi winds up and punches Mike in the stomach, sending him flying backwards again. As Mike lies on the ground, spurting blood from his mouth, Kashi appears above him. Anger has taken over, consumed Kashiriku’s. Kashiriku grabs Mike’s collar, prepared to give Mike the final blow. A couple car doors slam, while Mikes “friends” enter the field with pipes and various other weapons.
Kashiriku sneered, “You coward, bringing your friends into this!”
Mike spits blood in his face, smirking while doing so. The ten other kids surround Kashi, all smiling and waiting to attack. Kashi punches Mike in the face, knocking him out. The kids rush Kashiriku, letting all the hatred stored up loose. Kashi quickly raises a forearm defense in front of his face, protecting himself from the numerous blows received from the poles and blunt objects. Kashiriku gets struck in both his legs, knocking him to the ground. He is reduced to blood and tears as the other teenagers are striking him, laughing sinisterly as they continue. Seconds went by, which felt like hours to the poor crimson haired Uzumaki. The crying stopped, the kids striking followed, surprised at the halt in tears.
In a low voice, “I never wanted to hurt you guys, Mike was the one bothering me, but you brought me to the point that I either get sent to the hospital, or you do. I personally hate this fighting, because the hatred will never stop, but it’s what I have to do.”
A random kid from the group shouts, “What are you going to do? You are weak against our weapons!”
“Try and strike me again, see what happens.”
The kid runs at him, pole raised above his head. Kashiriku sits there, calm as ever. As the kid brings the pole down,
Kashi grabs it, tearing it from the kid’s hand. Kashiriku jabs the pipe into the kid's stomach, incapacitating him immediately. The group jolts, shocked at the sudden attack from Kashiriku. Kashiriku mind has gone blank, his expressionless face reflecting his thoughts. The group charges at him, in revenge of their fallen friend. Kashiriku manages to block every attack, taking out each individual kid with his sword-like pipe. Once the last of the group falls, a shadow appears behind him, pole in hand. Kashiriku brings his pipe up to defend himself, barely in enough time.
Kashi, startled, “Mike! How?”
Mike replied with a sneer, “It’s been a good half an hour since I was knocked out.”
Dried blood was all over Mikes face, along with a couple bruises on both cheeks and a black eye. He was tired, but seemed more energetic that Kashiriku. The two clashed, pipe to pole, hashing it out as if they were long trained swordsmen. Sparks flew everywhere and managed to light a couple blades of grass, which was put out by the rain that has started pouring. The droplets bounced off the two, washing away their previous battle paint. The two go at it again, carefully planning out each move, thinking about the other’s motives. The clashing of metals ring throughout the field like church bells on a Sunday morning. The fighting lasts a good fifteen minutes, until both parties are tired out.
Kashi, panting heavily, “Are (huff) you (huff) done (huff) yet?
Mike, panting as well, “Depends. Are (huff) you?
Kashiriku’s spiked hair was flattened to his head from the pouring rain and sweat. His eyes were no longer filled with the hatred of before, but now the tiredness he felt after the battles. He replied to Mikes question in an astounding manner considering his condition.
“No. I have a question for you: Why? Why do you tease me all the time? I have done nothing to you before, and yet, you seem to want to make my life miserable.”
“Resentment, the pain of being resented by your family, friends, and everyone in our class. They all resent me, and I resent you. You’re near perfect family life, your making of friends. It’s sickening to look at. Your dark red hair is disgusting, your niceness to everyone around you. How can you be so perfect?”
Kashiriku looks down, eyes half closing. He contemplates the question for a quick second, answering it almost immediately.
“Because I’m not. I have flaws too. I thought I knew my own father. I thought I knew my family. My mother is still heartbroken after he left six years ago. I wasn’t perfect to begin with either, I had issues before. If you don’t recall, I was bullied constantly because of my hair and my name. Before my brother was born, I was all alone. My mother was in despair, everyone made fun of me, and I was in pain. It was almost unbearable, the pain of loneliness. I know that feeling all too well, I’ve been in that dark lonely corner of my brain. It’s awful, but I fought through it. I tried my hardest to make friends, to cheer my mother up. It was tough, but I made it out. I gathered a great group of friends, one that liked me for who I was rather then what I looked like. This and my mother was happy again once my brother was born. My life was great, until you started to tease me again. Then I started to doubt myself. I started to question this world, and now I know the answer. Pain only leads to more pain. Hate leads to hate. It’s the never-ending cycle of this cursed world.”
The buff kid stared at him, tears rolling down his startled face. He collapsed to his knees, sulking like he has done so many times before. A couple more minutes rolled past, and Mike spoke up again, “How do you know so much? Where to you gain this understanding ability?”
Kashiriku walked up to Mike, talking in a softer voice, “I guess it’s in my name. In Japanese, my name means Wise Land. It’s fitting, I have been called wise before, and it shows. Not only that, but I am constantly changing, just like the land. I guess I was given the name for a reason...”
Kashiriku puts out his hand, in the manner of a handshake. The other kids have stirred, some already spectating the events taking place. Seconds seemed like hours as Kashiriku’s hand stayed there, receiving the rains beating. Mike looked up from his sulking, taking the hand firmly. Kashiriku helped him off the ground, putting his arm around his shoulder. The few kids that were healthy enough drove the remainder to the hospital in silence, thinking about the event they just witnessed. Kashiriku placed Mike in the passenger’s seat of the Ford, driving them both to the hospital despite Kashi’s leg injuries.
The call to their parents wasn’t one of blame, as they both lied, telling them that they were talking when they were jumped by a gang. Once injuries have healed, Mike and Kashiriku became friends, talking constantly. They sparred every so often, but that was because Kashiriku wanted to receive all of Mike’s hatred through battle.
Since he sparred often, Kashiriku was given numerous flashbacks of the fight that occurred three months prior. His own strength was impossible, and reflexes almost that of a martial arts expert. He could never mimic that strength or wits though, even as much as he sparred. Kashiriku became increasingly interested in martial arts, meditating every so often to gain a level head. He finally confronted his mother about the idea, asking her permission.
She responded, “Only if you get yourself there and pay for it.”
That’s all he needed to hear, all it took was the okay. He researched dojos on his computer, trying every single one out with their free lesson. He disliked every place he visited, feeling as though they weren’t doing something right. That was, until he got an e-mail from a sensei he hadn’t heard of.
You are the red haired kid, correct?
When I talked with my fellow Martial arts teachers around the area, they all seemed to discuss the kid that showed up with the dark red hair. They all said he came to one lesson and left. I don’t think you came to my dojo, it was the smaller one, only having about five or six students. Tell you what, I only make exceptions for talented martial art learners, but if you can beat one of my students, then I will teach you.
There was an attachment on the e-mail, giving directions and more information. As soon as Kashi read the e-mail, he dressed in his best fighting clothes and headed out to pay the dojo a visit. While driving, he flipped on his radio, listening to the news as he always does. An urgent message appeared, informing the general public of a war massing in the far west. North Korea has ganged up with China, India, and Iran to take on the U.S. and its allies. Kashiriku was completely shocked upon hearing this new information. He arrived at his destination, walking towards the dojo in haste, Gankona looking out the window at him.
End of Chapter Two
Chapter Three: The Perfect Dojo and Sensei