Ni used to be a nice little town. The reddish dirt below gave off a radiance difficult to reproduce elsewhere. Akimoto had been there numerous times before during the beginning of his time as a Master. The buildings were tall as if to show off as much of the dirt as much as possible. Many of the buildings were crafted with a solution combined with the dirt itself. Gardens were not a popular project on which to work, for covering up the soil would act against the showing off of the land’s natural beauty. Ironically, this gave the town an arid look for Beruga’s grass could not grow in the iron-rich soil well enough. Children were often a mahogany color after playing outside for extended periods of time.

Akimoto’s hair matched the shade of the dirt this time of year. Being the middle of autumn, the temperature was decreasing quite quickly, but there were still warm days. This was not one of those days, however. Akimoto’s body did not steam but the immediate area around him was quite warmer than the air itself. His vest and trousers did little to cover up from the chill and it was clear to any with any kind of common sense that he was Firus. Fortunately, the white and red trimmed clothing told others of his affiliation with the Conclave of Elders and he was relatively left alone other than the stares he received.

He was not unused to such stares. In fact, he was used to be tracked, but too much time had passed for there to be any care of such a reality. But now with the Kyoujin acting so aggressively, he had to keep aware of his surroundings. Though the town wasn’t busy it was difficult to keep track of the movements around him and the voices throughout the streets.

The tavern he entered was rabble-some but not terribly loud. He sat at the bar with wide legs and his large upper body leaning against the wood of the countertop. “What’ll ya ‘ave?” an older and dirtied woman asked the Firus, unaffected by his inherent affiliation with a currently enemy region. “I was actually wondering if you’ve seen…” he began in his hearty yet soft voice.

“Ay!” someone shouted. “Don’t serve ‘im! He’s Kazan scum!” A clearly inebriated and scrawny man wobbled from his chair. “Shuh-up, Kiki! Si’ cher ass down!” the woman shouted, almost in Akimoto’s face.

His friends pulled him down, knowing the man’s affiliation with the Elders and not wishing to make a scene. Though some Berugans held a sort of grudge against Kazan, most of the citizens of Beruga, at least, cared little for the conflict. Perhaps most of them saved their opinions for the sake of face. They knew they couldn’t afford blockades from Hisan and Hayate. Neutrality within a war, however feigned, was the best for the people of Beruga at this time.

The woman didn’t apologize and didn’t look at Akimoto as he finished his question. “Have you seen or heard of any Kyoujin in the area?” She looked at him. Sneered at him and then scoffed. “Nah, chicky. Ain’t none of ‘em ‘ave shown they face ‘round ‘ere. Theyn’t dare.” It sounded as if she was the intimidator of the town and Akimoto found it a touch humorous.

Akimoto nodded and rose from his seat to walk out of the tavern. Eyes followed him as he left but his own remained forward.

He was told by the Master’s Council to not be obvious about their affiliation with the Council and to not make one’s search obvious in seeking out the Kyoujin. Akimoto, though the youngest by 15 years on the Council, cared little about keeping his identity a secret and being covert in his search. As stealthy as he might have attempted to be, he still would have been tracked. In fact, though he mentioned nothing of it, he knew they had a chance to ambush the Council. Akimoto thought it strange they didn’t.

The inebriated man stuck out his leg as if to trip Akimoto, but his own bare foot slammed into the man’s shin, no doubt causing a bruise and soreness. Fortunately for the man, he wouldn’t feel it until he was sober. Unfortunately, he was so drunk that he was almost thrown from his chair. The men with him sort of sneered at Akimoto as they helped their friend up. Akimoto ignored the entire accident as he cared little for disrespect and believed the man deserved to be embarrassed, though probably too drunk to feel such a thing.

Hopefully his little scene would bring out a smaller Kyoujin agent and he could interrogate them. Indeed it did and he saw a short cloaked figure down the street apparently staring in his direction. Akimoto paced quickly toward him. He knew children were being recruited into the terrorist faction and that they were the easiest to manipulate.

The image of the figure was blocked by a passing cart. When the cart passed, the figure was gone and Akimoto burst himself into the air with cooler red flames. Those that weren’t looking up were suspect and he quickly spotted the black figure racing though alleys to the outskirts of the town. Akimoto dove down and crashed into a pile of crates before leaping into a swift sprint towards his target. The panting made it sound like a woman instead of a boy. His guard immediately went up, and almost too late for the whistling of senbon was close. He ducked and rolled into a jump, dodging more senbon which stuck into the reddish earth of Ni.

She spun around, her cloak masking her exact movements quite well, and swung a shuriken toward him. He blocked it with his forearm, immediately ripping it out and throwing it back at her left thigh. It hit since she was turned back around and never suspected him to perform such a tactic. Immediately after a sai impaled her right thigh and she spun for a last time to project a wave of senbon scattered in such a way that would be difficult to dodge.

He bolted up into the air again, a senbon piercing his calf. She fell to the ground and he next to her. She kept her face hidden as she panted heavily and squeezed her things at the pain of the injuries. Akimoto ripped out the senbon and removed his vest, tearing it up so he could wrap his forearm and calf. She whimpered weakly and he wondered her age. Akimoto turned her to her stomach, not caring about her face, and pulled out the shuriken and sai, which he sheathed after wiping it across his own thigh. He took shreds from his vest and wrapped both her thighs and then turned her back around.

She continued to moan in pain and ignored Akimoto’s questions. “Who are you? For whom do you work? What was your mission?”

Her light sobbing soon sounded like light laughter. His eyes darted to the left and he heard the landing of feet from above onto the ground around him. Four men with various weapons and clearly different fighting styles threatened to capture him. “Shit,” he whispered and took up his bo as he flung a sai at the chest of the man with two broad swords. The next sai went to the man with the kusarigama. Broad went down fast but Kusari caught the knife and threw it back while Knuckles, with brass knuckles, and Spear leapt toward him.

Akimoto spun, attempting to catch the sai but could only knock it down at the woman, stabbing her in the throat. His bo swung wide, slapping the spear aside and blocking Knuckles, who threatened to snap it in his hands. Akimoto had to spin with the momentum and smack Knuckles in the back of the head before sweeping Spear’s feet. Unable to keep track of the third opponent, the chain wrapped around him tightly and the sickle sank into his shoulder.

“Now, let’s have a little chat, yeah?” Kusari asked with a wry grin. Spear rose and stuck Akimoto’s back, drawing some blood with the point. By this point, Knuckles was getting back up.

He didn’t flinch at either of the new wounds in spite of his prior injuries. Akimoto only scoffed at the man. “What?” he spat.

The grass felt soft as a breeze brushed by and gently swayed each piece in the direction of the winds travel. Hands sifted through the grass as arms rested and the sun poured its rays all over the man who was on his back. Akamu loved to sun bathe, he loved feeling the warmth of the sun on his skin as it filled his heart and mind with positivity and mindfulness. He could feel the roots of the grass swallowing the energy the sun was giving and that brought a smile to Akamu's face.

Akamu posted up on one hand and then reached a butterfly sitting position where the soles of his feet met one another. His body connected and mind clear, the long dark hair dropped down to his belt and swayed in the breeze as did the other organic life around him. The vibration of hooves were felt, the beating of wings could be heard, and the smell of flowers filled the air.

Akamu took time to rest in an open field of a forest that was in between where he was coming from and where he was going to, this place was Ni. Not a positive stop but one that had to be done in order to stock up on some small supplies he would not be able to find in the forest. Dressed in his usual kimono, Akamu reached his feet and decided it was time to push forward. It felt as though it was just yesterday he left Agaru, and now he was far from home and been gone for a long time now.

As Akamu walked the forest around him seemed more alive than ever. The vines would grow and wrap themselves around other trees while grass would lay flat for Akamu's feet. The Earth below him would form bridges when crossing creeks and rivers and then break apart behind him as he walked over to the other side. The Earth never faulted Akamu and therefore Akamu would never fault the Earth. It was a mutual and beneficial agreement that was unspoken but true.

While walking into Ni he could feel that this place was no longer what it used to be, a vacant shell of its former self and one clearly about to fall apart at any time.

"What a beautiful place....wasted...the Earth will recycle and man will replace, for now, we shall wait and see what happens."

Akamu spoke to himself as he began walking the streets of Ni and it was not long before he heard sounds of a skirmish erupting on the roads. Crates sounded as though they were breaking and feet pummeled the roads surface with purpose and that purpose was to flee. The other set of feet were pursuing and it was only seconds before the clinging of metal began the dance and Akamu knew what was happening.

He was not one to interfere with quarrels but this one just seemed unfair and in the life of those who train to be where he was at...honor was a staple in the industry. Adjusting his path was unlike Akamu but it was a decision he had to make morally and with that decision he now felt the growing presence of dark individuals. When he reared the corner of some shops, there wrapped in chains was a man showing his defiance. While three others stand above him questioning him with an agenda of their own.

Akamu was blind...but the Earth was not, and that is a gift that Akamu knows he can never pay back. His hand shifted to "Choten" and he continued to stare at the three standing Kyoujin.

“No one’s allowed within the target area,” a man high up in a watch tower repeated his orders. The arrow hardly whistled, specially designed for proper assassinations, when it flew toward the new target’s head for a lethal shot.

Akimoto burst into showy flames that wouldn’t burn anything. The burning came, instead, from the Sun Shards he pushed toward them, silently disintegrating them where they stood. The heat melted the buildings’ outer walls closest to the scene. They threatened to collapse should they have been less structurally sound.

Kusari’s grip loosened from the initial blast of fire and Akimoto took advantage of that mistake. Loosening the chain enough for his left arm to be freed, he tore out the sickle and began to unravel himself. However, he felt a firm tug from the other end and he knew the man was intimidated no further. Perhaps he assumed Akimoto was a low-tier Elemental with only showy techniques. Akimoto also found it odd that he would be attacked so openly. Perhaps these were ignorant recruits feeling confident they could take out a foreign Elemental.

Whatever the case, Kusari was clearly skilled enough to attempt to rebind Akimoto by waving the chain expertly to fall around him tightly once again. But with Akimoto’s background in combat, he spun with the chain as to not allow this to occur. The soreness from his wounds allowed him this at least. He felt he couldn’t do many more martial techniques until his injuries were properly bound. Excessive movement, until then, would only help him bleed more heavily.

With the rags over his first two wounds now completely red, his time was running out and he had to cut this duel short. He so desperately wished to capture the man, but the situation wouldn’t allow for such liberties. Another sliver of white fire was hurled toward Kusari, burning him up before it even touched him. He didn’t have time to scream before being consumed by the Sun Shard which disintegrated him like the other two.

No corpses were left in the area and though he absorbed as much of the excess heat from the shards, the buildings closest to him melted completely into the red soil. He could focus enough to not allow his weapons to be destroyed, however. Akimoto couldn’t risk going back into the town knowing the people would suspect him of the destruction caused by the conflict. So he walked further north and into the mountains using the bo as a walking cane.

He didn’t limp or gasp for air, but his gait was smaller and gentler than usual. He knew he didn’t have time to feel the pain or consider his condition any further. Once he reached a tree bearing some edible fruit, he sat to tear away some of his pants and wrap his still-open shoulder. He used the rest of his trousers to cover the puncture in his back, leaving him in only his netted smallcloths which were specially made to withstand temperatures he could easily summon and only served his prudery. The sash around his waist remained to keep his sai at his sides.

After eating some of the sour fruit, if only to feign the act of providing his body nutrients, he continued farther up the low-grade mountainside. A few hours passed before he reached the next town of Iwatana which nestled atop the sheerest cliff naturally formed within this shallow portion of the mountain. His now stumbling walk into the town alerted a more sympathetic individual and her child to rush to his aid. He grunted out thanks before struggling to focus on being led into a nearby house.

His small cloths were torn away as they undressed the bandages he hastily made himself. Clicks of the tongue were heard from the older woman while the boy gasped at the man’s disfigurement. The boy fetched water and clean cloths as the woman further evaluated the man’s state. The woman quirked a brow, finding a lack of clotting, but there was little bleeding at this point due to a searing of the wounds. The other scars across his body, both large and small, indicated an active man and a warrior. She fed him water straight from the bowl before dipping the cloths in it to clean the wounds.

“Hurry and boil me water. He’s probably going to catch an infection,” she added.

He was not sweating and though his blood was obviously thinning, he was not cold. In fact, she would have considered him feverish. But he showed no signs of any fevers she’d ever experienced. And he was in far better shape than any Fair in the area. “You’re no Earthean,” she concluded. “What’s a Firus doing all the way up here? You’re far away from the mine,” she explained.

She wasn’t expecting an answer from the defeated man. “And how does someone of your caliber become beaten this badly?” she jested to herself. But she did find it strange than an Elemental would suffer such wounds from weapons and not Elements. These wounds weren’t shaped with the Air or formed from Water. They were not jagged from Earth or seared from Fire. These were clearly inflicted by a skilled Weaponist.

She figured this couldn’t have been a tussle from the mine itself. He would have died long before reaching her home. “What did you get yourself into?” Perhaps she felt comfort in letting him know what she could determine simply by appearance. He only rested on the bed merely large enough for an adolescent. His feet and ankles jutted out from the hay mattress.

She finished cleaning and dressing the wounds as well as she could. Out of habit, she threw a blanket over him in spite of her knowing he would not lose body heat. It didn’t reach past his chest, since it was made for a child. It was mostly to provide the man with some sense of dignity rather than airing out in the open. A foreign victim deserved greater respect than that.

He woke up the next day to the sound and smell of a dinner being made. His stomach rumbled violently only to set off the soreness of his wounds. He winced before gently pivoting his head to see the woman over a stone stove and the boy helping; only if that meant simply watching. The boy then leaned away to fetch a pitcher of water and walked toward him. It seemed to be out of habit for he looked surprised to see Akimoto awake. Apparently he had been provided water throughout his sleeping. He was grateful as he was fed more water.

“So, what’s your name?” the boy asked with wide eyes. The woman turned her head so she might hear without it being repeated.

“Akimoto,” he coughed out. “Akimoto Kaito from the town of Toushin of the Southern Region of Kazan,” he repeated more formally.

“I’ve never heard of it,” the woman said dryly. “You come from far away, then.”

“Why are you here?” the boy asked.

“Because I am injured,” he said matter-of-factly and more easily this time. He took another drink of water himself, ignoring the pain from his wounds. “And to whom should I thank for such hospitality?”

“Oh, well I’m Kozue Iwata,” the boy said. Akimoto assumed the boy was born here. He also assumed he might die here as well since those who take names of the lands they were birthed into are usually rooted to it.

“And I’m Shita Ogawa from Tari of the Western Region of Hisen. This is my grandson.”

He thought it strange that someone would move so far from Hisen. He didn’t know of them settling in such modest conditions, either. Perhaps she was unsatisfied with the gluttony of Hisen. Perhaps it was something more tragic which drove them away. “And what of your mother and father, your daughter or son?” he asked, understanding it was prying question.

The woman remained silent and the boy looked down. “She died on the boat,” he said with some kind of sadness.

“I sympathize with your loss, Iwata-san.”

They didn’t recognize the father, so he didn’t question further. Iwata looked up with saddened yet dry eyes. Akimoto’s remained stern and void of emotion. The color of them provided some kind of softness to them, however. The boy exhaled softly and rose from his kneeling position to return beside his grandmother.

He took another mouthful of water. His mouth would not remain quenched for long. “I recognize that name, Shita-san. Are you related to Lord Shita Chouten of the Shita House?”

She didn’t bother to hesitate for very long. “Yes,” she said plainly. “I am his sister.”

“So, what brings you to Beruga?” he asked, again knowing his probing might touch a nerve. He took another gulp of water as she responded.

“The House has since been disbanded and is no longer part of the Royal Court.”

“I see,” he exhaled from his inhalation of water. “It seems each region has their turmoil.”

“It’s far simpler than that,” she interjected almost angrily. But it seemed targeted not at him.

“I see,” he said lower this time, indicating he would drop the subject. “I thank you both for all you have done toward my health.” He smiled slightly and the boy smiled wide back. The woman only nodded.

The boy began to set the table as Shita finished preparing the food. Feeling exponentially better, Akimoto flipped the blanket from him and eased himself to sit on the side of the bed. Though he was aware of his nudity, he stretched some and evaluated the bandages over his injuries. They had been freshly changed. He then stood to see how light-headed he would become, which was not at all. Any pain was only soreness as the cuts were deep but nothing was torn. The woman cared well for him.

She pointed to a chair next to him where trousers and a shirt had been neatly placed. With no man in the house, he figured they must have bought them for him. The trousers were loose and thin and tied high around his waist. Instead, he unlaced half of it and tied it around his hips for a less modest look. They fell straight and above his ankles. The shirt was open and tight around his arms. There were no buttons or straps with which to close the garment. He pulled it as if to do so but it was clearly not meant for such. It seemed they were conscientious of his Firus nature. His sai were held in sheathes that was not his own and his bo leaned against the chain. He left them where they were after touching them as if to thank them for their application in combat.

He walked slowly to the table and gently fell to the cushion and crossed his legs. His calf produced the dullest of aches. “Thank you both very much,” he repeated as he bowed his head with his hands upon his thighs. “You have saved my life and I wish to pay you back.”

“Nonsense,” the woman said. “You clearly have important work to do.”

“How would you come to such a conclusion?”

“I know what those of the Conclave wear,” she said straight. “You have more important missions than to look after a woman and her bastard grandson.”

“O baachan,” the boy whined, showing discontent for the callousness of his grandmother.

Akimoto looked sympathetically toward the boy which calmed his embarrassment.

“You may stay for a few days until you’re fully recovered and then return to your duties.” It almost seemed like a command. Akimoto could only bow deeply once more in thanks for her hospitality.

“Bless,” he said before eating his food. It was a blessing to the food but also his hosts.

He ate as heartily as he could. They allowed it for such a damaged man, but they could only provide so much. He attempted to help with cleaning but they shooed him off to bed so he would heal faster. So he undressed, leaving the clothes where he found them and quickly went back to sleep. He wished to at least take a walk for he felt quite stiff, but he knew the woman was right and that he needed as much sleep as he could get.

The land of dreams didn’t bother him that night and he woke early and refreshed. He neither heard nor saw any sign of the boy or woman. He rose more quickly than yesterday and walked over toward the sink. Using a pair of nearby shears, he cut off the bandages around his calf, forearm, and shoulder. He assumed the piercing on his back had healed quickly enough.

It was a shock to see how quickly the injuries had healed. There were almost no scars on his calf or forearm. His shoulder was almost completely healed with a sizeable mark. The only thing he felt from it was a stiffness greater than the rest of his body. He concluded she must have worked as some kind of medicine woman in Hisen.

After taking a long drink of water and eating as many oats as his stomach would allow, he decided to find his way toward the bath in order to clean himself more properly. The cold mountain water didn’t bother him in spite of the Heat he’d used up the days prior. He would have also been unable to recuperate any of that Heat by being inside, as well.

After cleansing himself thoroughly, he made his way outside in a sunny spot near the house. His bare skin would have done well to absorb all it could and he could feel the warmth return to him. It was only now he realized how cold he really was.

“Ah, Akimoto-hi. Good morning,” Shita greeted. She had clearly woken sooner than he for she was carrying firewood into the house.

“Good morning, Shita-kijo,” he responded. Though she was from Hisen, it seemed she wasn’t too put-off by his nudity. “Where’s Iwata-kimi?” he asked out of vague curiosity.

“He’s by the marketplace attempting to train as the locals do. I just hope he doesn’t hurt himself, the poor bastard,” she said as she turned her head in the general direction of the boy’s location.

“For what purpose do you call him ‘bastard’?” He was almost accusatory but attempted to keep a level tone.

“So he doesn’t forget what he is.”

“And why should something he has no control over define him?”

“Would you say you’re not Firus?”

“No, but that is not all I am. I am the Firus Master of Wisdom. I am an intern of the Conclave of Elders. I am the teacher of Knowledge in the Jisuikafuu Academy. I am husband to Shinobu Satomi. I am father to Masahiro and Saruwatari. I am son of a Weapons Specialist and the former Firus Master of Resolve. I am great nephew to the Firus Elders. But most of all, I am Akimoto Kaito.”

“And what is ‘Akimoto Kaito’?”

“He is a man who protects and works for the people of Shidaigenso. He is the teacher of the next generation and their counselor. He is a friend and rival. He is but a single person inhabiting this vast and powerful land.”

Stillness filled the air for a moment as she contemplated his self-description. “Iwata will never become so important. The stars don’t recognize him for greatness.”

“What makes you think the stars recognize any kind of greatness in anyone? Why would something so infinite and everlasting care for things so insignificant and finite?” His frustration seemed to grow with her biased opinions on something so indefinite. It was hardly notable, however. He maintained his meditative posture.

“There is nothing they point to which could be used toward the betterment of the country.”

“There is nothing the bodies indicated at my birth which pointed toward greatness. In fact, they pointed to so much self-conflict and constant inner struggle. In spite of them, I have made something for myself and my children and wife.”

“Who interpreted your chart?” she asked in disbelief.

“My great aunt, of who provided my name.” He shifted in his position, becoming more rigid and raising his chest in order to catch more rays. “The stars only say so much. They determine nothing.”

“That is what Kazanians believe,” she retorted.

“I have yet to have a Hisen prediction be so accurate as to change my outlook on the subject.”

She sighed and leaned against the house. “Neither have I.” She turned to enter the house. “I’ll call you when lunch is ready.”

“Thank you, Shita-kijo.”

A sizzling could be heard off his skin, but this was merely the interaction of the heat of the sun and his Heat becoming one. Shita had placed an urn of water beside, knowing he would need water even while meditating. Hours must have passed which were lost to his active mind. Shita called for him from within the house, rousing him from his meditation.

The house felt exponentially smaller when he reentered. Shita and Iwata were setting the table and finishing up the meal when Akimoto entered the kitchen-bedroom-dining-room. He slid the trousers from the small chair by the bed he had slept in, allowing the legs of the garment to unfold and fall to the floor without the need to shaking or manually unfolding the item. He quickly slipped them on and tied them as he had yesterday before joining the two kin at the table.

It was a modest meal and Akimoto felt no need to over-compliment Shita who had no doubt prepared the meal herself. Instead he ate quickly and thanked them before and after the meal. He practiced a silence during meal-times if only to concentrate on consuming the food in order to return to tasks which were interrupted by the human condition.

“I hear you were training in town, Iwata-kimi. Would you be willing to show me where it is?” Akimoto asked as he put his dishes into the washing basin.

“Oh, yeah!” he said with some surprise. It was clear he did not make the connection between Akimoto’s body and from where such results stem. “I’ll have to introduce you to my partner, too. He’s never met a Firus before!”

His childish excitement would only produce a slight smile from Akimoto. Akimoto bowed to thank the boy before following him into town. A glance back at Shita told him she didn’t worry for the boy. Did she truly resent the boy so much?

The streets and paths into town never became crowded as they would in any other city or town. He was used to the physique of Berugans as a whole. Some of them pushed the limits of the human body while most merely kept a toned body for aestheticism and athleticism. He could have been mistaken as Berugan if he was wearing a shirt, but the late-fall air had no effect on Akimoto and proved his Heat.

In spite of a few whispers and invasive comments, the townsfolk seemed to care little for his presence, for which he was thankful. Less attention was better for he was usually the center of attention, and usually of the negative variety.

Many of the shops had stones and lumber around them and people lifted and dragged them in order to maintain their forms. There was a formal arena in the center of the village with many people having traveled from notable distances. Some sparred open-handed while others practiced with weapons. Many were merely lifting heavy objects repetitively, which always baffled Akimoto. What purpose could repetitive motions, however heavy, improve physical performance? It seemed counter-intuitive.

“Akimoto-sensei, over here!” Iwata called from further inside the arena. Akimoto followed the boy’s waving and caught the eyes of a man standing next to him.

“Akimoto-sensei, this is Funkakou Tonidou. Toni-chikai, this is Akimoto Kaito.” The men bowed and shook hands, rivalling each other in the ability to break the other’s.

Tonidou was a head shorter than Akimoto but just as wide, which made him impressively stout or “stocky” , as Toni would describe it. It could be argued that Toni was the stronger, but Akimoto was disinterested in pure strength and even less in showing it off.

“So, what’s your regiment?” Toni asked. He seemed quite friendly and unbiased, which Akimoto appreciated greatly.

“I don’t really have one,” Akimoto admitted. Toni only gave an inquisitive look before Akimoto explained further. “I usually have to work for food and bed wherever I travel as I tend to travel lightly. I usually smith, tend ranches, or lumberjack.”

“Ah, the hardy professions!” Toni exclaimed in his deep bass voice. He slapped Akimoto’s shoulder and squeezed as if to prove to himself of Akimoto’s strength. This was not uncommon among Berugans but Akimoto was still not used to physical contact with new acquaintances. “And do you practice any art?” he asked colloquially. “Art” in Beruga meant “martial” and nothing similar to what Hayate considers “art.”

“Sangaku Kiben, Kosasu, and Kikyuu.” He said plainly but with some pride.

“Oh, I’ve never heard of Sangaku Kiben. Would you be willing to show me its strength?” He was clearly eager to spar, as was Akimoto.

“It’s not an art of strength,” he warned and explained. “It’s more a philosophy.”

“Show me,” Toni repeated with a smile.

Toni fell back into a generic opening position of Ishite, the widest-practiced martial art of Shidaigenso. With his left foot forward, pointing at his opponent and his right behind and perpendicular for stability, he rose his hands into fists at chin-level and in the middle of his chest and the other more forward with his leading foot.

Akimoto stood flat-footed and facing full-front toward Toni. His hands curled into fists and rested on either side of his groin with his torso and arms flexed, proving his strength further.

Toni was clearly interested in playing and began to throw light punches at Akimoto’s body. After the first set of three, it was clear Akimoto was looking for a more serious spar, to which Toni was delighted to provide. Toni’s knuckles slapped against Akimoto’s chest and abdomen without his moving. The punches grew in strength until Akimoto’s feet began to slide backward in the sand but with his body remaining stiff and unchallenged.

Akimoto’s torso was red from the impacts but there was no sign of bruising. Toni stepped back onto the leap forward for an unhindered jab at Akimoto’s abdomen. He slid back a few feet in the sand and bent his body in order to take it better. He immediately straightened himself and regained composure. Toni had to pause and commend the foreign artist’s form. Iwata looked on in awe, having thought Toni’s punches too strong for any man to take without complaint.

Toni darted back in and this time attempted to out-maneuver Akimoto, determining the form to be static and purely defensive. He was proven wrong as Akimoto stepped just as quickly and grappled the strike aimed for his shoulder. He spun Toni around and struck him in the back to force him forward and away.

Akimoto looked behind him for a moment and found himself in front of a large sack filled with sand. “This is your target,” Akimoto said, gesturing to the inanimate object.

Toni smiled wide and went back into swifter than before. But since he had to move a greater distance, Akimoto easily intercepted every strike at the bag. Toni attempted to wear Akimoto out, but found this to be futile as Toni began panting while Akimoto appeared largely unaffected by the advances. He got close enough to where Akimoto had to strike him in order to protect the bag, but Akimoto’s strikes proved just as, if not more, powerful than his. Ultimately Toni conceded and praised the man he could not pass.

“Who invented that art”? Toni asked as he poured water over his face and into his mouth.

“My father,” Akimoto said coldly. He guzzled water between statements.

“He dead,” Toni asked without tact.

“Yes. When I was 14.”

“Shame,” Toni said, shaking his head. “I’m sure he’d be proud to see you so successful, though.”

“He was a Martial Specialist himself. I just strive to be good enough for his memory.”

“I’d say you are.”

“Toni-chikai is a Berugan Champion of Ishite,” Iwata boasted for his sensei.

“Is there a reason he doesn’t call you sensei?” Akimoto asked. He found it curious that Iwata referred to him as “sensei” but Toni as “chikai,” usually a derogatory honorific in his experience.

“I just own who I am,” he said with a bold laughter. He indicated with his hand his shorter stature. “Also, the jouren around here have seen me,” he added with a chuckle and motioned toward his groin.

Akimoto couldn’t help but laugh at this. Iwata lit up for this was the first sight of genuine emotion Akimoto had shown.

“You should enter into the Subetete Tournament next week,” Toni suggested in a more serious tone. “If I work with you on more offensive techniques to score points and faster victories, I’m sure you could get a hefty prize.” It seemed this was true excitement for Toni.

“I didn’t think they accepted Elementals. Even so, I’m not willing to amend the purpose of Sangaku Kiben for the sake of my father’s memory.”

“Come on, Akimoto-sensei,” Iwata whined.

“No, Iwata-naike. I respect the man’s decision.” He paused to think of something. “I’ll make an event of it,” he eventually concluded. “I’ll sign you up as a challenge event. Others will make bets and we’ll make a fortune.”

“I didn’t practice to make a fortune-” he began to explain.

“Neither did I. I just want to show the world a martial art that can best me,” he said and then burst out into laughter. “If that makes us rich men, then so be it!” he chuckled and firmly pat (slapped) Akimoto on the back.

Akimoto’s mind immediately went to giving to Iwata and his grandmother. He had no need for money and they would clearly benefit from it. “What do you need from me?” he asked.

“I just need to show them what we just did,” Toni said with a sly smile.

“Well, let’s get going,” Akimoto said, rising from the bench and then began to stretch as if they were going to marathon to the stadium.

“Ah hah! I like your vigor!” Toni shouted and began stretching himself.

Indeed they marathoned the several miles to the stadium. Somehow Iwata barely kept up, clearly excited for his trainer and his new friend to be showcasing their talents. The boy was clearly eager to learn. He idolized strong, but more importantly skillful, men.

They arrived in Aki at sundown. The street lanterns burned dimly and added to the eeriness of the chilly night air. Of course, Akimoto was unaffected but Toni and Iwata needed to purchase extra clothing if they were going to stay in town for the night. “We should look for an inn,” Akimoto suggested as they finalized their purchases.

The two looked at each other, forgetting they needed to consider such an expense. “Well, we don’t have enough money for all three of us.”

Akimoto looked back as if the statement was completely irrelevant. “Then we work,” he said as if he shouldn’t have needed to.

Toni smiled and chuckled to himself, remembering Akimoto’s habits of travel.

Walking down the streets, it was clear this was where the tournament was being held. Large men and women walked down the street, most of them stopping to lift and toss the heavy items often scattered across Beruga. Akimoto stuck out, regardless. His bare chest was unexpected in the cold months. It wasn’t unusual for Elementals to attend the tournament, and Firus were almost as common as Eartheans here. Still, with the current conflict, biases couldn’t help but be formed.

“We’ll need a room,” Akimoto said to an innkeeper.

“For the three of you?” the older woman giggled to herself.

“Preferably with three beds,” he added.

She continued to giggle but nodded her head.

“You boys participating in the tournament?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Akimoto bowed.

“Yes, I have a room available. What will be your payment?”

“Labor,” he said plainly. Iwata’s eyes darted back and forth, obviously embarrassed to be unable to pay with items. He thought that’s what only the poor did.

“Here are the keys to your room. Feel free to get settled in and then meet the wood-hand out back. He’ll set you boys to work.” She added, eyeing them as they left.

Akimoto knew they were in for some tough labor, considering the time of year and their obvious physical dispositions. Akimoto drew a cold bath in which to rest his muscles from the long run. Toni and Iwata did the same. Akimoto and Toni left Iwata behind, feeling obligated to pay the boy’s way.

The wood-hand stood above both Akimoto and Toni, and seemed to be able to if they were on each other’s shoulders. We was built like an elm and looked just as unshakeable. He was a stern man, Fuzaiyuri. He was blunt and short with the two. He didn’t sound illiterate, but Akimoto could assume his intelligence was made fun of during his youth and emotionally scarred him.

The two were tasked with the simple chores of chopping and organizing wood. Fuzaiyuri would return with large logs, dragging them behind him. This task would have been impossible for Akimoto and Toni together. They worked as fast they could to match the strength of Fuzai.

Hours later, Iwata emerged from his bath. Akimoto glanced and could tell the boy was a touch ashamed of his sloth. Toni only shouted out commands as if he’d been there the entire time. Akimoto and Toni worked on the two-man saw and chopping the wood into more manageable sizes while Iwata stacked it.

Deeper into the night, Iwata moved to chopping as well as stacking when the larger trunks were all that remained. Fuzai slinked back inside as it seemed his job was done. Until all the wood was chopped and stacked neatly, they wouldn’t have earned their night’s stay. However, it seemed this chore would last through the night even with the three of them working together.

The moon drifted through the starry sky and Toni looked up once to watch. “You two should head off to bed. I’ll finish this up.”

It was truly a martyr’s offer since there was still so much to be done. Toni would be up until the two of them awoke for the day still stacking wood. “No,” Akimoto insisted. “We’re all paying for the room.”

“If anyone should go rest, it’s you, Akimoto-sensei. You’re the reason we’re here.”

Akimoto could only look at the boy. He was right. “Yes, Aki-hi, you need the rest. We’ll be fine,” Toni said paternally. This might have been odd considering the fact they were peers of both age and martial discipline. The honorific confused Iwata, though.

“’Hi’?”

“Boy, you’re so naïve. It’s late in the Scorpion Season and he hasn’t worn a shirt since I’ve met him.”

Iwata only looked blankly at Toni. The man just shook his head and continued chopping wood as their conversation took up time they should have been spending working. Iwata looked back at Akimoto in awe. It was then he realized the burnt nature of his skin and the heat he obviously radiated to keep his surrounding warm enough to be comfortable for them.

“I’ll pay you two back tomorrow, then,” Akimoto said as he stretched out a little before heading to their room.

“Don’t worry, you will,” Toni said with a wide grin as the axe fell onto the log, splitting it quickly and evenly.

“Thank you,” he said back and bowed to both Toni and Iwata separately.

“Honestly, you didn’t notice that?” Toni harassed Iwata when Akimoto was out of earshot.

“I don’t know what Firus are like,” he responded incredulously.

Toni chuckled heartily and the both of them continued deep into the dusk with their labor. Akimoto was sound asleep when the two of them entered their room for the night and crashed onto their beds. Iwata was a bit put off by Akimoto’s open nudity, and then Toni’s. He was understandably embarrassed by his own lack of physical maturity.