Dōshi

As the Human spoke, Mizael eyed the targets. How easy those would be to destroy. Without so much of a break of sweat, Mizael made a swift swing at the target. It made a ‘whoosh’ like noise, then a sudden crack as the iron made contact with the wood. Splinters were sent flying off as Mizael stood there feet planted on the ground looking at the damage he had done to the target. It wasn’t as much as he thought he could have done, but then again, his Barian form was much stronger than his Human form. Slowly he withdrew the sword, bringing the iron blade to his side, as if he was sheathing it.

But still, he stepped forward and gave a nod of approval. He could make a good student. 

Now where had that thought come from? Yamikawa was, and he was certain would always be, unable to teach others. And still, this person was only a passerby, a stranger. Perhaps he was just... eager.

Yamikawa set up another pole, a few yards from where Mizael was, for his own use. He did want to get some training in, anyway. Though before Yamikawa could even unsheathe his own blade, the stranger spoke.

That couldn't have been a mere coincidence. There was something more to the stranger, something about him that reminded Yamikawa of some urgency that had brought someone to the Lodge, some great terror on the mountain and in that forest. But what? And that same feeling, at the invasion, with those strange beings. They radiated the same energy as whatever it was that drove Yuuma to that place on the mountain.

He just... He just couldn't place what it was...

The Barian warrior gave a small sigh, and started to walk toward the other. He came here to train and that’s what he was going to do, no one was gonna kick him out. As he got closer to the other, he noticed the amount of swords that were near him. Oh, so this person liked to play with swords?

Mizael was not one to use swords, he preferred to use brute force, however, if the situation forced him of it, he let himself use swords (for reasons he now understood, he could wield a sword as if it was something he understood how to use for years). The most common times he had to use them was for Barian festivals that including fencing of some sort. It was fun, he had to admit.

He was glad he had his own favourite sword still at his hip.

Still, Yamikawa was nothing if not a hospitable person. He moved to erect one of the padded poles he used to practice on. Perhaps this would be a good opportunity for him- It had been so long since he had seen another swordsman, or had another sparring partner.

But he was getting ahead of himself. There was no reason to think that the other would stay for any longer than a few swings of a sword, and then leave. Yamikawa just really, really had an itch to fight someone again.

That, and the nagging feeling of familiarity radiating off the other. He couldn't put a name to it. Something in the back of his mind just told him he should know this person, or know of him through association. But how?

Yamikawa thought of that last duel, the... otherness of his opponent. Ever since then, Yamikawa had been a bit more open to the stranger things in life, but this was too much, too much of a coincidence. He muffled the thought before it became too loud.

He hated this human world, not for the fact that it was the Human world (although it was a reason why he hated it), but because the energy was just so low here and it was impossible to change into a more suitable form. He hated that he had skin and actual flesh rather than a rock outer layer that acted as skin. Really, he was actually just homesick.

It became a habit to go out to the forest to train, Alit and Gilag were usually there, sometime they weren’t, it really depended on the time and day. Today was a day that Mizael skipped school, so the Barian was doubtful that anyone would be there in the forest. There was barely any bother to actual wear his ‘casual’ clothes (if it could be called that), instead he actually wore something other than his normal outfit. Casual pants and a plain shirt, besides, he was going to take the shirt off for training. However when Mizael had arrived at the training ground (which didn’t even look like a training ground it was just some open field in the middle of some trees), he noticed a person standing in the distance.

But the nearby forests, the mountains and meadows out of the reach of the city helped. They were an escape, a quiet place where Yamikawa could blow off steam and not have to worry about the critical eye of his Master as he let off his pent up rage.

...Or so he had thought. He looked over his shoulder at the voice, quickly pulling his haori over his shoulders in an attempt to redirect his reflex of unsheathing his sword. But it didn't warrant such a reaction. It was just some kid.

He let out a breath he did not realize he had been holding, his shoulders relaxing noticeably. But then Yamikawa registered the question. How would he explain? He glanced at the weapons in a pile at his feet, next to the makeshift dummies he had brought to practice on.

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Somewhere, a wooden door was closed. Steps on training ground made a sound somewhere.

“I guess…Master Rokujuu should get a decent meal every now and then…” he mumbled without looking a Yamikawa. Shrugged his shoulders. “And maybe that air up here will do me some good…!” he whispered hopefully. Closing his eyes for a moment, he could take in so many sounds like mountain animals or the river in the woods or the sound of nature becoming…alive!

"The air certainly helps. Clear up your head from all that smog down in the city," he teased. "I haven't been in a city in a long time. Not since-"

Not since you came apart.

Yamikawa looked down, noticing he had spilled some of the tea that was now bleeding into the fabric of his pants. Figures that remembering something like that would make him jumpy. He could remember it clearly- The hatred and sense of betrayal that made him see red..!

Since when do you put your shoes orderly in there?

He observed the entrace, the of dark wood worn from generations of pupils walking over it, carrying this smell of musky traditional Japanese houses you didn’t see since…like an eternity ago in Heartland City! Walking behind Yamikawa, he placed the bag in the kitchen. He could feel it again, the wood balks still warmed by the sun, beneath his socks. Mumled words suddenly echoing loudly in the halls, exhaled.

It was saddening. Yuma shouldn't have had to fake a smile.

-

Yamikawa sat at the low table, pouring tea into two small cups. There was a certain dissonance about the situation, as though a hurricane had suddenly stopped and faded into drizzle. But that wasn't... bad. Just something to get used to.

How long has it been since you were this calm?

Yuma took a deep breath as the weight was pulled from atop him, relieved at finally making it here ali- Wait! He blinked, vision sharpening after an instant. Was that…

“…Yamikawa?”

He blinked again, watching the tall man pick up all the fruit and put it back in a basket again. Picture of serenity and calmness. It seemed…still unfamiliar. He remembered vividly the gash in the wood statue of Blade Armor Ninja…But at the same time, it was proof how people could change and that was certainly nice!

“I?” He was there once again, being thrown into the Sphere Field, Astral screaming, he couldn’t block that next attack and and and- Yuma shook his head. He tried to give the other one of his bright trademark smiles. “I’m just…I just needed some fresh air!” He tucked his mouthcorners up like he always did. But something was…different.

A look of confusion an sympathy marred the expression of calm, though Yamikawa knew well enough not to discuss the matter immediately. He tugged on the basket, signifying that he'd bring the load in.

"Would you like to come in? There's tea waiting," he said, offering a reassuring smile. Everything about Yamikawa seemed as though he were luring a small wild creature. He knew from experience what someone, especially a child like Yuma, did when they were upset and didn't want to burden anyone else. He felt... empathy. Something that he had only regained again.

Why the heck was the Duel Lodge so far away and high up?

Yuma complained to himself when he put up one foot in front of the other to make his way up the stairs, heaving up a food bag twice his size on his shoulders. It was freaking early in the morning, but…but…His pupils dilated as the scenery caught his eyes. There, in the distance of dawn and early morning sun, lay Heartland City drenched in cerulean! He could make out the funny shapes of the modern buildings and his school and Heartland in between (they were nearly finished with rebuilding)! It felt…nice.

Maybe he really needed this break and gettin’ away from everything and breathing in some fresh air from the mountains. That last battle with Misael…it had certainly left it’s marks.

When he finally arrived on top, he just let himself fall to the ground in exhaustion, some oranges rolling from the basket.

__________

Though what he found certainly was no cat. He nearly jumped in surprise to see Yuma on the ground, a ridiculously large knapsack looking like it was about to crush him. Though, Yamikawa noted, there lied a greater strength in the boy that would not be quashed in such a trivial manner.

"Yuma. What a pleasant surprise," he greeted, kneeling down and collecting the stray fruit in his arms and pushing the bag to the side so as to give Yuma greater ease of movement.