A crisp breeze blows with a ferocious power across the plains of golden wheat. Their rustling breaks the silence of the field; perhaps it was too quiet. After all, two individuals stared at each other, circling around as if driven by clockwork, only walked steadily, dirt softly crunching in their wake. Both seem rather tense, ready to jump at any given moment. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the shorter one, seemingly not much older than a kid based on height and appearance, stops his cautious stride. “Is it true?” he asks, with the intent with killing behind his voice; it was unusually calm. The wind blows again, and the taller one stops moving, stiff against the gale. Almost like he read the smaller one's mind, he replies with no hesitation.
“Yes.” The interrogator looks down, as if defeated from the single word. But instead, his eyes roll up from looking downward, staring directly at the man. His hands open from the fists he was making. Tiny beads of light form around his palms, before materializing into what appears to be two metallic handles. In the blink of an eye, two beams of light extrude from the rims of the handles. Even quicker is this boy's movements. He leaps straight at the other one, who is approximately twenty feet away, in almost a second. Unexpectedly, the man leaps backward, as if he somehow knew this would happen. But even then, the boy is unrelenting in his ferocity. He brings one saber forward, searing at the foliage in front. Because the taller moved back in that instant, the boy then aims his front facing hand toward the ground and launches himself by making use of his upper body. Just two seconds after the start of the initial attack, he's directly above the man, both weapons drawn downward, forward from his body.
Again, the man predicts this movement and steps back again. “Hmph. Nothing unexpected from a novice like you,” he says back. Now ready, he opens his hands and, like the kid, summons light particles around him. A fraction of a second later, a large sword is drawn and ready; a ghostly aura emits from the odachi. He swings the sword at the falling kid, who repositions the sabers to intercept the odachi. The force of the boy and his two weapons press onto the blade, spraying sparks all around the man, but it's not enough. With the weight of the great sword, the man effortlessly pushes the boy aside, letting him slam into the ground and sending dust everywhere.
It is not clear if the boy is defeated, but he is lying stiff on the ground. “Never overestimate yourself, kid...” the man says, almost to himself. As he begins to walk away, the kid slowly pushes himself off the ground, into a slightly weakened stance. He opens his mouth once again, slightly panting in the process. His armor protected him for the most part, but he's coughing some blood.
“Are...are you saying...that...to yourself?” the boy manages to spit out. The man stops in his tracks and stares back with tired eyes. Little does he know, he's a second too slow to guard the next attack from the kid. He does get his odachi up in time, but did not apply enough force to defend. As if possessed by a demon, the kid's pupils change from a dark grey to a fiery red.
“Wh- what the hell?” the man says to himself as he's launched backwards with little time to defend himself again. Even without the force of inertia, the kid somehow propels himself forward again, thrusting his sabers at the man, slashing faster than the eye can see. The older man's armor is protecting him from most of the damage, but it's wearing thin: even to the untrained eye, the photon patterns on his clothes starts to fade, meaning sustained damage.
The last thing that both child and man see is blood.
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