As the actions took place, many things occurred simultaneously. First, the blade passed in front of Finn harmlessly, kicking up no where near as much sand as was likely anticipated. The sharp blade, regardless of how wide it was, would have thrown most of the sand low or off to the sides. The thin stream that would pass in front of Finn would not serve as enough to block his vision, but rather allow a few specs to hit his face and a grain to get in one of his eyes by sheer chance. That would not influence the coming actions though, as someone who had experienced pain far worse than that had grown a sort of tolerance. These things all were the first step to what was about to come, a predecessor to a successor that didn't even know it existed yet. However, in that moment a master would have known the battle was over in the standard in which it had begun. There was little to no chance that the individual before him would be able to block the blow, not without the aid of magic. This was now all but written in stone, and yet neither of them yet knew for sure. The rest still had to happen, and that would mean it had to be seen through.
Second was the step in, which had been planned for if things went accordingly. It was an action that would come in many parts. One of these so called parts in which was planned for this very occasion was the following of Shura's blade with his own. It had to track the blade all the way up, ensuring that any sort of ability to change momentum could be either deflected or blocked. Otherwise at that close range there would be little to nothing that could be done to stop the incoming attack, and it would either pierce Finn clean through or cleave him open depending on how the attack came in and how it lingered on his body before continuing its momentum, if it had any momentum left to continue with. Then there was the timing. Finn had to make sure to time it so that he was stepping in right as the blade passed by his head, thus making it miss contact with him ever so slightly and also to continue its momentum upwards. A huge and heavy blade like that could not have its momentum easily stopped, and even if the enemy had the reaction time to see what was going on (which he probably did), he would be unable to physically react in time. The final action, which Finn had planned to do but was unable to do, was to wind up his arm for a powerful contact. In order to make sure the timing was perfect and to avoid any sort of trickery, Finn had to close the distance instantly. The power that was put behind the blow was not full, as full power would have broken the mans arm. It was reduced by half. The man, with adrenaline coursing through his veins, likely had yet to feel the damage that had been inflicted upon his body. However, it was quite possible that the arm of the man was fractured.
The unexpected result is what came at the very end. Shura had been able to see the attack coming, or at the very least predicted such a thing when he saw Finn leading forward with a foot towards the ground rather than towards the body. It was that kind of split second decision making that separated the warriors from the rabble, and it was that sort of action taking that impressed Finn. The man had decided to move his arm, letting go of the blade that was obviously too heavy for him to hold one handed. Normally, many Fiore schools of the blade taught its students to never let go of the blade. It was an extension of the body, and just as important as the hands or the feet. Finn found that sort of teaching as false. He was not one who was going to preach his ideals to others, or even bother arguing them. Ideals needed only be true to their believer, especially when there was no intent to enforce them. It worked for him, it made him happy, and he was able to prove it to himself again and again. Why would be other changing it? Why would he feel necessity in forcing others to believe it, simply to satisfy his own doubt or ego? No, the sword was no extension. It was a friend, a tool, and a protector. It was something one must get to know on a personal level. Its faults, its quirks, and what made it unique. It must be bonded with and befriended. It was tool. Something to end lives, and protect lives. It could dull, and it could break. It could be replaced. It was a protector. It shielded him when he could not shield himself, and it killed those he could not kill otherwise. The sword was something in which one could use and then, if need be, sacrifice to keep moving. New swords could be made. New weapons could be found and forged and learned. But it was just that- A sword. There may be exceptions to the rule, of course. But he had not yet found it.
And here Shura was, accidentally agreeing with the logic that Finn had made up long ago. It was never even something that Finn had necessarily given time towards. He never thought about it long and hard in the forest, sitting on stumps and branches and contemplating the meaning of his existence and how he viewed the tools he used for survival and growth. He simply thought that way because that's how he was. Sometimes, things did not need to be picked apart and analyzed in an attempt to force a further understanding. Sometimes, things should be understood for what they were. Ideas. Existences in the moment. The whole concept of future and past was something that obviously existed, but needed not effect everything and anything. The present was all encompassing. One was only ever in the present, even when living in the past or living for the future. The act of living by itself was a present tense, a verb. It was proof that the now was real, and that's where they were. Maybe if more people thought like that, the conflicts and the disagreements would cease? There could be dialogue. Growth.
As Shura moved his arm to block the palm, the mans arm was fully tensed. It was smart to protect the bone, but not necessarily good for his joints. The shock would now travel much easier to his elbow and shoulder, and while it may have prevented a full fracture, there was now a better chance of a hairline fracture and joints to become sore. It was the best idea at the time, and one that Finn respected immensely. As the man took the hit, his weight was shifted backwards at a speed and power that much exceeded what he was likely expecting. Truth be told, Finn was surprised that the man stayed upon his feet. While the force wasn't applied too high for balance to be a plausible thing, most would have stumbled or lost their way while moving backwards. Somehow, the man before him had stayed on his feet while he traveled back two meters. As the blade he held dropped into the sand, Finn blinked his right eye forcefully, rolling the eye in his socket and opening it again. He was lucky, he no longer felt the annoyance of the sand on his eyeball. it was now in the corner of his eye, ready to be wiped away at any moment and no longer a risk to go back into his eyeball.
Finn looked down at the blade for a moment. His body was still tense, and due to Shura's proximity, any movement would be caught in the peripherals. While movement in the peripherals would not be ascertained perfectly, it would still be better for Finn. The corners of ones eyesight where the vision was not focused was not good for precise measurements. He could not tell how many fingers Shura would hold up, or what his facial expression was. He could tell general movements very well though. Charging in, swinging, a kick. Anything of the sort could be distinguished and easily countered at the moment. Finn instead, as he heard the man give his name and compliment, decided to kneel forward and move his free hand to the hilt of the blade. Picking the sword up with complete and total ease, Finn turned the blade in his hand and inspected it. It was made well, and the paper still was a mystery to him.
"That makes me happy to hear..." he said, his voice trailing off as he looked up and flashed a smile to the man before him. "You're a powerful fighter. If you say that it must be a compliment indeed." His muscles strained slightly under the weight of the blade, but that was not due to any strain. It was the same way biceps would be tensed by an average man carrying groceries. Enough to be noticed, but not enough to obstruct him in any real way. Finn sheathed his sword and stepped forward, holding the blade out sideways by its impressive hilt to allow the individual to take it. It was a massive blade, and obviously had many secrets. The paper had not destroyed itself at all during any of the movements, and it didn't have even a grain of sand stuck in the paper. Whatever it was hiding was hidden deep within its creation, and it was likely that Finn would not know unless the two of them one day crossed blades for real. Such an aspect excited Finn, but it also wasn't something that he necessarily wanted to hunt down. The man was strong yes, but what Finn was after right now was slightly different than that.
Truth be told, the indivudal known as Shura Ranzu was a predator. It was not the first time that Finn had felt this feeling, and it likely wouldn't be the last. He remembered the first time very well indeed. He had been in Worth Woodsea. He was deep in its depths, and he had no weapon on him. He did at first. An old, slightly rusted sword that his father had given to him to go out and hunt with his brother. It would be good training to give him such a weapon, he said. It was only later once Finn knew more of fighting that he realized his father knew the sword would break. How could he not? A beast like that who had seen a hundred battles knew enough for common sense.
Finn was injured, but only slightly. His chest had been cut deep by the claw of a bear like beast, but he had been able to run away and evade it. It was not due to superior speed or anything preposterous like that, but simply Finn's better understanding of the layout of the forest and his ability to use obstacles to his advantage. He could not only climb a tree, but then jump from branch to branch. Something the bear certainly could not do. It had been enough to let Finn escape, but it had put him further in the woods than he had ever been. He was ten at the time. He was young, even by the standards in which he had learned within the forest. Still, he was strong and fast. At ten he could probably have killed most of the lower ranked wizards in any single guild. It was a confident statement, but one he could have a great amount of confidence in. He was strong, fast, durable, and most importantly not afraid of the aspect of death.
Still, he was lost at the time. And it had to be remedied. He knew the general way in which he had to get back, and that's when he felt it. Something had him in his sights. He knew, but he didn't know how. He turned and twisted every which way, hoping to find the source of whatever had him in its gaze. It was something that had the presence like him. The presence of a killer. But it was different. It wasn't the fear one felt when going up against a bear type beast without a weapon. It wasn't the fear of being on your last leg and cornered by a wolf pack. It wasn't even the fear of death that loomed in the unknown. It was the fear of something that could kill him in a way unexpected. He felt like he was in a net without fabric, and thus was unable to escape. He heard rustling behind him, but it was too late. As he turned around to see what it was a massive orange fist crashed into the brush. Landing in front of him was Jake, who immediately turned and hugged him. He was saved.
The beast was a snake. It was not the size of a bear. It wasn't even the size of Jake without magic. It was small, and it was venomous. A single bite would have killed Finn. Finn was stronger, faster, and more durable. Finn could kill it if they had been in a straight up fight. That's not how the snake operated though. It used the shadows, its fangs, its venom. Anything it needed to do. It was not kill or be killed. It was survive. That was all.
That was the exact same feeling that this man gave him. Shura, was it? He was a snake in the grass, and yet he was more dangerous than that. He bore claws. He showed his fangs. His fur stood on edge, and he seemed like a man who could fight until the death. When backed into the corner, he would likely lash out as powerfully as any beast or warrior that Finn had ever fought. To compare him to a snake in the grass was no insult, but rather one of the highest forms of compliment that Finn could give considering the circumstances that they were in. Shura had more than the needs to kill someone face to face. He felt like he had a loaded sack of venom within him, ready to be injected into anything. It felt like he could kill something from the inside out as quickly as he could kill them with a blade. It was something that would make this man dangerous, no matter the difference in raw power or even experience. It was what made this man truly terrifying, and truly respectable. Finn couldn't help but wonder who it was he had his sights on? People like that always had their gazes set somewhere. Their master, their rival, their enemy.
Themselves.
Finn couldn't help but wonder if anyone had thought that way about him before. He could understand, perhaps. A snake in the grass. Someone with more than one way to kill another, and not necessarily in a straight forward fashion. It wouldn't be such a bad consideration, really. Something that he acknowledged as potential, but didn't bother lingering on. There was no point given the circumstance. Whatever the man would be aimed at, or had already aimed at, Finn couldn't think of any reason that he'd be in the sites. Not yet. Besides, if he was, he'd merely deal with it as it came. Shura was not necessarily a good or bad person. By societies standpoint, he might not have even been a respectable person. Finn didn't know, nor did he care. All he knew for sure was that Shura Ranzu was a warrior, and someone Finn respected as that. No amount of personal objectives or lashing out at an individual would change that. It was something that went much deeper than the normal pettiness of people.
Jake had woken up by this time, sitting up and stretching before looking over at the two of them. It was a short nap, and yet the exchange they had given each other was enough for an eternity of dialect. It was short, as a real battle often is. However, it had allowed them to learn a lot about one another. The two were likely making mental notes of the other simultaneously. This is someone to watch out for in the future. Someone I can trust to always give me a good run for my money. Jake stood and stretched. He knew what had come. It was time for the two of them to leave the beach. Finn felt himself close now. The breakthrough was near, and he needed only to hammer it home. That could very well be done here, but this one felt different. All this time it had felt like his sword skills had him walking down the hallway. Now, in the depths of his mind, he could finally see it. A door before him, waiting to be opened. Its key was already turned, and its handle was beginning to follow suit. He needed only get there.
Stepping back, Finn offered a smile one last time. "Finn Mertins." He said his name by itself. It needed no explanation. It was payback for the other warriors introduction, and a sign of respect. This person, as Finn had already decided a while ago, had earned at least that much. Turning, Finn walked over to Jake and gave his brother a fist bump. Finn would not know that Jake slept lightly during that time. He had fallen asleep, yes, but it was not a deep sleep. He had felt it too. Shura, regardless of his lack of negative intent, was a dangerous individual. If need be, he had been at the willing and able to smash another snake in the grass. Luckily it had not come to that. The two would still be able to give one another a sense of mutual respect that had not turned into drawn blood on their first meeting. As far as friendships go, killing one another was usually a bad way to get things churning, at least in his experience.
As the two of them walked away, on some gods table, a coin finished its wobbling. It had landed, and it had sided in Finn's favor. However, their conflict had been just that. A flip of a coin. Whereas Finn had the experience and the skills to back it up, Shura had an intuition that was deadly in any fighter. To try to compare fighters and call them better or worse than one another, despite the kits that they may or may not have possessed, was something that many of the best did not bother to do. Anything could happen at any given moment to tip the scales in any particular way. This time, Finn had come out victorious. If anything else had happened, even a slight variation, things may have been different. In the end, though, wasn't that what made fighting so fun? Wasn't that what made growth all the more worth it?
Wasn't that what made someone alive?
[Exit]
WC: 6034/6982