A Time Traveller's Guide To Feudal Japan

They made no mention of the period of time he spent in the chamber. Nor did they inform him of how unusual that was – especially for a beginner, someone who had not yet trained their concentration. Instead, they reintroduced him to a friend, and brought them out into the courtyard together.

"They said you were mediating Miura – did anything happen?" Kitajo asked, looking up at him curiously.

"Many things. My broken tower is once more standing straight, and firm. Things will begin moving now, Kitajo. They have to. If they do not move, then I will destroy them." He responded with savage words, but his voice was not tainted by malevolence. He was pure in his mind, and did not act simply to sate his devil.

"I think, today, perhaps you should train with people your own age." Soroko decided. Yesterday, in a suboptimal state, he was still able to defeat the best of the child fighters – not that such a thing was much of an achievement.

"As you say." He did not care who he had to fight.

As they walked into the courtyard, the monks looked at him in surprise. Before he had simply been dressed as a monk, but now he embodied them in spirit. He was indistinguishable from their like. A more unusual occurrence one was not likely to find. Monks were raised from the youngest of infants, and incubated in the temples, and endowed with purity. That was the only reason their hearts could survive after being exposed to the outside world. It was uncommon for an unpure heart to be cleansed. And if it was, it was done over a period of years, not days.

"Jakao-kun." Soroko called out across the crowd of training monks. A few moments later the monk in question appeared.

"You called for me, Soroko-sensei?" He asked whilst bowing respectfully.

"Indeed. I want you to duel this young man here." He informed him, brandishing two training spears. It was impossible to tell where he had hidden such implements, but nor was it worth asking. The old monk was entitled to his secrets.

"Ah... As you wish Soroko-sensei." Came his hesistant reply, as he bit off his protest. No doubt he thought he was far above the likes of Gengyo, who had not spent his life training amongst them. But to protest would be to doubt, and no one dared to doubt the likes of the three great masters.

"Are you ready?" The old monk spoke to Gengyo who took his spear calmly, and had as of yet not taken up his ready stance.

"I am." He replied, not moving in the least. It seemed there were other thoughts going on inside his head, and though he held his spear with one hand, and did not look prepared in the least, he was still ready to fight.

"...Begin!"

Jakao whipped his spear around like a baton, and sent it crash toward Gengyo’s side at speed. Even if an opponent did not appear to be ready, he had long since learned not to underestimate them.

SMACK

"Huh...?"

They stared at him, baffled. Soroko, Kitajo, Jakao, and even some other monks who had been watching the fight with idle interest had their brains crash, and they struggled to process what had just occurred.

"Hm..."

He muttered, as though thinking. His strength had certainly improved. Gengyo still stood standing, holding his spear in one hand, nearer the top, and he had remained like that, even as the spear came charging towards him. But like a solid brick wall, his arm and spear had not budged in the least, even after receiving an attack that Jakao had put his entire body into.

And then, he sprang forward, disappearing from Jakao’s view, who could barely tell what had just happened. He became a single shadow in the centre of the courtyard, which was so brightly lit by the afternoon sun. Young petals drifted quietly down from sakura trees, as he assumed the flow of nature.

It was only Soroko that could see his movements, as Jakao looked around the courtyard, in a blind panic. His opponent had entirely disappeared, and no matter how hard he searched, he could not find him. And then, a shiver ran up his spine, as he felt the cold wood of a spear make contact with the skin of his neck.

He turned around slowly, terrified, hoping that it was just some cruel prank, played on him by a fellow monk. But there he was. That undefinable outsider dog, who had been with them a matter of days, and could already suppress him like this.

"...S-sssurr-ender!" He managed to get out of quivering lips. He was unwilling to fight such a man any further. The difference between them was obvious, and to drag it out any longer would only be to break his bones for no good reason. He could only be thankful that he had not been hit. The man he had duelled with had every right to strike at his back, yet he did not. It was with that realization, that he felt something familiar within the stare of the man, as he demonstrated his overwhelming might – it was just like the gaze of the three masters.

He collapsed to his knees, as the energy drained from his body. It was too much for his system to bear.

Even Soroko was in a state of panic. It seemed Momochi was right, and it would take mere weeks for him to reach Kuraka’s level. Perhaps at this rate, it would even be less. He had not trained in the least. This was merely raw strength. If technique were to be applied on top of it? The results would be terrifying.

"...Thank you, Jakao-kun... you may go now." Soroko informed the quivering boy, and he pondered just who to put Gengyo up against now. He was able to defeat one of the young a.d.u.l.t monks with ease, but Jakao was certainly not top class.

"Perhaps... Tsuchi-kun." Having heard his name, the young man appeared within moments. He and Gengyo were rather familiar with one another, having fought before on the steps of the temple. Surely he would be able to handle Gengyo’s wrath better, and perhaps even tame it?

"You called, Soroko-sensei?" He asked respectfully, bowing low, just as his fellow monk had. With his arrival came many other of the young a.d.u.l.t monks, and soon a crowd started to form around them, as they anticipated what would happened next.

"I did. Duel this young man." Soroko spoke again, his voice regaining it’s firmness.

The two young men set up against each other. Against him, Gengyo assumed his stance, for his body was conditioned to be wary of such a man. But still, he had an undeniable confidence in his newfound strength, and was eager to find out just how he compared to before.

"So... We’re fighting again, Tsuchi-kun." He murmured, wanting to enjoy this moment a little more. The monk had been quite rough with him when they had first met, and now he was intent on returning the favour.

"..." Tsuchi did not reply. The weight of his opponent’s aura had significantly increased. He did not want to waste time trash-talking only to lose his focus, and thus lose the fight. That would be far too embarrassing for the likes of him, who was said to be amongst the top of the young a.d.u.l.t monks.

"Begin!" Soroko’s command came ringing out, and the crowd tensed up in anticipation. Yet this fight did not begin how they expected. There was no aggressive charge forward, or martial manoeuvres, instead, the two simply continued to stare at one another, searching for the slightest change in their opponent’s body, so that they could jab at their weak point.

It was Gengyo who moved first, formlessly. He was able to imitate the monk’s strikes from yesterday, but he was enjoying the freedom that came with increased speed and power. And now, he merely held his spear in one hand once more, so that he could extend it’s reach.

"Guh...!"

Tsuchi blocked the single-handed overhead strike, and his eyes bulged, as his whole body was forced to bear the weight of it. Even the spectators could tell that such a strike had been mighty, as from Tsuchi’s lips escaped the tiniest specles of crimson blood.

But he refused to give up there. He was an experienced duelest, and knew that against an opponent who was powerful, he must use his oppressive speed, and never give him the chances he needed in order to attack. And so he twisted, and wormed thrusting his spear into the floor, as he span over top of it, and brought it high, crashing down on Gengyo, utilising all the momentum of such a movement.

But to his dismay, the position he was intent on attacking had been rendered vacant, and his opponent had stepped off to the side elsewhere. It was as though he had been trapped in a capsule of slowed time, as he was forced to continue his strike, noting Gengyo’s smile, as he brought his rear leg off the floor and spun, executing a stunning round house kick, that finished with his foot in Tsuchi’s jaw.

THWAMP

His body collapsed to the floor heavily, as the light faded from his eyes. He was either dead, or knocked out. The spectators could only pray it was the latter, as they ran forward, to check on their fallen comrade. To their relief, his heart was still beating. It was a terrifying display indeed to witness. Tsuchi was looked up to in their ranks, and even revered by some, yet he had been brought so low by Gengyo.

"...You didn’t need to do that." Soroko whispered into Gengyo’s ear. He was well aware of the young man’s thought process, as he was able to see a different fight to the rest, and kept track of Gengyo’s quickened movements.

But his words were merely met with a shrug. "We had a score to settle."

"Miura..."

Kitajo tapped on his shoulder, a wide smile uncoiling on his face. He could barely believe what he had just seen. The last opponent – to him – was explainable, as he was unsure of his actual strength. But Tsuchi had dominated his master mere days before... It was undoubtedly true: Gengyo had grown far stronger.

His gaze told Gengyo everything that he needed to know. It allowed him to hope once more, that they would be able to leave this place – though he had grown to like it – and return back to their people, and carry out their cause. In his master, he had trusted, and it was his master who had delivered.

But Gengyo knew that he could never have achieved such a thing alone, and his gratitude lay with the two old monks, Momochi and Soroko. And yet whilst grateful, he still felt there was more for him to learn, and so he proceeded forth with expectation.