let lightening strike, let thunder cry

It was about high time that he and Akito had another sparring session. His half-brother had a wealth of talent, skill, and wit. It was something he hoped he’d honed in some manner, though Usagi also believed that Akito was a naturally gifted individual. It was more than a fun time to spar with him — it was a welcomed challenge, a privilege in and of itself. Though he never gave Akito an easy time in spars, he’d be lying if he didn’t let Akito win multiple times. Not just given to him, those victories — the boy had heard-earned them through a skilled flurry of strikes and blows. Usagi was grateful and blessed to work with him.

After stretching his legs, particularly his wrapped ankles, the well-equipped man approached one of their training clearings within the shrouded overhangs of tall bamboo. Blade trails across the earth and claw marks gave way to the fact that many spars had occurred on this ground, many fights won and fights lost. Nostalgia flooded the man as he unsheathed his double-bladed sword, placing it upon the earth only to tilt his head back and summon Akito again. The boy knew his call, and he waited, prepared for anything as his hind legs coiled with tensile strength built over the years, reaching down to clasp the sword’s handle into his jaws. As if it belonged there.

Speech