Ghost of Whisper Creek

Finally Krita had proven herself worthy of her first bout in the arena just shy of the day marking her first year in Tsukimatsu. She was proud to answer the challenge she put before herself and the boy that greeted them upon arriving. She hoped that she would not regress back to her ways she had before coming here, she hoped that she would win, but mostly she hoped to impress Lord Arthion and his father.

She stood gazing at the weapons that were available. She saw a long two handed sword, much like the one locked away at the foot of her bed. It called to Krita, but she shook her head and grabbed a blunted polearm instead. She had trained in the smaller one handed weapons as was called for, but even Arthion admitted to her that she was better with bigger arms. She hefted the weapon across her shoulder and made her way to the middle of the arena to await her opponent.

Krita’s opponent yielded a standard length one-handed sword along with a small wooden shield. He did not bring to the arena an attitude of invincibility that Krita had expected from the trainees of the Matsu academy. He was younger than Krita expected her first opponent would be. The arena was supposed to be a learning experience, Krita would have the least time for any arena participant currently in the academy, she expected to have a veteran on the opposite side.

While he was not a veteran, and more than likely more than five years Krita’s younger, the opponent was bigger than she was, and most would expect he would be able to out-muscle her. The participants met in the middle of the arena and saluted with respect before taking up their stances. Krita held her polearm in front of her with both hands, the blunted head slightly bent towards her opponent. He was in a defensive stance obviously expecting the Northern woman to attack quickly. She surprised him by slowly circling, looking for an opening to strike.

Patience paid off for Krita, the opponent fidgeted as he turned along with Krita and opened up to strike. Krita moved quickly when she saw the opening. Her bottom hand struck out causing the butt of her weapon to slam into her opponent’s thigh. With an oof the opponent abandoned his attack and stutter-stepped backwards. Krita followed her low blow up with a swing towards the young man’s head. He was able to get his shield up in time to deflect the blow, but the force and weight of the weapon forced him to take a few more steps away from the confrontation.

Krita fought the urge to dive in after the reeling opponent. Her instincts told her to strike, but her training told her to be patient. She closed the distance, but slow and predatory instead of quick and uncontrolled. Her opponent however panicked and once he steadied his footing charged at Krita. Polearm came down forcefully, but was intercepted by a shield once again and her opponent pivoted around the strike his dull training blade thrust in his own attack. The bottom of Krita’s weapon darted out to meet the blade, but only managed to deflect it slightly, Krita taking a good blow to the side of her knee.

As she stumbled backwards, Krita struck out with the metal top of the polearm. Her opponent was either admiring his strike, or looking for a spot to end the bout quickly, because he didn’t react to her counter and took the broad side of the short polearm blade on the cheek. The young man stumbled backwards again while Krita stopped still and appraised the damage to her knee. She gave a quick lunge and though it caused a gasp of pain she decided the leg was strong enough to start forward again.

By the time Krita had closed the distance once again her opponent seemed to have composed himself, but still looked a little shaky. Krita struck moving her good leg forward and the head of her weapon once again towards the opponent’s upper body. Shield raised to catch the blow and sword started into motion. Krita gave a slight smirk as she stopped her weapon midstrike and redirected it to deflect the sword sending it downward. She followed the block with a blow to the side of the young man’s side, left open by the raising of his shield. Then she swung her weapon down and took the man’s feet from beneath him. She stepped forward, the foot of her good leg coming down on her opponent’s wrist and the tip of her weapon at his neck.

The fight was obviously over, sword and shield were released to the ground and eyes rolled shut with a sigh of defeat. Krita took her foot from his wrist and backed away with a slight limp. Her eyes remained on her opponent until she reached the weapon rack at the edge of the arena at which point her eyes lifted and sought out Arthion and Lord Tsukimatsu. The Lord Matsu and his eldest son was standing at the edge of the family podium above the main bleachers. They were currently talking to each other and not really showing her any attention or sign of approval or lack thereof. But if Krita looked she might see that Arthion’s cheeks were red from the conversation being held between father and son.

Krita wasn’t looking for appreciation, she supposed many others had made better showings in the arena, most likely this wasn’t the best debut that either had seen as well. They were talking though. That was a good thing. She hoped they had noticed how she’d reined in her former habits and listened to training, and that they weren’t judging the blow she took too harshly. She hoped to see Arthion soon in the Mess, and get his impressions away from training where she thought she might get a candid talking to. For now she returned her weapon to the rack, removed the training armor and dusted off her clothes before finding a seat beside Megwan to watch the rest of the bouts. Megwan was pouring praise on Krita who couldn’t help but laugh and blush slightly.

“That won’t be enough to catch his eye,” a familiar voice said from the opposite side of Megwan. Krita looked up to see Ianice Tsukimatsu gazing at her. “You’re not the first woman to come through training. You’re not the first to fancy him. Fighting in the arena won’t get his attention.”

Krita gave a low growl but managed to push back her anger before responding, “I don’t look to gain his notice in the arena, I wish to show that my training has taken, that I listened and did as directed. If my fights are not memorable to your Lord father and brother then I would consider it a success. I have other ways to gain his attention.”

Ianice’s face lit up and he pointed at Krita with mouth opened, “I knew it!” he said almost tauntingly. “I was just making that up about other women liking Arthion...I’m sure it happened, but I have no idea when or who. But I know about you!” triumphant the younger brother of Arthion rushed off from the arena to do who knows what.

Krita shook her head and turned her attention back to the arena. “Don’t judge a man by his parents or siblings Meg. When you start feeling something for a boy, only take your feelings about him into consideration, nothing else matters. If you were considering Ian though let me know so I can slap you around a little.” Megwan gave a nod first and then a small giggle as she too turned her attention to the arena.

Following an exciting last few bouts Krita and Megwan made their way to the Mess Hall for dinner before their nightly run and turning in. When they arrived one of Meg’s classmates rushed up and pulled her away to talk about the arena fights. Krita smiled, found her meal and took a spot by herself away from the others so she could see who exactly was present.