Humayre: The Chronicles of Ronin Wilder

The clip clopping of horses hooves hitting cobblestone came to an end. The carriage drew silent. Kevin and Mike stared at Ronin wide eyed.

“We’re here,” said Mike, breaking the silence.

“You think?” asked Kevin, sarcastically.

“Bro. Have I told you recently that I don’t like you?” An evil grin came over his face.

“Yeah,” said Kevin. “Like ten minutes ago.”

“Okay. Good. Just making sure I’m keeping up with my quota.”

Mike and Kevin chuckled. Ronin didn’t. Instead he stared at the silver handle on the carriage door. The nervousness turned his stomach into a tight ball of aching nausea. The bokken in his lap fell to the floor as he leaned forward. As he scrambled to get it, he smashed his hand on the hearth cover.

“Bro. You okay?”

Gripping his bokken tight, Ronin didn’t notice that his knuckle was bleeding.

“Ronin,” said Kevin, in a raised voice.

“Yeah. I’m fine,” said Ronin. He adjusted the gauze sticking out of his nose.

“Look at your hand,” said Kevin.

Blood trickled down Ronin’s finger. He wiped it off quickly. “It’s nothing, just a scratch.”

“Hey, Bro. Don’t worry. You’re gonna get past the third round. You got this. No sweat.”

“Yeah man. Just relax. If you’re too nervous when you’re out there you might screw up,” said Kevin. “Don’t worry man. That move Grace taught you is good. It’s gonna work.”

Just hearing Grace’s name ignited Ronin’s heart into a nervous flurry. He hadn’t seen her since she almost broke his nose. He wondered if she was going to be at the tournament. She already had the highest marks in her class and didn’t need to enter the tournament if she didn’t want to. He so badly hoped she’d be there.

“Let’s do it,” said Mike. He pushed past Ronin and opened the carriage door. Sunlight exploded into the dark cabin momentarily blinding everyone.

“You big oaf,” said Kevin squinting and rubbing his eyes. “You need to warn us before you do that.”

Turning and pointing his massive index finger at Kevin, Mike said, “Bro. If you weren’t twice as strong as me I would squash you.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kevin rolled his eyes.

Ronin hopped out of the carriage and was taken aback by what he saw. At least a hundred canvas tents spread out across the cobblestone courtyard surrounding the Colosseum. The tents were huge and square, they looked like they could house at least ten people. Flapping in the wind were colorful banners perched at the top of every tent. Each tent had a different design on their banners. Most looked like swords and weapons of some sort but there were a few with animals. Ronin figured they were house or den insignias. In front of each one of the tents a weapons rack stood with a dozen or so bokken lining its interior. The courtyard was bristling with young looking people. Ronin guessed that they were all Vein or Humyare. A line stretched out from the entry way of the Colosseum and ended not far from where Ronin was standing. At least two hundred people had to be in the line. Most in the line held duffel bags filled with what Ronin could only guess was armor. A huge chalkboard hung over the Colosseum entrance. On it was written, NO MAYREBLADES OR BLOODBLADES ALLOWED BEYOND THIS POINT.

Four men in BrightWood trench coats stood at the entrance of the Colosseum. They pat down and checked each person as they entered the arena.

“Ahh man,” said Mike. “I knew it.” He stared at Kevin, shook his head and poked his finger in his chest. “I told you we should’ve left earlier. Now we’re going to have to wait in line forever.”

“Hey. It’s not my fault. I’m not the one who wanted to wait for Grace.” He glanced at Ronin then back to Mike. “And can you get that giant sausage you call a finger off my chest? I don’t know where that thing has been.”

Mark, the carriage driver, cut in between Mike and Kevin and walked to the back of the carriage. He opened the trunk, pulled out Ronin’s black duffle bag and dropped it to the floor. He closed the trunk and re-latched it.

Ronin raised his eyebrow. “Hey,” he said, looking at Kevin and Mike. They both faced him. “Where’s your stuff?”

“We didn’t need it,” said Mike. “We’re not entering the tournament, bro.”

“What?” asked Ronin. He folded his arms and looked confused. “What are you talking about? Both of you guys could up your scores.” He shook his head. “Well. Kevin doesn’t need to because he already scored the highest in our class but…” He looked to Mike. “If you get past the second round you’d be able to switch your specialty.”

“I know,” said Mike. “But we can’t risk drawing you in the first couple of rounds.” He nodded and smiled. “I’d rather have a garbage spec then have you get kicked out.”

Ronin didn’t know what to say. He knew how badly Mike wanted to get out of defensive spec. All he had been talking about for the past month was how he wanted counter spec. This was his only chance and he was giving it up for Ronin.

“No,” said Ronin. “I ca…”

“You don’t have a choice, bro. I’ve already made up my mind so don’t even bother trying to talk me out of it.”

Ronin nodded and had to look away. No one other than Mrs. Kinney had ever done such a selfless thing for him. Kevin and Mike were good friends, the best he’d ever had. The nagging doubts started to creep into the back of his mind. He couldn’t stand the thought of never seeing his friends again. He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Kevin’s

“Come on. Let’s get inside before you talk yourself out of winning.”

Ronin nodded. The three friends got in line. No one said a word as they moved towards the Colosseum entrance one person at a time.

A long wooden table sat close to a marble wall just inside a tunnel that led to the arena floor. Sitting at the table were four men Ronin had never seen before. They were dressed in suits and ties and looked very official. Behind the four men attached to the marble wall was a huge square board. On the board was the tournament bracket. Hundreds of names lined up on both sides of the board. Mike and Kevin leaned in to inspect the bracket.

“No need for that,” said one of the men. “We can find your position. What’s your name?”

“Ronin Wilder,” said Mike.

“Ahh, yes.” said the man, looking to Mike. “A first year. You are on the bottom left bracket.” He turned around and glanced at the board. “Your first match is against Johnathan Rey.”

“Not me,” said Mike, pointing at Ronin. With his shoulder he nudged Ronin forward. “This guy.”

Kevin was looking at Ronin’s side of the bracket. “Wait a second. Johnathan is a third year.” He looked to the men in ties. “Why is Ronin the only first year fighting a third year?”

“Just the luck of the draw, I guess,” said the man. He turned his focus to Ronin. “After the match, if you win, come check in and we will tell you who your next opponent is.” He motioned for Ronin and his friends to move on. “Next!” he called out.

As they made their way to the arena floor Kevin scowled. “That’s total garbage man. Talk about a bad break.”

With a glare Mike nudged Kevin.

“Don’t worry, bro. You got this.”

Ronin glanced up and nodded.

Chairs with white name tags lined the arena walls. Kevin hurried ahead, looking at each chair he passed. He stopped and raised his hand.

“Over here,” said Kevin.

Ronin dropped his duffel bag in front of the chair with his name tag on it and took a seat. He glanced around. On the end, just opposite of the entrance, was a huge canvas tent. A wooden sign which said Armor Works dangled above the entrance. Just inside was a large wooden table. Sue stood in front of the table sewing a plate to a piece of armor. Stacks of bamboo armor plates lined the back of the tent and surrounded the small woman.

“She makes repairs on the spot,” said Kevin.

Ronin looked up confused.

“Sue,” said Kevin. “I saw you lookin at her tent. She makes repairs to the broken armor so the competitors can keep fighting.”

“Ahh,” said Ronin. “I was wondering about that.” He unzipped his duffel bag and pulled out his helmet and body armor. “Not the tent. I figured that part out. I mean I was wondering what someone would do when their armor was cracked.”

“Yup,” said Mike. “Repairs on the spot. Pretty neat stuff.” He watched Ronin as he put his body armor on. “A bit early isn’t it, bro? You don’t fight for another hour. It gets hot in that get up.”

Ronin tightened the leather straps on his sides and put his helmet on. He heard what Mike had said but was too nervous to argue. He tightened the chin straps on his helmet and looked to the spectators. Not an empty seat could be seen anywhere. The ringing in his ears disappeared behind the sounds of the crowd.

More than half of the competitor’s seats were still empty. Ronin’s opponent, Johnathan, sat a few seats down from him. Johnathan looked cool, calm and collected. Like he didn’t have a worry in the world. The coppery smell of blood overwhelmed Ronin’s right nostril. The pain came next. It was sharp and precise. The scab in his nostril cracked. He pinched his nose trying to adjust the gauze but his trembling hands caused one of his nails to scratch his cheek. Jerking his hand away, he hissed, “Stupid claws.”

Mike and Kevin didn’t notice they were too busy staring at something. Ronin followed their gaze. It was Grace. The pain instantly vanished. His heart went from a terrified pounding to a nervous flutter. He shot up out of his seat. Searching his mind for anything to say, he came up blank. He desperately hoped she was there for him. Her glowing blonde hair bounced as she walked. She was at least fifteen feet away but her piercing green eyes stood out like green jewels. For some reason the closer she got the more at peace he felt. The Tournament was the furthest thing from his mind at that moment. He felt a hand on each shoulder. It was Mike and Kevin.

“Bro. We will see you after the match.” He slapped Ronin on the back. “Don’t worry. You got this.”

“Take a breath, man,” said Kevin. “Even behind that helmet you look like you’re gonna pass out. Don’t worry. The technique Grace taught you is gonna work.”

“Wait.” Panic constricted Ronin’s mind. “You guys can’t leave. I don’t know what to say.” He stared at Grace. She was almost to them. “Wait. What if she leaves because she see’s you guys leave?”

“Don’t worry, bro. She’s here for you. Not us.”

“How do you know?”

“Because it was her idea in the first place for us to drop out of the tournament,” said Mike.

“What?”

Mike and Kevin chuckled as they for headed for the exit. Grace nodded to them as they passed her by. She locked eyes with Ronin.

“Hi,” she said

“Hi.” His mind went blank. He didn’t know what else to say.

“I’m so sorry about the other day.” She reached out to touch Ronin but pulled her hand back.

“It’s okay,” said Ronin. Nothing else would come out. He cursed himself. He wanted to tell her it was his fault and that he was so sorry but he couldn’t find the words.

She smiled. “I’m happy we can put it behind us.”

Relieved, Ronin nodded.

Looking to Johnathan Grace changed the subject. “I know your opponent pretty well. He’s good. Real good. But, if you just do like we trained, you can beat him.”

“Okay.” He touched the gauze sticking out the bottom of his nose. He wanted to pull in a deep breath, to smell the jasmine he knew would be exuding from her hair.

Grace motioned for Ronin to sit. She took the seat next to his. “I know I probably should have asked you first but I submitted my request to squire you.”

“Squire me?” asked Ronin, confused.

“Yes. Think of it as a coach. I will be able to stay in the arena with you through the whole contest.” She crossed her legs and sat up straight. “The request was accepted. Hope you don’t mind. If you would like Kevin or Mike to do it instead…”

Ronin interrupted. “No, no,” he said eagerly. “I want you to do it.” His face flushed and he averted his gaze. Realizing he sounded too desperate, he added, “I mean. I think it would be a good idea for you to do it because you taught me the move.”

“I know what you meant.” She giggled.

A bell rang out three times. The crowd erupted into cheers. Ronin glanced around trying to figure out what was going on. As he looked at the other competitors he wondered which were Vein. Then one man caught his eye. “Ajax,” he said under his breath. The Vein who was partly responsible for all the police officers who were killed when Cyrus saved his neck. A rush of emotions flooded through his body and overwhelmed him. His heart raced out of control and he found it difficult to breathe. He was having a panic attack.

“Hey.” Grace put her hand on Ronin’s shoulder and gripped tight. “Slow deep breaths. I know it’s a lot. Try not to look at the competition. It will only make you more nervous.” She bent down and picked up his lower body armor. “Here. Focus on putting this on.” She handed him the armor. “There’s a reason why they taught us a specific way of putting it on. The ritual of it is a sort of meditation. Just focus on getting ready. It will help. I promise.”

Sweat trickled down Ronin’s back, even though it was freezing outside. It was all coming to a head now. If he lost, that was it. He’d have to go back to Dick. After everything he’d been through he didn’t know if he could go back to his old life. The other option was to run away but where would he go? He couldn’t go to Mrs. Kinney’s. They would find him there for sure.

A second bell rang out. A man in a black suit and tie walked to the center of the arena. His brown hair was slicked back and pulled into a taut pony tail. The crowd hushed. The man lifted his hand above his head. “Round one!” he shouted. “Ronin Wilder versus Johnathan Rey!” He looked to Ronin then Johnathan, and added, “Five minutes.”

Ronin fired his eyes to Grace. “I’m the first fight? I didn’t know I was the first fight.” A buzzing overwhelmed his ears and his palms slicked with sweat

“Yeah,” said Grace. “The lowest ranked in the Tournament always has the first match.”

“Great,” said Ronin, sarcastically. With shaking hands, he dug into his bag and pulled out his gloves.

“Focus on what we worked on,” said Grace. “Block out everything else.”

“Time!” shouted the man standing in the center of the arena.

Ronin stood up and stared at Grace. “Thanks.”

“Go get him tiger.”

As Ronin walked to the center of the arena, he looked up to the crowd. They were all standing and cheering. Ronin couldn’t be sure but it sounded as though some were chanting his name.

In his matte black armor, Johnathan took position inside the etched circle just across from Ronin. With two hands he held his bokken out in front of him. Laughter burst through the crowd. At first Ronin wondered what was going on. Looking to his two empty hands it hit him. He’d left his bokken on the chair. His face flushed as he looked to where he left his bokken. Grace was already on her way with his sword. She handed it to him and stuck her face up to the ear hole on his helmet.

“Don’t worry about it,” she said, as she gently grabbed his elbow. “You’re not the first person that’s happened to. Don’t worry. This is actually a good thing. I forgot to tell you a few things that might help. Johnathan’s style is Kenta Form One. It’s a counter attack style. Make sure you keep your sword high as your attacking. Counter attack is the best style you could have faced. Also, Johnathan has already gone through the Sword Ceremony. He will be weaker than a first year since he wont be using his Mayreblade. Don’t worry. You will win this.” She released her grip and headed back to her seat.

Grabbing his bokken with two hands Ronin held the weapon at his right side with the point aiming to the sky. Over and over in his mind, he kept imagining what he had to do.

“Begin!” shouted the man in the suit. He stepped out of the etched circle and motioned with his hands for Ronin and Johnathan to commence.

Adrenaline exploded through Ronin’s body. His feet propelled him forward without a second thought. His mind went blank. He held his arms close to his body just like Grace had taught him. Johnathan pulled his right foot back and waited as Ronin charged towards him. Ronin drew his sword high. As Ronin’s Bokken lifted over his head Johnathan struck. It was a thrusting attack that pierced the center of Ronin’s chest. A cracking sound rang out. Ronin came down with his strike but his blade had turned ever so slightly to the right. Ronin’s strike found Johnathan’s helmet, but the angle was off and no damage was done.

Staggering back, Ronin tried to fill his spasming lungs but had no luck. Looking down his worst fear was realized. One of his plates had cracked. Wide eyed he looked to his left. Grace was on her feet motioning for him to attack. A blur of movement jerked Ronin’s head around. Johnathan’s bokken was inches from Ronin’s shoulder. Ronin jerked back and tried to twist out of the way, but the strike was too fast. Another loud crack echoed through the arena. Cheers rang out as Ronin stepped back and swung wildly. Johnathan sprung back and took a defensive posture. Something hit the top of Ronin’s foot. He looked down. A shattered piece of black armor lay just in front of his feet. It was a piece off his shoulder. The noise from the crowd was deafening and he found it hard to think. The score was two to nothing. One more point and Johnathan would win. No longer could he give up a point to win, if he did it would be an automatic loss. Before Ronin could get out another thought, Johnathan sprung forward.

The crowd went silent. Johnathan’s frenzied heartbeat filled Ronin’s ears. The same sort of heartbeat he’d heard when Raven plunged his Bloodblade into Cyrus’s chest. The certainty of the pulse filled Ronin with a sense of dread.

The strike came from overhead. The speed of it was incredible. It was all Ronin could do to get his bokken up in time to block the blow. To keep his own sword from lowering too much from the impact Ronin squeezed the handle tight. Inadvertently his claws extended and pierced into the palms of his hands. Despite the massive amounts of adrenaline flowing through his body the pain crippled him and buckled his knees. He fell forward as Johnathan let loose another strike. Ronin went head first into Johnathan’s chest.

The blow knocked Johnathan off balance. He tripped over his own feet as he staggered backwards. The bokken flew from Johnathan’s hand as he crashed to the marble.

The back of Johnathan’s helmet was exposed, Ronin had an easy target. Without wasting a moment Ronin charged towards his prone opponent. He lifted his bokken into the air. A rush of excitement washed over him, he knew the fight was all but over. Just as Ronin was about to let loose a monstrous attack, he stopped himself and lowered his bokken. A burst of anger overcame him. Clenching his jaw tight his raised his bokken once more. Dick popped into his mind. The anger turned into rage. He imagined the helmet being Dick’s face. But no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t bring himself to attack a helpless opponent. It just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t honorable.

Ronin dropped his bokken and helped Johnathan to his feet.

“This doesn’t change anything. I’m not gonna go easy on you,” said Johnathan. He adjusted the chin strap on his helmet.

“I didn’t think you would.”

Johnathan smiled and bowed. “It will be an honor to beat you.” He picked up his bokken and stood in the ready position. Ronin followed suit.

Johnathan nodded in respect. Ronin returned the gesture. The noise of the crowd slowly built into a frenzied roar. Only a few spectators had been chanting Ronin’s name when the fight had begun, now it seemed half the arena was cheering for him. Staring at his opponent Ronin was at a loss for what to do. The game plan would no longer work. He had to score a point without losing a point. It was obvious that Johnathan was a superior swordsman so Ronin couldn’t stand toe to toe with him and expect a victory. Before Ronin could get out another thought, Johnathan was bursting towards him.

All Ronin could do was take a step back and prepare for the impact. A two-handed piercing lunge fired towards Ronin’s chest. He was barely able to parry the strike away. Ronin stumbled back and gripped his bokken tight. Too tight. His claws re-entered the puncture wounds on his palms. The pearlescent daggers dug deep. The pain shattered his adrenaline rush. His hands opened in agony and his bokken fell to his feet. A loud crack followed by a stinging sensation pulled Ronin’s eyes to his midsection. The black bamboo plate covering his right rib cage was cracked. The fight was over. He’d lost.