Anxiety slunk into my throat as I caught my breath haphazardly with my katana was drawn out for an anticipated exchange with my master. I was told that I would be tested to achieve the highest rank of a samurai. This is the pinnacle, I must pass this test, I took a deep breath, no matter what. Recited some scenarios in my mind, he was standing still, waiting for me to draw an attack to him.

Harshness of youth struck me, I was not collected, at all. Throwing my attacks deftly, he dodged every single attack. Thrusting my katana multiple times in order to plunge it into him, deeming me worthy of this title, I was adamant to spill some blood in the process. He deflected one of my thrusts, I recovered from it, quick, springing myself from the ground up into his face once more.

Moonlight was glistening the patches of grass around us, his katana was illuminated by  blissful lambent of the night, mine was grazed by the dead of the night. The most feared beast, the martyr of the katana, a diabolical thirst for bloodshed that was the master of your thoughts, your movements, me.

Adrenaline, no, the urge to kill surged my veins, I could feel the wickedly satanic burst of power. I must… My foot sprung me even faster, more vicious, more furious pacing, I had no control over my thoughts anymore, be a samurai! That was all that I had in my mind, an unshakable submission to my valor, the demonic one.

A blinding shine coruscated my eyes. A split second, half a heartbeat, the sharp edge of my master’s sword was over my neck, piercing some of me, letting out the crimson madness out of me. I smelled my blood. I snapped out of my chaos. “You failed.”

Disappointment got me immediately, “WHY?” my master shook his head in despair, the dejected look when another failure was produced, “Why did I fail?” my voice croaked with desperation. He did not answer me at all, he just walked away, ignoring the fact that I was his student.

I was angry, vexed, pumped up. “You fu…” Engulfed in darkness and a dissolving resolve, I rammed myself with the tip of the katana in his face, with a draw of his katana, he decimated mine.

“You are not worthy of even holding the katana.” in a stern voice, “Disgraceful.”


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Published by zeckrombryan

Hope. Joy. Feelings cloaked as words.

10 thoughts on “Disgraceful

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