The Hunt

[Guest]

Manabu’s Perspective
Trafalgar Base
Four months ago

Manabu glided the whetstone of his wakizashi as he did regularly, Nakajima once told him “Your blade is your soul and your mind, keep it sharp and it will not fail you.”

Manabu missed the old man, he had taught him how to fight and survive. His father had not; his father forced his ideals of honour and courage onto Manabu. Manabu never made the mistake of questioning his father directly. At the age of four his father had hired Nakajima to tutor Manabu.

Manabu still remembered the first day he met Nakajima; Manabu had been fighting imaginary demons with his bokken. Nakajima silently walked into the room and cackled at the sight. The sound made Manabu jump, he quickly turned and threw his bokken at the old man before running and hiding behind his bed.

“Now young master” Nakajima picked the bokken up from the floor “What would’ve you have done if I had been an evil spirit?”

“W... Who are you?” Manabu poked his head out from behind the bed.

“I am Nakajima, your new tutor.” He walked slowly towards the bed “I will teach you whatever it is you need to learn. At first I will teach you to read and write, add and subtract”

He crouched down “When you are older I will teach you to fight, fight and win.”

“I… Really?” Manabu slowly crawled out.

“Yes.” Nakajima eased himself up. Manabu stood as quickly as his young body would allow. He straightened himself and bowed. Nakajima returned the bow.

Manabu was dragged back to the present by a loud bang on the door. He hid the wakizashi and whetstone under the bed. He pulled a small knife out from his bedside cabinet and placed it in his belt.

The door banged twice more. He stood and walked towards the door. He unlocked the door and opened it slightly. Before he could stop it a foot was in the gap, stopping him from shutting the door. The next thing he knew, he was hurled through the air as the door was smashed off its hinges.

He quickly jumped up, onto his feet; the knife was already in his hands as three men ran into the room. He could tell by the smell that they were heavily drunk.

“Blemin’ Kus... Kusarian bastard.” The largest of the men stood forward. “You blemin’ killed ma’ besht mate” He lunged at Manabu, who quickly stepped out of the way and thrust his knife into the man’s throat.

The man’s hands clasped over his throat as his blood gurgled out, he fell to the floor squirming. His friends stared in disbelief before rushing at Manabu together, this time Manabu did not move quick enough, the youngest of the men had took him to the floor. A hail of punches rained down on Manabu, his knife had been knocked out of his hand.

Manabu jerked wildly, but it was not enough to break free. The other man had picked up the knife and was making his way towards him. The second man stopped punching for a brief second as he took the knife from the third man. It was all the time Manabu had, he jolted up as far as he could and grabbed the man’s, controlling the man now. He put his knee on the man’s chest and kicked him in the face with the other leg, releasing the man's head. The second man was pushed off, Manabu rolled out of the way as the third man tried to stomp on his head.

Manabu was beside his bed now; he grabbed the wakizashi from under the bed and slashed at the third man’s leg. He fell clutching what was left of his kneecap. Before the second man could regain his composure Manabu jumped to his feet and rammed his blade into the man’s chest. The third man pleaded for his life seconds before Manabu snuffed it out.

Manabu knew he could not stay here any longer.