Taren gripped the hilt of the shinai, the bamboo practice sword, with both hands, eyes fixed on his opponent as he and Mark made the traditional bow. Mark stepped forward to his start line, holding his shinai at the ready. Taren did the same, feeling more than a little out of sorts.

His mind replayed Mark's earlier instruction. There are four main strike areas in kendo to score a point: the head, throat, torso and wrist. Furthermore, the strike must be done with the top one-third of the shinai. 

He had insisted Mark forego the rules about 'shouting with the spirit of ki ' and the other extraneous stuff-- or he can go find himself another opponent.

Even at that, Taren concluded he would be lucky to even score one point.

"Begin!"  The self-appointed "referee", Rima, yelled from the bleachers.

With a shout, Mark rushed at Taren with quick strides, shinai held high, aiming for his head.

Taren's left foot stepped back, raising his sword to block Mark's thrust. Their wooden blades met with a loud 'Clack!' that echoed and re-echoed in the dojo.

Mark pulled his shinai back, then swung to the side, striking Taren's right wrist guard.

"Point!"  Rima whooped and raised the small white flag, Mark's identifying color, clearly relishing her role.

'He's fast.' Taren admitted grudgingly as he observed Mark's movements. He let out a breath through the metal bars of the men, cursing the helm that seemed to hamper his vision.

Round two began promptly at Rima's signal.

Taren moved, holding the shinai low to waist level as Mark stepped through his guard. Just as the red-haired boy's sword slashed toward his abdomen, Taren's blade slid up against his opponent's, and with a quick riposte the tip of his shinai stabbed at Mark's throat guard.

"Point, Taren-kun!"  Rima raised a red flag, Taren's color, up high.

She turned to Kari, who was sitting with her hands clasped together on her lap, and whispered excitedly. "What did I tell you? He's perfect!"

"Sh—shut up, Rima!" Kari elbowed her friend self-consciously.

Observing the altercation, Taren grinned. 'God, she's so damn cute!'

"Nice move, man!" Mark nodded at Taren, his voice muffled by his helm as they walked back to their start lines.

Taren waved a gloved hand at him. "Thanks!"

The kendo uniform and protective armor were starting to feel too confining-- and unbearably hot! Sweat trickled down Taren's brow. He tried to shake off the claustrophobic feeling that threatened to overwhelm him like a dark cloud, an unfortunate result and a constant reminder of that event a year ago.

"Are we done yet?"  He asked grumpily.

"Nope!" Mark laughed. "Best of three, remember?"

Taren groaned inwardly as they both walked to their start lines.

"Final round!  Begin!" Rima gamely announced.

The two young men circled, each looking for an opening. Mark's shinai suddenly snaked in, and Taren stepped back, parrying the blade and narrowly avoiding a thrust to the throat.  But Mark did not let him recover, launching into a series of attacks like a demon possessed.  If not for Taren's quick reflexes, he would have been finished a while ago.

There was one thing he hadn't quite gotten used to, whether in or out of fencing competitions— and that was being on the defensive. That and the confounding body armor, the heat, the feeling of entrapment. Perhaps all these things combined had triggered it.

Something terribly cold and feral took over his consciousness.

He floated in this new, altered consciousness, seeing Mark's movements run in slow motion. He parried each strike, swing, and slash effortlessly. Then he found it: a gap in his opponent's defense. Without thought he lunged, his sword brushing aside Mark's shinai like it was nothing, aiming straight for his head.

All the power of that thrust was concentrated on the tip of his sword--

Taren gasped, breaking off from his trance. He stumbled slightly as he tried to stop his momentum, his shinai grazing Mark's shoulder instead. 

Recovering from his momentary surprise, Mark stepped sideways, swinging his sword arm, the weapon connecting with Taren's open side.

"Point!  Mark-sama wins!" Rima exclaimed, jumping up from the bleachers.

Taren hastily undid the straps of his helmet with unsteady fingers, his thoughts completely out of the game.

'The f-ck just happened?'  He was going all out on Mark, an ordinary human, using a Kindred's full power and speed! Granted, the bamboo sword would have shattered on contact with the helm, protecting him as designed, but still, Mark could have gotten hurt. He was appalled at himself for losing control.

"For a beginner, you almost put me to shame!" Mark clapped him on the shoulder. "If you hadn't lost your balance there in that second I would've been skewered!"

Taren swallowed hard, finally yanking off the offending helmet.  Skewered was a word that hit too close for comfort!

"Yeah, that was unfortunate."  He smiled ruefully.

"Still, great match, buddy."  Mark grinned as Rima and Kari walked up to them.

"That was an awesome fight, you two!" Rima gushed.

"You guys did great!" Kari exclaimed.

Taren caught her glance, her dark-brown eyes crinkled in a smile, before she quickly looked away, chatting with Rima.

Just then, the school's PA system made a chiming sound, followed by a female voice: "Calling for Taren Leinier-san, please proceed to the Principal's office."

"Uh-oh, that doesn't sound good!" Mark joked, while Rima looked on questioningly.

"Is everything alright?" she asked. 

Taren saw Kari's concerned face, her eyes knowing and wide.  He gave her a reassuring nod.

"Yeah, you guys go on ahead."  He grabbed a towel at the station before heading to the locker room.

He sighed. 'Is this school ever going to give me a break?'