Ment
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***
For Osama, this was an important day. Throughout the tournament, he had been impressed by Shinzai's fighting style, and he was looking forward to the fight against her more than any other match. Even if he made it to the finals, it probably wouldn't be as interesting. Of course, he still hoped to win. Iwamoto had prepared an excellent defense, and it would be impossible for most opponents to break through it. He made a silent vow to himself not to inflict a fatal wound on his opponent, but he still hoped that what he did would be enough. And then he would return her equipment after the fight – such a gift shouldn't be wasted because of something as trivial as a lack of weapons.
Well, these dreams of his were quickly shattered. The defense against Shinzai didn't work, and the samurai barely had time to reflexively dodge the hail of blows raining down on him. And then he realized that there was no point in even trying – his body was cut to pieces, and scraps of clothing were falling to the ground. Osama fell, not letting go of his sword, and looked at his opponent with respect. Although, in his condition, to manage even that (as well as any other expression) was almost a feat.
"I hoped I could do better in my last fight," he thought. "But I'm not surprised. It's an honor to fall before such a warrior, without even having time to strike. I hope my ancestors and Shameimaru will accept my spirit... Because I'm not dying, I'm just going to live differently now."
A faint smile appeared on his face, and then that face froze forever.
For Osama, this was an important day. Throughout the tournament, he had been impressed by Shinzai's fighting style, and he was looking forward to the fight against her more than any other match. Even if he made it to the finals, it probably wouldn't be as interesting. Of course, he still hoped to win. Iwamoto had prepared an excellent defense, and it would be impossible for most opponents to break through it. He made a silent vow to himself not to inflict a fatal wound on his opponent, but he still hoped that what he did would be enough. And then he would return her equipment after the fight – such a gift shouldn't be wasted because of something as trivial as a lack of weapons.
Well, these dreams of his were quickly shattered. The defense against Shinzai didn't work, and the samurai barely had time to reflexively dodge the hail of blows raining down on him. And then he realized that there was no point in even trying – his body was cut to pieces, and scraps of clothing were falling to the ground. Osama fell, not letting go of his sword, and looked at his opponent with respect. Although, in his condition, to manage even that (as well as any other expression) was almost a feat.
"I hoped I could do better in my last fight," he thought. "But I'm not surprised. It's an honor to fall before such a warrior, without even having time to strike. I hope my ancestors and Shameimaru will accept my spirit... Because I'm not dying, I'm just going to live differently now."
A faint smile appeared on his face, and then that face froze forever.