Sword Play

A week passed since I waved goodbye to Shoko, and I was still feeling sore. Each morning I woke up feeling depressed and in no mood to teach.
I had received a call from Shoko telling me she arrived safely and had started her stewardess training. I wished her well and tried to sound upbeat, but as soon as I hung up the phone after our conversation, I felt remorseful that I wasn't there with her. I needed something to vent my feelings of frustration. Luckily, Seneiji School invited Martin and myself to play Chanbara. I asked the headmaster in the staffroom what this was and he said it was a sword fight.
"Ahhhhh Yeeeeeeeeeah!!" I said expressing my delight in the vein of a character in a Blaxploitation film.


If any activity could be used to help me express my pent up anger then this activity was surely it. The sword was going to express my true feelings. It was unfortunate that the students were going to be on the end of my tumultuous feelings.
When Martin and I were in the gym, the students handed us our swords. They were constructed from paper that was wrapped around a cardboard cylinder. Martin and I grumbled to each other that we would have preferred heavy, metal swords to fight our enemies, even if they were a bunch of smiling benevolent students. But we made do, and swung our swords in mock-ninja style. The kids stood back and laughed at our uncoordinated movements. The sports teacher drew a halt to our ninja show when he showed us how the art of Chanbara was done, and he plucked a short chap from the group of students. He then swung the sword at this little fella with all his strength. Luckily the student was tiny because he could crouch to the level of the teacher’s kneecaps and avoid the swinging sword that nearly decapitated him.
"You might want to go a little easy on the boy," I said to the teacher who was in the middle of a jump and slice manoeuvre which resulted in the sword crashing down on the poor guy's head. The teacher stopped his butchering of the boy, and confidently strutted towards Martin and I with his chest puffed out."You understand game now?" he asked.
"Yeah, kill each other," I said.
I don't think he understood because he said "Yes, yes, yes," and walked off chuckling. Maybe he did understand, and the game really did require us to kill our opponent. But with paper swords, that seemed unlikely. Although, I looked at the small chap that was besieged by the violently possessed teacher, and he didn’t look too good. He was still clutching the top of his head which the teacher so humbly thwacked with force and was clearly in a great deal of pain. I was sure if he was subjected to any more sword bashing to the top of his head, his brain would have exploded.
The teams were assigned - three against three. I was in the team with Bad Brain Boy who was still groaning in pain. I took issue with the teacher for putting me in a team with an inoperative fighter who was now lying on his back with his hands submerged over his whole head. The teacher reproached me for my wicked competitive streak and asked for more compassion on my part. The cheek! He was the one who eradicated the poor chap. The first battle was between Martin, who was on the other team, and a lanky acne riddled boy on my team. Martin was wildly doing swiping motions with his sword which didn't find his opponent, who was busy dancing around him with light footed speed, clearly enjoying the fact he was fighting an amateur. Too be honest, acne boy was a bit of a poser. He was darting in and out of Martin's artless jabbing with his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face. Who did this kid think he was, Zorro?
He eventually put Martin out of his fighting misery when he did some intricate jousting with Martin's heavy handed style, and managed to find an opening and struck at Martin's heart. I felt this was a rather sinister manoeuvre, but it was legal because if you hit a part of the body, you win the game. Acne boy came sashaying back to me and Brain Boy (whose face was now turning a bright purple colour) and did an unnecessary bow.
"Gloating git," I thought, even though he was on my team.
It was my turn now, and I was fighting a girl. She was a smiley, excitable person, which gave me the false impression she would be an inferior fighter to me. Surely good fighters should be surly, aggressive looking brutes. This was far from the truth because she was the best of the bunch. I realised this when it was too late. When we stood opposite each other and bowed, I was mentally picturing how to celebrate my inevitable victory. I was still thinking this when we took our fighting positions, when suddenly, she flew at me with incomprehensible speed.


"What the fu-" I managed to say, before her sword clattered against my jittering sword that protected my face from being exposed to her unexpected attack. I jumped back to create space between me and Xenia: Warrior Princess, but she came at me again, even faster than before. A samurai might not have done what I was about to do, but then again, they probably never fought such a quick fighter as I was doing now. What I did was drop my sword and ran away. It might not have been a dignified sight, but it was the only safe option open to me because I was sure she would have inflicted some damage if I fought her. I didn't care if our swords were made of paper, she would have found a way to hurt me. I was running around the outskirts of the gym as she chased me. I must have broken numerous rules because the teacher said a few words and another kid entered the arena to assist Xenia.
"At least give me Brain Boy!" I called out to the teacher, in despair. I looked over to the kid. He was now a bright green colour and was lying on the floor with one eye wide open and the other one closed. "Forget about it," I said, and continued my escape. It was no use, the duo pinned me in a corner and swiped at my legs, signalling the end of the game.
"OK, great. Game over, now stop hitting me," I said.



At the end of the tournament, my team lost. The two teams then lined up opposite each other to bow and end the game. Zorro was pouting and sulking because we lost, Brain Boy (who was now turning orange and blue) needed to be propped up against Zorro in order to stand, and I was sneezing on account of the dusty gym.
I may not have vented my frustration at having lost Shoko, but I did learn the value of life.