“No one’s allowed within the target area,” a man high up in a watch tower repeated his orders. The arrow hardly whistled, specially designed for proper assassinations, when it flew toward the new target’s head for a lethal shot.

Akimoto burst into showy flames that wouldn’t burn anything. The burning came, instead, from the Sun Shards he pushed toward them, silently disintegrating them where they stood. The heat melted the buildings’ outer walls closest to the scene. They threatened to collapse should they have been less structurally sound. 

Kusari’s grip loosened from the initial blast of fire and Akimoto took advantage of that mistake. Loosening the chain enough for his left arm to be freed, he tore out the sickle and began to unravel himself. However, he felt a firm tug from the other end and he knew the man was intimidated no further. Perhaps he assumed Akimoto was a low-tier Elemental with only showy techniques. Akimoto also found it odd that he would be attacked so openly. Perhaps these were ignorant recruits feeling confident they could take out a foreign Elemental.

Whatever the case, Kusari was clearly skilled enough to attempt to rebind Akimoto by waving the chain expertly to fall around him tightly once again. But with Akimoto’s background in combat, he spun with the chain as to not allow this to occur. The soreness from his wounds allowed him this at least. He felt he couldn’t do many more martial techniques until his injuries were properly bound. Excessive movement, until then, would only help him bleed more heavily. 

With the rags over his first two wounds now completely red, his time was running out and he had to cut this duel short. He so desperately wished to capture the man, but the situation wouldn’t allow for such liberties. Another sliver of white fire was hurled toward Kusari, burning him up before it even touched him. He didn’t have time to scream before being consumed by the Sun Shard which disintegrated him like the other two.

No corpses were left in the area and though he absorbed as much of the excess heat from the shards, the buildings closest to him melted completely into the red soil. He could focus enough to not allow his weapons to be destroyed, however. Akimoto couldn’t risk going back into the town knowing the people would suspect him of the destruction caused by the conflict. So he walked further north and into the mountains using the bo as a walking cane. 

He didn’t limp or gasp for air, but his gait was smaller and gentler than usual. He knew he didn’t have time to feel the pain or consider his condition any further. Once he reached a tree bearing some edible fruit, he sat to tear away some of his pants and wrap his still-open shoulder. He used the rest of his trousers to cover the puncture in his back, leaving him in only his netted smallcloths which were specially made to withstand temperatures he could easily summon and only served his prudery. The sash around his waist remained to keep his sai at his sides.

After eating some of the sour fruit, if only to feign the act of providing his body nutrients, he continued farther up the low-grade mountainside. A few hours passed before he reached the next town of Iwatana which nestled atop the sheerest cliff naturally formed within this shallow portion of the mountain. His now stumbling walk into the town alerted a more sympathetic individual and her child to rush to his aid. He grunted out thanks before struggling to focus on being led into a nearby house.

His small cloths were torn away as they undressed the bandages he hastily made himself. Clicks of the tongue were heard from the older woman while the boy gasped at the man’s disfigurement. The boy fetched water and clean cloths as the woman further evaluated the man’s state. The woman quirked a brow, finding a lack of clotting, but there was little bleeding at this point due to a searing of the wounds. The other scars across his body, both large and small, indicated an active man and a warrior. She fed him water straight from the bowl before dipping the cloths in it to clean the wounds. 

“Hurry and boil me water. He’s probably going to catch an infection,” she added. 

He was not sweating and though his blood was obviously thinning, he was not cold. In fact, she would have considered him feverish. But he showed no signs of any fevers she’d ever experienced. And he was in far better shape than any Fair in the area. “You’re no Earthean,” she concluded. “What’s a Firus doing all the way up here? You’re far away from the mine,” she explained. 

She wasn’t expecting an answer from the defeated man. “And how does someone of your caliber become beaten this badly?” she jested to herself. But she did find it strange than an Elemental would suffer such wounds from weapons and not Elements. These wounds weren’t shaped with the Air or formed from Water. They were not jagged from Earth or seared from Fire. These were clearly inflicted by a skilled Weaponist.

She figured this couldn’t have been a tussle from the mine itself. He would have died long before reaching her home. “What did you get yourself into?” Perhaps she felt comfort in letting him know what she could determine simply by appearance. He only rested on the bed merely large enough for an adolescent. His feet and ankles jutted out from the hay mattress.

She finished cleaning and dressing the wounds as well as she could. Out of habit, she threw a blanket over him in spite of her knowing he would not lose body heat. It didn’t reach past his chest, since it was made for a child. It was mostly to provide the man with some sense of dignity rather than airing out in the open. A foreign victim deserved greater respect than that.