A bit before Miyamoto's class, Yuto, Takeshi, Yuki, Rayden, Aoto, and Mitsuki sat in one of the private study rooms. The room was filled with silence and befuddledment until Mitsuki broke one of these. “What the fuck was that?”

  Silences.

  “Well, we all know he’s a bit strange,” Yuto replied.

  Takeshi pinched the tip of his nose, making both his eyes close.

  “Yuto, we all know you like to see the good or silver lining, but V was just fucking insane today. I’m not even sure if he taught us anything. V has been pretty interesting so far, but it seems like he’s losing it. He always had the smell of booze on him, but he reeked of it today.” Rayden threw in.

  “I believe you all should remember that this man has killed people; he said that himself. We should be taking notes about what combat does to a person.” Takeshi throw his dollar in.

  “Takeshi, you would defend the man even if he killed you.” Rayden counters.

  “Piss off, Rayden.”

  “Why not back those words up with your blade?”

  Rayden formed a rapier out of ice.

  Takeshi unsheathed his blade.

  Both took a swig at the other.

  Bang!

  “My gods, calm down, you two!” A glowing blade appeared between the two, with Yuto's voice following close behind. “What are you even fighting about?”

  “They’re fighting to fight.” Aoto cut in.

  “Fuck off, Aoto are I’m going to chuck my shoe at your head,” Rayden shot off.

  “Why, Rayden?” Yuto asked.

  “I wanted to know more about things that would help me in combat, not some insane man’s ramblings.”

  “Well, you don’t have to be a fucking asshole about it.” Aoto said.

  “Guys, please, I just want to get some of the students together to talk about the class, not to have a bloodbath. So can we all just…”

  Ring! Ring! Ring!

  “That seems to be the bell for our next class.” Yuki finally said something.

  “Yeah, yeah, I guess it is.” Each student started to leave the room while Yuto hung his head low. As Takeshi walked to the door, he started to talk to Yuto. “I’m sorry, man. I didn’t mean to start a fight.”

  “It’s alright. All I wanted to do was help, but I guess there wasn’t anything to help with… I just don’t know; after listening to V talk, I just thought talking would help in some way… Maybe I’m just a fool.”

  Takeshi patted Yuto's right arm.

  “Ah, don’t act like that, Yuto. You're helpful, but every person is a person with different cares and feelings, so don’t be too rough on yourself.”

  “Maybe you’re right, old friend.”

  “I know I’m right.”

  Takeshi walked out, and Yuto closed the door behind him, both walking to their next class, but this feeling hung over them, hung over each of the students in the room. An ember from a tender within their souls was being fed by the incisive rambling of I. Very well be a curiosity that strikes more than just mere curiosity. One that could consume the souls within an inferno… or not.

  As the sound of footsteps filled the halls, the sound of crunching was heard within the courtyard. Miyamoto was trying to clear the dueling grounds the best he could, and so was I. We had found some shovels and been placing the snow into one pile for around five to ten minutes. It threw me back to Earth shoveling during snowstorms so the snow wouldn’t pile up… I once read an article or something about the longest a man ever stayed awake was around eleven days. Staying awake for any more time than two or three days causes a brain to slowly melt away until it leaves a husk of a man. At least I beat such a thing to the damn punch.

  The students start to fill in all the ones that come to my class, and they appear here as well, of course. And Miyamoto herded the kids into order.

  “Students, the duel we conducted in the past two days revealed each of your abilities. Yuto won, but that doesn’t mean each of you didn’t show great effort. Today, we will be doing something different. Instead of hands-on training, you will be watching me battle another in a duel.”

  “And that would be V, Sensei.”

  “You are correct, Mori.”

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  “Not to sound rude, Sensei. But is V really the best choice for a dueling partner?”

  “Rayden, I could duel another person if I were dead. So don’t worry about me, boy.”

  “Thank you for your concern, Mori, but V has engaged in combat in much worse circumstances than a mock duel with real blades.”

  “Sensei, doesn’t the use of real blades no longer make it a mock duel?” Yuki asked with the utmost respect, as if there was a possibility of something else.

  “Also, Sensei, isn’t that extremely dangerous for just a mock duel?” Yuto added on.

  “Combat is dangerous Hirano, if this class is to teach you students anything, it is the immense danger and brutality inherent in combat and killing. Yuki, it's still a mock duel because we aren’t trying to kill each other. Now if that was the last set of questions, I would like to begin. Which means I’ll be making Hirano and Kojima into judges. You two will commence a countdown and call the end of the duel if you deem the bout has become too dangerous.”

  “Yes, sir.” The two replied.

  “Ready when you are.”

  The weather was cool with a small bit of ice-cold winds. Our feet lock upon the ground, with Miyamoto taking the right, and I placing myself to the left. Due to my left-handedness, I felt left may give me a bit of luck… Even though you do not use a left hand to pull out a katana or fight with. Miyamoto had pulled both of his blades from his side, while I merely pulled out my katana and kept hold of my cane. It seems like Miyamoto is ready to kill to teach these kids; at least one of us cares.

  “覚悟! (Kakugo!)”

  “Miyamoto I must ask if this fight can even be considered a fight due to your years and mastery of a blade.”

  With our katana meeting, the ratter of metal filled the air.

  My cane blocked the stuck from Miyamoto’s wakizashi.

  The damn thing did sink a bit into my cane.

  “You killed people more different than me, V.”

  “All the people I killed never cut the head off a damn T-Rex in one swig.”

  Bam!

  Bam!

  Bam!

  Our blades and my cane matched the speed of each other.

  Even with matching Miyamoto, he was still getting closer to cutting my skin.

  All I could do was to keep swinging, keep cutting through the flashes of man.

  All the kebab men have made of other men.

  Miyamoto jumped forward, taking a swing at my neck.

  I blocked the strike.

  “You’ve been practicing?”

  “I’ve been trying to get a good fifteen to twenty minutes in since you gave me this blade.”

  “That explains why your bladework has gotten better. There are still many rough ends, but some of them have been smoothed down.”

  “Well, you should know best that for me you can never smooth down everything.”

  A heavy blow from Miyamoto lowers my right arm, cutting a few inches from wrist to elbow.

  Blood starts to pour and soak through my coat.

  Some drops falling upon the ground.

  Staining the ground.

  “Sens…”

  “I’m fine; don’t be little bitches about some blood. Unless he fucking disembowels me, don’t stop this damn duel.” I said cutting off Hirano and Kojima.

  The two looked at Miyamoto for what to do.

  “He’s… fine.”

  And the duel continued; well, it never stopped.

  The steel orchestra filled the ears of us all.

  My blood warmed my skin from the harsh cold, fitting the role of the rip coat, suit and undershirt.

  “I don’t even think there’s skin on these arms anymore, just scar tissue all the way up.”

  “All the way up your arm or body?”

  “Probably both, old conrad.”

  I used my cane and gave Miyamoto’s wakizashi a good whack.

  Due to the heavier weight of the cane compared to a wakizashi.

  The wakizashi wobbles a bit.

  With this I strike Miyamoto’s katana.

  Then kicking Miyamoto’s left hand, which held his wakizashi.

  Jumping back a few inches after doing all this so he wouldn’t cut me apart with his blade.

  I throw my cane to the ground, kicking it away.

  “See, students, you aren’t only fighting with the blade but also with the mind.”

  “If you think brute force can win you every battle, I may as well shoot you dead right now.”

  We had given each other a good few inches, readying our blades.

  “Now if memory yields the truth, you finish a duel with one slash against the chest.”

  “It seems that way.”

  “What, you’re no longer certain in your own ability?”

  “I got this nagging feeling maybe it’s about something different, but you know the feel.”

  “Yeah, I do. It seems for such experienced killers we have no idea what we are doing.”

  “It does seem that way.”

  “You feel good about ending this now.”

  “Yeah, still have to teach these kids.”

  “All right.”

  We walked up to each other, with the tips of our blades meeting.

  A small breeze passed between us. The breeze had picked up a bit of snow, making the image rather difficult to figure out for certain.

  A mere bang was the only thing to show anything had happened at all.

  Two blades slid out, and two men stood.

  “It’s been fun, Miyamoto.”

  “As always, it’s been interesting, V.”

  We shook our plums.

  “Teach these kids to be the best killers my conrad or at least great farmers.”

  “I’d rather be teaching them farming.”

  “I know… Take care; I’ll be heading back to my class.”

  I took a look at the class and said farewell.

  With my hands in my pockets, I took a walk inside.

  I was damned tired after our duel. My cane had gained a scar, funny. And the wound is still bleeding, but what does that matter? I just poured some alcohol upon it, dabbed the area, used my light like I once did before, and closed the wound. The smell of burned flesh is still as awful as the first time around.

  I took a good drink from my flask as well; walking down these corridors, somehow I had lost my way to my own damn classroom. I have never been so bloody drunk I lost my direction.

  Fighting through my own mind is always bloody annoying. Damn near anything sets the thing off, like having a gun with the most sensitive fucking trigger. Colonel Kurtz from Apocalypse Now went mad traversing through the heart of darkness. Seeing the evil and madness of man and going mad because of it. I say it's a rather apt metaphor for the good old Devil, that of course is I.

  What the fuck am I talking about?

  Why can’t I bloody find my room?

  I think I lost it; maybe I lost it a long time ago; it just finally caught up.

  Or I may never have had it… I took a swig from my flask and getting a bit of a funky feeling from it. It could have been drugs; I don’t think it matters too much because I don’t think drugs can affect me. But my surroundings start to, like, blow away, like sand in the wind.

  The wall around me disappeared.

  Being replaced with cruel winds and snow.

  In a span of five seconds, my feet had left the present and returned me to a memory, or more of a scene, a scene of the past. That still stalks the back of this horrific mess of a scattershot mind.

  A streetlight reflects off the glossy skin of a cane.

  A long, toothy grin, whiter than the very face of the moon, slices across a face. With a pipe stuck out.

  Black dressed the rest of the man, whether it was his pants, shoes, or shirt.

  Smoke strangles my nose.

  The man looked at my dead eye and still-living one and dared to ask, “How are you doing, V?”

  A puddle of blood reddened the snow, and a string of the gore made it upon my right black luffer.

  “Fine… Konran.”

  One hundred ten hours without sleep.