Bystander Theme - Kohaku's Good
Kohaku grimaced at his opponent, a stuffed, man-sized doll, complete with armor. He was expected to demonstrate what he’d learned in the use of the Kusarigama, a weapon he’d been using for over a year now. It was a sickle attached to a chain, commonly used by ninja and very effective in demon slaying.
His previous weapon had been a sword, but he hadn’t taken to it well. So in this he must succeed. He felt dumb attacking a doll. But… his eyes flicked over to the bystanders-his father, who had mastered the same weapon and become his sensei, his sister, who had such faith in him, and the other slayers who needed him to help them fight. He couldn’t disappoint them, any of them. He tightened his lips into a thin line.
Ignoring the encouragement he heard being called toward him, Kohaku raised his weapon. He swung it from the weighted end and let the sickle fly towards the target.
His first hit didn’t do anything but scrape across the armor, but it was a throw that would’ve effectively cut open a man’s stomach. He aimed for the vital organs first, to demonstrate, then mauled the doll to pieces, severing it’s arms and head.
He stared at the head which rolled towards his feet somewhat queasily, even though it was only cloth stuffed to look round, and almost didn’t hear the unwelcome applause from the sidelines. Was it normal to feel like a bystander in your own body?
His previous weapon had been a sword, but he hadn’t taken to it well. So in this he must succeed. He felt dumb attacking a doll. But… his eyes flicked over to the bystanders-his father, who had mastered the same weapon and become his sensei, his sister, who had such faith in him, and the other slayers who needed him to help them fight. He couldn’t disappoint them, any of them. He tightened his lips into a thin line.
Ignoring the encouragement he heard being called toward him, Kohaku raised his weapon. He swung it from the weighted end and let the sickle fly towards the target.
His first hit didn’t do anything but scrape across the armor, but it was a throw that would’ve effectively cut open a man’s stomach. He aimed for the vital organs first, to demonstrate, then mauled the doll to pieces, severing it’s arms and head.
He stared at the head which rolled towards his feet somewhat queasily, even though it was only cloth stuffed to look round, and almost didn’t hear the unwelcome applause from the sidelines. Was it normal to feel like a bystander in your own body?