The War Games
The war games. An ancient Japanese ritual the samurai have ended their training on for centuries. Two opponents, to meet in one ring. One called upon to kill the other, so that they may take on the name and honor of the Samurai.

My name is Yoshio. I am 16 years old, raised up on a southern plantation in the town of Hagi. My grandparents enrolled me in the school of Samurai when I was just 6 years old, where only the most fit and intelligent will make it to the end. My parents passed when I was of 4 years, leaving me with my Grandparents to raise me in good moral. Grandfather, the reason I have made it to the end of Samurai training, was himself a Samurai, now retired. His experience and wisdom has been passed down to me with vigorous extra training in the arts. In Samurai training I am required to stay in a barracks, with other kids my age. Only on the weekends am I allowed to go home to my grandparents. I tell Grandfather everything new about training, and what we’ve been doing. Grandfather critiques me then, tells me i’ve been doing a good job, and that i'm a hard worker, like my father was.
“Your like your father, built like him. You may be just a little taller though” Grandfather grins as he tells me.
“How so Grandfather?” I respond.
“Your father was very strong, built like a rock and carved like a statue” he replies.
I look at myself in the mirror on our living room wall, seeing the resemblance, noting the things he stated, beginning to see my father in me.

“But, you have 2 days before the games. You are in perfect physical condition and it is now time to focus on your mind set. Do you know who you are facing?” Grandfather asks.

‘My long time rival. Takeru.” I say his name with a tinge of disgust on my lips.
My grandfather nods, knowing Takeru, and where he comes from, his background.
He responds to my growing aggravation with Takeru.

“Takeru will be hard to beat Yoshio… but you have something he doesn’t, wisdom, intelligence.”
Tokeru and I have been rivals ever since we were little, and we were both enrolled into the Samurai school the same year. He and I would fight almost every day. Him winning some, me winning others. Takeru and I seemed to be mirrors of each other. His only disadvantage is his lack of focus and knowledge. Coming out of a background of beatings, rejection, and an unloving father has lead to his hardened heart.
I respond to Grandfather,” But, Takeru’s fighting skills surpass mine!”

“Do not let that bring you down, for yours certainly do not waver far!” His voice beginning to raise.
Tokeru has had a little gang in the barracks that he controls. I have suffered countless beatings from them, coming home to Grandfather with black eyes and bruises. The stories of my father and his betrayal are not pleasant, and my father mixing with a young Filipino women was very frowned upon. A mixed blood in a nation of purebred Japanese? I do not fare well.
“Yes Grandfather, I will not. I must go into the city to see Sayuri, I will be back for dinner.”
He nods and dismisses me.
Typical Grandfather. Always so set upon meditation and humbleness, all these things that will NOT help me defeat Takeru. If I wish to beat him, I must be able to overpower him.
As I step out into a rather cool summer afternoon, I can’t help but realize how beautiful this country is. The rolling hills, the jungle like terrain, the workers out in the fields tending to a fragile crop of rice. The sun sits high in the bright blue sky, with little white clouds floating in the air, a warm breeze pushing them through the atmosphere. Walking across my stone path from the house, I turn, and see it there, standing on a brick foundation, the wood above leaning slightly to the left. With new wood shingles installed this summer by me, the house seems to be a happy living area. With many years left in it, perhaps I will raise my family in it.
I continue to walk down the path, but the midday sun put a jolt in my step, urging me to begin the long 8 mile run into town. With long legs and a muscular frame, the run is an easy one, not tiring as the town comes into view. The stone foundations of the town can be seen now, the houses here much more luxurious than mine, for a rich market of trade comes through these walls. With poverty low and people always in good spirit, the town is a good place to live. Coming in closer I spot a group of young men by a tree outside the gate. Coming in closer still, I spot Takeru and his gang.
“Of course.” I think out loudly. He knew I was going to the carnival with Sayuri. Takeru and I have had a long history between Sayuri. Lets just say he’s not happy that Sayuri likes me, not him…
“Yoshio! Surprise seeing you here,” Takeru shouts as I approach the gate. Turning, I walk towards him.
“What do you want Takeru?” I ask him.
“Have you heard who your fighting yet?” he responds with a grin.
“Yes! And you certainly know too! I do not wish to be bothered” I tell him and turn my back to walk away. Takeru obviously angered by this act of defiance, send two of his gang after me. I hear the steps, turn, crouch, and thrust my fist into the first attackers throat. Dazed, the attacker falls. The second jumps into the air, and me, still on the ground, roll to avoid his deadly downward stomp. Standing now, I lunge towards him, striking his side and punching his stomach. He parries my finishing blow and chops me to the the shoulder, moving in with his right hand now to smack me straight in the jaw. Dazed, I fall back. Standing, I meet him again. With myself regained, he charges. Fearing no counterattack, I leap high into the air, spinning fully around, and with my right foot, kick him straight in the temple. He instantly crumples. I turn, knowing there will be more, and I will not be able to last long.
With bounding powerful leaps I quickly lose them in the cities alley ways and people. With my enemies gone, I head towards Sayuri’s house. The jumble of people in the streets, preparing for the harvest festival, slows me down. I reach her house about mid-afternoon. Anticipating me, Sayuri steps out of her 2 story brick house to meet me. Stopping, I grin, awing at her beauty, her silky skin glowing in the sun.
“Would ya close your mouth Yoshio?” she says and smiles, white teeth dazzling.
Her shiny black dangles loosely at her shoulders, into the crease between her breasts.

Later on that night, we celebrate the harvest, possibly our last night together. She wishes me luck and I head back home. I spend the night meditating, readying my body for battle. The following morning, Grandfather makes me eggs, peppers, and rice, followed by milk. Looking outside, the day is gloomy, a haze locked upon the landscape. Even the world knows that there will be blood shed today. My grandfather dresses me in my battle gear, patting me on the shoulder.

“Remember Yoshio, only the wise prevail. Know his moves, tire him, strike back when the time is right.”
I nod, understanding, feeling confident, and knowing what I have to do.

I jog into town, with the sword of my father at my waist. With warm muscles, and a thin layer of sweat, I am ready. All the young Samurai trainees meet at the temple in the center of town. Around the ring, parents and elders stand with their children. I spot Takeru. No one has accompanied him on this day. The Grandmaster shouts off the order of fighting. Takeru and I shall fight first.

We enter the ring and unsheathe our swords. Standing at attention, the gong sounds, signaling forward advancement. With my sword raised, I fast walk towards him. In his eyes, I see something, a fear, some doubtfulness upon his face. Surprising. Never have I seen this. As we are but 3 steps away, our swords swing down and meet with a clash. I realize then that Takeru is not the same. I hide a grin, our swords meet again. The battle has now begun.