Warriors of the Heavens
Chapter 2
Despite his fears, he continued to teach his daughter everything he knew. Her abilities grew immensely and rapidly. One day, he ended their training sessions after receiving a moon shaped cut to his left cheek.
“We’re done Ayano. You’ve already surpassed me and there’s nothing more I can teach you.”
“But…” She lowered her head dismayed that these sessions were over. Superficially, she displayed a rebellious attitude towards her father, acting as if she didn’t care about him. However, deep down she enjoyed these sessions, not just for the sheer excitement of fighting, but also because she viewed it as quality time with her father. She watched slightly heartbroken as her father entered the house to sanitize the fresh wounds on his body and then followed to do the same.
The next afternoon she was asked to go fetch some herbs that grew wild in the nearby forest surrounding their home. She strapped the practice sword that her father gave her onto her back and set out with a small basket swinging from her hand. The deep emerald green forest light shone in rays around her as she trooped through the forest, the mast on the forest floor muffling her footsteps. She walked for what seemed like hours before she started to actively scout for the herbs that she had been sent to gather.
She lugged the basket of herbs through the forest nibbling on a few wild berries she had picked as a snack. Struggling slightly she heaved the basket up a particularly nasty hill before beginning the gently decline that led to her home. Covered in sweat, streaks of dirt, leaves and various other pieces of foliage she stumbled into the yard with the basket of herbs dragging on the ground behind her. With an angry huff she deposited the basket unceremoniously at her mother’s feet, “There! Here are your damned herbs!”
Her mother smiled to herself as she dragged the herbs to the basin of water to be cleaned as her daughter stomped into the living room to confront her father. She heard the shouting and screaming and words that shall not be repeated due to their extremity. The gist of what happened is that her daughter incandescently suggested her father had done something very unlikely with a male prostitute and a wild animal. With that she stormed through the house and out the door slamming anything she can reach and shattering a vase with flowers.
She walked until she couldn’t walk anymore and collapsed in the woods with her back against a tree. She leaned back and rested for a moment and then regained her feet and marched heatedly towards a small clearing and collapsed onto the soft, welcoming blades of grass. Breathing steadily she watched the clouds scuttle across the night sky briefly covering stars and the moon. Slowly the rage she had worked herself into began to ebb away into the still night air. With a sigh of sadness at the thought of returning home she gathered herself onto her feet and trudged back through the woods. Peering around a particularly large tree trunk she scouted the house to see if anyone was still awake. Not seeing any lights she slipped through the back and snuck into her room easing herself into her soft welcoming mattress.
The sun began to rise over the horizon and beams of golden light radiated in on her causing her to stir and groan in displeasure at being awoken in such a way. Grunting and growling to herself she heaved out of bed slipping into her linen dress. She came out into the living room and peeked into her parents’ room to find them still sleeping. In hopes of avoiding any form of punishment she prepared a huge breakfast for them and herself. Eventually the bangs and curses coming from the kitchen roused her mother and father and they both stumbled into the kitchen, her mother looking skeptical and slightly afraid, and her father with a look that could slaughter a thousand demons.
Cheerfully she turned and snatched two plates from the cupboard and heaped them full of the food she had made: pancakes, waffles of different flavors and batters, sausage links, bacon strips cooked to just before becoming crispy and blackened, quail eggs cooked over easy, scrambled and hard boiled, freshly made biscuits, and a huge mound of hash rounds. She refrained from stating the obvious as she heaped her own plate and slid three glasses onto the table followed by a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice with a small amount of other citrus fruit juices and a few sprigs of mint.
Her mother and father stood agape, their earlier skepticism, fear, and anger forgotten. They settled into their chairs unable to speak and just stared at the food in front of them. Ayano began to get frustrated as she watched them watch their food get cold. The irritation grew and grew until she couldn’t hold it in any longer, “Are you going to just stare at it or are you going to actually eat your breakfast? It’s not like I poisoned it!” This she said between huge amounts of food being shoveled into her mouth and down her esophagus. Her tongue flicked out intermittently to catch stray bits of food before they fell wasted onto the table.
Under her watchful glare her parents began to eat. At first they nibbled, wary of any foreign substances, then they dug into the food as if they hadn’t eaten anything in years. Smiling at them, Ayano continued shoveling food down her throat as fast as her fork could carry it. She cleaned her plate, nearly to the point of licking it, and guzzled a large glass of the citrus juice before slumping back into her chair cradling the protruding stomach beneath her dress. In a very unladylike manner her mouth opened and vibrated with a loud belch that smelt of breakfast foods and the refreshing citrus juice. Giving the food just a few minutes to settle she helped herself to some more whilst her parents continued to tunnel their ways through their first plate.
By the time her parents finished their first plate and resigned, laden with food, to the living room, Ayano had finished her third helping and was heading for a fourth. She waddled into the living room and collapsed onto the soft cushions of her chair with a dramatic sigh and heave of her gut. Her parents just stared at her and silence took hold of the family as they bathed themselves in the soothing rays of the sun pouring in from the open windows and door, relaxing after a very intense breakfast the likes of which hadn’t been prepared in ages.
After a time her father inhaled deeply and began to speak, “This doesn’t get you off the hook at all young lady, but it does significantly reduce your punishment.” He smiled as his daughter’s face flashed from impotent rage and calmness. “For your punishment, you will wash the dirty dishes,” he continued, “As well as gather a pound of wild berries from the forest.” His daughter’s relief was evident as she heaved herself onto her feet and attacked the dishes. She finished them in record time with not an unclean spot upon them. Happily she grabbed a basket to carry the berries in and departed into the forest with the blade strapped to her back.
After getting a sufficient distance into the forest she set down the basket and unsheathed the sword. She swung it, experimenting with the weight of the blade. Unsure of where the mass of the blade was centered she tossed it into the air several times. Each time provided the same result: the sword embedded, blade first, in the soil. She then began twirling the blade around at a fast rate spinning it about her head and sending it whistling through tree branches shredding any foliage that didn’t move in time.
Exhilarated by the exercise she gathered up the basket sheathing the blade and gathered her berries. Knowing she would eat most of the berries on the way back home she picked about a pound and a half extra before she started home. Walking lightly through the dense mast she snacked on the berries, tossing them two and three at a time into her mouth moaning in delight as the flavorful juices burst out of the delicate skins of the berries and into her mouth. Her favorites were the purple berries but the sweetest and juiciest of them was the dark red ones.
Smiling she made her way out of the forest and inside the kitchen where her mother waited with the washing basin. Her mother rolled her eyes dramatically and took the basket, “Child, if you were to ingest anymore food I think you might explode!” With a suggestive gesture across her mouth she sent her daughter into the bathroom to get cleaned up.
“We’re done Ayano. You’ve already surpassed me and there’s nothing more I can teach you.”
“But…” She lowered her head dismayed that these sessions were over. Superficially, she displayed a rebellious attitude towards her father, acting as if she didn’t care about him. However, deep down she enjoyed these sessions, not just for the sheer excitement of fighting, but also because she viewed it as quality time with her father. She watched slightly heartbroken as her father entered the house to sanitize the fresh wounds on his body and then followed to do the same.
The next afternoon she was asked to go fetch some herbs that grew wild in the nearby forest surrounding their home. She strapped the practice sword that her father gave her onto her back and set out with a small basket swinging from her hand. The deep emerald green forest light shone in rays around her as she trooped through the forest, the mast on the forest floor muffling her footsteps. She walked for what seemed like hours before she started to actively scout for the herbs that she had been sent to gather.
She lugged the basket of herbs through the forest nibbling on a few wild berries she had picked as a snack. Struggling slightly she heaved the basket up a particularly nasty hill before beginning the gently decline that led to her home. Covered in sweat, streaks of dirt, leaves and various other pieces of foliage she stumbled into the yard with the basket of herbs dragging on the ground behind her. With an angry huff she deposited the basket unceremoniously at her mother’s feet, “There! Here are your damned herbs!”
Her mother smiled to herself as she dragged the herbs to the basin of water to be cleaned as her daughter stomped into the living room to confront her father. She heard the shouting and screaming and words that shall not be repeated due to their extremity. The gist of what happened is that her daughter incandescently suggested her father had done something very unlikely with a male prostitute and a wild animal. With that she stormed through the house and out the door slamming anything she can reach and shattering a vase with flowers.
She walked until she couldn’t walk anymore and collapsed in the woods with her back against a tree. She leaned back and rested for a moment and then regained her feet and marched heatedly towards a small clearing and collapsed onto the soft, welcoming blades of grass. Breathing steadily she watched the clouds scuttle across the night sky briefly covering stars and the moon. Slowly the rage she had worked herself into began to ebb away into the still night air. With a sigh of sadness at the thought of returning home she gathered herself onto her feet and trudged back through the woods. Peering around a particularly large tree trunk she scouted the house to see if anyone was still awake. Not seeing any lights she slipped through the back and snuck into her room easing herself into her soft welcoming mattress.
The sun began to rise over the horizon and beams of golden light radiated in on her causing her to stir and groan in displeasure at being awoken in such a way. Grunting and growling to herself she heaved out of bed slipping into her linen dress. She came out into the living room and peeked into her parents’ room to find them still sleeping. In hopes of avoiding any form of punishment she prepared a huge breakfast for them and herself. Eventually the bangs and curses coming from the kitchen roused her mother and father and they both stumbled into the kitchen, her mother looking skeptical and slightly afraid, and her father with a look that could slaughter a thousand demons.
Cheerfully she turned and snatched two plates from the cupboard and heaped them full of the food she had made: pancakes, waffles of different flavors and batters, sausage links, bacon strips cooked to just before becoming crispy and blackened, quail eggs cooked over easy, scrambled and hard boiled, freshly made biscuits, and a huge mound of hash rounds. She refrained from stating the obvious as she heaped her own plate and slid three glasses onto the table followed by a pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice with a small amount of other citrus fruit juices and a few sprigs of mint.
Her mother and father stood agape, their earlier skepticism, fear, and anger forgotten. They settled into their chairs unable to speak and just stared at the food in front of them. Ayano began to get frustrated as she watched them watch their food get cold. The irritation grew and grew until she couldn’t hold it in any longer, “Are you going to just stare at it or are you going to actually eat your breakfast? It’s not like I poisoned it!” This she said between huge amounts of food being shoveled into her mouth and down her esophagus. Her tongue flicked out intermittently to catch stray bits of food before they fell wasted onto the table.
Under her watchful glare her parents began to eat. At first they nibbled, wary of any foreign substances, then they dug into the food as if they hadn’t eaten anything in years. Smiling at them, Ayano continued shoveling food down her throat as fast as her fork could carry it. She cleaned her plate, nearly to the point of licking it, and guzzled a large glass of the citrus juice before slumping back into her chair cradling the protruding stomach beneath her dress. In a very unladylike manner her mouth opened and vibrated with a loud belch that smelt of breakfast foods and the refreshing citrus juice. Giving the food just a few minutes to settle she helped herself to some more whilst her parents continued to tunnel their ways through their first plate.
By the time her parents finished their first plate and resigned, laden with food, to the living room, Ayano had finished her third helping and was heading for a fourth. She waddled into the living room and collapsed onto the soft cushions of her chair with a dramatic sigh and heave of her gut. Her parents just stared at her and silence took hold of the family as they bathed themselves in the soothing rays of the sun pouring in from the open windows and door, relaxing after a very intense breakfast the likes of which hadn’t been prepared in ages.
After a time her father inhaled deeply and began to speak, “This doesn’t get you off the hook at all young lady, but it does significantly reduce your punishment.” He smiled as his daughter’s face flashed from impotent rage and calmness. “For your punishment, you will wash the dirty dishes,” he continued, “As well as gather a pound of wild berries from the forest.” His daughter’s relief was evident as she heaved herself onto her feet and attacked the dishes. She finished them in record time with not an unclean spot upon them. Happily she grabbed a basket to carry the berries in and departed into the forest with the blade strapped to her back.
After getting a sufficient distance into the forest she set down the basket and unsheathed the sword. She swung it, experimenting with the weight of the blade. Unsure of where the mass of the blade was centered she tossed it into the air several times. Each time provided the same result: the sword embedded, blade first, in the soil. She then began twirling the blade around at a fast rate spinning it about her head and sending it whistling through tree branches shredding any foliage that didn’t move in time.
Exhilarated by the exercise she gathered up the basket sheathing the blade and gathered her berries. Knowing she would eat most of the berries on the way back home she picked about a pound and a half extra before she started home. Walking lightly through the dense mast she snacked on the berries, tossing them two and three at a time into her mouth moaning in delight as the flavorful juices burst out of the delicate skins of the berries and into her mouth. Her favorites were the purple berries but the sweetest and juiciest of them was the dark red ones.
Smiling she made her way out of the forest and inside the kitchen where her mother waited with the washing basin. Her mother rolled her eyes dramatically and took the basket, “Child, if you were to ingest anymore food I think you might explode!” With a suggestive gesture across her mouth she sent her daughter into the bathroom to get cleaned up.