Day in the life
It was our fathers birthday. Birthdays were important, because is was through birth the mutant race would grow. We had eaten breakfast together and congratulated him for surviving.
We begin our sword training at fifteen minutes after four.
A special pair of titanium and ceramic alloy katanas had been made for us. Crafted to fit our ten year old hands, light enough for our young bodies and physical frailties.
We wore ultralight fiberglass gauntlets and bracers to protect the tiny bones of our hands and wrists, the same upon our feet. Biofeedback circuits built into the gauntlets to allow the doctor on duty to monitor our physical status, in hopes of preventing heart attacks or organ failure.
Imported white sands floored the courtyard. Ten masters of the martial ways were our training partners. Hand picked masters of their own styles they had been with us for the entirety of our ten years on the earth. Each was paid handsomely, each a mutant and true believer, each proven in many battles.
Although we were only children, and physically fragile ones at that, they never held back a single blow. Softness was not the way of the Arashikage.
Five of them waited upon the sidelines. Five took up bokkens and begin to circle around us.
We stood back to back. I saw through my eyes and hers, I felt the wind upon my hair and the sands beneath her feet.
'Pressing' our psychic bubble outward we enveloped the men advancing on us. Tasting the tone of their thoughts, catching flickers of their intentions here and there.
We 'felt' in a way that has nothing to do with the human sense of touch as two masters intents focused. They communicated with each other through body language alone, honed through long years of training side by side and fighting against us.
The first lunged at my sister, blade slicing vertically down from the sky. Lifting my blade at such an angle as to deflect his strike away from both of us. My Arashikage photo reflexes allowing me to execute the move perfectly. My sister stabbed him in the heart. Blunt training sword alone saving him from death at the hands of an exceptionally simple, yet flawlessly coordinated counterattack.
The mind of the master leaping at me held screamed his intent to slash horizontally across my waist, as if they had lured me into the wrong parry. Yet we were prepared for this, and begin to simultaneously leap away from him.
With a snap his mental intent changed, and the end of his leap became a kick. Tossing a spray of sand into my eyes, instantly blinding me. We both felt.. impressed. Clearly he had adapted to our telepathy and changed his mind at the last moment to throw us off guard. We could not anticipate what he himself did not know.
Sensing weakness as I was blinded they all sprang to attack us.
My sister threw herself under the feet of one. Sword connecting his his belly even as he stepped on her frail knee. It was a calculated suicide attack on her part, giving me room to drop and roll away from the other three's charge.
Still blind, sword held firmly in my small hands I faced them again. The odds were now three to one.
My sister rolled onto her side, allowing me to see through her eyes. Agony shot through her knee, and the biofeedback monitors blinked warning lights. Wordlessly, she menaced the doctor that approached her, refusing to leave for as long as I needed her eyes. He stepped away, wary of her strangeness and sword.
The remaining three advanced. The angle of my vision was odd, I was watching myself fight in third person, but we had practiced this many times. They key was to keep them from maneuvering so that one of them blocked her line of sight to the battle. At three to one my shorter legs and weaker lungs would inevitably lose.
Our minds joined and together we raced through strategies, tactics and possibilities. We knew what their plan was without even needing our telepathy. They would certainly send one to circle around behind me to block her vision while two others menaced me with threat of attack, pinning me in place.
We made this into a trap.
Soon one split off from the trio, circling around behind me. I waited, she calculated. Soon he was far away the duo could not assist him, but yet cutting off her line of sight.
I spun and lunged, blunt blade connecting with his kidney. It was a perfect blow and he grunted in pain.
Twisting around to meet the charge of the duo I parried the first frantic strike, but was overrun by his size and momentum. He trampled me into the dirt, my blade jabbing into his throat as he did so.
Yet his sacrifice cost me, for the sole remaining master slashed across connecting with my armored wrists. The power of the blow numbed my arms to the shoulders and send my light training sword flying.
I had lost.
Guilt filled my thoughts. My sister had sacrificed to give me the chance at victory, and though it was only a spar she had been truly injured. Although we were both hardened to pain I could feel hers as clearly as I could my own pain.
The doctor descended, the five masters exchanged places with their comrades.
I slowly climbed to my feet, feeling sick. She tried to hide it but I could feel my sisters disappointment.
But also her love and encouragement. Whatever happened, we would struggle through it together.