The roaring of the crowd and the stamping of hundreds of feet shook sand through the cracks between the boards beneath the arena. A bloodied and bruised Takeo sat slumped on a bench, leaning heavily against a wall with his head hung, blood dribbling from his open mouth. Dizzy and dazed, he could only think of one thing; this was his first and last fight. The other gladiators all praised him on how great his bout had gone, and the Doctore was convinced that he could be the next arena champion with a little more training.
No, he would not be fighting on those sands again, not as a gladiator. All those people cheering them on while they beat each other senseless. Their rabid cries for blood were still echoing in his mind. The savagery with which they drove the combatants on was horrifying. Takeo groggily mopped the blood from his face, stood on shaky legs and walked down the old stone hallway towards the combatants exit.
The shouting of the Doctore echoed down the hall as he stripped off the minimal leather armor he had worn in the arena and pulled his worn, old clothes on as he neared the exit. His time spent training for the arena had drawn him away from his studies at the Academy. He’d been skipping classes, letting his shinobi training go, and generally falling behind his classmates. He could not win his freedom in the arena; the only possibility of emancipating himself from his uncle was through earning the rank of Genin. He needed to change his priorities, to focus on what was important; the Village, and his future. The sunlight washed over him as he stepped out of the portcullis into the Village. There was only one thing on his mind as the wind ruffled his blood-caked hair;
Raikou Takeo the Gladiator was gone; Raikou Takeo, shinobi-in-training, was back.
{MFT: wc 317}
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No, he would not be fighting on those sands again, not as a gladiator. All those people cheering them on while they beat each other senseless. Their rabid cries for blood were still echoing in his mind. The savagery with which they drove the combatants on was horrifying. Takeo groggily mopped the blood from his face, stood on shaky legs and walked down the old stone hallway towards the combatants exit.
The shouting of the Doctore echoed down the hall as he stripped off the minimal leather armor he had worn in the arena and pulled his worn, old clothes on as he neared the exit. His time spent training for the arena had drawn him away from his studies at the Academy. He’d been skipping classes, letting his shinobi training go, and generally falling behind his classmates. He could not win his freedom in the arena; the only possibility of emancipating himself from his uncle was through earning the rank of Genin. He needed to change his priorities, to focus on what was important; the Village, and his future. The sunlight washed over him as he stepped out of the portcullis into the Village. There was only one thing on his mind as the wind ruffled his blood-caked hair;
Raikou Takeo the Gladiator was gone; Raikou Takeo, shinobi-in-training, was back.
{MFT: wc 317}
{Topic Entered and Left}