The roars of the crowd raged deep in the samurai's ears. He forced his mind into a state of focus. The crowd knifed through his ears, drilling into him, punching his heart into a frantic drumming. He became the cheers, the shouts, the jibes, the screams. He strangled their energy from them, using it to fuel his body.
He opened his eyes; the bright, hot sun glared like a harsh beast, shining against his armor until it was a laser directed into his eyes.
His hand shook with adrenaline as he withdrew his sword with a strong, dangerous motion. On the other side of the sand ocean -- the coliseum -- a knight marched from the jagged gate-door, making his way into the arena. His body was clad with heavy armor, of the sort that only the best knights wore. He swiveled his head, taking in the raw energy of the crowd, then withdrew his sword.
The samurai reached to his head and pushed his intricately carved warrior mask down over his face. At that moment, he was no longer a man, now he was a beast. His body was no longer flesh, it had transformed into pure, raw danger. The mask itself was a weapon, he had forged it to shove terror into his enemies, it would work of course.
The knight turned towards him and started to run, the samurai, however, stood his ground. He was far past his days of brashness, now he was a cold, calculating fury of death.
The samurai readied his sword in front of him, waiting for his enemy to come to him. The knight didn't stop in front of him; instead, he sprinted faster and swept his sword in a quick arc that the samurai easily blocked, sidestepping to avoid the ensuing knight.
The knight swung again, and the samurai deflected and then quickly striked back with an attack of his own. The knight stepped into the blow and blocked with his sword, but the samurai brought down another rapid attack, and then another. His muscles strained and burned, but he continued the rain of blows. One glanced off the knight's helmet, another struck against their side. The knight was too slow; frantically, he pushed back and made space between them. His breathing was strained and heavy, and he bent over double to catch his breath.
The samurai pitied him, the fight was unbalanced, there was no honor in killing a man so outmatched. But the opportunity was ripe, and he would be a fool to not take it.
The samurai charged at the knight and swung his sword down towards his skull, a blow that would crack through the helmet. But the knight moved quickly, faster than the samurai expected, he dodged from his blow. And, without notice, threw a handful of sand into the samurai's eyes -- he had scooped it up when he was crouching.
The samurai stumbled back and ripped off his mask so he could fish the sand from his eyes. He was utterly appalled by the lack of honor -- this was no duel of skill, but a chaotic brawl of insanity.
He blurrily saw a shape move towards him and desperately swung at it. He missed and the shape slammed into him -- so hard that he crashed to the ground in a jumble of armor.
He pushed against the knight, but it was not possible with the impossibly heavy armor. The knight laid atop him and began slamming his metallic fist into the samurai's face.
Pain shot through the samurai's body and he distinctly felt his nose snap. The samurai sputtered as blood started to drip into his mouth and down the back of his throat. Desperately, frantically he tried to push the knight off him, but to no avail -- the rain of fists continued.
"You ... Have no ... honor," he spat at the knight.
The knight rocketed his fist into his face again. "And you are a slave to it."
Another fist hailed down and crushed his nose, ramming the bone back into his skull.
