Training the Future

It had been days. Days since this training had begun. Kazuma hadn't personally been counting the amount of days, but one could easily guess that it had been roughly a week since the start of the training. And in that week, the beginning of, Kazuma had mastered the cuffs to the fulliest. He was now able to move despite the cuffs, even when he was completely exhausted; he was able to move them with gusto on nothing less than sheer willpower. The cuffs were no longer the issue. It was this Goddamned dummy that stood erect before him, still completely uncut. It was almost as if the blasted thing were mocking him and his efforts. No, it was he whom was cut. His Shinigami uniform was in shambles, his fair skin was more than just a little cut up. The male was covered in naught but what remained of his uniform, blood both fresh and old as well as sweat. The ground below him looked as ragged as he did. It was also covered in blood both fresh and old, in his battle with the dummy the grass's form had been put into dissarry and even bits and chunks of earth had been kicked up from their homes. This was a full 360 degree circle which went around the dummy.

No matter the angle he tried to come in from, the methods he used, the style of fighting or the stratagems he utilized; the result was always the same. This vile contraption was unable to be overcame by any conventional means. No matter of physical or mental prowess seemed to have any effect on the thing. So it can only be one other thing, the soul. Kazuma had never been any good at that spiritual nonesense that some of the others kept yapping about. But now it seems that this was the only was to pass this test. Assuming he didn't die first. There was no way he made it this far alone. With the sheer amount of blood loss by itself, let alone the exhaustion or the injuries or any of the other factors, Kazuma should be dead. He suspected that someone had healed him to some degree during the few times he passed out during the course of this week-ish training endevour. "Son..... Of.. A..." Kazuma spurted out in between bouts of heavy breathing, this displeasure came from the fact he was having a hard time steadying his shaking legs which were doing so do to them trying to support his body despite the fact they had long been fatigued beyond their limits. This made roughly three days now that he was going at this particular interval. He was a hot mess at this point. He looked horrible, he felt horrible and he was nearly half naked to boot.

Fine! I'll try the stupid spiritual crap. Those were the throughts passing through Kazuma's mind as he stood upright with his sword extended before him with the tip directed at the dummy which stood before him. Closing his mind Kazuma began to focus. What 'lesson' was this old fuck trying to teach him? And then, it clicked. The ideal behind it was so simple that it was stupid. There's a price to victory. Kazuma dashed foward and further extending his sword, the edge of the blade deeply grazing the cheek location--or what would be the cheek--of the dummy. Kazuma's cheek split as a result, but something happened that didn't happen before during the whole course of this training. The dummy's cheek also was cut by is sword. Then Kazuma decided it was going to be all or nothing. The blade he still had next to the dummies would be skull he pulled to the opposite direction and slashed horozontally. In an attempt to lopp off its head. His body fell to his knees. But no blood. Mere inches from him, the head of the dummy had fallen to his feet. He fell because of nothing more but fatigue. "I.. Did it..." was the final words he uttered as his form then collapsed onto the blood soaked dirt below him. Kazuma had fallen unconcience.