{"submission_id":"1269661","keywords":[{"keyword_id":"632","keyword_name":"age difference","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"8043"},{"keyword_id":"302","keyword_name":"jackal","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"5955"},{"keyword_id":"165","keyword_name":"male","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"640446"},{"keyword_id":"7997","keyword_name":"partial nudity","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"1004"},{"keyword_id":"157","keyword_name":"red panda","contributed":"f","submissions_count":"7087"}],"hidden":"t","scraps":"f","favorite":"f","favorites_count":"3","create_datetime":"2017-01-11 01:44:48.368142+01","create_datetime_usertime":"11 Jan 2017 01:44 CET","last_file_update_datetime":"2017-12-17 03:16:10.321491+01","last_file_update_datetime_usertime":"17 Dec 2017 03:16 CET","username":"lamoro","user_id":"11609","user_icon_file_name":"150882_lamoro_cute154.png","user_icon_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/large/150/150882_lamoro_cute154.png","user_icon_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/medium/150/150882_lamoro_cute154.png","user_icon_url_small":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/usericons/small/150/150882_lamoro_cute154.png","file_name":"2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","file_url_full":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/full/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","file_url_screen":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","file_url_preview":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","thumbnail_url_huge":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.jpg","thumbnail_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.jpg","thumbnail_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.jpg","thumb_huge_x":"120","thumb_huge_y":"120","thumb_large_x":"120","thumb_large_y":"120","thumb_medium_x":"120","thumb_medium_y":"120","files":[{"file_id":"2126710","file_name":"2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","file_url_full":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/full/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","file_url_screen":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/screen/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","file_url_preview":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/files/preview/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.rtf","mimetype":"text/rtf","submission_id":"1269661","user_id":"11609","submission_file_order":"0","full_size_x":null,"full_size_y":null,"screen_size_x":null,"screen_size_y":null,"preview_size_x":null,"preview_size_y":null,"initial_file_md5":"f83a8d99e6e098242f4545ea5faf72b1","full_file_md5":"f83a8d99e6e098242f4545ea5faf72b1","large_file_md5":"","small_file_md5":"","thumbnail_md5":"087002600f88874b7806717222836623","deleted":"f","create_datetime":"2017-12-17 03:16:10.321491+01","create_datetime_usertime":"17 Dec 2017 03:16 CET","thumbnail_url_huge":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/huge/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.jpg","thumbnail_url_large":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/large/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.jpg","thumbnail_url_medium":"https://nl.ib.metapix.net/thumbnails/medium/2126/2126710_lamoro_crossed_swords_part_1.jpg","thumb_huge_x":"120","thumb_huge_y":"120","thumb_large_x":"120","thumb_large_y":"120","thumb_medium_x":"120","thumb_medium_y":"120"}],"pools":[{"pool_id":"42506","name":"Crossed Swords","description":"","count":"3"}],"description":"A short story about a washed up swordsman teaching a pubescent red panda how to fence. In the process, they form a bond that manifests their mutual sexual tension. Expect a slow burn. There won't be any actual sexual contact in this first part, only partial nudity and arousal. It's over 9000!!! words so put aside a good half hour if you're going to read it. \n\nI don't expect many people to bother reading something like this, but I also think it could be very satisfying in the end if you're like me and enjoy a progression. I wanted to try writing a romance, not just fap fodder. I've considered the possibility that a twenty-something crushing on a twelve year old boy because he is the spitting image of a lost love might be kind of creepy and weird, but to me that's more genuine. \n\nThe setting is an alternate version of my fantasy universe to include more anthros, specifically a tropical archipelago analogous to Ancient Greece. I imagine that in Gurinth, this kind of master-apprentice relationship isn't too unusual. Without further ado, here's Crossed Swords Part 1!","description_bbcode_parsed":"A short story about a washed up swordsman teaching a pubescent red panda how to fence.  In the process, they form a bond that manifests their mutual sexual tension.  Expect a slow burn.  There won't be any actual sexual contact in this first part, only partial nudity and arousal.  It's over 9000!!! words so put aside a good half hour if you're going to read it.  

I don't expect many people to bother reading something like this, but I also think it could be very satisfying in the end if you're like me and enjoy a progression.  I wanted to try writing a romance, not just fap fodder.  I've considered the possibility that a twenty-something crushing on a twelve year old boy because he is the spitting image of a lost love might be kind of creepy and weird, but to me that's more genuine.  

The setting is an alternate version of my fantasy universe to include more anthros, specifically a tropical archipelago analogous to Ancient Greece.  I imagine that in Gurinth, this kind of master-apprentice relationship isn't too unusual.  Without further ado, here's Crossed Swords Part 1!","writing":"_____ Invitation\n\nCrimson and rose from the setting sun reflected off the waves rolling into the harbor of the island city, Gurinth. Part of an archipelago at the approximate center of the Ring Sea, the tropical nation enjoyed being the locus of warm currents and trade ships sailing in from all over the world. Its harbor was lined with vessels in all manner of sizes, from the lowliest skiff to colossal floating fortresses. \n\nLess wealthy denizens lived in the compact homes that overlooked the shore. The smooth stone towers had two or three floors and were spaced apart just enough to allow the passage of a cart. Although it was noisy and crowded, and the putrid scent of marine harvest wafted on the breeze, residents were content having their own sliver of the sea. \n\nOne such denizen, a jackal in his prime, climbed down the hatch inside after taking in the view from his roof. Omari had fine blue-black fur and the physique befitting a seasoned warrior; his lean musculature toned rather than bulky from years of testing his endurance. Several faded scars on his limbs hinted at his violent past. His garb was little more than a white length of cloth artfully wrapped around his body and held in place by a brass brooch that roughly matched his amber eyes. \n\nHis modest home was cluttered with assorted junk. Many of the items were relics from life that afforded them and the house. Weapons, armor, tools, maps, and the like were piled on top of each other on shelves and in corners. The most prized equipment was mounted on stands. A colorful rug imported from Yrzahad in the center of the room was held in place by a bed and a few cushions. \n\nThe jackal made his way downstairs. The search for stray coins to bring to the tavern was interrupted by a soft sound. Omari looked up to search for its origin. It took a moment to notice the envelope that was slipped under his door. He yanked open the door to catch sight of the one who delivered it, but they had already dissolved into the crowd down the street. To receive a message was unusual and unexpected. His curiosity was instantly sparked. He hastily unraveled the parcel to read the message inside:\n\n[i]Omari,\n\nIt has been a long while since we have seen each other. I am abroad on business more often than not these days. Let us meet so we can catch up. On an evening you are free, please join me for dinner. I have a favor to ask of you. If you can, try to drop by before I leave again at the end of the moon. \n\nIndira\n[/i]\nReceiving an invitation from an old friend was a welcome surprise. Omari recognized the familiar handwriting immediately. It was unusual to hear from a childhood friend he contacted only a few times a year, but the mention of a favor accounted for that. It seemed just as well to spend the night drinking at the expense of a wealthy merchant as going to the tavern as planned. Besides, the mention of possible work was an alluring prospect for the indigent swordsman. He tossed the letter on the small decrepit table beside him and headed out the door. \n\nOmari took his time hiking to the top of the gradual slope of the city. Further inland the streets were more meticulously maintained and garnished by monuments and brilliant architecture. Pleasant floral perfume filled the air around the bath houses. Enchanting melodies from string instruments sang in the background. Indira's manor was on the opposite side of the city near the border between civilization and the half of the island preserved for nature. The garden district was full of similar estates that were comparable to palaces. \n\nThe grounds of the manor were surrounded by a low iron fence to establish the perimeter of the property. As the name of the district implied, lush vegetation wove itself between the pickets. Shrubs and fruit bearing trees provided a layer of privacy and shade. The house itself was constructed from the pale grey stone that was found in abundance in the region. It was spacious and lofty, befitting the head of a prestigious trading company. There were individual rooms dedicated to every conceivable purpose. Light from fire elemental lamps flickered through the windows on each floor that almost stretched from floor to ceiling. Memories of long ago flooded the jackal's mind, both heartwarming and bittersweet. He let out a deep sigh as he knocked on the door. While he waited he lost himself in nostalgia looking into the open windows and seeing the same furniture he remembered from his childhood. \n\nEventually, the door swung open. A middle aged red panda greeted him with a beaming smile. Indira was dressed in black formal wear tailored to fit his somewhat round features. His movements were gentle and orchestrated, as composing himself for the public eye was his default. Charisma served him well as the successor to his father's trading empire. He adjusted his round spectacles and said, \"Omari! Isn't this a surprise? Please, come in, come in.\"\n\n\"Indira, you did just invite me to come here,\" Omari protested. His voice was low and heavy, with the kind of stern and direct inflection expected of a grumpy aloof man. \nThey went inside through the foyer. Unlike the visitor's abode, everything here was spotless and tidy. The space was used to its full extent, however, filled to the brim with exotic furniture and art from every corner of Phylos collected over several decades of travel. \n\n\"Well, I only just sent the courier. I didn't expect you so soon, you see. But it's no problem at all. It's a pleasure to have you again.\"\n\n\"A courier? Hah! What's the matter, Indira, you can't even ask me in person anymore?\" Omari teased. \n\n\"Sorry. I actually returned from meeting with an associate recently. Time is the one commodity I'm short on these days. How about you?\"\n\n\"The opposite, really. I have plenty of time.\" \n\nThe red panda led the way to the drawing room, although his guest knew exactly where they were going. He glanced back at Omari, who was appreciating some of the more recent pieces. \"Is that so? Found any work lately?\"\n\n\"Here and there. My last job was security at the auction house. It wasn't too bad. Sometimes foreigners see me sailing a boat and assume I'm for hire. I'll give them a ride to another island or guide them to some of the better sights. I enjoy doing that.\"\n\nThe drawing room was one of the bigger rooms on the ground floor, intended to receive and entertain groups of visitors. As children they were forbidden from playing around in the \"adult\" sections of the house, not that it ever stopped them. It had ample floor space to move about freely. The rest was the antique furniture from their homeland, upholstered with fabric embroidered with designs inspired by nature. Cabinets held rows of cups that would never be used and bottles of spirits. \n\n\"Oh, forgive me, I took my meal during my meeting so I don't have anything to serve. Care for a drink?\"\n\n\"That is what I came here for,\" Omari cheered. His tail wagged and mouth watered as he watched his friend pour two goblets full of some obscure vintage wine that a commoner could never afford. \n\n\"Here you are,\" Indira said as he passed the wine. \"If you are interested, I do have some work for you. I'm sure you guessed that from the letter.\"\n\nOmari sipped from his goblet and nodded. \"What kind of work? Someone need a bodyguard again?\"\n\n\"No, that's why I wanted to ask you in person. It's not something you have done before, but I think you'd be the best for the job. I'd pay you well, of course.\"\n\n\"Really?\" Omari perked up, his curiosity piqued. \"Well, out with it. What is it?\"\n\n\"My son has been begging me incessantly to hire someone to teach him to use a sword. I told him I'd ask the best swordsman I know.\"\n\nOmari scoffed. He was skeptical at the idea of being a mentor. Expression was far from his strong suit. \"I almost forgot you had a son. I don't know, Indira. I'm not sure I'm cut out for teaching. Children and I don't mix. Never had the patience for that sort of thing. I've never tried to teach anyone, either.\"\n\n\"I don't blame you for forgetting, the last time you saw him he was probably still an infant. He's almost twelve now and getting more independent by the day,\" Indira explained. \n\n\"Twelve? It's been that long. Damn. I feel like I should have seen him since then. What's his name?\"\n\n\"His name is Mitra. He was living with his mother back home previously. He moved here for the education, and she devotes more time to work than I do. Anyway, hear me out. I've made it clear that the privilege will be lost if he doesn't conduct himself properly. To be honest, I don't care for his dream of becoming a soldier. It goes without saying why. All I want is for him to be active and disciplined more so than a good swordsman.\"\n\n\"I'm still not sure if I'm the right one for the job,\" Omari replied with a solemn expression while he refilled his cup. \n\n\"Please, you're the only one for the job. I trust you. Do it as a personal favor for me. Look at it as the easiest coin you've ever made. Give it a try, will you?\" Indira pleaded. \n\nThe jackal covered his muzzle in contemplation. It was something he would never consider under normal circumstances. Financial desperation played a part as much as a sense of loyalty and obligation. He grunted and shrugged. How bad can it be? \n\n\"You twist your client's arms like this, too? Fine, I'll do it. But I'm going to go about it my own way. I'll put him through the same exercises I went through to train when I was his age. It won't be fun and games.\"\n\n\"By all means!\" the excited panda exclaimed. He immediately contained his enthusiasm and continued in a hushed tone, \"If you can train him so hard that he loses interest in the notion of a violent life in favor of a safe, lucrative career, then all the better. Within reason, of course.\"\n\n\"Very well. All I can offer is my best. Where is he, anyway?\"\n\n\"Mitra is upstairs studying before bed. I'd rather we do not disturb him now; if I told him now he'd never get to sleep tonight. I'll tell him tomorrow morning. Can you come by sometime in the afternoon? His lessons should be finished by then. I won't be around, so let yourself in. Servant should be here. You can figure out a schedule that works for the both of you. Anything is fine so long it doesn't interfere with his studies.\"\n\n\"Understood, boss,\" Omari acknowledged his friend with a half hearted salute. \"Once every few days, most likely. Hopefully this kid of yours doesn't drive me crazy.\"\n\nThe host chuckled and said, \"I think you two will get along fine. He hasn't made many friends since moving here. Part of that is my fault, wanting him to have a private tutor instead of being with others his age. He is a bit of a loner, though. Likes to read and run off on his own. Has a tendency to be rebellious. Remind you of anyone?\"\n\n\"Perhaps a bit too much,\" Omari remarked. \n\n\"He's a good boy. I assure you he won't be trouble. I'll have your payment the next time I see you. Really, thank you. I can't express my gratitude enough.\"\n\n\"Yes, you can. It's no trouble. Besides, I could use the coin. Thank you. Now I won't have to come here to get a drink.\"\n\n\"You know you're always welcome here. If things go well, maybe we can get together like this more often.\"\n\n\"I know, I know. I'd better get going. I'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you to prepare for. Hell, you're still dressed in that horrendous clothing. Get undressed and unwind, old man. Thanks again.\"\nRather than draw out the meeting beyond the conversation for which it was intended, the swordsman decided to bid his friend farewell. He knew that Indira was too polite to say he was too busy for company. Omari showed himself out and headed home with a lot on his mind. His future was filled with uncertainty, and he was unaware of just how much the events to come would change his life. \n\n_____ First Lesson\n\n\nThe next morning, Omari carried out his morning routine with the lesson at the front of his mind. He rehearsed their meeting and interaction over and over. Keeping it simple as possible at the start seemed to be the best course until he knew what to expect of this child. It was necessary to gauge what propensity Mitra had before he would bother involving actual weapons. Either way, he knew it was going to be a challenge to abide someone so beneath him in skill and maturity. \n\nThe sun reached its zenith by the time Omari cooked up a fresh catch from the edge of his dock for the first meal of the day. He finished eating and headed up to the manor. The streets were often quiet around midday when most took respite from the summer heat. As a jackal who grew up in the Raaksi Desert, he had long since been acclimated to such weather. Omari knocked on the door and shielded his eyes from the sunlight to peer inside the windows. There was no answer so he let himself in. \n\nA muffled voice was heard through the walls from a room within. The swordsman traced the monotonous drawl down the corridor to the study that overlooked the garden. It was a well lit room with ample seating adjacent to several desks. Each exterior wall featured a bookcase filled with old and new tomes. Although Gurinth had several libraries for public use, books were an expensive commodity. Indira possessed an impressive collection, inherited or not. The volumes that saw more frequent use were laid out on the desk where the young red panda sat across from his tutor, a gold eagle wearing a jet black peplos that covered most of her lanky form. She concluded her lecture on the history of ancient Phylos as Omari entered. \n\n\"And remember to finish reading the chapters covering the Aclian Exodus that followed the war. That is all for today, Mitra. I will see you tomorrow morning,\" she said as she collected a stack of her own books. The tutor flashed an awkward smile and nod on her way past Omari. It was the kind of smile that said she wanted nothing to do with a rugged commoner, but had too much pride not to feign politeness. \n\nThe red panda jolted up from the end of his inconsequential lecture and the presence of the man his father spoke of. Barely containing his excitement, he hopped out of his seat to greet his new instructor. Mitra looked up at Omari, his gleaming malachite eyes wide with anticipation. Unlike the swordsman's simple chlamys, the boy was dressed in immaculate and lush garments. A thick himation draped over the shoulder left exposed by the knee length chiton underneath. Their wine red and Tyrian purple dyes complimented the fiery tones in his fur. His bushy tail swept along the floor around his bare feet. Mitra stood the height of the jackal's chest and had a figure softened by a privileged life. \n\n\"You must be the swordsman my father hired, right? I'm Mitra,\" he greeted with a bow. \n\n\"The name is Omari. I wouldn't call myself a swordsman, but I was once in the militia during my younger days. Spent some time as a freelancer after that. Suppose i know enough of swordplay to impart the basics.\"\n\n\"Whoa, then you really were a soldier! But what is a free lancer?\" the boy interjected. \n\n\"Uh, you know, I left the militia to do the same kind of work but without the commitment to the state. We sold our skills to whoever was paying. Made it a lot easier to pack up and leave when things turned bad,\" Omari recounted, unsure of why he was so free with the information. It wasn't his job to tell his life story.\n\n\"So you're saying you were like a sellsword, a mercenary? That's even more amazing! You must have fought so many tough opponents. Can you teach me to fight like that?\"\n\nThe master sighed and answered, \"That life is not as glamorous as you are believing it to be, kid. It was mostly standing around with other soldiers so that no one had to fight. No one has gone to war in Phylos for generations, you know. When we did draw our weapons, it was to handle an elemental that wandered too close to the city and the like. Enough reminiscing. You said you wanted to learn?\"\n\n\"Yes, of course!\" Mitra blurted. \"How can I start?\"\n\n\"First, we should go somewhere with enough space to move around. Let's head out to the garden.\"\nGlass pane doors in the adjacent room, the dining room, led out to the fenced in slice of wilderness behind the house. As the district was famous for its gardens that preserved the island's natural beauty, this one was no exception. A thick canopy of tangled tree branches shaded much of the space and kept it cool. Flowerbeds lined the space against the mansion and fence where some sunlight pierced the vegetation. In between it all was a stone patio that would serve their purpose. \n\nThe red panda followed the man who was curiously familiar with the layout of his home. He pondered why a swordsman would have been here before, but was reminded of a more pressing question. It was supposed to be a course in fencing, yet there was no equipment. Mitra tilted his head to inspect the swaying folds of his master's clothing and the lack thereof. Omari was almost naked with his single garment that more or less exposed his sides. \n\"Did you bring anything with you?\"\n\n\"Huh? Bring anything with me?\" \n\n\"I didn't see you carrying any practice weapons with you. How will this work, then?\" Mitra asked with concern. Maybe this wasn't what he had in mind after all.\n\n\"Oh, there's no need for that any time soon,\" Omari stated. \n\n\"Any time soon?\" Mitra griped. \"What do you mean by that? I thought you were teaching me how to use a weapon. Like sparring with you. That sort of thing.\" \n\n\"Stop whining. If you want me to teach you, listen to what I say. A weapon is only as useful as the one that carries it,\" the master explained. He was stern, but offered his wisdom without expectation. It was up to his student to follow it or not. \n\n\"So I have to get stronger first. I understand that much. What do we do, lift weights?\"\n\n\"No. First, you have to learn how to stand and how to move. It doesn't take much strength for a sharp edge to tear through flesh. It is your maneuvers that determine the outcome, not your brute force.\"\n\n\"Actually I know how to stand already, see?\" Mitra jested. His humour fell short.\n\n\"Don't be impudent. You'd never last as a soldier acting like that. You're lucky that I am one of the lax ones. Listen, your stance has to allow you to react in an instant. Leave less of your feet on the ground, with most of your weight on the base of your toes. Your dominant side, as in the one with the weapon, is always in front, with your other leg back. This lets you push off of either foot to advance or retreat in a swifter motion than casual movement. Like this, see?\"\n\nThe lecture came with a step-by-step demonstration of setting up the perfect posture. He raised himself by the balls of his feet. His left foot was pointed left at an approximate right angle to the other. By raising his back paw and pushing off with his front, he leapt several paces in reverse all at once. He pushed off his back paw next to land back near his pupil. \"You try it now.\"\n\nMitra tried to emulate the correct posture to limited success. Although his feet were in the proper position, they weren't tense as a loaded spring like the example before him. Rather, he wobbled and struggled to maintain his balance in his awkward position. \"Like this?\" he asked.\n\n\"Not quite,\" Omari was quick to remark. \"Distribute your weight better. You'll get knocked on your ass trying to balance like that.\" Without warning, he lunged at the boy to give his chest a soft shove. \nIt was only intended to bring to focus the inherent flaw in the stance, but it nearly downed Mitra anyway. He flailed his arms to catch his balance again. This new instructor was turning out to be as rude as any of the others, if not more so. \"H-hey! You almost pushed me over!\" he yelped. \n\n\"Precisely,\" Omari rebuked. Soft and sheltered like his father, he thought. Time would tell if he had the resolve to perservere the training. \"Look at how I'm standing,\" he said and moved about to show his footing from different angles. \n\n\"I'm not sure how to do this right,\" Mitra huffed. He attempted the stance again. \n\n\"Watch me move and notice how I'm shifting my weight.\"\n\nThe next demonstration involved shuffling along the length of the patio in a straight line and following the path in reverse again. His right leg always remained in front of the other and his free arm was tucked behind his waist. Fencing footwork became second nature through years of practice. He made it appear as effortless as walking, and it was indeed nothing for him. Mitra studied the movements with utmost attention. Fencing was an enthralling new world and he wanted to succeed in it. \n\n\"Get it? You have to be able to spring forward or backward in quick succession. Be light and fluid,\" Omari emphasized and stopped to watch his pupil. \n\nMitra looked down to make sure he was positioned properly then took several steps in stance. \"Am I doing it?\"\n\"Close, but you have to be faster. No pause in between. Advance the span of the garden and backpedal the same distance back like I did,\" Omari said. \n\nThough the practice felt as a blundered dance at first, the boy made a conscious effort to correct his errors and find a comfortable flow. Backpedaling was more difficult than going forward, of course, and skewed the imaginary line he intended to follow. At least he was beginning to understand what was meant by shifting his weight, he thought. \n\"Faster. Lighter on your feet. Keep doing it until you have it,\" the master affirmed. \n\nMitra continued for a few more laps. Circuit after circuit he willed his steps to be deliberate, yet delicate. He managed to finish each run faster than the last. It was enough of a workout in itself to get his heart racing. \"Is this it?\" he asked between gasps for air. \n\n\"Better,\" he replied in his usual apathetic tone. This was marginally less boring than standing guard for him. \n\n\"Can I stop soon? I'm out of breath.\"\n\n\"Already? Take a break if you must,\" Omari chided and turned his gaze to the horizon. \nMitra dragged himself over to stand before his master and said, \"I'm not used to moving like that. My legs are tired.\"\n\n\"You don't get out much, do you?\" Omari teased, shaking his head in disapproval. \n\n\"That's not true! I go outside plenty,\" Mitra insisted. \n\n\"But do you exercise?\"\n\n\"Of course, sometimes I go outside the city to climb trees and hike up the mountain.\"\n\n\"Your stamina leaves much to be desired. Try running more often. We won't be able to get very far in your training at this point. If you really want to be able to spar, you can't be winded by a warm up.\"\n\nThey were hurtful words to hear for one that aspired to flourish with this skill, not just as a hobby but as a lifestyle. Being criticized so early in his training for an obvious shortcoming felt shameful. This was the first hurdle and it was surmountable with conviction. Whatever it was going to take to surmount, he was prepared to give it his all. The idea of it was already exciting. He was going to follow Master Omari's every word and be just like him one day. \"If I have to build my stamina, then that's what I'll do. How often should I run?\"\n\n\"Every day would be ideal,\" Omari answered.\n\n\"Every day?\" \n\n\"That's what I said. Make it into a routine if you want to improve. Don't overdo it, but push yourself a little more each day. It'll get easier and easier. After that, a little footwork won't tire you like that,\" Omari assured. \nThere was a familial glint of passion in the panda's eyes. It served as a reminder that the boy was indeed a part of this family that Omari had known for most of his life. He felt almost as if they had met before. If nothing else, Mitra was certainly spirited. Perhaps he was capable of handling the lessons after all. \"Are you rested enough now? Let's go for a run.\"\n\nYou mean right now?\" Mitra responded incredulously as Omari headed inside to go out the front door. \n\n\"Try to keep up. We'll go around the perimeter of the garden district,\" he said during a brief stretch. \n\n\"That's quite far. I'm not sure if I can make it, to be honest,\" Mitra admitted. \n\n\"So we won't run the whole way. Just go as far as you can.\"\n\nThe jackal broke into an agile sprint downhill through the confused bystanders. His physique, honed by an avidity for traversing the wilds, contributed to the competence in his field rather than the other way around. As a young pup raised in relative poverty, there was little available to him other than the vast world to explore. The city was no exception. He checked behind to make sure his student had caught up. Some of his methods and shortcuts were uncouth, like cutting through the back of private gardens or alleyways and vaulting over a barricade to skip a stairway down to a lower tier. Mitra's jaw dropped when he witnessed the impressive acrobatics and was left behind taking the stairs one by one. \n\nOmari kept going unhindered by any kind of obstacle, weaving through the crowd as if they were standing still. \nCaught up in an enjoyable exercise, he neglected to notice that his student was no where to be seen. He realized he was overdoing it and waited a while for them to catch up again. When the master retraced his steps to meet up, he found the boy hunched over in exhaustion on the side of the road under the shade of a tree. \"There you are,\" he called. \"You giving up?\"\n\n\"N-no! I'm just catching my breath. I would have paced myself better earlier if I had known we were going to run afterwards.\"\n\n\"Walk with me,\" Omari said and waved him on. \"Do you ever run?\"\n\n\"Well, I do run. Usually not when it's this hot and sunny.\"\n\n\"Gurinth's summers are always this hot. We didn't even run very far. Are you really sure you're up for doing this?\" Omari taunted, unsure if he was being too harsh. \n\n\"I'm faster than I look, I swear. I just didn't think we'd be running in the middle of the summer. It never gets this hot down south. Not to mention I used my energy to move faster back when we were in the garden. I'm a little drained from that,\" the red panda attested. He found the heat to be oppressive and fanned his face with his tongue out. \n\n\"You mean to say you were expending your sorcery? But why?\" Omari asked.\n\n\"I had to! You kept telling me to go faster. I wanted to get it right,\" Mitra muttered. \n\n\"You're burning away your stamina that way. To keep your vitality at it's peak, you have to contain your soul energy whenever possible. On the battlefield, you should call on it as a last resort or if you're absolutely certain you can make good use of it. Otherwise, you want to rely on your mundane ability first and foremost. Fire aligned sorcery to enhance your body, much like a weapon, is as useful as the one who wields it. Do not use it as a crutch for actual skill,\" the master lectured with a hint of resentment.\n\n\"You're not a fire sorcerer, are you?\" his apprentice pointed out with a smug grin. \n\n\"Wind, although I rarely use it.\"\n\n\"Are you jealous that you can't use fire?\"\n\n\"No I am not! This is how I was taught, and this is how I'm going to teach you. If you don't like it, attend the university so you can learn sorcery. If you hone your body without relying on it, you will be that much stronger overall. Consider what I'm saying. If you conserve your energy while your foe expends theirs, who will be standing longer? Are you even listening to me right now?\" Omari snarled, getting worked up. \n\n\"Sorry, it's just so hot out here in the direct sunlight,\" Mitra sighed. He scuffled along looking as though he might faint. \n\n\"Would swimming be a preferable workout for you, then? It uses your whole body but you get to stay cool,\" Omari suggested.\n\n\"I guess so.\"\n\n\"Maybe we can do that for the next lesson. Either way, you need to start making a habit of getting exercise on your own time. It will be hard to make any real progress unless you do. Try running during the cooler hours of the day.\"\n\n\"So, when can I use a sword?\"\n\n\"Enough!\" Omari snapped. \"Why do you want to do this so badly, anyway?\"\n\n\"It's my dream. Has been for a long time now.\"\n\n\"Your dream?\"\n\n\"Yeah. I want to be strong like you, Master Omari.\"\n\nIt was strange to hear someone call him such a title. He forgot what it felt like to have someone look up to him. Whether he liked it or not he couldn't decide. \"For what purpose?\"\n\n\"I'm going to be a soldier who travels the world and does great things.\"\n\n\"What in the world gave you that idea?\" \n\n\"I'm not allowed to leave the house that much, so I read books like that. And sometimes, when I'm looking out my window, I can see that devout order of knights marching around in formation. They get to travel all around the Ring Sea,\" Mitra described in solemn respect of his heroes that kept Phylos safe. \n\n\"You don't have to be a swordsman to sail around the Ring Sea. Anyone can do that. Your father does that,\" Omari countered.\n\n\"I know, but I want to be strong! Someday I want to be strong enough that I don't have to be afraid of going anywhere. That way I can protect everyone important to me, like my father. A part of why I'm not allowed to go anywhere is because of how dangerous the world is outside of the city's protection. He tells me stories about what he's seen, too. I want people to tell stories about me,\" Mitra proclaimed his lofty dreams with aspiration. \n\nOmari remembered the arrogance of youth quite well. More than himself, that sense of ambition was reminiscent of an old friend. He couldn't help but snicker. [i]If you only knew how naive you sound. I'm sure we were back then as well.[/i]\n\n\"What is so funny about that?\"\n\n\"Nothing. I said the same kind of things back then.\"\n\n\"What changed?\"\n\nDigging up the past was getting harder to skirt around. It didn't help that this was all too familiar. The darker events in his life were too complicated to discuss to a mere child. Besides, it wasn't his job to hand down his cynical wisdom and crush the boy's dreams. He'd leave that for Indira to do. \"All I'm going to say is it's not quite what you think. Enough walking. We're running the rest of the way.\"\n\n\"Wait! Hold on!\" Mitra cried, but Omari had already gone ahead. \n\n\"Catch up!\" he called back. \n\nAlthough he lagged far behind, the apprentice overworked his aching muscles to carry him after the nimble jackal. As before, he was led through a series of shortcuts and cut corners to get back home. When Omari took sudden turns, it took a strenuous bursts of speed to not lose sight of him again. There was no comparing the master's boundless energy to his own. Realizing this was inspiring as it was embarrassing. To prove he was worthy, he held on until he petered out near the front gate. \"How do you go that fast? You really know your way around the city.\"\n\nOmari ignored the praise and opened the front door. \"Come back to the garden. You're going to practice your footwork again.\"\n\n\"Hold on, I need a break--\" Mitra groaned and was interrupted.\n\n\"Now. You can rest when we're done,\" Omari demanded as he disappeared indoors. [i]This is nothing compared to what I endured at your age. You're too soft. Guess you didn't stand a chance as Indira's boy.[/i]\n\nAstounded and frazzled, the boy shot a snide look and scuttled behind. He was about to have a word about how rude that came across when he recalled that it was imperative to be on his best behavior. Fatigue weighed down on his whole being. Whether he was able to perform under these conditions was questionable, as his limbs wavered and his lungs hurt. Dreams weren't supposed to be easy, he thought. He refused to let this one slip away before he had a chance. No matter what, he vowed to give an earnest effort from now on. Omari wasn't any more strict or unfair than his past tutors, in fact he was a fascinating man to train under by comparison. \n\nRather than complain any further, he repeated the exercises from earlier in silence. He had to be careful not to let his weariness hamper his accuracy. Every lap ended with the inner plea that Omari allow him to stop. As an unforeseen side effect, agonizing repetition required him to feel out a more efficient technique. Bitterness turned to pride in his accomplishment. It felt as though he had a much better grasp overall. He smiled at the nod of satisfaction he received despite being on the verge of collapse. \n\n\"That's enough. Your first lesson is over.\"\n\n\"Thank you!\" Mitra exclaimed and flopped down on the grass not a moment later. He never imagined the ground would feel so welcoming. \n\n\"We will meet again in a few days. By then, I want to hear that you've started an exercise routine,\" Omari said and turned to leave. He was stopped by the sound of Mitra scurrying to his feet for a proper send off. \n\n\"I'm going to run like you told me. Thank you for teaching me, Master Omari!\" he said as he bowed in respect. \nGood manners counted for nothing by Omari's judgment. And he still didn't feel suited to such a high title. He didn't proclaim to be a master of anything. Detached and immovable as ever, he dismissed the young red panda with a half hearted wave. \"Stop calling me that. Just Omari is fine.\"\n\n_____ Second Lesson\n\nIn the days prior to their next meeting, both master and apprentice crossed each others minds frequently. Omari had little else to occupy his time other than fishing from the bow of his sailboat for a few spare coins. Memories of Indira's brother, Rakesh, were a consistent fixture in this thoughts. The likeness in appearance and personality between nephew and uncle was unmistakable. He tried to avoid the notion while he was teaching, but spending his days in solitude made it inevitable. How long am I going to keep our history a secret from him?\n\nMeanwhile, Mitra practiced his footwork at every opportunity. Down the hall, out in the garden, and in his cramped bedroom at night, he obsessed over perfecting his form to show off next time. He felt it necessary to prove himself so that Omari would recognize his aptitude and allow him to handle a blade. Rehearsal was always in secret for fear of his father's objection. He expected to be told something like, \"Not in the house,\" or \"You should be studying.\" It gave all the more reason to validate that his dreams were more than frivolous fantasy. \n\nSeveral days of rigorous exercise passed before Omari returned for the next lesson. By then Mitra was confident that he at least wasn't going to make a fool of himself. After his tutor left for the day, he daydreamed about how fulfilling it would be to have someone as great as his master to notice his potential. He looked up from the reference manual he absently read and saw Omari strolling up the hill. Heedless of their arrival, Mitra hopped up and squealed with joy. He channeled his excitement into darting downstairs to greet his visitor. The door flung open. \"Omari, you're here!\"\n\n\"I get paid to be here, what's your point? You are ready for today's trial, I take it?\"\n\n\"Trial? You mean you're showing me how to use a saber today!\" Mitra acclaimed with infectious zeal. \nOmari rolled his eyes and shook his head. He acted as impervious to emotion as ever. \"Come on. We're running down to the harbor,\" he said as he beckoned the boy out of the doorway. \n\n\"I'm ready!\" \n\nThe trek down the slope of the city to the docks was longer than their previous excursion around the garden district, but the aid of gravity made it more bearable. Omari decided to be courteous and lead them on the direct route down the promenade this time rather than through a veritable obstacle course. The red panda sped up to jog at his master's side and glanced over. \n\n\"You're managing to not keel over. I'm impressed,\" Omari teased. \n\n\"That's because I've been running since then. Every morning when I wake up,\" Mitra boasted. \n\n\"This should be easy for you, then.\"\n\n\"What will be easy?\"\n\n\"We're almost there.\"\n\nThey continued on to the harbor where Omari lived and came to a stop. Perplexed by why there were in the dilapidated part of town, the red panda looked around for an explanation. The actual harbor was further up the coast. \n\n\"Here we are. My humble abode,\" the master said. \n\n\"Oh, you live here? What are we here for?\" Mitra asked, hopeful for good news. \n\n\"We're going to the University island.\"\n\n\"Huh? How come?\"\n\nOmari took the alley that led around to the beach on the other side where his shabby vessel was tied up to a shabbier dock constructed of crooked wood planks swaying from the waves. He took a deep whiff of the salty gusts coming off the ocean. It was another beautiful sunny day in paradise. Conditions were perfect for what he had planned. \"Don't you remember what I said a few days ago? You said it was too hot in the summer, so you're going to swim instead.\"\n\n\"To the University island? This has to be a joke!\" Mitra exclaimed. He remembered his pledge to behave as he said it, but this stretched plausibility. The island in question was visible across the channel along with the bleached white architecture that covered its land. Boats sailed back and forth between the two shores all day. He never heard of anyone swimming across. \n\n\"You've never done it?\" Omari asked with a smirk, although he knew the answer. \n\n\"I've taken the ferry, like everyone else! That's a really long distance for someone to swim, what happens if I get tired?\"\n\n\"That's why we are at my house, see? You're going to swim while I take my boat. If you do get tired before you make it the whole way, I'll pull you out and we'll sail back,\" the master informed. He was aware of how ridiculous a challenge it was to the average person, despite having completed it as an adolescent for the sake of fun. \n\n\"This is insane!\" \n\n\"You asked for this. Quit your whining already,\" Omari threatened. \n\n\"Master Omari, I'm sorry, but is this really necessary? It's kind of over the top, don't you think?\" the boy reasoned. Fear of expulsion reigned in his outburst. Usually animated and capricious, there were bound to be slip ups in his conscious effort to behave in a manner befitting a prestigious discipline. \n\n\"Sure it's over the top. But this is what I'm requiring of you if you want to train under me, understand? Your father isn't paying me to coddle you. Go home if you don't want to do it,\" the master growled. In his mind, being pushed to the limit was the correct method. To be considered an instructor, he was vehement about not settling for anything less. That it was a favor to a friend meant no difference. His training was his last shred of pride. He turned his back and stepped down to his dock. \"If you do this, I'll bring my wooden blades next time. Go on and get a head start while I get my boat ready. I'll catch up.\"\n\nMitra stood at the water's edge in apprehension. As much as the idea daunted him, he had no choice. Swimming was less taxing than running, he thought. Going at a steady pace should suffice to bring him across. Psyching up distracted himself from a more immediate concern--his clothes. \"This isn't ideal to swim in, either,\" he muttered. \n\n\"What do you mean? You're wearing a loincloth under all that, aren't you?\" Omari asked when he looked up to see that his apprentice still hadn't started. He untied the knots that fastened his craft to the dock and jumped in to unfurl the sail. \n\nModesty was a virtue of the southern continent more than the relaxed free spirits of the isles. Puberty was an awkward time for Mitra. It made him more aware of the parts of his anatomy he preferred hidden from the general public. Only his parents had seen him naked, so exposing his body to his idol felt as intimidating as the trial. His outer layer was unpinned and folded to set aside. He paused to make sure that no one was looking before he pulled his chiton over his head and tossed it on top of his himation. A simple white perizoma was all that remained to cover his boyhood and rear. Having a flabby belly and thighs also felt embarrassing in the presence of someone with a flawless physique. \n\nHe rushed to plunge into the tide and pushed off to get started. The sensible idea was to swim at his leisure to preserve stamina, but the resistance of the waves demanded more of him. All of his limbs paddled against the current to bring him closer to the skiff drifting in the wind. After swimming for a while, it seemed like the island looked as small as it did from the shore. Frustration from the lack of visible progress swayed him to concentrate on the rhythm of his strokes and not the destination. It was easier to not think about how long it was going to take. \nOmari sat up from lounging in the sunshine to see where the sail carried his boat. The mass of red fur that thrashed in the water was far behind. As boring as it was to watch, the boy's safety was his responsibility. He pulled the handle for the rudder and circled back. \"Pace yourself, now. Still a long way to go.\"\n\n\"Don't...remind me!\" Mitra barked through a face full of sea. \n\n\"I'll be right here so say something if you can't go on. Your father wouldn't like it if you drowned on my watch.\"\n\n\"Not yet. I'll make it.\"\n\n\"Sometime today, I hope?\" Omari jested. \n\n\"I'm pacing myself!\"\n\n\"Fair enough.\"\n\nMitra lost count of how many rotations the skiff made around him. Eternity spent locked in the same motion displaced his bearing on time. He was tired of being in constant movement, but also tired of being wet. At the risk of disappointment, he treaded in place to take a break and verified the distance to the shore he came from. The two islands were roughly equidistant. If Omari was not present as a lifeline, he would have been terrified to feel so small and stranded. Finishing the trial seemed unlikely.\n\nThe boat pulled up alongside and Omari leaned over the edge. \"You're over halfway now and you're losing momentum. Ready to head in?\" \n\n\"No, I can make it,\" Mitra gasped. Languor in his voice belied his words. Twice again the distance traveled was not just unlikely, it was impossible. Whether he accepted defeat or not became a question of when. [i]Will I look weak if I give up now? Was this your idea the whole time?[/i]\n\nOmari shook his head. \"Don't be ridiculous. I knew damn well you weren't going to make it. That wasn't the point. It's time to head back.\" \n\n\"Wait, does this mean I passed?\" \n\n\"Yes, you passed. Get in the boat already. Come on, I'll help you up,\" he insisted with an impatient wave. \nMitra splashed over in desperate pursuit of salvation and held the railing. Steady limbs reached over and scooped him out by his armpits. In the sublime relief of his master's grip, he dangled and dripped like limp seaweed. His fluffy fur lost much of its volume in his waterlogged state. The perizoma too, weighed down by hydration, clung to his flesh as he surfaced and molded to the shape of his anatomy to every detail. \n\nThe pointed nub caught the master's attention as he set the boy on the bench in the stern. Omari found it advantageous that he was mature enough to subdue the stirring in his loins and avoided a bigger protrusion of his own. He lingered on the alluring curve of shaft's outline for a moment before he averted his glare. [i]Mitra is actually kind of cute. Looks so much like Rakesh did as a cub. I'm starting to see that he has the exuberance, too. Hell, what am I thinking?[/i]\n\nThe red panda shivered off some excess moisture and settled in the seat looking helpless with his arms crossed. Rejuvenating sunlight helped warm his soaked fur, but when he noticed the shriveled member in his lap, he yearned for the shelter of his chiton. Blood rushed to his cheeks his spine tensed. [i]At least no one is watching right now, but did he just see that?[/i] \"Did you happen to bring my clothes?\" he stuttered meekly. \n\n\"Ah, sorry I forgot them,\" Omari answered. \"This is too big for you, but you can wrap up in this until we get back.\" He pulled off his chlamys and offered it to his apprentice. \n\n\"I can wait,\" Mitra lied. Wearing someone else's clothes didn't seem much less awkward than the current situation. \n\n\"It's hard to look tough when you're shaking like that. Just take it,\" Omari said as he threw the bundled fabric at Mitra's chest. Save for the loose flaps of his loincloth that fluttered in the wind, he became the nude one instead. He preferred it to risking further shameful arousal. After all, he had no qualms about getting undressed in front of others. His attention returned to adjusting the sail and the flow of air into it. \"I'll get us back to shore quickly.\"\n\nDonning the worn garment felt unclean and taboo, at least too personal a favor outside of one's family. This intimacy, as indirect as it was, stoked a burning excitement in his gut. His master entrusted to him the cloth off his back. It was the kind of care exchanged by steadfast companions. He unfolded the scrunched fabric and tossed it around his shoulders lengthwise like a blanket. An earthy, masculine scent permeated the fabric. He pulled up the edge to his face to further sample it. The fragrance was sweet, like the spices in the cuisine back home. Not at all gross as he expected. In fact, he cherished the warmth it provided, both figurative and literal. MItra was in heaven. To be enveloped in it was almost as satisfying as the brief moment in his master's arms. \n\nWhen the boy snapped out of his daze, he considered the notion that he shouldn't look like he's enjoying it too much. They were approaching the shore with considerable speed thanks to Omari's manipulation of the pocket of air that enveloped the sail. Thankfully, the master was too preoccupied with sailing and hiding his erection to notice his apprentice caressing the odiferous chlamys. Mitra took advantage of the freedom to peruse the beguiling shapes before him. He found his eyes were affixed on the fringe of the butt exposed by the fluttering loincloth. His fascination was yet again dashed by sensibility, as well as the slightest hint of guilt and confusion. The convenient excuse he spun was that seeing someone in this state was a novel experience for him, which was true. To distract himself, he decided to spark a conversation. \"Do you enjoy doing this?\"\n\nThe jackal's pointed ears perked up. \"You mean sailing? I suppose you could say that.\" Sailing was one of his few pleasures in life. Fresh ocean air rushing through his fur was always refreshing. His tail mirrored his current state by dancing side to side like the metronomical sway of a conductor's baton. As a child, the sea was an unfathomable gateway to freedom and adventure. Although reality had adjusted his sense of the world, he still held onto a fraction of that wonder. There were yet more uninhabited islands in the archipelago he had not seen. \n\n\"No, not that. I meant training me,\" Mitra chuckled. \n\nOmari scoffed. It was the kind of question only a child would think to say aloud. The young panda was obviously fishing for praise. \"Why would you ask me that? This is work. And I'm doing it as a favor, besides.\" \n\n\"To my father? How come?\" \n\n\"We've known each other since we were children,\" Omari stated with a solemn tone. He dreaded where the conversation was headed. Perhaps it was bound to come to light sooner or later, he thought. His tail fell between his legs. \n\n\"Oh, I didn't know you were as old as him,\" Mitra commented while he again pondered his master's stunning appearance. \n\n\"What? I'm not! He's seven years older than me. Do I really look like I'm his age?\" the master yelped, suddenly conscious of his scars and blemishes for a change. Indira was an old man in his eyes, as far back as when they first knew each other. \n\nHearing that specific number recalled a memory of something Indira mentioned long ago about his little brother who lived in the west being seven years younger. Mitra had a vague recollection of meeting said sibling in his distant past, or so he thought. The image of his face had long since faded beyond clarity. Regardless, pieces of the puzzle fell into place and gave a more complete picture. He was certain there had to be a connection. \"That means you're the same age as my uncle, right? Were you two friends as well?\" \n\nOmari winced at the mention. He figured that Mitra coming to the conclusion on his own was preferable to stumbling over an explanation, and counted on the assumption that Indira sheltered his son from the less savory details, like their shared occupation. \"That's right.\"\n\n\"Wait, how did you become friends, then? Was he a soldier, too?\"\n\n\"I told you already, we grew up together. Your family and mine came to Gurinth at about the same time. Your father helped us get out of trouble as many times as he's turned us in to our parents. He's kind of like an older brother to me,\" Omari recounted in an effort to veer from the subject. He knew the pestering wouldn't cease until he coughed up the full explanation, but it was a story for another time. \n\n\"That doesn't really answer my question,\" Mitra rebuked with disappointment while he skirted the waves with his paw. \n\n\"Not now. I'll tell you some other time, alright? Besides, we're almost ashore. You dried off yet?\" Omari asked as he glanced behind. He bit his lip at what he beheld. His apprentice, still damp, had acclimated to the open air and let his cover hang open. [i]Fuck, I can't help myself. He's really cute. Why does it have to be like this?[/i]\n\n\"Wow, we're here already. That was fast! Faster than the ferry, even,\" Mitra praised. \n\nThe skiff soared into the shallows propelled by the conjured currents. Sorcery reversed the flow to thwart an imminent collision with the docks. Despite being a far cry from a mage, the jackal exhibited his precision well and guided the boat parallel to them. Of course, it was another facet of his skill set that impressed his adoring fan. He enlisted Mitra to hold on as he secured ropes to the cleats. \"I'll finish tying off here, you go get dressed. You're not quite done for today.\"\n\n\"Really? What else would you have me do after that?\" the panda pouted. \n\n\"Don't fuss over it, cub. You've passed my test. There won't be any endurance trials from now on. However, you do have to practice your footwork. I need to see if you've been doing it correctly.\"\n\n\"Why test me? I thought this was just a job.\"\n\n\"Oh come on, if you want to be a smart ass at least think about it. I wasn't having you swim to make your swordplay better. I had to make sure you're disciplined enough for me to bother teaching you something like this. Wielding a weapon takes responsibility; I can't just give a sword to some spoiled brat. Be grateful that I let you off easier than I had it. Anyway, you seem to have enough fight left in you. Hurry up and grab your clothes, then come back to the dock,\" the master ordered. His stern, resolute demeanor bore a semblance of approval and informality, like he was warming up to their arrangement. Motivated by mischievous lust, he forcibly seized the chlamys off to steal one last glimpse of exquisite partial nudity. Much of the boy's excess fat gave ample shape to his round bottom. \n\n\"Hey! Why did you--\" Mitra squeaked in shock. His immediate reaction was to make a frantic break for the sanctuary of his chiton. [i]Does anyone here care about being naked?[/i]\n\n\"Heh. No need to be so shy. You have nothing to be ashamed of, anyway. Living with comrades comes at the expense of your privacy. Get used to it.\" [i]I don't think I've ever seen him move that fast.[/i]\n\nThey regrouped on the narrow dock once they were dressed. Mitra noted the shaky structure and precarious footing. A misstep could mean an unpleasant and possibly dangerous fall. It raised into question Omari's intentions, but he then concluded that this was nothing compared to risking his life in battle. The space he had used for practicing wasn't any bigger, after all. Anticipative eyes watched from the far end to pass judgment. Taking that as the signal to start the routine, the panda sprung into action, his vision trained on his stride. \nFour repetitions passed until the master chimed in. \"Much better than last time,\" he commended. \n\n\"See? I've been doing it on my own. It's easy for me now.\"\n\n\"Is it? Your eyes need to be on your opponent, not the ground. Look at me,\" Omari said as another loop was completed. On the retreat, he advanced on his student to demonstrate a vital necessity. Every back step was matched in turn to stay face to face. His steps outpaced the other's as if he planned to overrun them, impelling them to react with heightened alacrity. The boy managed for the length of the dock, but tripped and fell when the planks underneath turned to the beach's soft sand. The master offered his hand to pull them up. \n\n\"Ugh. I can't keep up with you. You're just bigger and faster than me,\" Mitra groaned as he brushed off. \n\n\"I'm just more experienced,\" Omari corrected. \"Being a smaller target can be advantageous, too. My point was that you won't be going at your own pace when we train for real. You won't be free to look down, either. And you'll need to do all of this while you're swinging a saber around. Keep that in mind for the next lesson.\"\n\n\"I understand. Does that mean we won't get to use them today?\"\n\n\"I can tell you're tired,\" Omari said while he gave a pat of encouragement. \"You did great today, Mitra. I'll teach you for real from now on, but I want you fully rested. Return whenever you're ready to give it your all.\"\n\nAh! I can't wait! Thanks, Omari, I'll see you tomorrow!\"\n\n\n\n","writing_bbcode_parsed":"_____ Invitation

Crimson and rose from the setting sun reflected off the waves rolling into the harbor of the island city, Gurinth.  Part of an archipelago at the approximate center of the Ring Sea, the tropical nation enjoyed being the locus of warm currents and trade ships sailing in from all over the world.  Its harbor was lined with vessels in all manner of sizes, from the lowliest skiff to colossal floating fortresses.  

Less wealthy denizens lived in the compact homes that overlooked the shore.  The smooth stone towers had two or three floors and were spaced apart just enough to allow the passage of a cart.  Although it was noisy and crowded, and the putrid scent of marine harvest wafted on the breeze, residents were content having their own sliver of the sea.  

One such denizen, a jackal in his prime, climbed down the hatch inside after taking in the view from his roof.  Omari had fine blue-black fur and the physique befitting a seasoned warrior; his lean musculature toned rather than bulky from years of testing his endurance.  Several faded scars on his limbs hinted at his violent past.  His garb was little more than a white length of cloth artfully wrapped around his body and held in place by a brass brooch that roughly matched his amber eyes.  

His modest home was cluttered with assorted junk.  Many of the items were relics from life that afforded them and the house.  Weapons, armor, tools, maps, and the like were piled on top of each other on shelves and in corners. The most prized equipment was mounted on stands.   A colorful rug imported from Yrzahad in the center of the room was held in place by a bed and a few cushions.  

The jackal made his way downstairs.  The search for stray coins to bring to the tavern was interrupted by a soft sound.  Omari looked up to search for its origin.  It took a moment to notice the envelope that was slipped under his door.  He yanked open the door to catch sight of the one who delivered it, but they had already dissolved into the crowd down the street.  To receive a message was unusual and unexpected.  His curiosity was instantly sparked.  He hastily unraveled the parcel to read the message inside:

Omari,

It has been a long while since we have seen each other.  I am abroad on business more often than not these days.  Let us meet so we can catch up.  On an evening you are free, please join me for dinner.  I have a favor to ask of you.  If you can, try to drop by before I leave again at the end of the moon.  

Indira

Receiving an invitation from an old friend was a welcome surprise.  Omari recognized the familiar handwriting immediately.  It was unusual to hear from a childhood friend he contacted only a few times a year, but the mention of a favor accounted for that.  It seemed just as well to spend the night drinking at the expense of a wealthy merchant as going to the tavern as planned.  Besides, the mention of possible work was an alluring prospect for the indigent swordsman.  He tossed the letter on the small decrepit table beside him and headed out the door.

Omari took his time hiking to the top of the gradual slope of the city.  Further inland the streets were more meticulously maintained and garnished by monuments and brilliant architecture.  Pleasant floral perfume filled the air around the bath houses.  Enchanting melodies from string instruments sang in the background.  Indira's manor was on the opposite side of the city near the border between civilization and the half of the island preserved for nature.  The garden district was full of similar estates that were comparable to palaces.

The grounds of the manor were surrounded by a low iron fence to establish the perimeter of the property.  As the name of the district implied, lush vegetation wove itself between the pickets.  Shrubs and fruit bearing trees provided a layer of privacy and shade.  The house itself was constructed from the pale grey stone that was found in abundance in the region.  It was spacious and lofty, befitting the head of a prestigious trading company.  There were individual rooms dedicated to every conceivable purpose.  Light from fire elemental lamps flickered through the windows on each floor that almost stretched from floor to ceiling.  Memories of long ago flooded the jackal's mind, both heartwarming and bittersweet.  He let out a deep sigh as he knocked on the door.  While he waited he lost himself in nostalgia looking into the open windows and seeing the same furniture he remembered from his childhood.  

Eventually, the door swung open.  A middle aged red panda greeted him with a beaming smile.  Indira was dressed in black formal wear tailored to fit his somewhat round features.  His movements were gentle and orchestrated, as composing himself for the public eye was his default.  Charisma served him well as the successor to his father's trading empire.  He adjusted his round spectacles and said, "Omari!  Isn't this a surprise?  Please, come in, come in."

"Indira, you did just invite me to come here," Omari protested.  His voice was low and heavy,  with the kind of stern and direct inflection expected of a grumpy aloof man.  
They went inside through the foyer.  Unlike the visitor's abode, everything here was spotless and tidy.  The space was used to its full extent, however, filled to the brim with exotic furniture and art from every corner of Phylos collected over several decades of travel.  

"Well, I only just sent the courier.  I didn't expect you so soon, you see.  But it's no problem at all.  It's a pleasure to have you again."

"A courier?  Hah!  What's the matter, Indira, you can't even ask me in person anymore?" Omari teased.  

"Sorry.  I actually returned from meeting with an associate recently.  Time is the one commodity I'm short on these days.  How about you?"

"The opposite, really.  I have plenty of time."  

The red panda led the way to the drawing room, although his guest knew exactly where they were going.  He glanced back at Omari, who was appreciating some of the more recent pieces.  "Is that so?  Found any work lately?"

"Here and there.  My last job was security at the auction house.  It wasn't too bad.  Sometimes foreigners see me sailing a boat and assume I'm for hire.  I'll give them a ride to another island or guide them to some of the better sights.  I enjoy doing that."

The drawing room was one of the bigger rooms on the ground floor, intended to receive and entertain groups of visitors.  As children they were forbidden from playing around in the "adult" sections of the house, not that it ever stopped them.  It had ample floor space to move about freely.  The rest was the antique furniture from their homeland, upholstered with fabric embroidered with designs inspired by nature.  Cabinets held rows of cups that would never be used and bottles of spirits.  

"Oh, forgive me, I took my meal during my meeting so I don't have anything to serve.  Care for a drink?"

"That is what I came here for," Omari cheered.  His tail wagged and mouth watered as he watched his friend pour two goblets full of some obscure vintage wine that a commoner could never afford.  

"Here you are," Indira said as he passed the wine.  "If you are interested, I do have some work for you.  I'm sure you guessed that from the letter."

Omari sipped from his goblet and nodded.  "What kind of work?  Someone need a bodyguard again?"

"No, that's why I wanted to ask you in person.  It's not something you have done before, but I think you'd be the best for the job.  I'd pay you well, of course."

"Really?" Omari perked up, his curiosity piqued.  "Well, out with it.  What is it?"

"My son has been begging me incessantly to hire someone to teach him to use a sword.  I told him I'd ask the best swordsman I know."

Omari scoffed.  He was skeptical at the idea of being a mentor.  Expression was far from his strong suit.  "I almost forgot you had a son.  I don't know, Indira.  I'm not sure I'm cut out for teaching.  Children and I don't mix.  Never had the patience for that sort of thing.  I've never tried to teach anyone, either."

"I don't blame you for forgetting, the last time you saw him he was probably still an infant.  He's almost twelve now and getting more independent by the day," Indira explained.  

"Twelve?  It's been that long.  Damn.  I feel like I should have seen him since then.  What's his name?"

"His name is Mitra.  He was living with his mother back home previously.  He moved here for the education, and she devotes more time to work than I do.  Anyway, hear me out.  I've made it clear that the privilege will be lost if he doesn't conduct himself properly.  To be honest, I don't care for his dream of becoming a soldier.  It goes without saying why.  All I want is for him to be active and disciplined more so than a good swordsman."

"I'm still not sure if I'm the right one for the job," Omari replied with a solemn expression while he refilled his cup.  

"Please, you're the only one for the job.  I trust you.  Do it as a personal favor for me.  Look at it as the easiest coin you've ever made.  Give it a try, will you?" Indira pleaded.  

The jackal covered his muzzle in contemplation.  It was something he would never consider under normal circumstances.  Financial desperation played a part as much as a sense of loyalty and obligation.  He grunted and shrugged.  How bad can it be?  

"You twist your client's arms like this, too?  Fine, I'll do it.  But I'm going to go about it my own way.  I'll put him through the same exercises I went through to train when I was his age.  It won't be fun and games."

"By all means!" the excited panda exclaimed.  He immediately contained his enthusiasm and continued in a hushed tone, "If you can train him so hard that he loses interest in the notion of a violent life in favor of a safe, lucrative career, then all the better.  Within reason, of course."

"Very well.  All I can offer is my best.  Where is he, anyway?"

"Mitra is upstairs studying before bed.  I'd rather we do not disturb him now; if I told him now he'd never get to sleep tonight.  I'll tell him tomorrow morning.  Can you come by sometime in the afternoon?  His lessons should be finished by then.  I won't be around, so let yourself in.  Servant should be here.  You can figure out a schedule that works for the both of you.  Anything is fine so long it doesn't interfere with his studies."

"Understood, boss," Omari acknowledged his friend with a half hearted salute.  "Once every few days, most likely.  Hopefully this kid of yours doesn't drive me crazy."

The host chuckled and said, "I think you two will get along fine.  He hasn't made many friends since moving here.  Part of that is my fault, wanting him to have a private tutor instead of being with others his age.  He is a bit of a loner, though.  Likes to read and run off on his own.  Has a tendency to be rebellious.  Remind you of anyone?"

"Perhaps a bit too much," Omari remarked.  

"He's a good boy.  I assure you he won't be trouble.  I'll have your payment the next time I see you.  Really, thank you.  I can't express my gratitude enough."

"Yes, you can.  It's no trouble.  Besides, I could use the coin.  Thank you.  Now I won't have to come here to get a drink."

"You know you're always welcome here.  If things go well, maybe we can get together like this more often."

"I know, I know.  I'd better get going.  I'm sure you have a busy day ahead of you to prepare for.  Hell, you're still dressed in that horrendous clothing.  Get undressed and unwind, old man.  Thanks again."
Rather than draw out the meeting beyond the conversation for which it was intended, the swordsman decided to bid his friend farewell.  He knew that Indira was too polite to say he was too busy for company.  Omari showed himself out and headed home with a lot on his mind.  His future was filled with uncertainty, and he was unaware of just how much the events to come would change his life.  

_____ First Lesson


The next morning, Omari carried out his morning routine with the lesson at the front of his mind.  He rehearsed their meeting and interaction over and over.  Keeping it simple as possible at the start seemed to be the best course until he knew what to expect of this child.  It was necessary to gauge what propensity Mitra had before he would bother involving actual weapons.  Either way, he knew it was going to be a challenge to abide someone so beneath him in skill and maturity.  

The sun reached its zenith by the time Omari cooked up a fresh catch from the edge of his dock for the first meal of the day.  He finished eating and headed up to the manor.  The streets were often quiet around midday when most took respite from the summer heat.  As a jackal who grew up in the Raaksi Desert, he had long since been acclimated to such weather.  Omari knocked on the door and shielded his eyes from the sunlight to peer inside the windows.  There was no answer so he let himself in.  

A muffled voice was heard through the walls from a room within.  The swordsman traced the monotonous drawl down the corridor to the study that overlooked the garden.  It was a well lit room with ample seating adjacent to several desks.  Each exterior wall featured a bookcase filled with old and new tomes.  Although Gurinth had several libraries for public use, books were an expensive commodity.  Indira possessed an impressive collection, inherited or not.  The volumes that saw more frequent use were laid out on the desk where the young red panda sat across from his tutor, a gold eagle wearing a jet black peplos that covered most of her lanky form.  She concluded her lecture on the history of ancient Phylos as Omari entered.  

"And remember to finish reading the chapters covering the Aclian Exodus that followed the war.  That is all for today, Mitra.  I will see you tomorrow morning," she said as she collected a stack of her own books.  The tutor flashed an awkward smile and nod on her way past Omari.  It was the kind of smile that said she wanted nothing to do with a rugged commoner, but had too much pride not to feign politeness.  

The red panda jolted up from the end of his inconsequential lecture and the presence of the man his father spoke of.  Barely containing his excitement, he hopped out of his seat to greet his new instructor.  Mitra looked up at Omari, his gleaming malachite eyes wide with anticipation.  Unlike the swordsman's simple chlamys, the boy was dressed in immaculate and lush garments.  A thick himation draped over the shoulder left exposed by the knee length chiton underneath.  Their wine red and Tyrian purple dyes complimented the fiery tones in his fur.  His bushy tail swept along the floor around his bare feet.  Mitra stood the height of the jackal's chest and had a figure softened by a privileged life.  

"You must be the swordsman my father hired, right?  I'm Mitra," he greeted with a bow.  

"The name is Omari.  I wouldn't call myself a swordsman, but I was once in the militia during my younger days.  Spent some time as a freelancer after that.  Suppose i know enough of swordplay to impart the basics."

"Whoa, then you really were a soldier!  But what is a free lancer?" the boy interjected.  

"Uh, you know, I left the militia to do the same kind of work but without the commitment to the state.  We sold our skills to whoever was paying.  Made it a lot easier to pack up and leave when things turned bad," Omari recounted, unsure of why he was so free with the information.  It wasn't his job to tell his life story.

"So you're saying you were like a sellsword, a mercenary?  That's even more amazing!  You must have fought so many tough opponents.  Can you teach me to fight like that?"

The master sighed and answered, "That life is not as glamorous as you are believing it to be, kid.  It was mostly standing around with other soldiers so that no one had to fight.  No one has gone to war in Phylos for generations, you know.  When we did draw our weapons, it was to handle an elemental that wandered too close to the city and the like.  Enough reminiscing.  You said you wanted to learn?"

"Yes, of course!" Mitra blurted.  "How can I start?"

"First, we should go somewhere with enough space to move around.  Let's head out to the garden."
Glass pane doors in the adjacent room, the dining room, led out to the fenced in slice of wilderness behind the house.  As the district was famous for its gardens that preserved the island's natural beauty, this one was no exception.  A thick canopy of tangled tree branches shaded much of the space and kept it cool.  Flowerbeds lined the space against the mansion and fence where some sunlight pierced the vegetation.  In between it all was a stone patio that would serve their purpose.  

The red panda followed the man who was curiously familiar with the layout of his home.  He pondered why a swordsman would have been here before, but was reminded of a more pressing question.  It was supposed to be a course in fencing, yet there was no equipment.  Mitra tilted his head to inspect the swaying folds of his master's clothing and the lack thereof.  Omari was almost naked with his single garment that more or less exposed his sides.  
"Did you bring anything with you?"

"Huh?  Bring anything with me?"

"I didn't see you carrying any practice weapons with you.  How will this work, then?" Mitra asked with concern.  Maybe this wasn't what he had in mind after all.

"Oh, there's no need for that any time soon," Omari stated.  

"Any time soon?" Mitra griped.  "What do you mean by that?  I thought you were teaching me how to use a weapon.  Like sparring with you.  That sort of thing."  

"Stop whining.  If you want me to teach you, listen to what I say.  A weapon is only as useful as the one that carries it," the master explained.  He was stern, but offered his wisdom without expectation.  It was up to his student to follow it or not.  

"So I have to get stronger first.  I understand that much.  What do we do, lift weights?"

"No.  First, you have to learn how to stand and how to move.  It doesn't take much strength for a sharp edge to tear through flesh.  It is your maneuvers that determine the outcome, not your brute force."

"Actually I know how to stand already, see?" Mitra jested.  His humour fell short.

"Don't be impudent.  You'd never last as a soldier acting like that.  You're lucky that I am one of the lax ones.  Listen, your stance has to allow you to react in an instant.  Leave less of your feet on the ground, with most of your weight on the base of your toes.  Your dominant side, as in the one with the weapon, is always in front, with your other leg back.  This lets you push off of either foot to advance or retreat in a swifter motion than casual movement.  Like this, see?"

The lecture came with a step-by-step demonstration of setting up the perfect posture.  He raised himself by the balls of his feet.  His left foot was pointed left at an approximate right angle to the other.  By raising his back paw and pushing off with his front, he leapt several paces in reverse all at once.  He pushed off his back paw next to land back near his pupil.  "You try it now."

Mitra tried to emulate the correct posture to limited success.  Although his feet were in the proper position, they weren't tense as a loaded spring like the example before him.  Rather, he wobbled and struggled to maintain his balance in his awkward position.  "Like this?" he asked.

"Not quite," Omari was quick to remark.  "Distribute your weight better.  You'll get knocked on your ass trying to balance like that."  Without warning, he lunged at the boy to give his chest a soft shove.  
It was only intended to bring to focus the inherent flaw in the stance, but it nearly downed Mitra anyway.  He flailed his arms to catch his balance again.  This new instructor was turning out to be as rude as any of the others, if not more so.  "H-hey!  You almost pushed me over!" he yelped.  

"Precisely," Omari rebuked.  Soft and sheltered like his father, he thought.  Time would tell if he had the resolve to perservere the training.  "Look at how I'm standing," he said and moved about to show his footing from different angles.  

"I'm not sure how to do this right," Mitra huffed.  He attempted the stance again.  

"Watch me move and notice how I'm shifting my weight."

The next demonstration involved shuffling along the length of the patio in a straight line and following the path in reverse again.  His right leg always remained in front of the other and his free arm was tucked behind his waist.  Fencing footwork became second nature through years of practice.  He made it appear as effortless as walking, and it was indeed nothing for him.  Mitra studied the movements with utmost attention.  Fencing was an enthralling new world and he wanted to succeed in it.  

"Get it?  You have to be able to spring forward or backward in quick succession.  Be light and fluid," Omari emphasized and stopped to watch his pupil.  

Mitra looked down to make sure he was positioned properly then took several steps in stance.  "Am I doing it?"
"Close, but you have to be faster.  No pause in between.  Advance the span of the garden and backpedal the same distance back like I did," Omari said.

Though the practice felt as a blundered dance at first, the boy made a conscious effort to correct his errors and find a comfortable flow.  Backpedaling was more difficult than going forward, of course, and skewed the imaginary line he intended to follow.  At least he was beginning to understand what was meant by shifting his weight, he thought.  
"Faster.  Lighter on your feet.  Keep doing it until you have it," the master affirmed.  

Mitra continued for a few more laps.  Circuit after circuit he willed his steps to be deliberate, yet delicate.  He managed to finish each run faster than the last.  It was enough of a workout in itself to get his heart racing.  "Is this it?" he asked between gasps for air.  

"Better," he replied in his usual apathetic tone.  This was marginally less boring than standing guard for him.  

"Can I stop soon?  I'm out of breath."

"Already?  Take a break if you must," Omari chided and turned his gaze to the horizon.  
Mitra dragged himself over to stand before his master and said, "I'm not used to moving like that.  My legs are tired."

"You don't get out much, do you?" Omari teased, shaking his head in disapproval.  

"That's not true!  I go outside plenty," Mitra insisted.  

"But do you exercise?"

"Of course, sometimes I go outside the city to climb trees and hike up the mountain."

"Your stamina leaves much to be desired.  Try running more often.  We won't be able to get very far in your training at this point.  If you really want to be able to spar, you can't be winded by a warm up."

They were hurtful words to hear for one that aspired to flourish with this skill, not just as a hobby but as a lifestyle.  Being criticized so early in his training for an obvious shortcoming felt shameful.  This was the first hurdle and it was surmountable with conviction.  Whatever it was going to take to surmount, he was prepared to give it his all.  The idea of it was already exciting.  He was going to follow Master Omari's every word and be just like him one day.  "If I have to build my stamina, then that's what I'll do.  How often should I run?"

"Every day would be ideal," Omari answered.

"Every day?"

"That's what I said.  Make it into a routine if you want to improve.  Don't overdo it, but push yourself a little more each day.  It'll get easier and easier.  After that, a little footwork won't tire you like that," Omari assured.  
There was a familial glint of passion in the panda's eyes.  It served as a reminder that the boy was indeed a part of this family that Omari had known for most of his life.  He felt almost as if they had met before.  If nothing else, Mitra was certainly spirited.  Perhaps he was capable of handling the lessons after all.  "Are you rested enough now?  Let's go for a run."

You mean right now?" Mitra responded incredulously as Omari headed inside to go out the front door.  

"Try to keep up.  We'll go around the perimeter of the garden district," he said during a brief stretch.  

"That's quite far.  I'm not sure if I can make it, to be honest," Mitra admitted.  

"So we won't run the whole way.  Just go as far as you can."

The jackal broke into an agile sprint downhill through the confused bystanders.  His physique, honed by an avidity for traversing the wilds, contributed to the competence in his field rather than the other way around.  As a young pup raised in relative poverty, there was little available to him other than the vast world to explore.  The city was no exception.  He checked behind to make sure his student had caught up.  Some of his methods and shortcuts were uncouth, like cutting through the back of private gardens or alleyways and vaulting over a barricade to skip a stairway down to a lower tier.  Mitra's jaw dropped when he witnessed the impressive acrobatics and was left behind taking the stairs one by one.  

Omari kept going unhindered by any kind of obstacle, weaving through the crowd as if they were standing still.  
Caught up in an enjoyable exercise, he neglected to notice that his student was no where to be seen.  He realized he was overdoing it and waited a while for them to catch up again.  When the master retraced his steps to meet up, he found the boy hunched over in exhaustion on the side of the road under the shade of a tree.  "There you are," he called.  "You giving up?"

"N-no!  I'm just catching my breath.  I would have paced myself better earlier if I had known we were going to run afterwards."

"Walk with me," Omari said and waved him on.  "Do you ever run?"

"Well, I do run.  Usually not when it's this hot and sunny."

"Gurinth's summers are always this hot.  We didn't even run very far.  Are you really sure you're up for doing this?" Omari taunted, unsure if he was being too harsh.  

"I'm faster than I look, I swear.  I just didn't think we'd be running in the middle of the summer.  It never gets this hot down south.  Not to mention I used my energy to move faster back when we were in the garden.  I'm a little drained from that," the red panda attested.  He found the heat to be oppressive and fanned his face with his tongue out.  

"You mean to say you were expending your sorcery?  But why?" Omari asked.

"I had to!  You kept telling me to go faster.  I wanted to get it right," Mitra muttered.  

"You're burning away your stamina that way.  To keep your vitality at it's peak, you have to contain your soul energy whenever possible.  On the battlefield, you should call on it as a last resort or if you're absolutely certain you can make good use of it.  Otherwise, you want to rely on your mundane ability first and foremost.  Fire aligned sorcery to enhance your body, much like a weapon, is as useful as the one who wields it.  Do not use it as a crutch for actual skill," the master lectured with a hint of resentment.

"You're not a fire sorcerer, are you?" his apprentice pointed out with a smug grin.  

"Wind, although I rarely use it."

"Are you jealous that you can't use fire?"

"No I am not!  This is how I was taught, and this is how I'm going to teach you.  If you don't like it, attend the university so you can learn sorcery.  If you hone your body without relying on it, you will be that much stronger overall.  Consider what I'm saying.  If you conserve your energy while your foe expends theirs, who will be standing longer?  Are you even listening to me right now?" Omari snarled, getting worked up.  

"Sorry, it's just so hot out here in the direct sunlight," Mitra sighed.  He scuffled along looking as though he might faint.  

"Would swimming be a preferable workout for you, then?  It uses your whole body but you get to stay cool," Omari suggested.

"I guess so."

"Maybe we can do that for the next lesson.  Either way, you need to start making a habit of getting exercise on your own time.  It will be hard to make any real progress unless you do.  Try running during the cooler hours of the day."

"So, when can I use a sword?"

"Enough!" Omari snapped.  "Why do you want to do this so badly, anyway?"

"It's my dream.  Has been for a long time now."

"Your dream?"

"Yeah.  I want to be strong like you, Master Omari."

It was strange to hear someone call him such a title.  He forgot what it felt like to have someone look up to him.  Whether he liked it or not he couldn't decide.  "For what purpose?"

"I'm going to be a soldier who travels the world and does great things."

"What in the world gave you that idea?"

"I'm not allowed to leave the house that much, so I read books like that.  And sometimes, when I'm looking out my window, I can see that devout order of knights marching around in formation.  They get to travel all around the Ring Sea," Mitra described in solemn respect of his heroes that kept Phylos safe.  

"You don't have to be a swordsman to sail around the Ring Sea.  Anyone can do that.  Your father does that," Omari countered.

"I know, but I want to be strong!  Someday I want to be strong enough that I don't have to be afraid of going anywhere.  That way I can protect everyone important to me, like my father.  A part of why I'm not allowed to go anywhere is because of how dangerous the world is outside of the city's protection.  He tells me stories about what he's seen, too.  I want people to tell stories about me," Mitra proclaimed his lofty dreams with aspiration.  

Omari remembered the arrogance of youth quite well.  More than himself, that sense of ambition was reminiscent of an old friend.  He couldn't help but snicker.  If you only knew how naive you sound.  I'm sure we were back then as well.

"What is so funny about that?"

"Nothing.  I said the same kind of things back then."

"What changed?"

Digging up the past was getting harder to skirt around.  It didn't help that this was all too familiar.  The darker events in his life were too complicated to discuss to a mere child.  Besides, it wasn't his job to hand down his cynical wisdom and crush the boy's dreams.  He'd leave that for Indira to do.  "All I'm going to say is it's not quite what you think.  Enough walking.  We're running the rest of the way."

"Wait!  Hold on!" Mitra cried, but Omari had already gone ahead.  

"Catch up!" he called back.  

Although he lagged far behind, the apprentice overworked his aching muscles to carry him after the nimble jackal.  As before, he was led through a series of shortcuts and cut corners to get back home.  When Omari took sudden turns, it took a strenuous bursts of speed to not lose sight of him again.  There was no comparing the master's boundless energy to his own.  Realizing this was inspiring as it was embarrassing.  To prove he was worthy, he held on until he petered out near the front gate.  "How do you go that fast?  You really know your way around the city."

Omari ignored the praise and opened the front door.  "Come back to the garden.  You're going to practice your footwork again."

"Hold on, I need a break--" Mitra groaned and was interrupted.

"Now.  You can rest when we're done," Omari demanded as he disappeared indoors.  This is nothing compared to what I endured at your age.  You're too soft.  Guess you didn't stand a chance as Indira's boy.

Astounded and frazzled, the boy shot a snide look and scuttled behind.  He was about to have a word about how rude that came across when he recalled that it was imperative to be on his best behavior.  Fatigue weighed down on his whole being.  Whether he was able to perform under these conditions was questionable, as his limbs wavered and his lungs hurt.  Dreams weren't supposed to be easy, he thought.  He refused to let this one slip away before he had a chance.  No matter what, he vowed to give an earnest effort from now on.  Omari wasn't any more strict or unfair than his past tutors, in fact he was a fascinating man to train under by comparison.  

Rather than complain any further, he repeated the exercises from earlier in silence.  He had to be careful not to let his weariness hamper his accuracy.  Every lap ended with the inner plea that Omari allow him to stop.  As an unforeseen side effect, agonizing repetition required him to feel out a more efficient technique.  Bitterness turned to pride in his accomplishment.  It felt as though he had a much better grasp overall.  He smiled at the nod of satisfaction he received despite being on the verge of collapse.  

"That's enough.  Your first lesson is over."

"Thank you!" Mitra exclaimed and flopped down on the grass not a moment later.  He never imagined the ground would feel so welcoming.  

"We will meet again in a few days.  By then, I want to hear that you've started an exercise routine," Omari said and turned to leave.  He was stopped by the sound of Mitra scurrying to his feet for a proper send off.  

"I'm going to run like you told me.  Thank you for teaching me, Master Omari!" he said as he bowed in respect.  
Good manners counted for nothing by Omari's judgment.  And he still didn't feel suited to such a high title.  He didn't proclaim to be a master of anything.  Detached and immovable as ever, he dismissed the young red panda with a half hearted wave.  "Stop calling me that.  Just Omari is fine."

_____ Second Lesson

In the days prior to their next meeting, both master and apprentice crossed each others minds frequently.  Omari had little else to occupy his time other than fishing from the bow of his sailboat for a few spare coins.  Memories of Indira's brother, Rakesh, were a consistent fixture in this thoughts.  The likeness in appearance and personality between nephew and uncle was unmistakable.  He tried to avoid the notion while he was teaching, but spending his days in solitude made it inevitable.  How long am I going to keep our history a secret from him?

Meanwhile, Mitra practiced his footwork at every opportunity.  Down the hall, out in the garden, and in his cramped bedroom at night, he obsessed over perfecting his form to show off next time.  He felt it necessary to prove himself so that Omari would recognize his aptitude and allow him to handle a blade.  Rehearsal was always in secret for fear of his father's objection.  He expected to be told something like, "Not in the house," or "You should be studying."  It gave all the more reason to validate that his dreams were more than frivolous fantasy.  

Several days of rigorous exercise passed before Omari returned for the next lesson.  By then Mitra was confident that he at least wasn't going to make a fool of himself.  After his tutor left for the day, he daydreamed about how fulfilling it would be to have someone as great as his master to notice his potential.  He looked up from the reference manual he absently read and saw Omari strolling up the hill.  Heedless of their arrival, Mitra hopped up and squealed with joy.  He channeled his excitement into darting downstairs to greet his visitor.  The door flung open.  "Omari, you're here!"

"I get paid to be here, what's your point?  You are ready for today's trial, I take it?"

"Trial?  You mean you're showing me how to use a saber today!" Mitra acclaimed with infectious zeal.  
Omari rolled his eyes and shook his head.  He acted as impervious to emotion as ever.  "Come on.  We're running down to the harbor," he said as he beckoned the boy out of the doorway.  

"I'm ready!"

The trek down the slope of the city to the docks was longer than their previous excursion around the garden district, but the aid of gravity made it more bearable.  Omari decided to be courteous and lead them on the direct route down the promenade this time rather than through a veritable obstacle course.  The red panda sped up to jog at his master's side and glanced over.  

"You're managing to not keel over.  I'm impressed," Omari teased.  

"That's because I've been running since then.  Every morning when I wake up," Mitra boasted.  

"This should be easy for you, then."

"What will be easy?"

"We're almost there."

They continued on to the harbor where Omari lived and came to a stop.  Perplexed by why there were in the dilapidated part of town, the red panda looked around for an explanation.  The actual harbor was further up the coast.  

"Here we are.  My humble abode," the master said.  

"Oh, you live here?  What are we here for?" Mitra asked, hopeful for good news.  

"We're going to the University island."

"Huh?  How come?"

Omari took the alley that led around to the beach on the other side where his shabby vessel was tied up to a shabbier dock constructed of crooked wood planks swaying from the waves.  He took a deep whiff of the salty gusts coming off the ocean.  It was another beautiful sunny day in paradise.  Conditions were perfect for what he had planned.  "Don't you remember what I said a few days ago?  You said it was too hot in the summer, so you're going to swim instead."

"To the University island?  This has to be a joke!" Mitra exclaimed.  He remembered his pledge to behave as he said it, but this stretched plausibility.  The island in question was visible across the channel along with the bleached white architecture that covered its land.  Boats sailed back and forth between the two shores all day.  He never heard of anyone swimming across.  

"You've never done it?" Omari asked with a smirk, although he knew the answer.  

"I've taken the ferry, like everyone else!  That's a really long distance for someone to swim, what happens if I get tired?"

"That's why we are at my house, see?  You're going to swim while I take my boat.  If you do get tired before you make it the whole way, I'll pull you out and we'll sail back," the master informed.  He was aware of how ridiculous a challenge it was to the average person, despite having completed it as an adolescent for the sake of fun.  

"This is insane!"

"You asked for this.  Quit your whining already," Omari threatened.  

"Master Omari, I'm sorry, but is this really necessary?  It's kind of over the top, don't you think?" the boy reasoned.  Fear of expulsion reigned in his outburst.  Usually animated and capricious, there were bound to be slip ups in his conscious effort to behave in a manner befitting a prestigious discipline.  

"Sure it's over the top.  But this is what I'm requiring of you if you want to train under me, understand?  Your father isn't paying me to coddle you.  Go home if you don't want to do it," the master growled.  In his mind, being pushed to the limit was the correct method.  To be considered an instructor, he was vehement about not settling for anything less.  That it was a favor to a friend meant no difference.  His training was his last shred of pride.  He turned his back and stepped down to his dock.  "If you do this, I'll bring my wooden blades next time.  Go on and get a head start while I get my boat ready.  I'll catch up."

Mitra stood at the water's edge in apprehension.  As much as the idea daunted him, he had no choice.  Swimming was less taxing than running, he thought.  Going at a steady pace should suffice to bring him across.  Psyching up distracted himself from a more immediate concern--his clothes.  "This isn't ideal to swim in, either," he muttered.  

"What do you mean?  You're wearing a loincloth under all that, aren't you?" Omari asked when he looked up to see that his apprentice still hadn't started.  He untied the knots that fastened his craft to the dock and jumped in to unfurl the sail.  

Modesty was a virtue of the southern continent more than the relaxed free spirits of the isles.  Puberty was an awkward time for Mitra.  It made him more aware of the parts of his anatomy he preferred hidden from the general public.  Only his parents had seen him naked, so exposing his body to his idol felt as intimidating as the trial.  His outer layer was unpinned and folded to set aside.  He paused to make sure that no one was looking before he pulled his chiton over his head and tossed it on top of his himation.  A simple white perizoma was all that remained to cover his boyhood and rear.  Having a flabby belly and thighs also felt embarrassing in the presence of someone with a flawless physique.  

He rushed to plunge into the tide and pushed off to get started.  The sensible idea was to swim at his leisure to preserve stamina, but the resistance of the waves demanded more of him.  All of his limbs paddled against the current to bring him closer to the skiff drifting in the wind.  After swimming for a while, it seemed like the island looked as small as it did from the shore.  Frustration from the lack of visible progress swayed him to concentrate on the rhythm of his strokes and not the destination.  It was easier to not think about how long it was going to take.  
Omari sat up from lounging in the sunshine to see where the sail carried his boat.  The mass of red fur that thrashed in the water was far behind.  As boring as it was to watch, the boy's safety was his responsibility.  He pulled the handle for the rudder and circled back.  "Pace yourself, now.  Still a long way to go."

"Don't...remind me!" Mitra barked through a face full of sea.  

"I'll be right here so say something if you can't go on.  Your father wouldn't like it if you drowned on my watch."

"Not yet.  I'll make it."

"Sometime today, I hope?" Omari jested.  

"I'm pacing myself!"

"Fair enough."

Mitra lost count of how many rotations the skiff made around him.  Eternity spent locked in the same motion displaced his bearing on time.  He was tired of being in constant movement, but also tired of being wet.  At the risk of disappointment, he treaded in place to take a break and verified the distance to the shore he came from.  The two islands were roughly equidistant.  If Omari was not present as a lifeline, he would have been terrified to feel so small and stranded.  Finishing the trial seemed unlikely.

The boat pulled up alongside and Omari leaned over the edge.  "You're over halfway now and you're losing momentum.  Ready to head in?"

"No, I can make it," Mitra gasped.  Languor in his voice belied his words.  Twice again the distance traveled was not just unlikely, it was impossible.  Whether he accepted defeat or not became a question of when.  Will I look weak if I give up now?  Was this your idea the whole time?

Omari shook his head.  "Don't be ridiculous.  I knew damn well you weren't going to make it.  That wasn't the point.  It's time to head back."  

"Wait, does this mean I passed?"

"Yes, you passed.  Get in the boat already.  Come on, I'll help you up," he insisted with an impatient wave.  
Mitra splashed over in desperate pursuit of salvation and held the railing.  Steady limbs reached over and scooped him out by his armpits.  In the sublime relief of his master's grip, he dangled and dripped like limp seaweed.  His fluffy fur lost much of its volume in his waterlogged state.  The perizoma too, weighed down by hydration, clung to his flesh as he surfaced and molded to the shape of his anatomy to every detail.  

The pointed nub caught the master's attention as he set the boy on the bench in the stern.  Omari found it advantageous that he was mature enough to subdue the stirring in his loins and avoided a bigger protrusion of his own.  He lingered on the alluring curve of shaft's outline for a moment before he averted his glare.  Mitra is actually kind of cute.  Looks so much like Rakesh did as a cub.  I'm starting to see that he has the exuberance, too.  Hell, what am I thinking?

The red panda shivered off some excess moisture and settled in the seat looking helpless with his arms crossed.  Rejuvenating sunlight helped warm his soaked fur, but when he noticed the shriveled member in his lap, he yearned for the shelter of his chiton.  Blood rushed to his cheeks his spine tensed.  At least no one is watching right now, but did he just see that?  "Did you happen to bring my clothes?" he stuttered meekly.  

"Ah, sorry I forgot them," Omari answered.  "This is too big for you, but you can wrap up in this until we get back."  He pulled off his chlamys and offered it to his apprentice.  

"I can wait," Mitra lied.  Wearing someone else's clothes didn't seem much less awkward than the current situation.  

"It's hard to look tough when you're shaking like that.  Just take it," Omari said as he threw the bundled fabric at Mitra's chest.  Save for the loose flaps of his loincloth that fluttered in the wind, he became the nude one instead.  He preferred it to risking further shameful arousal.  After all, he had no qualms about getting undressed in front of others.  His attention returned to adjusting the sail and the flow of air into it.  "I'll get us back to shore quickly."

Donning the worn garment felt unclean and taboo, at least too personal a favor outside of one's family.  This intimacy, as indirect as it was, stoked a burning excitement in his gut.  His master entrusted to him the cloth off his back.  It was the kind of care exchanged by steadfast companions.  He unfolded the scrunched fabric and tossed it around his shoulders lengthwise like a blanket.  An earthy, masculine scent permeated the fabric.  He pulled up the edge to his face to further sample it.  The fragrance was sweet, like the spices in the cuisine back home.  Not at all gross as he expected.  In fact, he cherished the warmth it provided, both figurative and literal.  MItra was in heaven.  To be enveloped in it was almost as satisfying as the brief moment in his master's arms.  

When the boy snapped out of his daze, he considered the notion that he shouldn't look like he's enjoying it too much.  They were approaching the shore with considerable speed thanks to Omari's manipulation of the pocket of air that enveloped the sail.  Thankfully, the master was too preoccupied with sailing and hiding his erection to notice his apprentice caressing the odiferous chlamys.  Mitra took advantage of the freedom to peruse the beguiling shapes before him.  He found his eyes were affixed on the fringe of the butt exposed by the fluttering loincloth.  His fascination was yet again dashed by sensibility, as well as the slightest hint of guilt and confusion.  The convenient excuse he spun was that seeing someone in this state was a novel experience for him, which was true.  To distract himself, he decided to spark a conversation.  "Do you enjoy doing this?"

The jackal's pointed ears perked up.  "You mean sailing?  I suppose you could say that."  Sailing was one of his few pleasures in life.  Fresh ocean air rushing through his fur was always refreshing.  His tail mirrored his current state by dancing side to side like the metronomical sway of a conductor's baton.  As a child, the sea was an unfathomable gateway to freedom and adventure.  Although reality had adjusted his sense of the world, he still held onto a fraction of that wonder.  There were yet more uninhabited islands in the archipelago he had not seen.  

"No, not that.  I meant training me," Mitra chuckled.  

Omari scoffed.  It was the kind of question only a child would think to say aloud.  The young  panda was obviously fishing for praise.  "Why would you ask me that?  This is work.  And I'm doing it as a favor, besides."  

"To my father?  How come?"

"We've known each other since we were children," Omari stated with a solemn tone.  He dreaded where the conversation was headed.  Perhaps it was bound to come to light sooner or later, he thought.  His tail fell between his legs.  

"Oh, I didn't know you were as old as him," Mitra commented while he again pondered his master's stunning appearance.  

"What?  I'm not!  He's seven years older than me.  Do I really look like I'm his age?" the master yelped, suddenly conscious of his scars and blemishes for a change.  Indira was an old man in his eyes, as far back as when they first knew each other.  

Hearing that specific number recalled a memory of something Indira mentioned long ago  about his little brother who lived in the west being seven years younger.  Mitra had a vague recollection of meeting said sibling in his distant past, or so he thought.  The image of his face had long since faded beyond clarity.  Regardless, pieces of the puzzle fell into place and gave a more complete picture.  He was certain there had to be a connection.  "That means you're the same age as my uncle, right?  Were you two friends as well?"  

Omari winced at the mention.  He figured that Mitra coming to the conclusion on his own was preferable to stumbling over an explanation, and counted on the assumption that Indira sheltered his son from the less savory details, like their shared occupation.  "That's right."

"Wait, how did you become friends, then?  Was he a soldier, too?"

"I told you already, we grew up together.  Your family and mine came to Gurinth at about the same time.  Your father helped us get out of trouble as many times as he's turned us in to our parents.  He's kind of like an older brother to me," Omari recounted in an effort to veer from the subject.  He knew the pestering wouldn't cease until he coughed up the full explanation, but it was a story for another time.  

"That doesn't really answer my question," Mitra rebuked with disappointment while he skirted the waves with his paw.  

"Not now.  I'll tell you some other time, alright?  Besides, we're almost ashore.  You dried off yet?" Omari asked as he glanced behind.  He bit his lip at what he beheld.  His apprentice, still damp, had acclimated to the open air and let his cover hang open.  Fuck, I can't help myself.  He's really cute.  Why does it have to be like this?

"Wow, we're here already.  That was fast!  Faster than the ferry, even," Mitra praised.  

The skiff soared into the shallows propelled by the conjured currents.  Sorcery reversed the flow to thwart an imminent collision with the docks.  Despite being a far cry from a mage, the jackal exhibited his precision well and guided the boat parallel to them.  Of course, it was another facet of his skill set that impressed his adoring fan.  He enlisted Mitra to hold on as he secured ropes to the cleats.  "I'll finish tying off here, you go get dressed.  You're not quite done for today."

"Really?  What else would you have me do after that?" the panda pouted.  

"Don't fuss over it, cub.  You've passed my test.  There won't be any endurance trials from now on.  However, you do have to practice your footwork.  I need to see if you've been doing it correctly."

"Why test me?  I thought this was just a job."

"Oh come on, if you want to be a smart ass at least think about it.  I wasn't having you swim to make your swordplay better.  I had to make sure you're disciplined enough for me to bother teaching you something like this.  Wielding a weapon takes responsibility; I can't just give a sword to some spoiled brat.  Be grateful that I let you off easier than I had it.  Anyway, you seem to have enough fight left in you.  Hurry up and grab your clothes, then come back to the dock," the master ordered.  His stern, resolute demeanor bore a semblance of approval and informality, like he was warming up to their arrangement.  Motivated by mischievous lust, he forcibly seized the chlamys off to steal one last glimpse of exquisite partial nudity.  Much of the boy's excess fat gave ample shape to his round bottom.  

"Hey!  Why did you--" Mitra squeaked in shock.  His immediate reaction was to make a frantic break for the sanctuary of his chiton.  Does anyone here care about being naked?

"Heh.  No need to be so shy.  You have nothing to be ashamed of, anyway.  Living with comrades comes at the expense of your privacy.  Get used to it."  I don't think I've ever seen him move that fast.

They regrouped on the narrow dock once they were dressed.  Mitra noted the shaky structure and precarious footing.  A misstep could mean an unpleasant and possibly dangerous fall.  It raised into question Omari's intentions, but he then concluded that this was nothing compared to risking his life in battle.  The space he had used for practicing wasn't any bigger, after all.  Anticipative eyes watched from the far end to pass judgment.  Taking that as the signal to start the routine, the panda sprung into action, his vision trained on his stride.  
Four repetitions passed until the master chimed in.  "Much better than last time," he commended.  

"See?  I've been doing it on my own.  It's easy for me now."

"Is it?  Your eyes need to be on your opponent, not the ground.  Look at me," Omari said as another loop was completed.  On the retreat, he advanced on his student to demonstrate a vital necessity.  Every back step was matched in turn to stay face to face.  His steps outpaced the other's as if he planned to overrun them, impelling them to react with heightened alacrity.  The boy managed for the length of the dock, but tripped and fell when the planks underneath turned to the beach's soft sand.  The master offered his hand to pull them up.  

"Ugh.  I can't keep up with you.  You're just bigger and faster than me," Mitra groaned as he brushed off.  

"I'm just more experienced," Omari corrected.  "Being a smaller target can be advantageous, too.  My point was that you won't be going at your own pace when we train for real.  You won't be free to look down, either.  And you'll need to do all of this while you're swinging a saber around.  Keep that in mind for the next lesson."

"I understand.  Does that mean we won't get to use them today?"

"I can tell you're tired," Omari said while he gave a pat of encouragement.  "You did great today, Mitra.  I'll teach you for real from now on, but I want you fully rested.  Return whenever you're ready to give it your all."

Ah!  I can't wait!  Thanks, Omari, I'll see you tomorrow!"



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