The cold wind of the sea blew through his long, grey, messy hair.
There were children playing in the not so distant beach. The laughter was loud which hurt his head, causing him to have a headache.
His face was scarred with past battles. His eye patch covering his damaged left eye which often made him popular with young children during his younger days.
His right eye appeared lifeless, hollow. His long gray hair almost covering his entire eyesight.
He wore a light grey yukata, something like a robe. The yukata was withered and torn. He hadn't washed it for a long time as he did not feel the need to.
He held a crane on his right hand. Often grasping it tightly for if he lost it, he would not be able to walk. Such is the severity of his injuries that a once proud warrior could not even walk on his own.
He wore white pants. Like his clothes, it was withered and torn. However, on his thighs, he still wears his old armor from back during his fighting days. An elegant, golden plating which had been damaged from being in constant battle, evident from the large amounts of blade marks.
He sat on some rocks overlooking the entire coast. It had almost become a daily routine of his. Just hiking up to a cliff, sitting down, and retuning home. Although with each day's passing, his strength fades ever so slightly. He began walking to places that did not require hiking.
-
A small, wool ball rolled towards his crippled legs. Gently landing on the side of his left foot. He noticed it and picked up the ball.
He looked around for the owner. A little girl was standing quite far from him. Her eyes staring at the ball on his hand as if trying to signal him.
He stood up and walked slowly towards the girl, trying not to scare her. The little girl backed of a bit at first. However, his kind smile convinced her to stay.
He reached out the ball to give it back to the girl.
The girl smiled back at him as she ran off to rejoin her friends on the beach.
-
Dark, rain clouds began gathering in the sky. The wind intensified. The waves crashed onto the rocks. The trees shaking. The birds flew away. The dogs barking. A storm is coming.
'Now it begins.' He said, staring onto the endless horizon.
The sea water began to rise in forward momentum, forming an ever growing wave as it approaches.
He took out a old piece of paper from his pocket, holding on his right hand.
He mumbled an ancient language, something like a spell. A bright light shone on his piece of paper and a sword appeared out of thin air.
'Come! Demon!' He yelled.
The kind looking little girl was standing on top of the waves. Her eyes shining blue, her hair not affected by the wind as if it was fake. She was not wearing any clothes. However, she has no visible human characteristics on her body. She spread out her hands in front, akin to a hugging posture.
The water became fiercer as it approached the coast. The rocks on the shore crashed away, the sand in chaos. The children saw this and started running inland.
He threw away his crane, using what was his legs' last strength to stand. He grasped his sword hard with both his hands, swinging it high towards the air.
Air began gathering around him like a tornado, The crippled old man was now a towering figure, his muscles increased, his eyes sharpen.
The girl nosedived along with her waves towards him. Charging at full strength, she raised her hands into the air. Lightning flashed around the darken sky as if there were dragons flying around.
He tightened his legs muscles, anchoring himself to the ground. He summoned the entire strength of his upper body, preparing to thrust his sword at full strength. He began the sequence, lowering his sword to his hips.
The girl laughed manically, as though she knew she would win.
Screams sounded from the beach. He looked over, puddles of blood was on the ground.
Before he could react, his left leg cracked open. Blood spurred all over, staining his pants and armor. He trembled down, with the mass amount unused strength crashing his body, shattering his ribs cage.
However he did not scream or wailed, testament to a true warrior spirit.
'I was careless.' He uttered as he remembered the wool ball which most likely contained a curse.
He can feel himself dying. His head felt blank. Most of his blood flowing out at a rapid rate from his dissembled leg's wound. He could not muster any strength to stand, more so move.
He looked up and witnessed his enemy's face. The little girl was crying.
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