Danev

It was two weeks later when I again decided to visit him. I felt bad enough for being the one to make the suggestion that damn near got him killed.

His recovery had been quick. Well, quick compared to that of any normal person I had seen before. Whenever I'd talk to the doctor's, they said they'd never seen anything before like it and that he had a willpower like none others. That I had no doubt about.

He had been, "released", yesterday. And by released, I mean he escaped again but was finally in good enough condition to avoid capture for a day and had shown well enough eh was fit enough to serve.

It took me a while to find him, but I had a feeling that I knew where he was. Of course, I ended up being correct. It was the exact same as in the 5th Corps. Near the edge of the camp, training. Never stopping.

So I found him near the Eastern edge of the camp, right arm still in a cast, favoring his right leg, throwing fire at practice targets armored in scorched Earth kingdom uniforms.

Somebody who didn't know him, if forced to approach Luke, might have done so as if approaching a wild animal mid-meal, but I knew Luke. I knew his mind well enough to know he wasn't keen on having a deficiency of knowledge regarding his surroundings. I caught his eye catching my gaze every few minutes as he turned away from his current task. His eyes held a look of grim determination, but frustration as well. I could understand why. Over half of his shots were misses. Not even near misses, but ones that would get you doubting if you still had the gift of sight in both eyes.

Still, from what I saw, that frustration never even got near to overtaking him. I watched for near half an hour as he kept at it. Adjusting posture, altering form, improving footwork, running through trial after trial of how exactly to still be the killing machine he used to be.

And as I watched him, a 12-year-old kid, practicing best how to kill people, I received yet another grim reminder of the world we lived in and saw what his future looked like in front of him. No. I wasn't seeing him becoming a mindless soldier, indiscriminately killing all those in his ways. I didn't see him living long enough to do so. From the display I saw here, the odds of him surviving seemed to be falling by the minute as he missed blast after blast.

And in a moment of frustration that I knew wouldn't overpower him just yet, I realized he wouldn't survive. Not on his own. He needed more, and better training. Because Luke, no matter what held him back, when that next attack came, he would go on that field. One way or another. And he would die there in his current state.

So I left him there for a quick minute and came back with two sparring swords. I knew little about how firebending worked but could see just from the way he carried himself, that all of his reflexes were wrong. He was favoring the wrong side, positioning his body the wrong way.

I remembered what Luke had once told me about Gan and what he had done with Gi Gu. Luke had learned about it a while afterwards, and he told me what he had learned. That to make Gi Gu the soldier he was when he died, Gan took matters into his own hands. And that was what I intended on doing now.

I clanged the swords together to give him that second of realization that this was real now. He grabbed that second and while his bodily reflexes may have betrayed him with the loss of ability in the more battle-hardened part of his body, his mind remained as sharp as ever, and he saw me coming. But when he turned his right side of his body towards me, ready to absorb the impact, I saw that he still wasn't ready.

My charge knocked him down to the ground and mid-fall, I saw that realization in his eyes just how out-of-touch he was with his new situation.

Inside, I felt concern over whether I had actually hurt him but pushed that aside. The look in Luke's eyes spoke of pain, but fortunately, only physical. There was no sense of betrayal in his eyes. He knew what this was. I dropped the sword in my left hand and tossed it to him.

This time, he raised the right hand, and grabbed the blade, though with a weak grip around the hilt.

He managed to free himself from under my foot, with only me slightly giving him leeway to move and he rose, although with a struggle I could notice in his eyes that spoke of a pain that, when examining him and his posture, saw where it originated. His left leg was seriously unfavored, but still vital in keeping his balance. So, that's where I struck.

In that time, I did nothing that a real opponent would have done. That an opponent hell bent on killing one of my last friends in the world would have done. I struck at his weakness.

He noticed and attempted to move his leg out of the way of the cut but having been paying all due attention on his good leg alone, his reaction and timing were off. The blow struck at his leg and made its hit. He fell to his left and I aimed my next cut at his neck, seeking to show him just how vulnerable he was in his current state, but to my surprise, he managed to bring his sword to meet my own in a clash of blades he absorbed with little visible difficulty, but his strength in that arm was weakening, and I pushed.

He fell backwards, but only after recovering his footing in his left leg, rising to his feet again just in time to avoid my next slash at his left arm. I limited myself in one way here. I didn't go for is right arm. I wanted that to recover in all due haste and wouldn't do anything to slow that progress. But in any regard aside from that, I didn't hold back.

I made my next cut at his left leg, but he had learned his lesson in the thick of it and had began to favor his legs equally, despite the visible pain it brought him. He moved his left leg out of the way in time and this time, made his own offensive, sending a slow and weak slash at my right hand, hoping to disarm me, in a futile attempt that I had no difficulty in parrying, making my own slash at his hand, successfully disarming him and sending his blade to the ground.

I elbow rushed him, sending him to the ground, and I atop of him, ready to make the killing blow. I brought my blade up high, ready to bring it to his neck and show him he needed to do better, but then met the unexpected and felt a force like none other push against my chest, sending me backwards onto the ground.

By the time I realized what was going on, the flames on my chest were dying out, and Luke stood above me, a ready fist aimed straight at my face, ready to kill me in one swift blow.

Well then. Maybe I had underestimated him.