No, Really, I Am an American

The weapon in my hand is not mine, but she’s just like my Ruka — a Triplette epee. I cannot help but want to duel with Kris; it’s been a while since I’ve gotten a good match in.

We square off on his back patio and have acquired something of an audience. It always baffles me when that happens if anything because I’m not used to fencing with people watching.

It throws me off a little.

Our first few passes are what they usually are. Just light little kisses here and there.

After we dance a little, one of the spectators comments that I have better footwork than Kris. I think the fellow forgets the part where Kris has had at least two beers and a bellyfull of ravioli.

I land a solid hit on his torso.

Kris finally remembers the part where he fights rapier style. He decides to use the circle. Damn. I was hoping he’d forget the part where I default to sport fencing. Stupid linear training!

I’m frustrated with myself. Why is it I forget the circles every time I have a foil or a similarly designed weapon in my hand?

For whatever reason, I’m still thrown off balance by the circle. Kris takes advantage of my discombobulation and I retreat quickly, and for whatever reason, Kris backs down. I find it amusing that once a single-handed weapon is in my hand again, I fight honorably. All bets are off when it’s a two-handed weapon.

I reflect on these facts briefly.

I decide to use a different tactic in hopes of being more prepared should Kris try to press again. I extend the blade to its full length, remembering a technique taught to me by Doug Bishop in the early days of my fencing career. (I feel that I must also note it’s a technique that was used in Rurouni Kenshin.) The moment Kris’s tip passes the guard, beat or parry and go for the riposte.

I land a second good hit.

I don’t know what possesses me, but I decide to try the circle. It’s not overly effective and puts us back in our original positions for the most part. I’m just not confident using it when I know I’m fencing. Again, I curse my default.

Unfortunately for me, I become reckless, as I always do when fighting. I see an opening and don’t really think things through.

Well would you look at that; I’ve got a sword tip in my rib.

Rats.

On the bright side, I don’t think it’s that deep.

I start to feel a burning in my arm.

What the hell is THAT about? I shouldn’t be feeling tired! So very lame!

For whatever reason, I take a sabre fencer’s en garde, just to see how well it would work. It really doesn’t make a difference either way.

Kris calls it. I’m not overly upset by it in that I’m starting to feel a little tired. I hope for a rematch soon.

After Kris goes inside, I have the opportunity to talk with his friend, the fellow who claimed I had good footwork. Like Kris, he is stage combat-trained. He praises Kris’s small sword; it isn’t all the way balanced, but it’s still an incredibly sweet blade. We chat a bit about various bouts we’ve had, or in his case choreographed.

He said that what Kris and I did was a really good way to choreograph a duel. We also talked a little about the difference in a sport fencer and a rapier duelist.

Not for the first time, I wish I had more experience with the rapier duelist’s circle. I understand the principle of it, I just can’t commit to it. I could when I had a two-handed weapon in my hands, but much to my frustration, I can’t transfer that knowledge into single-hand.

As Miyomoto Musashi says, “This requires careful study, practice, and reflection.”

For about a month now, I’d been saying to Clint that we should spar sometime. Every time we made arrangements to do so, either he or I back out for various reasons.

This was not the case this week.

I met with Clint and Laura at Tanimachi Exit 3 to take them to the park. The weather was supposed to be temperate, which was another reason I suggested meeting.

Clint is a saber fencer; he competed on the national level, studied privately with a maestro and everything. He also taught a little fencing in Ren Faires. Laura’s training is not so explicit, having only sparred and competed with karate but she expressed interest in learning some weapon techniques.

I trusted Clint’s teaching method more than I trusted mine, so I left it to him to teach Laura the basics. There were a few things that I chimed in on, and I helped do footwork drills while Clint played about with the various shinai that I brought with me.

After about an hour or so, it was finally time to spar. Naturally, Clint and I squared off first. There were a few friendly passes, but it was incredibly difficult to gauge him. I sent out my circle, and was surprised at how it merely stopped when it got to Clint. I was further baffled when it allowed Clint to step inside. This is something that rarely happens.

I don’t remember exactly when or where I realized it, but I stopped at one point to explain my reluctance to engage in combat. “I don’t know what it is, but there’s something different about you.” I have no doubt that Clint has skill, but there was something decidedly lacking in our passes. I explained to both of them about the circle, and how with most people it either bends upon “contact” with my opponents and yet with Clint, it didn’t find him at all intrusive as it would against say Jacob or Mike.

There were a few more exchanges and after a moment’s breath I found an allusion that seemed to sum it up for me: “Have you ever watched Rurouni Kenshin? It’s like you’re the Tenken.”

Laura agreed and Clint was pretty happy about the reference. Clint is a blank fighter. There is nothing but a smile on his face and his fighter’s ki is playful and docile in some respects.

“I lack aggression and I’m not competitive,” he admitted. He had me on the ground and he didn’t take the kill and I had promptly admonished him for it. “It always got me into a bit of trouble in competitions.”

Thus, he is the Tenken only without the ruthlessness. He is still a competent and comparable opponent.

I sparred with Laura next. It was more drilling than anything else; a few passes and some instruction along the way. There was definitely a difference between her and Clint. Whereas Clint was allowed in my circle, Laura was obstructed. Not surprising considering her own observation in that she is incredibly competitive.

After a brief water break, Clint thought it would be fun to take us both on. We all did reasonably well all things considered. For a man who is not overly aggressive, he was doing pretty well. I watched a bout between Clint and Laura thereafter and the only way I could describe it as was playful. They are too good of friends to truly be looking to hurt each other. Clint managed a typical head shot characteristic of a saber fencer rather soundly on Laura. I was impressed that he was able to pull it off given the off-set balance and weight of the shinai versus a saber. He also managed to coax Laura into a decent attack after some references to a fellow neither one of them are quite fond of. I made the mistake of following this and that’s how I received a sound hit on my thumb. We had been fighting with the shorts and I forgot to put the gauntlets back on. My thumb now sports an interesting bruise covering about 70% under my nail and even through to the other side. I proudly named it “George”.

It was after all this that we decided to call the day. Clint and I dubbed Laura “the Wildcard” as she is the novice of us and there is truly no telling what she will end up doing in a bout.

After sparring with both of them, I couldn’t help but wonder what Jacob would have made of them.

“Why’d you back off?” Jacob demands. “The fight wasn’t over.”

I roughly push Mike away. I hate that he can ground me. I hate that I’m not as strong as they are. I hate that if it was truly no holds barred, I’m capable of inflicting unexpected damage.

There’s energy running hot through my veins.

But it’s not what you think.

It’s not a good kind of buzz.

It’s anger.

( “This isn’t fear. This is anger.” )

Maybe even a little rage.

“No,” I hiss, “fighting in anger is useless.”

Useless and reckless.

At least I’m still conscious enough to recognize it. But admittedly, there’s a red haze edging my vision. You think I’m kidding? You’d be wrong. The part that gets me a little freaked is that I’ve never seen it before. Kind of like the circles, only I have the sinking feeling that this might not be a good thing.

Jacob says nothing. He savvies.

“Fire by birth.”

She told me that once. I didn’t believe it until now. I didn’t think I could ever be like that. I didn’t want to ever be like that.

I don’t…remember things.

Kuya got us a copy of the Fight Club footage. Jacob and I were watching it the other night, and I was a little surprised.

“Um, I don’t remember doing that,” I breathed.

In the moment, all I know is that I’m not going to be the one to go down. When did I decide this?

Something has been unleashed. And I’m not sure how I feel about it.

Hollow.

Cold.

Nobody wants to be a killer…

The edge has by no means diminished. You’re just unconscious of it now.

I’m not walking away from this alive…

…and nobody else is, either.

I start to shake.

I’m afraid.

I can’t win this, and I’m afraid.

Afraid that when I fail, no one will stop you.

No one.

I’m going to fail in this, and I know it.

The mountain embraces me again. Fine. If I’m going down, maybe I’ll get to take you with me.

There are countless wounds; if you add them all together, I’m pretty sure their fatal. But I’m unconscious of them.

I can’t feel a thing.

We’re not rivals, and we’re certainly not friends. I don’t know what this relationship is. When you look at me, you’re not seeing me and I have no idea who or what you’re seeing. Maybe all you see is someone standing in your way. Who knows?

When I look at you, I see a killer.

Nobody wants to be a killer…

No. That’s not true. I see a killer wearing my friend’s face. That’s what’s gonna make this a thousand times harder.

The circles are broken. I can’t see them. The gods are veiled, but I know they’re there. What game are they playing at?

Here I come…

You…you killed me…

I killed you…

Nobody wants to be a killer…