Color the cool canvas where the breeze blesses brisk brushstrokes on, ashes and leaves. Stillborn still, the coming parting of Amaterasu from this half of a grand marble filled with life and death. A wide clearing before a dilapidated temple serves as a place of a looming conflict. A flightless falcon has business inside it. But it comes with a cruel caveat: a threat by three towering twice his person. They are guarding what could be of interest within. Two are with a large crescent blade each and one is with a three-pronged spear.

Brave the brutes, this brown-haired lad must. There is fear lurking within, yes, but it will not overtake him. By the order of a humble wounded lord where his allegiance was forged from the kindness upon the poor folks affected by warring clans of these past three decades, he must persevere in his quest. Armed with the means to deny harm, even deliver it with grace and gusto, he is not deterred; he will not be.

As the threats rise to their big feet, hands gripping on what will strike to kill, a preparation is quickly attended to by the lad. Out with the sharp steel resting on his left hip. He then nourishes himself with a ring of red sugar from a small brown pouch. Stomp down, left foot, and raise the blade nigh-flat above his head! Blessings of Yashariku upon him! The sweetness comes with a strong spice of stellar savagery but at the cost of having lesser vitality. A wound can be mortal if he is not careful.
  S t a r t   t h i s   c o n t e s t !  

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The spear-brute sprints towards the falcon; the latter minds well with those green eyes the coming cruelty. Once less than three yards away, halt and bring those perilous points of the pole towards that belly behind raggedy cloth! The falcon responds with a twist of his whole frame, head to toe, strafing left and almost facing his right side! Bring his right knee high and then stomp down as the spear ends are beneath the thick straw sole! The points quickly and cruelly kiss the earth! The brute stumbles forward upon the release of the weapon! He was startled from this answer to his onward aggression. The falcon is stoic without a twitch of ego on his dirt-smeared face. His sharp sight stride from the wielder to the weapon and back.

Take three small steps back and face the stumbled spear-brute. With both hands, the falcon lets his steel fly from above his head and down before him. The anger of the bite is doubled from the blessings of the sanctified sugar he ate less than half a minute ago. The spear-brute is struck just above the right elbow, cutting through what cloth and skin are naked of any fair protection.
  F i r s t   b l o o d !
The other two, utter buffoons for not joining their comrade sooner, now come to the rescue upon hearing the brief cry of pain. The falcon in careful back-steps brings his fearless friend inches before his face. It mildly gleams from the silky late noon sky and the paint of fresh blood from a successful slash. One sword-brute delivers a downward slash of the big blade with a bitter yell towards the little fellow! Reply with a fast forward sweep, right to left! Spark and clank, two blades, violently denying each other! The lad was pushed back! Another downward flight of the sword, the other replies the same as before but left to right! Pushed back again!

The spear-brute is trying to regain composure from the agony given to him. The other swords-brute goes on to flank but the falcon takes wingless flight with a sharply-curved journey to soon be behind the would-be flanker. Strike once close, falcon! Keep well the wits and kiss by steel-strong hits. Let these brutes feel humility with each graceful peck given upon them. Duty must be fulfilled. These threats will not impede him. They will not.