Aki swayed with every step he took, tapping the side of his head with his palm, he regained focus. A dozen people or so had gathered by the entrance of the clearing, emerging from the forest to witness the battle.
He had no doubt in his heart that Renji was the one who brought them here. He'd been doing this for a while, telling people that their misfortunes were caused by Aki's presence in the village, and that by bringing him suffering, their problems would ease.
The hard part was harming Aki. While he couldn't use the Wind Style, he was skilled in combat and his intense amount of Ki provided him with a body like no other.
And so, for a good price, Renji took out their frustration.
Lowering his center of gravity, Aki sank into a stance. Wind aura swelled in the air, and the pressure around him was as though somebody groped inside his skull.
Renji smirked. "Special Wind Technique; Cyclone of madness!"
For a fancy name, the Cyclone of Madness was a simple technique. It was merely whirling Wind Ki in a pattern of a swirl with great intensity, thus, creating a cyclone.
Aki faced said technique many times, as he did Renji, and knew how to prepare. All he had to do was brace himself.
And try not to puke all over his clothes.
Air spun as Renji swung his hands about, snatching Aki off his footing. He twirled, clenching his teeth and held his breath, the muscles in his neck tensing.
He urged his Ki to flow faster, and with the quickened pace, it rushed to his head, aiding him as he clung to his consciousness.
A few seconds later, Renji released his grip on the Ki of Wind. Aki slammed on his back, a loud gasp echoing through the forest. He clambered to his knees, heaved, and then puked all over the grass.
Renji's face twisted in disgust. "Yuck." He turned to the crowd. "Are you pleased?" A few nodded while others had begun to regret what they bought. Guilt evident on their expression of concern as they watched Aki struggling to breath.
Most people didn't have sympathy for an idea, but once that idea had become a person standing right before them, the guilt settled in.
His leather bundle was stuffed with coins as he watched them leave, some with slumped shoulders, and others were chins raised to the sky. He let out a disappointed sigh.
Still recovering, Aki wiped the last bits of vomit off his mouth with a cloth. "How much?"
"We hit big today." He shook the bag and the sound of coins clattering hit Aki's ears like a beautiful symphony.
Aki rose to his feet, lightly smacking the mischievous blonde on the nape. "You go hard like this again, and I'll break your jaw."
Renji winced. "Hey! They paid extra! I had to put on a good show."
"I don't think they enjoyed watching me empty my stomach."
"Well, then I'll give them a discount coupon."
Renji ducked and Aki's fist sailed wide. "Bastard!"
Renji snickered. "Sorry! I'm sorry. Hey, let's go have lunch, it's my treat."
Aki looked at the empty bowl of food lying on the ground, and suddenly the growling noises his stomach made were the only sound he could hear.
***
When life takes, it gives. That was what his former mother always told him, and he lived by this motto.
It is quite simple to understand yet encompasses everything life has to offer. When you lose something, you're naturally rewarded with something of equal or greater value.
Martial artists of the Wind Style always suffered losses in battle. It was the law of combat. Sometimes they'd return to their homes with a missing leg or arm, and many times, they didn't return.
But they or their families were rewarded by the clan. The family of a Wind Artists who had lost his life in combat for the sake of the clan was gifted with honour and wealth by the clan. And those who suffered maiming were compensated with funding for the rest of their lives for them and their family.
Sometimes poor Wind Artists deliberately let themselves die in battle, so that their families would receive compensation.
But it all followed the same pattern. It took, and it gave. But, to Aki, he was lost on that concept.
He spent nights, sleepless, simply pondering. Searching in the sea of his mind and rummaging through his memories, all to find one thing.
The exchange.
The Machi family disowned him, he hasn't seen his parents in seven years and now he lives in housing provided by the clan for the orphans.
Most of his friends ignored him, and the people of the village treated him as though he was a monster. He couldn't walk down the street to get something from the store without the crowd dividing where he walked, just to not touch him. As though he carried some kind of disease that infected those who came in contact with it.
Maybe he did have it, it was the misery and misfortune he'd bring onto the clan.
But if that was the case, then where was his reward? Where was the compensation for being a Disgraced?
His life was taken away, he had nothing but Renji and this shitty apartment of his. And there was no future for him. He was prohibited from marrying in fear of spreading his curse, and even if he wasn't, who would marry him.
The door to his apartment shut behind him as he stepped in. He grabbed a bag of frozen peas from the fridge and held it to the bruise on his head, wincing when the cold texture pressed against his skin.
He sat crossed-legged on the floor and turned on the TV, a bowl of cornflakes soaked with water resting on his lap.
The TV broadcasted the global news and he scoffed at the situation of the world. The Fire nation forming a deal with the nation of Rock? Seriously? Who the hell wanted to hear about that?
Skipping through channels mindlessly, he settled on a local one. As the reporter babbled, his eyes drifted from boredom, and the news box on the bottom read:
[The Wind Nation begins preparations to host the Five Sty
les Tournament.]
With widened eyes, he snapped into focus. And an idea sprouted in his mind.