rekindleme | Knights, Ninjas, and Beyond

It's the shouting that gets Diarmuid's attention first. He's used to the park being quiet when he arrives to train. His puppy, Grey, looks up at him and whines softly. It is obvious that he is also confused.

"Lets see what's going on, Grey! Maybe it's someone we can help!" Diarmuid gives the puppy a reassuring pat and then takes off toward the sound. When he finds the large...turtle, he is quite surprised. That's certainly not what he was expecting!

As soon as his surprise fades, Diarmuid waves toward the creature, smiling as he does, "Hello there Lord Turtle Spirit! Are you practicing how to fight too?"

Don nods and smiles to acknowledge Diarmuid as he finishes up the kata he's in the middle of and plants the butt of his staff on the ground.

"Hi! I'm not really a spirit. Or a lord. You were spot-on with turtle, though," he says, grinning widely. "The name's Donatello, and yes, I'm training."

As soon as he sees that Donatello doesn't mind him talking to him, Diarmuid runs up to him, puppy following alongside, "But if you aren't a lord and you aren't a spirit, why are you so big? All the turtles I have seen in books are smaller than you are!"

His eyes go to the staff that Donatello is holding and he smiles, "I use swords when I practice, but I am learning how to use spears too! Do you just use one?"

Seriously, he's going to print up origin story pamphlets. Just see if he doesn't.

"Well, I was exposed to a powerful mutagen when I was just a baby, which made me grow and gave me human-like intelligence."

The turtle squats down so he can talk to the kid face to face. "I mostly just use the one staff. My brothers and I used to cross-train with a variety of weapons outside our normal ones back home, but I didn't have the whole arsenal on me when I got yanked here." He examines Diarmuid, trying to spot a weapon on him. "What kind of swords do you use?"

"Moo-ta-gin? What is that?" Sorry, Donatello. This little guy came from Ancient Ireland. While he might have been in the city for over a year now, there is still a lot he has to learn about modern day.

"That is good! Father says that a good warrior knows how to use a lot of weapons. It's very important in case you lose your weapon on the battlefield," Diarmuid pauses to take off the violet bag he has across his back. "My swords are in here!" Sure enough, after unzipping the bag, Diarmuid pulls out two sheathed, very real, child-sized swords. He then holds them out so the turtle can see them better, "See!"

Okay, big words, small child. Do-over. "Oh, sorry. It's a chemical that um . . . changes the . . . essence of a living thing. I could explain it in more detail but it'd take a long time."

He smiles. "My father says that a weapon is only as good as the arm that wields it. May I?" he asks, reaching out to take one of the sheathed blades. He knows better than to grab someone's sword without permission.

"Oh! A chemical!" He does know what those are at least, "That is okay. I probably wouldn't understand a more detailed explanation. I'm from way in the past, so there is a lot I am still learning about how things work now!"

Diarmuid nods to encourage Donatello to go ahead and take the sword, "It sounds like your father is very wise too. Weapons and the people who use them are partners. One can't work well without the other!"

"If you ever want to learn, you can come find me." Everyone should at least have a firm grounding in the scientific method, Donatello thinks. Especially in a place like this.

The turtle takes the sword and draws it from its sheath, getting a grip on it (the handle far too small for his hand) and swishing it through the air a few times before resheathing it and handing it back to the child in both hands. "It seems like a good blade, but it's not balanced right for me, I'm afraid."

He shakes his head, still smiling. "I have to disagree with you about weapons and their wielders being partners. A weapon is only a tool. I've seen my father fight rings around multiple heavily armed men with only his walking stick or his bare hands. And my father is a four-foot tall elderly rat." Pause. "I'm adopted, he's not my father by birth." Heading off the obvious question there.

"I like learning! It's just that I have to ask a lot of questions," Diarmuid looks a little sad for a moment. "I think that annoys people because they know what they are talking about so why don't I? But if you don't mind..."

Diarmuid will never turn down a chance to learn.

"I'm adopted too! We call it fostering back home. My father is a god! A god of love and poetry and youth. Sometimes, I wish he would come here because I think he would like it," Diarmuid takes back his sword and laughs. "It's not balanced for you because you aren't small like me. Someday I will be bigger, but right now I need something my size!"

The boy frowns and shakes his head at Donatello's last statement, "If you don't treat your weapons--no matter what they are--with respect, they will fail you when you need them the most. Besides, my real weapons sing to me! How can I not respect them and call them my partners?"

Of course, Diarmuid's true weapons are legendary ones made by the gods. That makes them just a little different than a normal sword or staff.

"Asking questions is the best way to learn," Don says, with the air of one who spends plenty of time being Mr. Techno-babble Exposition.

"A god, huh? So do you have a name? And does this little guy?" he asks, smiling and pointing to the puppy.

Donatello frowns, moving to sit cross-legged on the grass with his bo staff across his lap. "I think I might be communicating my point badly. I agree that a weapon is worthy of respect, as all dangerous things are. But the most finely crafted and magical weapon in all the universe is no better than a dull cleaver if it's wielded by someone who doesn't have the skill to use it." He shrugs. "That's what my father taught me anyway. But I've never seen a singing weapon before, either. Are they sentient?"

"Yes, they are! That is why I like asking them so much," Diarmuid puts his sword back into the bag for the moment and then kneels down to wrap his arms around his puppy in a big hug.

"This is my puppy, Grey! My name is Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. It's nice to meet you!" The boy giggles as Grey tries to lick his face and then he stands back up, "My father's name is Aengus Og and he is the one teaching me how to fight."

Speaking of fighting...

"That is part of what I mean by they have to be partners. The person has to know how to use the weapon with skill and respect. That is why I can't use my real weapons yet. I have to prove that I am worthy of them first!" A confused look crosses his face, "What does 'sentient' mean?"

"Nice to meet you too. Is your father here with you in Seang Seong?" Don asks, looking around as thought expecting to see someone.

"Ah, okay, sounds like we're pretty much on the same page. Sentient means, like, able to think and have feelings. I guess I'm more or less using it to mean 'being a person.' Were you being literal when you said your weapons sing to you?"

Diarmuid shakes his head, "No, I am here alone. Well, I have my brother too, but we met here, so he's not my brother by blood. It still counts, though. He's the best brother ever!"

"So 'sentient' means being a person? Okay!" The boy's eyes light up in understanding, "Then, yes! I think they are. I could tell they were happy to have me touch them. It was a sound that I only can call singing! The spears sing with female voices and the swords with male ones! It was so pretty. I can't wait until I am strong enough to wield them. Father says I can hear them so well because they know I understand them."

Donatello smiles so hard he almost squints. "No, your brother can't be the best, because mine are." Actually they drive him nuts about 50% of the time, but he's obligated to talk them up, probably. He sighs. "Mine aren't here with me, though."

"Wow, so they really do sing? Do they talk, too? Or maybe they can communicate complex concepts to you with their song?!" Here comes the smile again. The universe never ceases to amaze.

"Well, if you want to get stronger, you're going to need a lot of practice. So, with that in mind . . ." The turtle picks up his staff, whirls it one-handed over his head (in such a way as to not hit Diarmuid, of course) and plunks one end back into the ground. "Up for a spar?"

"But are your brothers going to be heroes? My brother is going to be my land's greatest hero when he grows up!" Diarmuid beams, enjoying the chance to brag about Cu Chulainn. "You never know. The city might decide to bring one of your brothers or your father even! It brings new people almost every month!"

Diarmuid thinks for a few moments about the question and then shakes his head again, "They don't really talk. It's more like distant sounds and impressions. Maybe they will do more once I am bonded closer to them. For now, I don't know them that well."

Don't worry about hitting him, Donatello. He is only about 7-8 years old--calender shifts make it hard to tell if his birthday has passed or not--and is small for his age. He probably only comes up to your waist!

"I was just coming to practice! Will you really spar with me?"

"Well, uh . . ." Donatello coughs. "We've saved the world a couple of times, and New York City probably more than once. It's not something we ever set out to do, just sort of protecting our family and friends and doing the right thing. You know." He has the shame to at least look at his feet a little. No, he would not say they were going to be heroes.

"So yeah! Sparring! Sure. The only better training than mock combat is actual combat. And let's hope it never comes to that."

"Wow!" Diarmuid might not know where New York City is, but he knows that saving the world is a big thing, "You guys aren't going to be heroes. You already are heroes!" He bows deeply to Donatello, "Not only are you heroes, you sound like knights too! That is part of the reason I want to be a knight so badly. They help people who need it and I like helping people!"

When he finishes speaking, Diarmuid turns back to his bag and pulls both of his swords out. Carefully, he removes them from their sheaths and then falls into a ready position, "I am ready when you are!"

"Heh, I guess so. We're actually ninjas, not knights. Er, that is to say, we're trained in ancient Japanese arts of ~~spycraft and assassination~~ stealth and secrecy." He smiles. "Just keep that positive attitude and people will be calling you Sir Diarmuid in no time!"

Donatello bows formally in the Japanese style and also drops into a ready position, staff raised. He nods to acknowledge his opponent's readiness, and brings one end of his staff around in an almost painfully slow strike. "This is probably too easy for you, but we've never sparred before, and I don't want anyone to get hurt. Better to get a feel for each other first. Oh! And I'd rather say this now than have it be obvious in retrospect: my shell is made of bone, so try not to hurt your knuckles."

Edited (Forgot a thing I wanted to say. Ninja-edit.) 2014-09-17 22:38 (UTC)

"A nin-ja? Will you tell me about what a nin-ja does besides that? I've never heard of one before," Diarmuid giggles. "'Sir Diarmuid.' It sounds so important. I hope I am worthy of it!"

Diarmuid drops down and rolls underneath the staff strike, directing his roll so that he can bring one of his swords up toward Donatello's chest, "You have a natural shield on your back! I will remember!"

"Well, actually, ninjas tend to be spies and assassins. But Master Splinter taught my brothers and me ninjitsu to help us stay hidden from the outside world. Do they not call knights 'sir' where you come from? Or uh, when you come from?"

Donatello brings his staff around to block, pushing Diarmuid's blades aside and stepping around, a bit quicker this time. "On my front, too. Nice move."

"Knights are just knights! We don't really ask for titles..." Diarmuid tilts his head as he remember something his father told him, "Well the best knight out of the Fianna get the title 'First Knight of the Fianna.' Does that count?"

"Armor on your front and back, but not on your arms and legs!" Diarmuid giggles and drops into a roll that takes him to Donatello's side so that he can slash at the turtle's knees with his swords.

"That counts. Where I come from, knights get the title 'Sir' or 'Dame.'"

Donatello skips backwards, but not before Diarmuid makes contact with his swords. Either the kid is pretty good, or Don's going too easy on him. Or both. He spins around, trying to get behind the little knight-in-training and swat him with his staff from behind.

"You're doing well sticking to me and staying inside my guard, denying me the advantage of my greater reach. But as long as I can keep moving away . . ." a quick backflip and he's got Diarmuid a staff-length away again " . . . I can control the terms of engagement."

Diarmuid rolls forward to avoid the staff and then spins around so he is facing Donatello again. He is definitely good. Even though he has only been training for a year, he seems to have a natural talent for fighting and picks up on things very quickly.

"I have to stay close! I'm little and won't be able to do anything if you are able to keep your distance!' He giggles and then tries to get in close to Donatello again, "Letting your opponent control things is the first step to losing a fight!" As the boy gets closer again, he brings his swords up in an attempt, not to hit Donatello, but to hit the staff. He hopes to knock it away so that he can duck under it.

"Right! I've always seen combat as being like chess. Move and counter-move. If you can think farther ahead than your opponent, you can get them where you want them and go in for the checkmate."

Diarmuid does manage to hit the bo staff, pressing on one end of the lever and opening Donatello's guard, leaving him exposed for a strike. The other end of the staff, however, is using that momentum to come around and shove the little knight-to-be right past Don. If it connects.

"You're definitely more fun to spar with than my brother Leo. He uses a pair of swords too, and fighting with him is pretty much an exercise in seeing how many seconds I can last before getting knocked flat on my shell."

Oof! The bow certainly connects and Diarmuid dives forward into a roll to lessen the impact. When he hops up again, he turns to face Donatello with a smile, "You got me! I am not very used to fighting things with such a long reach yet. I'm still learning a lot so there is no way I will beat you! I am sure your brother would beat me pretty quickly too!"

It sounds like Leonardo must be the most skilled of all the brothers from what Donatello says.

"I am glad you are having fun. I am too!" The boy giggles and then dashes back in at Donatello. This time, though, he zigzags back and forth making it hard to tell which side he is going to commit his attack to.

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