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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

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Posted

From that point, for several months, his life would be one long fight. Because of her. For her. He loved her enough to give his life for. Fortunately, he merely had to give his health and will. But he would give it all again in a heartbeat.

 

She called him her guardian, her defender, her knight in shining armour often. Always there to keep her in check before her temper took her off the rails, she thought the nickname suited him. Only of average build and non-confrontational in nature, she never knew of what he was capable. Then the fight.

 

During his hospital recovery, he'd replayed the sequence of events over and over in his mind. He had every instant of the.... minutes? Seconds? To him it was an eternity. An eternity before his mind fragmented. He never saw what hit him. When the red haze cleared, he was surrounded by paramedics.

 

He was average physically, exceptional mentally. Which was all she needed. He played no sports, went to no kickboxing classes and watched wrestling merely because he appreciated it as an undervalued form of comedy. Her one attempt to talk him into changing the channel resulted in a lecture between bouts, detailed analysis, deconstruction of the inane entertainment which left her shaking her head, for it made such perfect sense that it left her conflicted. Over something she despised.

 

He cared not for his physical, but he was rather fit and healthy. Which suited her just fine. Still, she never knew how far his vow of his life would go.

 

Now days, he needs her. He cannot live without her. Once so calm and collected in all situations, he'd been left unhinged by his experience. He was still there, she could tell, behind the broken speech and emotional outbursts he seemed plagued with at times, he was still her knight in shining armour.

 

More pawn than knight, she sometimes mused.

 

His recovery and rehabilitation had involved more exercise and strength building in the few short months than he'd ever done in his life. Now fueled by a seemingly unquenchable anger, his body swelled and hardened. His body balancing out his sudden mental deficit.

 

Medical staff gave up warning him against excessive exercise when they realised he was recovering rapidly. She knew they were merely glad he'd be out of their hair sooner.

 

They'd been close before, but they were inseparable after. During initial examinations and routines, she was often called upon simply to calm him down. His temper now dwarfed hers. It frightened others. And the only thing to stay him was her soothing voice.

 

If she didn't love him as he did her...

 

He'd saved her life, her health. He'd defended her. Her knight in shining armour had fought off her attackers, those heathen bandits who saw her as another trinket in the night, one more thing they weren't worthy of which they desired nonetheless.

 

A quartet. All gym-buffed, all ego-inflated, all with a classic case of male penis envy.

 

Most would turn and run. They would've, too, but the area they'd been followed into wasn't designed with alternate escape in mind.

 

He'd saved her life from them, now she gave hers to him. She spent most days with him, sharing as much time as she had to spare. Eventually, she took a leave to be with him. He needed her now. And she owed him.

 

Why did he have to be so brave?

 

When their intentions became clear, he'd wasted no time. This surprised them. They never expected their victim to fight back. They certainly never expected him to lunge at the ringleader, knock the wind out of him, then proceed to bash his skull into the pavement. As number two was set upon, number four found a metal pole. Applying it to the back of his skull seemed like a good idea at the time.

 

What shamed number 4 the most was afterward. Trying to explain to police that the broken, bleeding, battered, half dead carcass who was being loaded into an ambulance was, only moments beforehand, a hell-sent demonspawn. None of his broken bones, shattered organs or cracked ribs seemed to stop him from defeating all four. He'd been the luckiest. He'd been able to give a statement.

 

They spent their whole lives together. They never swore until death, they'd already given their lives for eachother.

  • 2 weeks later...
Posted

This is sweet in a really gritty way, Aardvark. It's a very interesting juxtaposition of sensations, there, and I like the uniqueness of the way you've approached it. Good work. :)

 

... you just might want to watch your punctuation in places... ^_^

 

Yours,

~Yui

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