Two figures faced each other in a dark, deserted alleyway.

Inky black shadows crawled over the musty brick buildings encompassing them on three sides, a smelly dumpster taking residence at the back of the alley. Plastic and paper trash decorated the ground; black, moldy smudges dotted the concrete.

Wind whipped through the alley like a deadly knife, but not as deadly as the two swords clashing in the narrow space.

Panting, the two figures jumped back, circling each other with cold, calculating gazes.

"You've gotten better. . . I see. . ." the figure nearest the dumpster rasped, breathing heavily.

The voice sounded old and wise with an appearance to match. The old man narrowed his dark blue eyes at the person across from him.

"Of course," replied a young but powerful voice. "You taught me well, Master Takahata."

Takahata smiled. The black-clothed figure opposite him stood tall, barely panting, and held himself with the grace befitting of a warrior. His face was covered entirely by a black mask with slits for eyes holes.

It extended all the way to his hairline where raven locks sprouted down to his shoulders. He was a little taller than the old man himself, but Takahata violently protested that it was because of his old man's slouch. No one believed him.

"Is that an actual complement, Rin?"

Golden eyes stared at him in an annoyed fashion and the old man knew his student was scowling. He chuckled.

"Resume the fight."

No more than a second after he said those three words, a blinding blur raced towards him, zigzagging all over the alleyway. The old man closed his eyes, listening intently. A shuffle sounded to his left followed by a slice to his right.

Opening his eyes, he dodged out of the way and returned the blow with one of his own.

The swords met half way in a shower of steel and clanging, struggling to gain the upper hand. Takahata gritted his teeth, pushing more and more force—Rin pushed off, using the momentum to flip in the air and causing Takahata to stagger.

But soon, the old man righted himself and watched warily as Rin landed on the balls of his feet a few yards away, sword held out at the ready. Takahata responded by gripping his sword in both hands, getting into a similar stance.

An eerie feeling ran along the base of his spine; he shivered. His student was planning something—that he was sure.

Takahata darted forward to Rin's unmoving figure and slashed down with all the force he could muster. Adrenaline danced in the air and he was running out of stamina. The fight had gone on for two hours—one hour too long. He had to end this now.

His katana soared through the air, bringing death nearer and nearer to the stagnant figure.

Takahata's eyes widened. What was Rin doing? Didn't he know he'd die if he—

His sword shredded through empty space. Rin's form flickered for a second before disappearing completely. Eyes widening, the old man cursed vehemently as he realized what—

An ice-cold dagger was pressed against his neck.

"I win, Master."

AN: My attempt at a fight scene. If anyone has some advice to help me improve on writing these kinds of scenes in the future, please inform me. Thank you for reading.

~wiplash11