For prompt 129- "Down but not defeated".

"Fall seven times, stand up eight." – Japanese proverb

His seasoned joints agreed with the weather today; however, his iron will did not. Bursts of rain and thunder clashed above ground, in the City under the stars.

To the right.

A small whisper from the corner.

No, my left.

His whiskers flicked the air as familiar instinct bubbled through his mind.

Coming from the right!

Though age had been unkind to his body, wisdom and experience helped the Sensei avoid a rocky blow and an arm in a future sling. His feet barely touched the ground before he had to orbit again and dodge a shock to his jaw.

Relentless opponent, not a moment to breathe. Rigid strikes. Bruises and scratches erupting, and blood pooled in tiny spots on his fur. No major strikes yet, save for the tail almost getting chopped in half. A couple of his nails were almost ripped from their sockets. He couldn't hear the rain anymore. Just pops of air leaving his throat and all senses were darkening.

Not here. Not tonight.

My eyes won't close for the last time tonight.

The rain … it was humming again. Faintly, but it was there. The curtain over his senses was breaking and night was merging into the dawn. His students, his sons, felt a great distance away but their voices were drawing near. He didn't need them; he could handle the rather tricky situation. This was his fight and it would be his rightful victory.

I want to see the sunrise after a stormy night. Fear, resentment, anger, and remorse drain from one's eyes and collect on the ground. You step on the moist earth and bury the water into the soil. When it grows again, you sever it. Snap, twist. Crack.