He would have to fight the boy. All the argument thus far had proved was that the youth had no logical objections, but was making them up as he went along to support his own stubborn streak. The only way to end the discussion would be to teach the kid a lesson… physically.

Having reached this conclusion, Hosato began to reassess the situation, specifically viewing the room as a battlefield, as he continued the discussion.

“Be reasonable, James. I’ve been hired to do a job, like anyone else in this complex. That job is to teach you how to fence. It wasn’t my idea, it was your father’s, so instead of arguing, let’s get on with the job at hand.”

“But I don’t want to learn to fence!” the boy insisted, his gray eyes glowering from beneath a sandy tousle of hair. “Why not?”

The boy was tall, in his mid-teens, and broad for his age. He’d have the advantage of reach, since Hosato barely came up to his shoulders in height, but whatever edge his youth gave him in speed should be offset by his awkwardness.

“It’s silly,” the boy grumbled. “Why should I waste my time learning something I’ll never use. Swords are obsolete… so are guns, for that matter, but at least a gun would train me for using a blaster.”

“Are you carrying a gun or a blaster at the moment?” Hosato inquired politely.

“No,” James admitted. “You aren’t allowed to carry an energy weapon inside the complex unless you’re a security guard.”

“But you are wearing a sword.”

From what Hosato could see, the boy’s sword had a slender blade roughly one meter long. The overly ornate hilt indicated it was more a decoration than a functional weapon. Probably no cutting edges, which would restrict his opponent to attacking with the point.

“Of course I’m wearing a sword. Anyone of any station worth mentioning does.”