the magnificient seven samurai

from many, one...
michigan was running, running running.
a small lactic knife slid underneath his ribs.
the fear of god.
narrator: seven young men went out that night and six returned... so it goes.
michigan jumped a low chain link fence, monkey vaulting, into the adjacent backyard and doubled back.
narrator: seven young men went out and six returned: three samurai and three ronin... the seventh died.
michigan wheeled around and threw a wild side kick into the chest of his once friend.
narrator: the game was created- from many, one- the battles were fought after midnight. midnight was when the monsters came out. alliances were formed and broken... to the victor the spoils, and all would be forgiven in the end... until the night six returned.
the two shadows were on top of michigan raining blows on his back and shoulders as he wrung himself free of his black hoody. this fight is over.
narrator: the competition, the game, became a sick and twisted thing after that night.
three ronin against three samurai... and this is where this story ends its beginning.
michigan scrambled and managed to strike the one young man between the legs with a closed hand and fled down the alley southbound with tears in his eyes.