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Post by Kelathi on Jan 5, 2017 0:01:19 GMT
((Okay! So, some research into Japanese culture has gone into this, but I have also made some parts up, so think of it as an alternative world inspired by oriental Japan. I encourage whoever joins to be as creative as you wish with customs and lore, go wild! ^^))
"The front of the kimono goes right over left today, remember that." She let the patterned silk glide through her fingers. "Recall Hanakatoba- The language of the flowers. Shirayuri symbolises the purity and innocence reclaimed in death." She plucked a lily from the vase, tucking the stem into the fold in her kimono so that it’s delicate white face peeked out to regard the world. "Shion, the Little Sister, for remembrance." She lowered her head so that she might breathe in the sweet scent of the tiny purple flowers, allowing the fragrance to fill her lungs.
Poison is a woman’s weapon. She heard the words echo in her mind, again and again, until they even seemed to drown out the roaring in her ears.
The corpse’s eyes were held closed by painted stones, which in turn propped down the parchment that covered each eye. She stared at what was visible of the symbol beneath the stone, the black ink peeking out from the corners. Painted in one sleek motion, rest. Her gaze moved slowly to the other eye, and the other symbol. The jagged lines were a direct contract to the first- Awaken. She felt a shiver run through her, but it was calmed as she felt a warm, gentle hand on her shoulder. Her father handed her the incense stick with his other hand, and she took it carefully. With great reverence, the way she had been taught, she walked slowly away from the body and over to the small table, opening the glass lantern case so that she might light the end of the stick on the flickering flame. The smell of honey blossom wafted into the air as she traced the symbols in the air before her, wafting the smoke, the ends of the incense stick burning lilac, before setting it into the waiting bowl.
“All life comes to an end.” Her father spoke quietly as she returned to his side. “Life is fleeting, merely a sigh in the eyes of our Gods. That is why it is so precious.” He drew the white sheet over her body, which whispered gently like the sigh of a lover, covering her from head to toe. The child could still see her figure through the semi-translucent cloth. With her painted lips, and lily-white powdered face… she almost looked as if she were merely ensnared in a deep slumber, and might rise at any moment to greet them both. Her father took her by the shoulders then, and turned her, so that she faced him instead of the grim, if beautiful sight. He knelt before her until his eyes were level with hers, his expression one of compassion, the sternness melted away by his love for her. “Be strong, little one. She did not die in vain. What they have taken, the Karyuudo* shall soon return. There must always be balance, remember that.” And she hugged him then, and he held her tight until the candles burnt low, and it was time for the body to be carried outside to greet the moon, and take her last journey to the other side through fire and ash.
*
The sky is burning as the desert sun rises, ushering forth a new day… and shadows dance on the sun bleached walls, the sunset splashing the dusky buildings with crimson and painting the Earth in the vibrant colours of life.
They moved quickly, merely specters against the new dawn. Their footsteps were soundless, the only indication of their presence being the small clouds of dust kicked up by their movements before the figure would disappear out of sight, only to appear again atop a completely different building, seemingly too far away to travel to so quickly. Not a word was uttered between the figures, each dressed in sand-coloured cloaks, so that they would usually match the hue of the desert-coloured buildings, when they were not awash with vibrant reds as they were now. Suddenly, without warning, they all reappeared, having halted abruptly, standing motionless in a perfect line along a leveled roof. As one, their heads slowly tilted towards the sky, their shrouded faces regarding the imposing structure towering before them, which dwarfed the surrounding buildings for miles…
At the top of the vast, domed building, stood the bell-tower with its famous giant bell, entirely crafted from silver, looming above as a silent witness to what was about to unfold. A lone figure could be seen standing before it, framed by the archway, balancing on the narrow ledge, only air between them and a fatal drop. They were an imposing figure against the backdrop of the great, silver bell; their kimono a deep blue with loose, narrow white lines forming figures of ryu, beneath slatted armour unmistakable to the eye as the kind worn by samurai.
The individual regarded their silent audience from behind the broad, proud face of Shi, the guardian lion, face frozen in a perpetual snarl and carved in silver. Then they stepped back into the building, disappearing from view and plummeting down the bell-tower…
And as they fell, they twisted round and grabbed the rope to the bell, and the chime drawn on by the force was enough to temporarily deafen the guards, as the figure swung in a sharp arc at high speed, loosing their grip and colliding with the first guard feet-first, their feet connecting with the man’s head. No sooner had the man crumpled to the ground did the figure, without missing a step, tear across the landing, jumping onto the wooden banister and leaping out into the open air…. Only to grab onto the same rope as it was heading back. The movement allowed them to narrowly miss the stream of bullets already tearing after them from the other guards as they flew through the air, feet planting onto the wall on the other side, and running along it using the momentum of the rope, before skidding down it as it rotated, hands protected by gloves as the figure descended, tearing past the other two guards at such a speed that they were at a disadvantage even with their automatic weapons.
And then dropping neatly down onto the ballroom floor just as the bell chimed for a second time.
A crescendo of bullets narrowly missed the figure as they flew forwards in one supple moment into a forward roll, before leaping back up to their feet and picking up speed, swinging the bow from their back in a practiced movement as they did so. An arrow was docked as they headed straight towards a wall, planting their feet onto it, running up, the momentum built up allowing them to scale it, body twisting as they performed a back-flip. They let the arrow go, which streamed through the air, straight into the eye of a guard on the far end of the hall. Landing in a crouch, another roll as they made contact with the ground, but then, suddenly, three of the guards had fallen, but not by their hand.
The cavalry had arrived.
The silver masked individual charged down the middle of the fray as bullets whizzed by in all directions, splintering walls but missing the sand-cloaked figures that seemed to apparate like ghosts, dispatching the men swiftly with hidden daggers, blood spurting from open wounds to stain the marble ground…
The wooden doors at every wall slammed open in union as reinforcements, drawn by the sound of heavy gunfire, poured into the ballroom. And as the sand figures spread out to begin to thin the men out, the masked individual drew three arrows at once, and as they docked them, a faint blue glow began to grow at their hands, and they rose the bow, setting the arrows off… which abruptly multiplied, spearing multiple enemies, and those that missed bounced off the walls, but instead of shattering or losing speed, simply redirected to the next victim, until, with the help of the shrouded figures, every single guard was crumpled on the floor.
And there was a moment of stillness, before the figure turned their metal face to the end of the hall, where, framed by the large stained-glass window, the one they had come for sat motionless on his wooden, intricately carved throne…
And they turned, and began to walk towards the man… breaking into a sprint towards the immovable figure, until they reached them without hindrance, barrelling into them, the man’s back pressed against the seat, with the jagged blade of the katana against the soft flesh of their neck.
And after all of that, the man did not even have the politeness to look concerned.
“I wondered when you would come for me.” He spoke in silky tones, as if speaking to an old friend… and not a masked assassin, with a blade pressed to his neck. “You do indeed exceed expectations. When I first heard of the Karyuudo, I killed the man who informed me, believing him to be a creator of fantastical tales.” He chuckled to himself then, but halted abruptly as the blade pressed down ever so slightly, a bead of blood forming along the edge. “Not one for conversation, I see.” The man replied, smile dissipating… to be replaced with a look of annoyance. “Shame, I would have liked to have learnt more about you before it came to this…” Beneath the mask, the individual’s eyes narrowed… and abruptly, the blade was gone from the man’s neck, as the individual spun round and…
Paused, sword at the ready…
The great beast towered over them, materializing out of nothing… and the masked figure knew at once that it would not be taken down by a sharp blade. The creature reared its long, snake-like neck, the top of its head almost reaching the ceiling, staring down at the masked individual with empty eyes, waiting for their move, a ripple of a growl reverberating from it’s throat down to it's claws, sending the floor shaking…
A move which the individual took without warning, spinning round once more and sending the katana soaring towards the man… where it instead imbedded itself into the wooden back of the seat. Noting the absence of the man mid-spin, they did not stop, and it was fortunate, for the beast took that moment to strike, it’s talons bearing down upon the ground where they had just been standing. The dust-figures apparated again, having been absent when the last guard had fallen, striking the creature with katanas, blades, jagged throwing discs… all of which merely phased through it, the beast responding by devouring them, or impaling them with a swipe of it’s great paws. Instead of blood, the figures exploded into dust at the moment of death, and each one fell to the creature. But it had been the distraction the masked figure had needed, scaling the wall by grabbing onto the intricate carvings, pulling themselves up swiftly to the banister of the first level, before running along towards the stairs leading back up the bell tower, leaping off the banister and grasping onto the rope of the bell once more. They swung, coming in contact with the wall, and began to scale as they had before, but this time, adjusting their grip on the rope as they did so, so that they rose as they ran, the speed keeping them rising. All enemies but one slain, the great beast lifted it’s gaze to follow the tiny figure, and opened it’s maw wide… and sent a stream of blue fire roaring up towards them. The figure passed by just in time, the flames narrowly missing the rope…. But travelling on ahead and melting away the rope at the top, the only thing keeping the aged bell from falling… and it began it’s great descent magnificently, smashing through the banisters and stairs, obliterating the levels as it made it’s final journey far below… the figure, still clutched to the rope as the great bell dropped towards them, held on for dear life as they plummeted too, swinging round as they were tossed towards the stained glass window in a narrow arc…
The force of the collision with the window tore the rope from their grasp, and for a moment, they were weightless, thousands of coloured shards of glass framing their leap as they plummeted towards the ground…
*
Nightfall.
Harsh, metallic breathing, dulled by the thick silver of the mask. They made their way swiftly, stepping into doorways unseen and melting into shadows whenever a figure passed by. The city was on high alert, bells were ringing at every corner of the city, calling the guards to act… and the murmurs ran through the street, ebbing and flowing like waves in the ocean.
Someone had tried to murder the emperor.
As the figure stopped to regain their breath, their hand strayed to the wound at their side, where a large piece of glass had imbedded itself into their flesh, right between their armour plates. An unseen wince, and they withdrew their gloved hand, to see it covered in dark blood. They continued on, knowing the streets of their childhood like the back of their hand, despite the fact that it had changed much since then. They followed the path to Old Town, slouching up gratefully against the whitewashed wall of an unassuming house. One rough knock was enough. After a few moments, the door opened, and the figure near collapsed indoors.
*
“Ryu? Are you sure?” The man paused for a second, before continuing to help the individual shrug off their armour, undoing the leather clasps. “Yes. It was a dragon. With a long… ugh… lithe neck.” The voice that replied was deep, and sounded almost mechanical, having run through little channels and grooves in the mask which served to distort the wearer’s voice. “Take that mask off, won’t you? My ears aren’t as good as they once were, I can hardly understand you.” The man muttered, placing the armour in the corner of the room neatly. Without comment, except for their heavy breathing, the figure did as suggested, their actions slow as they raised their arms, the movement causing ripples of pain to reverberate throughout their body. With the help of their companion, they unclasped the mask, and pulled it away…
To reveal the face of a young woman.
“Here, Hachiro. Take the Karyuudo’s mask and put it where it’s safe. Hurry now.” The child, no older than ten, took the mask from his father with great reverence, rushing from the room to hide in in it’s secret place. “Now… lets take a look… my, my.” The man regarded her wound, the large piece of glass was about the length of the palm of his hand, and was imbedded into her side, right between her ribs. “Okay, I’m going to pull it out. You need to stay completely still, we don’t want it to do anymore damage than it already has.” He began to wrap bandages around his hands, and grasped the glass firmly. “Ready?” He paused, regarding her unnaturally pale face, the result of the great loss of blood.
“Do it, Jiro.” She merely replied. He had stitched her up many a time, and she trusted him, literally, with her life.
It took a while, but finally, the glass was removed, the bleeding staunched, and she was all stitched up with barely a hiss of pain to leave her lips. Cleaning his hands in a bowl of water, which bloodied quickly, Jiro turned to where the young woman sat, and began to bandage her up. It was a strange look, her upper body already bandaged due to the chest binding she performed in order to take on the physique of a man. He chuckled to himself, and at her questioning gaze, explained- “Maybe we should just cover you head-to toe in bandages, and save on time.” A smile tweaked onto her lips in reply, but he could see she was too exhausted to do much else, much less manage a chuckle. “Done.” He announced, pinning the bandage in place. Karyuudo slipped her arms back into her bloodied kimono, shrugging it back on, wincing. “Thank you, Jiro. As always, I am in you debt.” Jiro merely waved her words away with a faint, ‘bah’!, and tottered from the room, taking the blood-soaked towels and clouded, crimson water with him. He returned soon after, with a vase of sweet-smelling lavendar. “To help you sleep.” He explained, setting it on the table.
“Sleep?” the woman merely echoed, standing. Jiro paused, then began hurriedly, voice raising in his concern. “Oh no, you aren’t seriously thinking of going back out there, are you?” At that point, the young boy appeared in the doorway, having been drawn over at hearing his father’s raised voice. The woman turned to him, and he froze in place as the eyes of the great Karyuudo met his. “Hachiro, my mask.” She spoke firmly, but not unkindly. He nodded, eyes wide, and raced away to retrieve it. “Please, just stay for the night. If the guards catch you, you are weak, you are in no state to fight.” But even as he tried, he knew his words were in vain. “Jiro, every time I come here, I endanger you and your family. I wont do that any more-so than absolutely necessary... Thank you.” The thanks was for Hachiro, whom had returned, lifting the mask to her with wide-eyed wonder. She took it and donned it, drawing her hood over her head as she did so. Jiro watched her silently as she strapped on the rest of her armour, and as she turned to the door, he finally spoke, his voice low and gentle, and heavy with resignation.
“It’s not too late to back out, Kasumi. You are not bound to this fate. You can still withdraw with your honour intact.”
That made her pause. She turned slowly, the face of Shi, the face of the Karyuudo staring him down and seemingly damning him for his words.
“Would you be telling me this if I were a man?” She demanded, her growl sounding metallic and deep and strange.
“I would be telling you this if you were my son.” He replied, evenly.
*
They say poison is a woman’s weapon. They could not be more wrong.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 5, 2017 5:20:33 GMT
Arashi was a powerful figure to behold, even in the dark; tall, muscular, controlled. A loyal general to the emperor, he had vowed he was willing to lay down his life in service. It was a promise that few doubted. But as he stood watching over the palace grounds, alive with guards actively patrolling the area in double their usual numbers, his brow was furrowed, a dark angry look that none of his men could stand for long. The moonlight only seemed to heighten this intense gaze, as the light caught his eyes while the shadows claimed his face.
The attack upon the emperor had been unexpected, the culprit able to escape. Arashi had not been there to protect the emperor that night, returning the next day to learn of the event; he was convinced the battle would have gone differently had he been. But he was not able to hunt the Karyuudo himself, his emperor may be in danger again without his presence. He was a warrior, not an assassin.
But he had an ally.
The rustle of fabric was all that told Arashi that he was no longer alone, a quick glance proving he had nothing to fear from this figure. The Karyuudo was known for his lion’s mask, not the sleek glass-front helmet that stared at him now. Perched in a manner that might even be considered casual, the figure stepped off lightly to stand beside Arashi the Bear, as tall but scrawny in comparison. The bodysuit was half covered by a long leather trench coat, while a scarf hung loosely about his neck, as if a joke to his namesake with its rich red color and white tipped end.
Kitsune was hardly one to take lightly, however, even as his own steps silently made their way across the path. Those same light steps had gotten him there without being detected by even the alert guards, one night after such a dramatic attack. “I hear there was quite a party here last night,” came the sly remark, the voice muffled by the mask. There was a laugh as Arashi’s eyes moved away, his eyes now burning. “The Karyuudo,” he growled as a spark of electricity seemed to dance along his clenched fingers, the glimmer only fading as Kitsune spoke again. “Sounds like it’ll be a challenge.” His interest was obviously peaked.
“One would be well rewarded for bringing the emperor the Karyuudo’s head.” Arashi spoke with his usual casual, almost conversational tone as he always did when striking a bargain like this, as a general of his power and rank, having to hire a bounty hunter, could pose a different kind of threat to the emperor. No word could be said that alone could suggest that a bargain was being struck, to prevent any scandal from arising from the act.
“Anyone who would try would have to have quite a… specific reward in mind,” Kitsune mused aloud in a tone to match Arashi’s, knowing fully that the reward would be something the emperor could offer. With a knowing smile evident in his tone, the hunter added, “Provided they get to deliver the head themselves.” Arashi considered for a few moments, clearly having been about to protest the hunter’s suggestion of his own choice of reward, but then nodded. There was a bigger concern at the moment. “The emperor would be most pleased to meet the one who could complete such a task.”
A grunt made Arashi glance at the hunter, whose usually prideful stance had faltered, already recovering. “Well, with pleasing the emperor being such an honor in and of itself, I would think someone would be willing,” he said, doing his best to keep up the sly persona, but the general was an analytical man. He saw the shake in the hunter’s hands, an uneven pace to his breath as he fought for control. The general remained silent on the subject, however; Kitsune had this happen once before, but was normal the next time he showed up. And he was a very private man. Arashi turned back to the palace, hands gripping tightly on the banister before him. “May the Karyuudo’s death be slow,” he growled, and only with the lingering silence did he sense he was alone once more, the Kitsune having already vanished as he always did. Arashi took a deep breath and straightened up, hands clasped behind his back as he moved on, his meeting now concluded. He would return to the emperor’s side until the threat had been eliminated. Arashi was confident that it would not take long.
Kitsune had never failed him yet.
---
To most, the figure racing across the rooftops would be a phantom, a ghost that flickered in and out of existence, only visible long enough to make the next jump. In this manner, the stranger was able to make incredible time, soon in the heart of the city, unnoticed as a blur in a busy area. Once here, he dropped down to the streets rather than the sky, going around so many bends, twists and turns it was impossible to follow.
Rather than some ruin of a castle, the ghost came to an older area of a neighborhood intermixed with attached shops and service buildings, still cared for by its old but clean walls and streets. Quiet, making it a strange place for such a figure to race to. By the time he had gotten to the back door he was seeking, he was half stumbling, only managing to knock on the door twice before crumpling.
He was lucky; the door opened within moments, and wordlessly he was dragged inside, the door shut. To the world, nothing untoward had just happened. A ghost indeed.
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“Just one more minute… hang in there…”
The distracted attempt at comfort was noted, but it did not help; the speaker continued to focus on the device in his hand, working with wires and circuits with remarkable speed. The last piece soldered into place, the young man quickly turned it on, a look of relief coming over him as the disc’s blue light flickered back into a steady glow, the six thin arms twitching as if trying to grasp something. “Got it! Ryo, I got it,” he called out, almost knocking the chair over as he leapt up from his desk in haste. To have completed repairs on a complex device so quickly, it seemed almost ironic that he would have so little grace beyond his fingers. On the other hand, he looked no older than eighteen, an understandable age for lack of coordination.
In the next room was a bed, a figure curled up on it, shuddering and barely biting back the whimpers that kept wanting to escape, eyes tightly shut as he tried to control his reactions. “It looks like the wiring got shaken loose, you need to keep people from hitting you in the back of the head,” the young man went on with a weak laugh, talking to settle his own nerves as much as help the other. During his explanation, he pulled Ryo up, letting his head rest on his shoulder as he repositioned the device. There was no complaint, hardly even a recognition that he had been moved at all; worrying, but not unexpected. “I tried changing the frequency of the signal,” the explanation continued, the device’s arms finally relocating their place and locking down, recognizable in the paler pattern they had left behind previously. “I know you need it, but you know what they say about these things being problematic long term… overriding the body’s natural signals. I’m still trying to keep that from happening in the meantime by changing how the signals are intercepted.”
As the device had locked down, the older man had winced, but had slowly relaxed, recovering his breath for a few moments while the teenager had been explaining his work. Finally, Ryo was able to pull back, eyes closed in a different kind of relief. The young man’s eyes were not as relieved as they were before, drifting down momentarily to the device on the other’s neck. “I’ve read studies, y’know… actual studies. Those neural inhibitors can permanently damage people, keep them from ever feeling anything without them. If you’re on it much longer -“
“I won’t be, Naoki…” Ryo replied evenly, his voice unexpectedly light given the pain he had just been in. With a laugh that seemed almost forced, almost out of place, he looked over at last, the sly look back in his eyes. “I’ve got a commission for the emperor. One bounty, and I can finally look into getting treatment.” Naoki’s eyes widened, obviously shocked. “Wait, the emperor? THE emperor? You mean ours? The one that was nearly killed last night?! Ryo... kitsune might be immortal in myths, but you’re only flesh and blood… even if you can’t feel it half the time.” The older man laughed at the remark a little more light heartedly than he had before, testing his ability to stand, something he obviously practiced often enough.
“Yeah… THAT emperor. The… the same one who has a cure for any potential threat against him. He’s at the highest risk of being attacked, for god’s sake… it’d be stupid not to have something for Noroi.” Naoki was not as pleased as Ryo was as he balanced, stretching his hands even as the other continued to worry. “Dude, we don’t even know how you got Noroi in the first place. I mean… it’s a poison, it’s not a disease you can catch. What if something worse happens to you?”
Naoki’s gaze softened as Ryo looked back at him, the hunter’s eyes suddenly hard. “Right, like being poisoned with something that cripples you with searing pain through your whole body, until you shrivel up and die a slow death, isn’t the worst thing that can happen to someone,” he snapped, then with a sigh he let his gaze drop back to the floor in front of him. Already, he regretted the venom he had used, but his friend’s expression was one of understanding rather than anger or fear. With his friend in trouble, he was in pain himself.
“I get it… I do. I know you have to keep getting these high-paying jobs until we can at least get more than some basic tests paid for. And… I’m trying to do what I can. I tried adjusting the inhibitor again, changing some of the frequencies… you’ll have to see if you’re still ok on it. Just be careful; collapsing in pain at my door is one thing. Passing out from blood loss in the street is another.”
“Oh come on… I get stabbed once and don’t realize it, and you’re all tiger mother about me…”
“ONCE you passed out from getting stabbed and not realizing it until your vision spun. You asked me about it before you crashed. The OTHER TWO times, it was your getting shot! SHOT! I may know how that inhibitor works, but I still can’t figure out how you can’t even notice when your blood is pouring out of your body and all over the city… you were lucky I found you when I did, all three times!”
“Naoki, the inhibitor blocks pain signals, nothing else. I think I’d notice if anything ‘poured’ out of me.”
“Sometimes I wonder. I’m just worried the inhibitor also blocks common sense, since you seem to think you’re invincible with it. It blocks pain, not bullets.”
The exchange was focused mostly with Naoki’s arms crossed in front of him, angry and worried, while Ryo continued to restore what had become normal feeling to his limbs while trying to avoid the feeling of guilt about putting Naoki through everything he had endured since being poisoned. Finishing a stretch, as if about to ignore the argument altogether, Ryo sighed in defeat, shaking his head a little. “Fine. I’ll start being more careful,” he offered in truce, Naoki not ready to end the conversation, but resigning himself to an all-too-easy victory. “That’s a start. You’re not immortal, old man.”
The teenager quickly scrambled away with a sound that was a cross between a laugh and a squawk before he could be grabbed by the scruff of the neck, somehow managing to duck and roll at the same time. “I’m only nine years older than you, kid!” Ryo groused, sitting on the bed he had almost fallen onto as his legs weren’t ready to run just yet. That was the other reason Naoki had gotten away after such a comment. “Yeah, I bet you still remember when dinosaurs were alive and mobiles were clunky boxes,” Naoki shot back, but a cheeky grin had replaced the worried stare. That alone helped Ryo, although he didn’t let it show at the moment for obvious reasons. “Yeah, but at least I can cross a room without knocking something over.” He couldn’t help the laugh and grin as a tongue was stuck out at him in mock defiance.
“Yeah, like how you can’t seem to avoid running into walls when you’re drunk and phasing in and out,” Naoki retorted, walking off in the latest attempt to have the last word. Ryo stood carefully one more time, noting with a grim satisfaction that the inhibitor was already bringing him back to a state of normal sensation. As normal as it was to feel anything but pain, that is. He followed Naoki into the workshop, forcing his expression to settle even as the perfect response formed in his mind.
Ryo liked having the last word too.
(fun to utilize an idea I've been bouncing around in the back of my mind for a few years... Noroi is Japanese for "curse," so while this is a little modified, it's still an accurate name. Suggestions on how/why Ryo got infected are welcome ^_^ So yeah! Kelathi, feel free to do another time skip )
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 7, 2017 14:59:23 GMT
Millennia ago, a great evil consumed the land. A warrior by the name of Akagawa, once noble and great, became corrupt, and consumed by greed, turning his sights on a quest for power and immortality. With the help of powerful sorcerers, he stole magic from the ancestors to aid him. With the ability to summon great, fantastical beasts and spirits to do his bidding, he swept across the land like a plague, turning rivers and streams sour, and leaving destruction and sickness in his wake until all kneeled and cowered before him. He slaughtered the true emperor, and named himself the ruler of all the land, rewarding those whom rose up beneath him, seeking power in the same way he had, through fire and blood. He twisted the minds of the people so that they were divided, and like stray dogs they fought each other, snapping at each other’s heels rather than forming together as a pack.
This is how the Karyuudo was born, out of a need for humanity to fight back against the chaos, and restore balance to a dying world. The mask of Shi was donned to represent the protective guardian of the people, the name to represent what he was at heart- a hunter, whose only role was to protect the people, restore the balance and hunt the evil-doers that threatened the peace. His strength and skill became legendary, and he struck down the tyrant warrior. Victorious, he stepped down and allowed the rightful ruler to take place, and when he grew old and frail, he passed down his mask to his son, and his son after that, and so on.
The Karyuudo line protected the land of Shiriocha for many centuries to come, becoming ambassador for the people, and later, a watchful shadow, until finally, word of the Karyuudo dissipated altogether. Small events in time that were attributed to him were passed over as folklore, and after enough time had passed, he sunk back into legend. But the Karyuudo bloodline still lives on to this day, waiting for the moment when he would be called upon to uphold his families’ honour, and restore the balance of the land…
*
White, powdered lillies. Incense, honey blossom. White muslin cloth. Black symbols. Rest. Awake.
She opened her eyes.
Morning light flooded in between the boards of the small window, dust motes ebbing and flowing lazily across her vision. Slowly, she pushed herself up to lean on her elbows, brain still foggy from sleep, to look about the room. It had changed much over the years; it was a wonder that it was standing at all. The walls often crumbled at the touch, the floor was dusty with the white powder from the plaster, and the floorboards creaked underfoot with age. The furniture and ornaments were long gone, from where they had been ransacked years ago. Even the very curtains had been torn down, merely faded, jagged pieces of cloth to signify where they once hung, where someone had cut through them haphazardly in their haste. She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and climbed out of the pile of furs on the floor. A humble bed, and a humble room for one so pivotal in history.
The Karyuudo had been quiet. There had been not a peek from them in over three weeks, which was the time it had taken for Kasumi to heal. Even as she stood, she could still feel the twinge of pain in her side, the flesh still tender to the touch, reminding her of her own mortality.
She dressed slowly, listening to the sounds of nature outside, from the gentle buzzing of bees to the excited chattering of birdsong, slipping on a dark red kimono laden images of with storks and bonsai. Dressed, but feet bare on the cold wooden floor, she walked into the other room, crossing the gaunt, silent house to where the kitchen had once been. The tabletop was broken, the cupboards bare apart from a few cans of untouched food. And as she passed through the gaping doorway with its shattered door hanging from it’s hinges, feeling a stranger in this building, she swept up the things she would need, a bundle bound in a patterned cloth, and stepped out into the sunlight beyond.
All about her lay a ruin of derelict homes, what once had been modest, humble houses, now merely moss and ivy-bound skeletons. A dead town; the town of her birth, long ago abandoned by even scavengers, and even longer still by the people whom had resided there. And she stepped over broken beams and piles of rubber and plaster, making her way to the home that had once been hers. Although old, she tended to the old building with love. She had salvaged what could be saved, and although no one lived here now, they might as well do, thanks to her care, it was the only home in this dead town that was tended to. She walked up the small hill besides the house, sweeping aside the curtain of bright pink creeping thyme, and approaching the area where the soft, mossy ground hardened into rock, the area flattened, worn down and smoothed out from years of kneeling and sitting. She sat down on it carefully, the valley stretching out before her, with the blue mountains and the lingering fog, the ruined town at her back and out of sight. And she crossed her legs, and unrolled the cloth, setting out the items before her. Two bowls, a flask of water, a feather, incense sticks, a small candle, a box of matches and a handful of flowers she had plucked on her way up. She placed the sticks reverently in the first bowl, lighting the incense, and breathing in the heady scent. Then she filled the second bowl with water, placing the feather next to it, and lit the candle. Last, she laid out the flowers, recalling Hanakotoba. Powder-white anemone today, instead of lillies, for sincerity, purple shion, for rememberance, and most important of all... a sprig of sakura, to remind her of the fleetingness of life, just like the falling of sakura petals.
Items in place neatly before her, she closed her eyes, and straightened her back. And she imagined a lotus flower in her chest as she had first been taught decades ago, imagining it’s dainty petals opening and closing with every breath.
And there, as she had countless times before, and as hundreds had before her on that very spot… she honoured the dead.
*
The purpose of Karyuudo was to keep the peace and bring balance, not just to take down the emperor. The world’s ills cannot be dissipated by simpky removing a tumour, the infection has to be tackled elsewhere. She never forgot her people, for if she did, she would not be Karyuudo, but merely an assassin, without honour and without Bushido.
So now she had healed, she stepped out to face the world once more, scarf drawn over her features so as to hide her metal face, the shadow of her hooded cloak doing well to hide the rest that might show, the only evidence of her mask being the occasional glint as the sun caught it. She needed to be seen as Karyuudo, but only when it suited her, and she did not want to be stopped on her way to performing her task. Even now, the city was still on high alert. During the day she could literally feel the tension in the air, buzzing about people like static. Nobody wanted to be caught in the crossfire between the two opposing forces, and many were still undecided as to whom they should be rooting for. That was why this was important, the thought to herself, scaling up the side of a building silently, picking a silent street so that she could move without being seen. The people had to understand that she was fighting for them.
No longer wearing her dark red kimono, her dressage was much like the apparating creatures whom had assisted her weeks before, her clothes taking on a sandy-hue, which drew the eye less readily. She dropped down onto a lower roof, pausing for merely a second, before leaping up onto a ledge, running across it and jumping smartly onto the next building, two guards standing down in the alley below, completely oblivious to the fleeting shadow just above them. But she was not here for them. She continued on, skirting carefully around more vigilant guards whom had decided to take base on a roof or two, their pistols fitted with silencers, or even in the much rarer case, wielding bows and arrows instead of guns. But despite their good intentions, they were lax, often noisy as they spoke to each other, evidently not taking the threat seriously. Bad for them, but good for her. She crossed the city without even raising a curious eye towards the heavens as she passed.
Checking that the street was clear, she dropped down into it smartly and soundlessly, performing a roll as she hit the ground, breaking the impact. The movement was supple, turning into an upright position fluidly, into a walk. Then she strolled boldly towards a humble house, where she could hear laughter and music pouring forth, in the otherwise silent street.
And opened the door, and stepped inside.
Curious and hopeful eyes turned to her as she entered, but the music stopped immediately and a hushed murmuring could be heard from all about the room as she drew away her scarf, the light glinting off the Shi mask. In the room were two elderly people, and the rest… all children, about twenty of them, of varying ages. She read their faces in one sweep, her masked face turning only slightly as she regarded them all calmly with unseen eyes. And in the silence, her hand drew to her side. And she could hear the inhalation of breath and the terror, as her hand slowly drew out… not a weapon, but a bag. And she held it out, offering it to them.
For a moment, nobody stirred. But then the mechanical voice spoke out, shocking the elderly man from their mystification, causing him to stand up. “Take it.” The words were simple. Firm, but not quite an order. It was… an offering. And on aged legs the man hobbled towards the figure fearfully, and studied her silver face, before warily reaching out to take the bag… which turned out to be rather heavy. And as he was opening it to take a peek inside… he suddenly collapsed with a gasp. But Karyuudo was there, grabbing him before his legs failed him. And his wife had leapt up by then, rushing towards them to see to her husband… and then gasped too as she saw the glint of gold. And the man had steadied now, and he looked up at the stranger with tear-filled eyes… and suddenly, the face of Shi, the dreaded face of the Karyuudo became the face of mercy. “The Karyuudo provides for his people, Yamada-san, as you provide for the children in your care. The ancestors smile upon you.” That mechanical voice again, somehow no longer so frightening, but… almost gentle, like the purr of a wild beast. And the figure pulled away only when the man was steady, and the old man signed a blessing to follow the mysterious figure as they left.
*
And now she was back on the rooftops, face no longer covered, scarf at her neck and hood lifted away. Let them come, she decided, firmly. It would be one less guard to worry about, should she be spotted. Her eyes drew towards the palace then, which she could see even from here, far from the centre of the city… One day, one day soon… but not tonight. She needed to regroup the Seven, and she needed to figure out a way to overcome that dragon…
The Seven. The mystical assassins whom had fought with her, and fallen to the great beast. She had yet to summon them again, for the action would take great energy and preparation. So she conserved her strength as she healed, taking the time to connect with the people in small and great ways, as she had a moment ago.
Despite Jiro’s pleas, she had not modified her armour. He had suggested that she needed more plates, more cover, for there were indeed gaps, which was why the glass had managed to imbed itself. But the armour was minimal for a reason; she needed to be able to move freely, so she had sacrificed more cover for agility, relying on her ability to move quickly to avoid impact with a blade or arrow. Today, the armour was hidden beneath her kimono, so if she needed to merge with the people and avoid detection, she merely needed to lift her hood and scarf. But for now, brazenly, she moved across the rooftops again, vigilance high as she kept an eye out for guards, and roamed the city from above.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 7, 2017 23:16:50 GMT
“I never knew you were an obsessive-compulsive type.”
No response. Naoki repressed a sigh, his half-hearted attempt at a joke falling flat as he was proven right. At least in this. He knew why there was the focus, but he was still not comfortable with the idea of who was involved, either way. He stepped deeper into the room quietly, looking down at the map that was spread across the table, sticky notes and rocks pinpointing areas of interest. Ryo’s handwriting on the notes varied from calm and calculating, up through the one he was writing now, a scribble that showed his rising anxiety. He was so convinced he was one bounty away from a cure, he couldn’t help but panic when that chance started to get slimmer.
It had been two weeks since the emperor had been attacked, and the map was a clear sign of how muddy the waters were already. To track down the Karyuudo, Ryo had, as usual, tried to determine the usual paths. Yellow sticky notes stood for places merely rumored to have seen the Karyuudo, red for places that had confirmed. Pebbles from the yard were areas already checked. Quite a number of the notes were already covered by a pebble, already resembling the pile the rocks came from outside. There was hardly a place left that hadn’t already been checked, and Ryo was very, very thorough.
“How can something so obvious be so damn hard to find?!” came the sudden growl, Naoki’s eyes jumping up from the map to study Ryo’s face. His teeth were clenched, eyes sharp and hard as he kept looking over the map. What else was there to see? What had he missed?!
Naoki knew Ryo well; before the hunter could unleash his anger on the table and so disrupt all of his work, he was pulled back, forced to look at the younger man. “Ryo! My grandfather didn’t start calling you Kitsune because you were perfect, or because of what you can do,” he began, the memory helping to ease the anger as Ryo's eyes widened. “He started calling you that,” Naoki continued, a supportive hand resting on Ryo’s shoulder, “Because you’re smart. You’ll figure it out. You always do, but only if you stay calm about it.”
Ryo sighed with frustration and resignation, hands rising to rub at his face as Naoki continued, picking up the bowl of now cold soup as his example. “You have barely eaten for a week, I don’t think you’ve slept at all for the last two nights… even fox spirits have to get a break.” Naoki’s hard expression faltered at Ryo’s laugh, shaking his head a little. “Since when did seventeen-year-olds start sounding so old and wise?” The uncertain look quickly shifted into a half smile, half smirk. “When Sofu died, somebody had to be the adult,” he shot back with a put-on air, pulling the bowl out of reach as he made his way to the kitchen. Ryo scoffed, but let the kid get away with it, deciding to take the needed if unwanted break and followed him into the kitchen.
The kitchen was still set up the same way as Masahiro had had it four years ago; the herbs hanging to dry were often refreshed as they were used, adding to the slatted design of the cupboards and walls, as if part of an Edo-era kitchen had been transplanted into an otherwise updated house, with new pots hanging from hooks surrounding the center counter. Certain areas of the visible walls were decorated in traditional patterns and tiles, while the window looked out over an old, slightly overgrown garden. The counters were smooth and dark granite, with tall stools tucked beneath one edge to turn the space into a place to eat as well. As Naoki started reheating the soup he had brought out, Ryo pulled out one of the stools to sit, filled with memories.
It’s often said that the kitchen is the hub of the house; this was the truth in Masahiro’s home. The first time he had sat here, Ryo was nineteen, and had been starving from trying to rough out a life on the streets, unable to lower himself to stealing to survive. Then he had been found by his former mentor, from years before. In this very kitchen had the retired dojo master shared his secrets with his two proteges, helped them develop their unique capabilities, encouraging and guiding where he could not lead. It was also in this kitchen, however, that Masahiro had taught the most important lessons; that life was about finding reasons to live, not to fight; to act with honor and to respect all life, but to also respect yourself. Here, Ryo had been accepted, different as he was. Here he had family.
Not long after arriving, Masahiro had begun to call him Kitsune, seeing the same fiery spirit and passion; how proud he had been when Ryo decided to take on the name himself. Five years ago, Ryo started the life of a bounty hunter, a far cry from Masahiro’s teaching and Naoki’s budding technological genius, but it was one where Ryo could still serve. The bounties he took were of dangerous people, people only someone like he could handle. He was more of a myth to the streets, a failed attempt to replace the stories of the Karyuudo some said, but as time went on, he was slowly growing a reputation. He preferred to work in the shadows, but he had the luxury of deciding how infamous he would become.
The Karyuudo… some called him a beast, some an angel sent by the ancestors. The Kitsune was mischievous, but honorable, a fitting name for a man whose only loyalty lay with his family and behaving in a way that he knew would honor Masahiro’s memory. To grow so impatient after having had this condition for two years already… he wouldn’t be scolded, as that was not the old man’s way, but he would probably recite a story of someone who had shown patience, and was rewarded for the effort.
So Ryo leaned forward onto the counter, trying to force himself to relax, to stop his whirling thoughts surrounding his new target. His mentor’s words filled his mind, finding an inner calm from the memory. When Naoki finally turned with the now refreshed bowl of soup from lunch, he paused at the scene; with a silent laugh, he moved over to sit beside his guardian, eating what was now his dinner while the other slept, half folded onto the counter.
---
How long had it been now? Ryo had intentionally kept himself from counting the days as he had been, but it had almost been a month. But Naoki’s advice had ended up working better than either had anticipated; the answer was timing. Liking the shadows meant Kitsune was searching in the dark, and after the attack upon the emperor in the early morning, had assumed the Karyuudo would do the same. As soon as the search began during other times, the trail picked up again. More sightings, more consistent reports, even if the whispered discussions were unaware someone had appeared just close enough to overhear.
It was, of course, a greater risk to his secret being discovered. Only a few had managed to work it out, as working in a twilight world helped disorient his quarry in the first place, so a man suddenly not being where he was supposed to be could be chalked up to simple confusion. It was an ever-constant risk, but a slight one at that. It might even help build up the Kitsune’s reputation as an immortal.
Wouldn’t Naoki love that.
Perched on top of one of the highest buildings, Kitsune studied the world about him, at once settled in his invisibility as one figure among many on the old tiled rooftop, and also awkward. Very awkward. He was not used to being quite so exposed during the daylight hours, speeding over the streets when it was more likely his passing shadow would be noticed. So he tried to find places to hide where he would be less conspicuous, amongst statuary and what shadows he could find. His current position, for example, would require a great deal of work to get to without his ability without making it obvious how he had gotten there.
Swallowing the unease and frustration at having searched all day, he moved to jump, but once in the air, he seemed to grow pale for a moment, like mist, only to be gone the next. He finished the landing a block away, the process in reverse, as if he had never broken his stride. The pattern repeated until there was enough about to easily travel by human means alone. By the time he had found his new perch, he might have made it to his first stop from the building, now overlooking a much less traveled area. Imperial guards patrolled the levels below, some so nervous they might shoot themselves, some so lax they were more of a threat to themselves. Uninteresting, to say the least.
Despite being able to teleport, Kitsune had learned the value of patience; once he had his hiding spot, he would observe, not rushing off as soon as he saw the obvious. So he settled in, hidden in shadows again, waiting to see what would happen.
There was no way to tell how long he waited there; people came and went, the sun shifted in the sky… but it paid off.
Movement, too high to be just another person passing by on their daily routine. Kitsune’s eyes moved up, invisible, watching the figure swiftly making their way over the rooftops. Whoever it was was too far away to identify, but they wouldn’t be for long. Kitsune pushed forward, but with a target in sight, he went for the subtler approach. Within seconds of spotting the stranger, he was gone, jumping quickly from ledge to ledge, the only sound he made being the rustle of the leather jacket as it flew about behind him.
Despite trying to follow, Kitsune remained as hidden as possible, often taking a slightly angled line to keep a building between them, pausing only long enough to reestablish visual contact. All he had to see was a flash of metal, the hint of a Shi mask… and he’d strike.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 8, 2017 0:39:59 GMT
The stranger certainly had the element of surprise... Although Kasumi was keeping an eye out, it was for guards, and she did not expect for a moment to be the one actively hunted, and certainly not on the rooftops. The guards had yet to prove their ability to be stealthy, the quickest indication that she had been spotted was sure to be a shout, or even a bullet whizzing by. And compared to her nimble feet, they were as clumsy as children. So she was calm as she leapt from one building to another, covering ground quickly, larger leaps tackled by performing a forward roll upon impact with the ground, which meant her speed did not falter, but the fall that might have otherwise broken bones was cushioned. She paused suddenly, her interest piqued by something down in the street below... And then she stepped forward and dropped out of sight of her pursuer.
Right onto the shoulders of a guard, whom did not even have chance to offer a yelp as he was knocked out cold. The other was silenced quickly as her katana was whipped out from it's sheath with almost inhuman speed, pressed smartly against the man's neck, his hand halting, fingers brushing the handle of the sheathed gun at his waist. Slowly... She raised a gloved hand, finger to her metal lips as if motioning for him to be quiet, an eerie action from the figure with the frozen snarl. He obliged rather willingly, hardly even daring to breathe for fear that the motion would cause his skin to be nicked by the blade pressed to his jugular. Already, people nearby had scattered, watching from the safety of doorways as the event unfolded, unsure whether they should rejoice, or cower.
"Return them." The gruff, mechanical voice sent shivers down the guard's spine... And he glanced towards the terrified woman he had accosted, the items in question still grasped firmly in his hand. Kasumi had heard the woman arguing, and observed as the one man took a basket full of fruit from her stall, refusing to pay and laughing at the woman's protests. When the man made no offer to move, her head tilted to the side almost playfully, and she slowly twisted the blade slightly, so that it pressed up against his jaw, lifting his chin a little. "Is your life really worth a handful of apples?" The voice chided. The man, pride severely bruised, slowly lifted the basket towards the woman, still pinned in place by the sword, which had yet to pierce his skin. The woman took it fearfully, wide eyes turning to the masked figure, putting the basket down quickly so that she might pass a quick symbol in the air, a symbol of great reverence, with her right hand, before pressing them together in thanks. "Bless you, Karyuudo." Before picking up the basket and backing away behind her stall, feeling a little safer with the wooden table laden with goods between them.
Suddenly, Kasumi drew the sword away, but before he could whip out his gun, she had turned the katana round and swung a heavy blow to his temple, so that he joined his companion on the ground, alive, but a little worse for wear. She had intended to drag the men into some shadowy corner somewhere, stripped of their weapons, to awake severely confused and with no further intention to take advantage of the innocent... When, she didn't know why, she happened to look up.
Why, with all the people she was acutely aware were watching her, did the individual's particular gaze suddenly pique her attention? Perhaps her intuition had been aided by her ancestors, as it became immediately clear that looking up at that moment had been serendipitous indeed.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 8, 2017 2:34:43 GMT
The target’s sudden disappearance made his heart skip a beat; he couldn’t lose the target now! This, more than anything, told him that he was right, but to lose that line of sight encouraged him to build up his speed. It was reckless, to head after one who might have noticed him after all… but he couldn’t suppress the panic that tightened his throat yet again.
A question regarding a guard’s life was heard as Kitsune came to a quiet stop on the edge of the roof in a crouch, witnessing the return of goods to a woman. The helmet tilted, oddly fascinated by the display; the stranger was forcing some guard to return apples to a seller, who quickly offered a sign in thanks. Her words, however, made Kitsune tense.
Karyuudo.
He did not immediately attack, however; instead, he let the scene unfold without his interference. The one guard had tried to use the space from the stranger’s blade to go for his gun, but he was dropped swiftly. Interestingly enough, only temporarily; the lack of violence was not quite what he was expecting, after what he had heard of happening at the palace before. Even he didn’t know how long he might have watched the scene, so unusual, so fascinating… had Karyuudo not looked up.
Now, there was nothing for it but to go on. His dark attire was offset by the white-tipped crimson scarf, now well lit by the light in the streets. Tilting his head again, a soft if dark laugh escaped him, short and settled. “It’s an honor to meet a legend,” he noted, the muffled sound of his voice not hiding that there was some truth to these words. Not entirely, however, as who knew what lineage might hide behind such a recognizable face.
This mixed reaction was punctuated by his drawing out his own katana, not as long as some, but easily removed from its sheath, hiding beneath the jacket. The move was slow, deliberate as he continued to speak, having yet to move from his crouch.
“The great warrior, hero of the people… let’s see if you live up to your reputation, hunter.”
When Kitsune moved, it was from stillness to sudden speed. Flipping over the Karyuudo while striking out simultaneously, he landed in another crouch, sword at the ready as he paused, taking his measure of the Karyuudo’s response. He ignored the startled looks of the people around him, of someone striking out at a masked hero. Hero or not, legend or not - Karyuudo was his ticket to a cure, to a normal life… he wasn’t about to give up after one simple heroic act.
Before he could be attacked, he shifted forward again, striking out, feeling ready to take on whatever could be thrown at him in retaliation. Not that he had any choice. No matter what tricks the Karyuudo had, he would be ready.
He had to be.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 8, 2017 19:29:58 GMT
As the helmeted figure spoke, the Karyuudo seemed as fascinated by him, as he was of her. She studied him with unseen eyes, taking in everything her hunter’s eye could- from the clothes he wore, the helmet on his head, to the stance that he took. His statement was joined with a whisper of blade against leather as he drew out his katana, which glinted malevolently in the sun. Still, the Karyuudo did not move, not even to lift her own weapon in readiness. But she was indeed ready as he came towards her, blade whistling through the air, her own rising up to meet it as he leapt over her, spinning round smartly to face him as he landed in a crouch. Working on the offensive, the stranger sped forwards and struck again, and Kasumi was impressed by his speed, if a little curious of the individual’s origin. Instead of striking out, she whipped to the side, dodging out of reach, turning and bringing her own up just in time to meet his blade as they clashed one more.
And then she spoke, the voice reverberating through the mask in its eerie way… a voice that seemed tinged with amusement. “So eager to prove yourself! Is it your intention to become legend yourself, by fighting me?” The question was accented by a slow prowl, stepping round him calmly to begin to circle him, spinning the katana in her hand lazily rather than attacking, her dexterity honed from years of practice. “I must warn you…” She was ready as he came for her again, halting the spinning motion, grasping the hilt with both hands in once supple movement, just in time for their blades to meet, and once again, she shoved his away. This time, however, she did not just work on the defensive, striking out suddenly, aiming a sweep at his chest. But it was half-hearted. She was baiting him, like a cat might torment their food before devouring it. “You would not be the first to try… But you may very well be the last.”
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 8, 2017 20:35:13 GMT
As frightened as the people watching were, there was a strong if morbid fascination to see what would happen next. So many eyes made Ryo a little self conscious, but he forced himself to focus. The Karyuudo started with defending only, forcing the Kitsune to be the aggressor. Then he began to speak, his voice distorted and mechanical.
True to character, Kitsune laughed at the question of wanting to become legend himself, even having the audacity to look away for a moment. When he turned back, he had struck out again, letting the other’s returned shove push him into another flip, maintaining distance unless he desired otherwise.
At least, attempting to. Changing the pattern, Karyuudo moved forward, and only by being on edge already was Kitsune able to avoid a line cutting across his suit. A shallow line; he noted immediately how easy the swing was to miss, given how controlled it had been; invisible, his eyes narrowed a bit. Was Karyuudo trying to go easy on him? That was just insulting.
Remember, Kitsune - the battle is lost only when one side loses control. If you remain master of yourself, you will never be truly defeated.
One deep breath to settle his emotions... “The intention has been to be the last to try to best you, in order to be the first to succeed,” Kitsune replied evenly, almost humorously, letting his own katana spin in front of him for a moment before being held down and to the side. It was not an attempt to show off, but instead show that the slow spin the Karyuudo had been using was not intimidating him as it was likely meant to.
“But it would not be my one moment of triumph,” he went on, beginning to circle around in a similar manner as the Karyuudo had done, allowing himself to slip completely into his role. “It would be notable, but I’ve no need for proving myself to anyone… least of all a big old pussy cat.”
He moved in suddenly, one foot redirecting mid step to push into the Karyuudo’s space. His katana came up to strike at the other’s, pushing it upwards, only to twist and strike out at what seemed merely kimono, a grazing swipe - just as he had been given. In the light, so close, it was hard to miss the kitsune markings across the upper back of the jacket, lines mimicking the nine tails matching the waist. Until then, he had wisely kept his back from the other, wanting to see what the other’s style was like.
Karyuudo’s methods were unpredictable, which gave Kitsune one method for handling his target. If he forced the aggression, the Karyuudo would only have so many ways to retaliate. So rather than letting the swipe at the lion’s chest be bait, Kitsune kept moving, again moving to knock the Karyuudo’s katana to the side as one leg kicked out, aiming for the chest. His sword was already held strong, waiting for another block as it swung out a third time, the attacks made in rapid succession.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 9, 2017 20:57:28 GMT
She did not counter his retort this time, but had noted the way he mimicked her earlier action of spinning the katana, and unseen to him, the corner of her mouth tweaked upwards. She had struck a nerve, it seemed. It was strange to fight one without a visible face, often, people had little tells in their expression that would give away the intention of their next move. She realised then, with some amusement, that this must be how the guards felt when they fought her. But even without this option, there were still tells in his body language, his movements, his replies... And she noted them down mentally, building a picture in her mind, adding pieces to the overall jigsaw, trying to work him out and identify his technique. When she glimpsed the conspicuous symbol on his back, she sensed a shadow of recognition at the back of her mind, but she could not thoroughly place the design to a name. But for now, there was no time to ponder on it, as he swept the blade towards her chest.
She pulled back immediately, the tip catching the fabric of her sandy kimono and tearing it a little. It would have been merely a scratch if it had nicked the skin, but there was not even a small bloom of blood, thanks to the armour hidden beneath. Her opposer relied very much on swiftness and quickness of foot, and they were sly... As their swords clashed once more, he swiftly changed approach, kicking out, again aiming for her chest. A move which she countered by turning quickly, katana rising up quickly to block the tirade of successive moves that followed.
But instead of blocking the last one, she changed technique as swiftly as he had, dropping down to a crouch, swinging round in a fluid movement and aiming at his legs, intending to take them out from underneath him.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 10, 2017 1:33:49 GMT
Expect the unexpected; that was clearly the only way to handle the Karyuudo. His sword had snagged the fabric of the kimono, but nothing else, not that he had much time to ponder as his kick had missed, having to again rely on his sword.
Kitsune’s last strike with the katana hit air instead of steel, seeing the attack aimed towards his legs out of the corner of his eye. Rather than jump out of the way, the swing ended up guiding his backflip, lashing out with the katana in midair at the leg that might have knocked him flat. Landing nimbly, Kitsune struck at the Karyuudo’s sword hand to knock it aside once more, but again he changed tactics.
His other hand came down quickly as if part of the same move, a solid strike to try and break the other’s hold on the katana. His hand hit something flat and hard, rather than the flesh and bone of a wrist as he had expected, but Kitsune ignored it as he kept moving. His hand was quickly put back into action as he flipped back onto it and further into the street, finally putting some distance between himself and the Karyuudo.
Karyuudo was good. He was very, very good. Kitsune hadn’t had a challenge like this for some time… it was fun.
One moment to catch his breath, and Kitsune stood straight, his free hand twisting to invite the other back into the fight with a laugh. mimicking the wild smile under the mask.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 10, 2017 2:05:41 GMT
The force from her movement had annoyingly aided in the creation of a backflip, rather than flooring the figure as she had intended. Her initial surprise by this turn of events was pushed aside as she saw the katana whistling through the air again, swinging round for her leg as he moved away. He was quick, but she was too, the movement slipping into a forward roll as she pulled her leg out of striking distance. Back on her feet, as she spun round he concentrated his efforts now on her sword arm, succeeding only to knock it aside, even as she brought it back up quickly to defend her chest from his next blow. He struck again almost immediately, his hand coming into contact with her arm, clashing against the metal armour hidden underneath. The motion would have jarred her arm had she not tensed beforehand, and although she had had time to move, she had purposely decided not to. With the force and strength of his blow, he was expecting to meet flesh, not armour, so she allowed him to follow through with his mistake. She had therefore expected him to pull away in surprise and pain as it jarred his own... But he didn't even react, merely flying backwards into a back-flip, putting distance between them swiftly.
And then he had laughed. Laughed, and motioned for her to follow! She stood motionless, staring at him with unseen eyes. Then, slowly, she sheathed her sword. It seemed for a moment that she was accepting defeat, or perhaps, she would choose now to run. But it soon became clear that she had no intention of doing either of those things, as she calmly reached over her shoulder behind herself to the long bundle of cloth that had been strapped to her back, pulling it free. She moved as if she had all the time in the world, confident that his eyes were on her as she pulled the ribbon free, the sandy-cloth falling to the ground and...
Revealing her silver bow, which she then steadily raised, pointing the already docked arrow towards him.
His had been an invitation for her to join him. Hers... Was an invitation to start running.
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jan 10, 2017 3:52:55 GMT
As Karyuudo sheathed his katana, Kitsune became very easy to read; his shoulders squared a little, ready to follow should his target try to escape, but he did not make a move just yet. Old Masahiro’s lessons served him well; instead of moving to leave, Karyuudo reached for a bundle instead, but it didn’t take much to keep Kitsune focused. The bow that was revealed continued to muddy the waters, the skill already indicating that it could in fact be the real Karyuudo beneath the mask. Masahiro had told him so many stories about the Karyuudo…
Real or not, whoever was behind the mask… he needed a cure.
Such whirling thoughts weren’t visible from behind a mask, however, so it seemed as if he was merely mesmerized by the Karyuudo’s movements, revealing the bow and nocking an arrow. The arrow… it earned a little more active study, the helmet tilting down to indicate Kitsune’s gaze falling to the now aimed weapon. This was soon followed by a slight shake, a patient sigh escaping him.
“Hah. You disappoint me.”
Kitsune didn’t let the Karyuudo’s threat pass idly by, however, as a few moments passed of Kitsune’s feigned disappointment before his own katana had switched hands, neatly tossing the weapon to his other hand even as another was unholstered in the same move, the move fast and intended to hit the other’s shoulder with a bullet, to disable the bow as a threat. After firing the gun, Kitsune quickly retreated, finding shelter around the corner of a building, his mere presence there scattering the half dozen who had also taken refuge to watch the brewing fight.
It was at about this point that Kitsune had to face the fact that they were fighting in the open. It was not his preferred place… it would have been easier had Karyuudo tried to run, putting them on the rooftops and away from innocents. The bow had caused murmurs, a shuffle back from the fascination in the sword fight. The gun seemed to break the spell for most of the crowd, pulling back or cowering to avoid getting in the crossfire. As much as he wanted to goad the Karyuudo into another attack, Kitsune hesitated, not so certain of how he could contain the situation with long range weapons being involved.
This concern didn’t stop the fact that his heart was racing as much from excitement as caution, that he was feeling the light headed effects of the adrenaline… but he couldn’t give in to the feeling. He had people to protect from the fight, and his shot at the Karyuudo didn’t seem to have done much to stop the other…
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Post by Kelathi on May 10, 2017 20:47:22 GMT
As swiftly as the katana switched hands in her foe, Karyuudo had moved, turning to the side and letting off the notched arrow. The bullet whizzed past, so close she could feel the air vibrate, and her arrow did the same to her target, imbedding itself into the wall behind him. However, she had not actually intended to hit him, the near-miss intentional in this case. She did not wish to end the fight so quickly, not with such a worthy foe. If she could manage it, after she had had enough with her target practice she would end the fight by merely wounding him, so that they may speak. She wanted to know who he was, whom he worked for, and how he had learned to fight in such a way. Of course, she had at first assumed he was one of the emperor's finest, sent to slay her. But she knew assumptions were dangerous, so she was reluctant to make any until she uncovered more information.
She followed him, racing after him as soon as her arrow had been released. However, instead of rounding the corner, she stayed on the other side of the street, leaping up onto a barrel lined up against one of the buildings. In a series of successive steps, she leapt up further, free-running up onto the outstretched beam of a tavern sign, then another, people scrambling away beneath her, and as she leapt, she twisted in the air, turning and aiming towards the corner he had disappeared behind. He came into view, and she let off another arrow, aiming for the beam just above his head, sending it whistling through the air. Clearly, she was just showing off. But whether he would actually realise she was missing intentionally was another thing...
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Post by Red Irish Dragon on Jun 9, 2017 23:50:37 GMT
If only Karyuudo hadn’t looked up… it hadn’t been the plan, to attack in broad daylight in front of a large crowd. Kitsune liked his animosity, of being a fleeting ghost in the darkness. But he had, and Kitsune couldn’t risk letting his target go, not after the weeks of searching, of almost losing hope… He had yet to fail Arashi. He wasn’t about to lose that reputation. Not when he was so close to a cure.
Speaking of close, the arrow’s whisper was loud in Kitsune’s ear as it whizzed by, twisting back and half falling into the opposing wall. For a moment, he wondered how he had managed to avoid being hit. For a moment, the idea that Karyuudo hadn’t intended to hit him flashed by. But he didn’t let the thought linger; it was in the past, and it really didn’t matter. No point in wasting precious time on such things now.
Such as another flash of light making its way towards him.
It was an involuntary duck to the arrow, now embedded into the beam overhead, that sparked a quick muttered curse and a momentary flood of anger. He could see this time the aim had been intentional; he was being toyed with! Had he not assumed Karyuudo would simply round the corner… The hunter of legend seemed far bolder and quicker than the fox had believed, given how rumors of such people grew.
It was a subtle sign of how deeply he valued his old master’s teachings, how Kitsune swallowed his anger. Now was not the time to reproach himself for a mistake; now was the time to act. With innocents busy putting themselves between the two fighters out of a blind panic, he had to resolve the situation quickly.
Still, it was difficult to completely put an analysis of Karyuudo’s skill on hold. Kitsune found himself wondering if he had once been Masahiro’s student even as he fired at the man, seeking a route up. On the ground, he was frequently dodging people, sliding under a cart there and flipping over a car there simply to get away from people. This made it notoriously difficult to maintain an eye on the ever-moving Karyuudo, particularly as he was aiming carefully. A foot, or a hand, or a knee would be a good place to wound and defeat in one clean stroke, taking out either the hunter’s speed or his bow. He didn’t want to kill the man… it never occurred to him to ask if the reward for bringing Karyuudo in was for dead or alive.
Even as the street began to open into a larger courtyard, fearful onlookers hid behind or nearly crashed into stalls and construction materials. It was still risky to fire too openly, but his focus was soon drawn elsewhere. Kitsune saw the heavy framework against the building as a ladder rather than a hazard, with freshly carved decorations to fill in the holes of the old temple walls. An easy way up to continue protecting his teleporting secret, his greatest weapon… one he wouldn’t gladly give away to a friend, never mind an enemy. If he could take the fight to the rooftops… then the advantage would be his again.
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Post by Kelathi on Jan 15, 2018 12:09:05 GMT
She had him in her sights, and she sent off another arrow, almost like she was herding him with them, playing with her prey. But this time, she let the arrow hit it’s mark, skimming him on the arm. But he did not react. Not even a stumble interrupted his sure-footedness, or a jerk of the arm in surprise at the sudden pain... he merely scaled a ladder, quick and agile as a fox, and took the fight up a level. She did not hesitate to follow, but she notably took a different route. She crossed the street in a few strides, and began running parallel to him, neck to neck except he was on the roof and she on the ground. Then, swinging the bow onto her shoulder in a fluid, practiced motion, she leapt up onto a nearby cart, used it as a step-ladder, then leapt forwards, and grasped onto a beam that was jutting out. Using the momentum, she swung, loosed, and her feet collided with the next beam. Throwing her body-weight forward into a crouch, she leapt forward once more, this time stepping up onto the roof. She had hoped to cut him off, ending up in front of him, but she must have underestimated his speed, for he streaked past moments before her feet hit the slats of the roof.
How the tables had swiftly turned... one moment he had been attacking Karyuudo, and the next she was on his tail instead. The thought alone, so striking, almost made her skid to a stop. Why was he getting her to follow? For that surely was what he was doing. He wasn't running because he was afraid, she was sure of that, she didn't need to be able to see his face to be able to tell, - his body language did the talking for him. So why? Perhaps he was testing her too?
Or leading her into a trap?
She became hyper aware of her surroundings then, following him yet also letting her gaze flit occasionally to the sides, particularly lingering in hidden, shadowy corners where a guard may be hiding. Could he be trying to set up an ambush?
Her eyes were quickly drawn to something else, something in her path. She was soon over it and racing ahead, but it had only taken a second to see what it was. It hadn't been a mere drop of blood, but a pool of it, glinting in the sun. So he was bleeding quite heavily now, undoubtedly caused by the fact that he was running. His heart would be beating faster, the blood pumping at a higher rate... and he had not moved to cover the wound to stop himself from bleeding out. In fact, he was not moving like someone who was wounded. He should be keeping his arm up, pressed to his chest, it was an automatic response to pain to keep the wounded limb close, but by keeping it up, it would also slow the stem of blood. He did none of these things, acting as if he hadn’t even noticed he had been hit.
She found herself increasingly interested in following this strange individual rather than beating him, curious to see what would happen next. And yet she couldn't help but consider if she had let arrogance blinker her, and whether curiosity might be her downfall...
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