Shounen Fightin' Anime [Shounen Protagonist Quest]
- Thread starter Pangolin
- Start date
- Original
Macros
omnisciently vague councilman
- Location
- Dirac Sea
Hmm, I believe it's listed as 100xp to bring it to Student.
EDIt: yup, the sheet was edited, 200 needed.
Pangolin
yes chef
Sorry about the misunderstanding, let me explain that. It's 100 to bring something from Untrained to student, and from Student to Adept it's 200 additional xp. Basically the amount doubles each time you level it up to the next stage, arguably making it easy to round yourself out in the basics but more difficult if you're looking to be good at literally everything.
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
Right, good to know, I'll make some adjustments then.
- Location
- St. Petersburg
My favorite Oni Tourist Quest is back!
Well, it's actually about an up-and-coming fighter trying to get out of her mother's shadow, but I know what I read it for back in the day.
[x] To observe potential competition. It's callous, but you could be going up against any number of the combatants in any of the gyms. Best to make a start in figuring out who's who.
[x] That Miguel's Stinger! hurt. It's out of the norm, but you could do with your own trump card like that — or at the very least start working on one.
In your free time, you begin delving into the world of forward aggression, and begin working on an offensive technique.
[x] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
Well, it's actually about an up-and-coming fighter trying to get out of her mother's shadow, but I know what I read it for back in the day.
[x] To observe potential competition. It's callous, but you could be going up against any number of the combatants in any of the gyms. Best to make a start in figuring out who's who.
[x] That Miguel's Stinger! hurt. It's out of the norm, but you could do with your own trump card like that — or at the very least start working on one.
In your free time, you begin delving into the world of forward aggression, and begin working on an offensive technique.
[x] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
[X] To find a place you can safely train, in the presence of fellow fighters. It's one thing to train in a yard or forest, but you've never actually trained in an environment like a gym before. You're curious.
[X] That your defence is far from perfect.You're really feeling those bruises.
During your week of training, you begin working on another defensive technique from the Stand Against Heaven school of techniques.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
[X] Plan Unmovable Mountain
- [X] 200xp to Ki Enhancement (rises to Adept)
- [X] 100xp to Melee (Defensive)
I feel like leveling our Ki Enhancement is going to make the biggest short term difference and putting the rest of our xp in our main skill to prepare for the future just seems sensible.
[X] That your defence is far from perfect.You're really feeling those bruises.
During your week of training, you begin working on another defensive technique from the Stand Against Heaven school of techniques.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
[X] Plan Unmovable Mountain
- [X] 200xp to Ki Enhancement (rises to Adept)
- [X] 100xp to Melee (Defensive)
I feel like leveling our Ki Enhancement is going to make the biggest short term difference and putting the rest of our xp in our main skill to prepare for the future just seems sensible.
Last edited:
Macros
omnisciently vague councilman
- Location
- Dirac Sea
We're supposed to vote by plan on the XP spending. Might I shamelessly self-promote mine to you? I picked up exactly the same things.
Right that makes sense.We're supposed to vote by plan on the XP spending. Might I shamelessly self-promote mine to you? I picked up exactly the same things.
Sorry I must have overlooked it I'll edit my post in a minute...
Vicjer
The One Who Knows Less Than Nothing
- Location
- The Space Between Spaces
[X] Plan: Gimme Dat Kaiten!
-[X] 200xp to Ki Control
-[X] 100xp to Energy Release
[X] To find a place you can safely train, in the presence of fellow fighters.
[X] That your defence is far from perfect.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao.
We don't need no damn offense! Just Spin To Win!
-[X] 200xp to Ki Control
-[X] 100xp to Energy Release
[X] To find a place you can safely train, in the presence of fellow fighters.
[X] That your defence is far from perfect.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao.
We don't need no damn offense! Just Spin To Win!
[X] Plan: Victory in Motion
[X] To find a place you can safely train, in the presence of fellow fighters.
[X] The punch itself wasn't the issue, it was the power behind it, none too dissimilar from the ki you make use of to resolve your body. You can learn from that.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
[X] To find a place you can safely train, in the presence of fellow fighters.
[X] The punch itself wasn't the issue, it was the power behind it, none too dissimilar from the ki you make use of to resolve your body. You can learn from that.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
[X] To find a place you can safely train, in the presence of fellow fighters.
[X] The punch itself wasn't the issue, it was the power behind it, none too dissimilar from the ki you make use of to resolve your body. You can learn from that.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
Always vote for Banana. No bulli, only protec.
[X] The punch itself wasn't the issue, it was the power behind it, none too dissimilar from the ki you make use of to resolve your body. You can learn from that.
[X] Check out the sights with Nao. You're both complete tourists, but you're the one with the sense of direction. If she goes out by herself, there's a good chance she'll end up in Hokkaido.
Always vote for Banana. No bulli, only protec.
7: Buddies, Barbells & Battlefields
Pangolin
yes chef
7: Buddies, Barbells & Battlefields
The precise muscles between your forearm and bicep burned on each arm, tired from the efforts they were put under. Tired because they hadn't been able to find that result you're looking for. Training posts were splintered — your hands, despite their gloves, were sore with the force behind each strike.
Your mentor had taught you the importance of a 'speciality', a move which you excel at that you can rely on in situations to either win you a decisive victory or dig you out of a deepening hole. You have the Kawataihou, the technique you poured yourself into mastering the movements of from a young age — a sequence that was simple on paper, but the required force behind each of the initial blows needed to be perfect for each opponent, to set their back and chest in a particular way that when the final blow of the sequence came, it peaked in its effectiveness.
Yours was a rigid mastery over the sequence. You could execute the base concept of it flawlessly and quickly, but that was all.
You needed more forms, to develop them and let your movements flow like the proverbial water the move referenced.
But you just weren't there. The combinations you tried didn't feel right.
Sat on your rear, leaning back on tired hands, you allowed yourself to slip into something of a mindful state, focusing on your breathing and allowing your thoughts on the matter to dissipate. A blank slate. You'd start again with fresh thoughts.
On the veranda of the traditional house and overlooking the garden you were in the middle of destroying the tranquillity of was Nao and your Greatuncle.
They talked in quiet tones to one another. The half-oni, dressed in tight light blue jeans and an oversized psychedelic looking shirt, sat with her legs crossed while your Greatuncle stood with his arms crossed, ever looking the traditional family patriarch.
After a brief exchange Greatuncle Munemori shut his eyes for a few moments, his shoulders rising in a gesture indicative of a scoff — or maybe even a laugh — before he turned away and calmly walked back into the house.
Nao exhaled, getting to her bare clawed feet slowly, and approached with a sloth-like lethargy to her movements and posture. She stopped beside you, looking at you with lidded eyes.
"You're struggling," she finally said after a few moments of awkward staring, to which you were well accustomed to. "Trying something new...?"
"Something like that," you admit with a nod, crossing your legs. There was no need to stand up and reimpose the notable size difference between yourself and Nao's five-foot-never. "I think I lacked options, against Miguel."
"Your injuries said the same. Only time you were that bruised was… what… the boar?" Nao drawled, tilting her head up and recalling with a low hum.
"There was more than one boar, and I really wasn't equipped for it. Don't make it sound like it was one. You won't fool me." you protested with a petulant furrowed brow.
"It was more than one…?" she asked slowly, scratching her scalp with a dangerous looking nail. "I only remember one."
"It was, like…" you pause, trying to recall the exact number. The recollections of the uncanny boarswarm assail you, and drive you away from the memory like a mighty curse. You pick the first number that comes to mind. "Forty. Maybe fifty."
"...And were they all as big as the one I remember?"
"Yes," you insist, your head moving to face ever so slightly to the right.
"Liar."
You dropped the matter by simply not responding, not wanting to get into a debate over the number of boars you had to fight off at some point in your life.
"... You want some help?" Nao offered.
"What you got in mind?" you asked, having been in the self-same situation before. Nao wasn't a fighter, but she had insights that came with her background and circumstances. They had helped you before.
Nao considered her words, licking her lips contemplatively. "It feels like you're trying to do something you're not good at. Not yet, at least. You're trying to… what? Make your kawataihou more offensive?" she probed.
"I suppose. It's something like that. I'm trying to mix up the lead and set up, make it more applicable." An example was required. You shut your eyes, and dip the beginning of your mind into the hidden ocean that seemed to surround and permeate you, something you could only truly feel when you were in the middle of a fight or dedicating all your thought to it. It writhed around you and welled within your body — your shoulders in particular. You inhaled and then exhaled. The wave cascades down through your upper arm, through your forearms and then to your then-outstretched hands.
Nothing happend. Nothing would happen, on the outside, but you can feel the summer air on your fingers far more than an instant ago. You don't make any show, but you know that your hands are defter than they were before, your digits quicker to move. A feeling of coursing electricity, like a paradoxically pleasant pins-and-needles sensation, buzzed in your hands. It faded quickly.
You open your eyes, and the ocean once again fades into the background noise of your being.
"Like that," you say simply, looking up at Nao and expecting her to get it. She nodded like a wizened academic, a hand on her chin. Although unseen, she had the gift to perceive it naturally.
"Explosive. It does not suit you, Fukutsu. You're not good at doing that kind of thing. If this was a contest, you'd be second last," Nao said, shutting you down with no ceremony. She elaborated. "Your body's not used to it in both the physical respect and others, and I don't think you've got the mindset to really do that kind of thing without beating it into your body first."
You purse your lips, leaning back on your hands again and casting your gaze to the clear summer sky. The humidity really brought on the sweat, but you were strange and enjoyed the sensation of hard work and sweating out your problems. Unfortunately, no amount of sweat was really working on the problem before you. "Right. I guess I'm not really cut out for that hyper-offensive stuff…" you admit with a groan.
Hardly hot-blooded, far calmer and more relaxed than most people would give you credit for, you were nonetheless frustrated. Lot of wasted time, and the next stage of your 'application' was coming up.
"That feeling again," you say mostly for yourself, but you're fine with making Nao aware of your thoughts. "Feels like a wall. I can't punch through it."
"... Stand Against Heaven is not about punching through walls. You have lived a life of defence from the moment you could stand. It's only natural that it has warped your ability to absorb techniques and sequences outside of that purview. It's pure, and it in turn made you pure —" she stopped abruptly.
A shiver ran down your spine, a lighting bolt down a spire.
You roll back instinctively to avoid the claw rending through the air, threatening to shred you apart. You recover to your feet almost instantly, your hawk-like eyes suddenly wide, appraising your attacker in what felt like a slower version of reality.
Nao moved with a crimson outline. He leg was already carving through the air, her roundhouse kick approaching your neck and collar. Your arm was already up, far quicker than your thoughts.
The top of her foot and some of her ankle collided with your forearm. Shockwaves went through your body, an inhuman strength behind her small frame, a raw power that threatened to crush you in the manner a bear crushed fish. Nothing broke, but it would bruise.
Nao pulled back, and before you could engage, a front kick came your way.
Divert.
Your palm came down on her ankle as it approached, and with the slightest application of force, diverted the blow away. At the same time you moved to the other side, completely negating the kick. You approached until you were upon Nao, an open palm pressing to her collar but not pushing.
You stared at each other. A silent statement was in the half-oni's lazy expression: 'You get it?'
You broke away from her with a nod. "... Yeah. I'm good at reacting. It doesn't seem like something that's going to get me very far."
"It will not. But that is long term. You can round yourself out when you have more time, but right now you are constrained by an upcoming, important competition. You seek your catharsis, but it will not come if you fail here."
A moment of hesitation, and then resolve filled Nao's body language for the first time in a long time.
"Your Granduncle will not teach you. For now, my meagre teachings will have to do. For this next bout of combat, I will assist you in utilising a technique of the oni," she said with clarity. "But I would know if you accept. It is not a safe technique. The very premise requires the robust spiritual constitution of an onikind, and when used by those of more mundane essence, it threatens to burn one to their bones. I do not say this lightly, Fukutsu," the half-oni warned.
"... Why? You've never offered me anything like that before," you ask, somewhat confused. For as long as you had known her Nao always liked to keep that side of herself to herself. It was a sudden change.
"Indeed, before I was. But now…" Nao paused, pursing her lips. "I've never seen you as happy as you were after fighting Miguel. It is concerning, brash and indicative of a warrior-idiot. But I am nonetheless glad that you have found something like that, after the years we have known each other," Nao finally smiled, a goofy looking thing with her maw of sharp teeth, brief too. "I despise your want to fight, but I cannot bring myself to hate you. I will help you, of course. It is only natural."
You stared at Nao.
It was true, you realised on reflection.
You loved competition more than anything else. Miguel's way of fighting was so different from what you were used to, despite how 'common' it supposedly was. It was like tasting a particularly sweet fruit for the first time and learning that you could feasibly have more should you desire it.
There were more people like him out there, strange people with stranger ways of fighting. Ways of fighting you wanted to surpass, and ultimately… at the end of that path…
Ah. A sting in your eyes.
"...Are you crying?"
Your answer was to bring her into a crushing embrace.
She did not look terribly pleased, but she did not fight it. She pat your arm gently. "You will not be so huggy when we are through, I assure you."
Indeed, for all your efforts, you aren't as much of a sad-crier as you are a soppy-crier. Things like Nao's friendship made you cry, because it was beautiful.
It was a well kept secret, and you hoped that nobody would find out. You did have some sort of image to maintain, after all.
Alas you learned that she was not incorrect in her words. Once she was done showing you the technique she spoke of, you most certainly thought she was trying to kill you. Nonetheless it was the thought behind the pain that counted, you supposed with a question mark.
Even through the pain, you felt like you could work with it.
You beamed at the article of clothing before you with just your eyes. The rest of your face was perfectly stoic.
Primary purple and secondary pink weren't really your colours, but…it worked for the yukata before you.
Yukata were generally your idea of casual clothing. Nao hated it. Even then she was radiating a pure aura of 'why'.
"... Must you be so conservative in your tastes?" she said, missing the irony of the fact she sounded like she was from a different era herself. Her taste in clothes was just a lot more modern than your own.
"I want it," you said, ignoring her comment.
"I know you do."
"I can't have it," you point out, not sounding defeated by that fact in the slightest.
"Money is an issue, yes. We are hardly rich, not in the traditional sense." Nao exhaled. "Alas, another day. Maybe I can utilise that brother of yours to engage in betting. He is most knowledgeable…" she considered, reaching out to tug you along and away from the store.
Shimokitazawa was once considered tertiary to Harajuku, but over time it had grown into a monolithic tourist trap to rival its sibling. A large part of that could be owed to the influx of creators, designers and brands from outside of Earth, alien and magical sorts who turned the slightly lesser known Shimokitazawa into 'Weird Town'.
The spot Nao dragged you to after was run by something of a dragon-man, his body oddly long with short legs and long arms. He was taller than you by a few heads. Some might say that running a small restaurant would be beneath something like him, but he seemed content — zen even.
Nao, vile little goblin she was, wasted the chance to have actual food and instead ordered herself desert. You went with the mapo tofu because at that moment you honestly felt like you could endure a wildfire and come out the other side unharmed. The sauce was delightfully deep red.
And so you ate. Nao with her rainbow-looking ice cream, and you with your spicy tofu.
"This is all too much…" Nao said, looking out at the city behind her shoulder. The cramped alley was filled with similar restaurants, and the light didn't really bleed into the space due to the proximity of the buildings. Shimokitazawa was well developed, and it had some of the most advanced structures in the city. Buildings only got taller as the years went on, flashier too. It was a caricature of what you imagined in your head, blown up to the extreme. "I do not believe I made or it."
"I'm not either," you admit, settling your white spoon down. "It's different. Loud. Lots of people. Different kinds of people. Always in a hurry."
"It is that last part I oppose. Nothing felt quite so urgent, back home. The air feels… uptight," Nao observed with a tilt of her head. "Do you think it will be worth it, in the end? This endeavour of yours."
"... I don't know. I hope so," you answered honestly, staring down at the mapo, still hot and steaming. "It feels like I've finally started doing something with my life. Even if I fail here, I think I can say that I'm going to leave a different person. Older, probably smarter too. Maybe that'll count for something."
"You are not stupid to begin with."
A hum is the response Nao gets. You weren't too sure about that. You never got along with school, the work and the homework that then followed. The revision and the tests. It didn't feel right to you, and when you tried to sit down and really focus on it, it was like you had to do it through radio static.
It just wasn't as good as learning with your mentor. When you first tasted proper training you knew you'd never be able to really enjoy school again. The physical engagement of it allowed your mind to engage too. When it came to thinking about things that involved your training, your thoughts flowed freely, but in math or Japanese? That fluidity became a bog.
It frustrated you. That was why you kept your distance from school, but metaphorically and literally. It didn't make you feel good, so you didn't really take part anymore than you had to go get by unbothered.
If that approach would fly with your Greatuncle was another matter, one you did not think he would relent on. It was a trade off.
School was becoming secondary in her life, her Greatuncle realised that well enough. Your focus from then on would be the climb before you. He would press you to learn precisely because you've resolved yourself to climb the Ring of Heaven.
Your body still screamed with a potent soreness from your lessons with Nao. It was a good sort of pain, one that wouldn't hold you back. It informed you that you had succeeded in learning from her.
After a lapse of comfortable silence — one of the many reasons you were fond of Nao, as you could both appreciate the quiet together — Nao spoke.
"Only two days, Fukutsu. If you are not feeling ready now…"
"I'm ready. There's only so much training I can do before it's overkill, anyway. You going to watch?" you ask, looking over to her. She had spun in her stall, focusing completely on the world beyond the restaurant.
"I think I will. Maybe through you, I will come to see what you love in such acts of savagery," she drawled, scoffing at the very idea. "Facing down foes from across worlds beyond our own in a contest of martial strength. I cannot believe you were serious."
"...I'm always serious," you say defensively.
She scoffed again, louder. "You'd like everyone to think. You cannot watch movies where the dog dies."
"Because it's sad."
"Dogs die all the time. It is life," she retorted.
"I'm not always made to watch it happen," you counter, turning back to your mapo tofu and scooping a spicy, scorching spoonful into your mouth.
"So naive…" Nao griped, tilting her head back and sighing.
You didn't train that day.
You just spent time hanging out with Nao. Nothing strange happened. It reminded you of how you used to spend your summers. This time there was a maze of people to make it feel ever so slightly unsettling.
The door to Unbreakable shut behind you.
All activity came to a brief halt as unfamiliar eyes turned to you, appraised you, and then continued as normal. The number of people in the gym numbered at a dozen and some change. There was the unmissable sound limbs striking solid surfaces, amplified by strength surpassing regular men at least tenfold. They were cracks booming through the air, and the groans of yielding metal.
The Unbreakable gym was, despite its status as a training ground for competitors of the Ring, fairly unremarkable. It was clean and orderly with a blue and cold steel aesthetic to it, the machines and weights that you could spot intended for people like yourself — freaks of martial realm — with weights that were unmovable to the majority of the worlds population without some sort of assistance. Sat at a mass cable machine, a man in jogging pants and his body made from a translucent deep purple fluid pulled down on the bar until it rested just above the back of his neck, lifting a stack of weights that could have been heavy enough to shatter a tank. His body was almost cartoonishly proportioned, with bloated forearms and a set of tails drooping from the back of his head like sharp dreadlocks. There were a few others in his section of the gym, exerting similar efforts to move their own weights, muscles shifting and tensing in displays of almost beautiful strength. It was a far cry from the dojo you were used to.
On a mat closer to the entrance, what you could only describe as a sort of aquatic humanoid stood on a single finger, the rest of his body raised to the air. He gently, carefully, moved his limbs in an almost hypnotic manner, as if dancing while balancing himself on a finger. His breathing was immaculate.
At the centre, drawing your attention most immediately, was a large arena from which the rest of the gym poured out from in organised sections. From it came the sound of blows, rapid and powerful, slamming into an unbreaking surface.
"Faster, less power!" came a deep, growling voice from the ring. Verdant scales were on the other end of Miguel's machine-gun fist as it shot out and then retracted at the speed of a blur. The Brazilian boxer sweat, his gaze set intently on the large reptillian before him, assaulting his guard with his autofist. The large crocodile-man's eyes peered through his guard, watching Miguel's movements with a calculating coldness to them,disassembling every movement that came out of the cyborg boxer. "If you want me to drop my guard, you'll need more pressure than that. Kidney!" he yelled, and Miguel responded with his unaugmented fist shooting for a body blow on the crocodile-man.
A broad clawed hand caught the blow, a 'boom' rolling out from the impact. "Good. Break." Miguel took a step back. The reptile caught sight of you with an eye, turning his head to face you.
Borealis, you recalled. The scarred lizardman blinked, some surprise managing to show on his inhuman features. Miguel followed his gaze to you, and he smiled confidently. "Hey! You made it!" he called out, waving you over to the ropes of the ring with his cybernetic hand. "Thought you'd have shown up sooner! The next stage is tomorrow, right?"
A slight smile naturally forms on your face as you approach, bag slung over your shoulder. "It is. I would've shown sooner, but I've been busy. You got me to think about a few things after the fight."
"You too, huh?" Miguel said, his smile widening into a boyish grin. "I've been trying to work on breaking open a strong guard ever since that afternoon. I'll need more than brute force to overcome what you've got," he admitted, pulling a towel from a corner of the ring, wiping down his face.
Borealis observed quietly until then. "Fukutsu, wasn't it? From the train," he recalled, tilting his head.
"Correct, sir. It's good to see you again," you said, bowing while maintaining eye contact with the competitor of the Stairway.
"Mmrh. And you're the one who beat my friend here. The spider-threads of fate are most unusual and convoluted, as always. You invited her, Miguel?"
"I did! She's a good sport. I figure that if she's good enough to take me down and has the awareness to be respectful after, she deserved that much," Miguel reasoned to the lizardman, who nodded slowly in agreement. "Besides, this place really sucks at recruitment. Barely any brand recognition."
"That is not the point of this place. It's a quieter place because we wish it to be," Borealis said with a sigh, shaking his head. "But new blood is rare here, and not unwelcome." He didn't smile, but there was a kindness in his yellow eyes. "I am glad to hear you have done well, Fukutsu, even if it was at the expense of my friend. It will serve as a lesson, and there is always another time. Now, how can we help?"
You drop the bag slung over your shoulder, stretching to each side as you reply. "I'm looking for a place to train outside of my residence, is all. I liked the sound of what Miguel told me. It's quiet. I like quiet."
"Then you are in good hands," Borealis said in return. "While we cannot make it 'official' unless you enter the Gauntlet successfully, you are welcome to train her as often as you'd like. There are many experienced fighters here from across all walks of life, and all levels of the Ring. I can introduce you to the owner, if you'd like?" he offered.
Miguel shot him a confused and concerned look. "...Y'sure about that? I'm pretty sure that'd drive her away."
"There is no point in hiding her from the owner, or vice versa. He is a respectable man, at his core."
"It's the everything else that's the issue," Miguel said to Fukutsu. You weren't sure where this feeling of dread was coming from, but it was there and building with each passing word.
"One moment," Borealis said, climbing out of the ring to head up a set of metal stairs to the first floor. He returned a minute or two later with a man trailing behind him. His hair was loose, going down to his jaw with a slight sheen to it. It looked that it would have been naturally straight, if he grew it out. Far different from your own, which was prone to messiness and fluffing out at a certain length. It framed sharp features and tired-looking eyes, his face dotted with the shadow of not-too-recently shaven facial hair. There was an air of unkemptness about him. Black gi loose, he only wore white training shorts to go along with it. His muscles were defined and honed in a manner that was a few steps beneath a strongman, still retaining a somewhat elegant shape to his build, but there was undeniable power contained within his body. If you had to guess, he was mixed race, as he looked Japanese by your reckoning, but not quite.
"This is the kid?" he said, a dismissive rasp to his voice. He appraised you and you repeated the bow as you were taught.
"Indeed. Weishen, this is Fukutsu. She is a prospective competitor in the Gauntlet. The one who defeated Miguel, if you'll recall," Borealis informed the man. Although he was slightly above average in height, the lizardman still made him look small by comparison.
"After all the work you put into him, how can I forget." Weishen looked at Miguel blandly. "You. Don't think you get to go back to Argentina or whatever because you lost. You're sticking around until Borealis gets it right, you hear?"
"Brazil isn't — !"
"Don't care," Weishen declared, shutting down Miguel. The boxer fumed, but said nothing else. Weishen then turned to you.
"What's your family name," he ordered. Borealis blinked, glancing to you and then focused on Weishen. "Your eyes are familiar. Who's your mom?" Weishen went for the throat, wasting no time.
Was it that obvious, you wondered with some surprise. You didn't even look that much like your mother, and even your eyes were closer to your father and his side of the family, but the man before you —
"Ryuutei," you answer despite yourself, unsure of why the word left your mouth.
You could have heard a coin drop. You hadn't even said it that loudly, but everyone was looking at you, aside from Borealis. The individual gym goers who had been focused on their own efforts stood from machines and stopped their work outs to watch the exchange, curiosity on their respective features.
Weishen's lips pressed together. He looked around at the gym, grumpy. "What're you doing?! Focus on yourselves, you assholes!" Weishen barked, jolting the others back into their workouts, barr one which began to approach them.
The gym's owner sounded like a delinquent. One that had grown up, but the dry aggressiveness was still there when he yelled.
"Sorry about that," Weishen said, looking back to you with a nod. "The Blood Pillar's kid. What a pain…" he grumbled, untucking a hand from inside his gi to rub the back of his head.
Your eyes twitched. That was…
"Well, that explains a bit," Miguel said with a rub of his chin. "I mean, not to take away from you or anything, Fukutsu. I'm sure you put a lot of effort in by yourself, considering the years she was active…"
"That's right," Weishen said. "Bitch of a shadow to live in, considering she hasn't done shit for you. Whatever. Not all that important, I suppose. I was just curious, is all," he finished almost dismissively. "There've only been two Stand Against practitioners in the history of the Ring. I'm kind of glad we've got another. More information the better," he grumbled to himself as if you weren't present, exhaling.
He exuded an air of constant disappointment and weariness.
"Two?" you ask, brow furrowing. You drop the bag over your shoulder. Also news to you.
Weishen regarded you with a complete apathy. "Your grandfather, I guess. Dad of your dad. The first Spirit Pillar, you know?" he asked as if it was obvious. "... Oi, how much do you actually know about this place? Don't tell me you're walking in here, ignorant as shit."
You purse your lips and rise to the accusatory tone he took on. "Does it matter? I'm here to fight, learn and surpass. I don't care about some ancient history."
"Idiot. That's not just some ancient history, it's your history too," he uttered with some frustration. "Your family name helped build this place. I don't know where you Ryuutei come from, but it can't be that isolated."
"Master Shen, please," a gentler voice interrupted before you could respond, words of defence on your lips. The lithe young man with the aquatic features approached, his skin a blue-ish green with not a single hair on his body. Mottled patterns covered his skin, which itself had occasional layerings and webbed fins in places. His wide, pure blue eyes stared through those present, as if blind in their regard. "You are particularly grumpy today! Maybe some food will do you well. A drink too, maybe?" he asked the owner of the gym with an accent that was unplaceable to you. "You do like to imbibe when it is early. A most strange trait, but one I shall not judge you for, no I will not," finished the aqua-lad earnestly.
Weishen grumbled something under his breath, and after a moment rubbed his brow. "... Yeah, probably am going a bit hard." He pulled his hand away, regarding you with some more clarity than before. "Sorry about that Fukutsu, but I'm serious. You can't go around claiming to be a combatant without knowing some of the background, especially when you've got family in the business. It's more for your sake than for the sake of any sense of pride any one of us nutjobs may have for this stupid place. Some idiot out there will take offence to it, and when people like us get offended we like to cause trouble. You hear me?"
Your shoulders, tense before the apology, relaxed. It was your fault, you told yourself. There was truth to what he said, in that you really should have known more about the setting. You knew how to get in, and you knew how to fight. You knew your mother participated, but you hadn't known she was a Pillar, standing at the very summit of the entire place, a fact which only made the depth of the shadow she cast that much deeper.
On the bright side, the only way was up for you. Complete one goal, achieve the other. You just had to keep going. That was comforting in and of itself, steeling your resolve even further.
"I understand, sir. I'll be more diligent in the future. I just…" you paused, taking stock of your next words, and then continued. "I've only seen matches on television. My family is based in an isolated village, you see. Even television is somewhat scarce," you finish with a lighter tone, smiling somewhat. "I believe the term is 'hick'."
"Tch. Know that feeling, don't worry." Weishen waved it off, some empathy to be found there. "Forget about it. If you're fresh, that means you've got the second stage of the culling tomorrow. I'd recommend getting out of here and resting up — never know what mad shit the chairman and his people are gonna cook up for you." He paused, appraised you briefly and pressed his lips together in thought. "Come by whenever. I never knew your mom, but I can tell you what I know about her fights. More than most of these meatheads, anyway."
"Master Shen, I am not a meathead. That is quite insulting. My head consists of less flesh proportionally to your own, even with my fins included!" the aqua-lad said with a disapproving frown.
Borealis pat the young man on the back. "Sticks and stones, Hobbes."
"Will never break my bones. They are too strong."
The crocodile man scoffed.
Strange guy. You nodded at Weishen. "I'll keep it in mind." You lower your body into another bow, something which seemed to make Weishen wince. He then blinked a few times, something crossing his mind. Whatever it was, he dismisses it and moves off slowly and lethargically, waving over his shoulder.
Miguel exhaled, as if he had been holding a breath the entire time. "He's too much, man. A guy that strong shouldn't be that grumpy."
"He is what they call a... 'starving artist' — " Borealis said, unsure if that was the exact term " — At heart. Skilled he may be, his passion has always been elsewhere. The fighting is simply a means to an end — his true born natural talent, as it were," Borealis said in return. "I would be frustrated too."
"... What would he rather be doing?" you ask Borealis, looking up to him with a questioning gaze. The Ring wasn't a place you went to as a side gig. Not in your head, at least.
"He studied to be an architect. The second floor is filled with his work, but it is a difficult job role to break into in this day and age, so I am told." Borealis shrugged. "The influx of odd aesthetics, he says. Everyone desires something more alien than the last person."
Weishen didn't look very alien, it was true. He just looked frustrated. You could relate on some level if you compared it to your relationship with school.
"He's not what you think of when you say architect. You think of a guy in glasses," Miguel said with a sniff. "Anyway. All that aside, you're comin' back, yeah?" he asked with a pointed look at you, grinning. "Once you're all official, we can get some practice in. Sound good?"
His desire to fight was infectious. You smiled in return. "We'll see what kind of state I'm in."
With a few goodbyes, you left the Unbreakable gym with some things to think about.
Weishen was right. If your mother had enemies, then what were the chances they would try to start something with you? Especially considering her apparent status — a fact that required some attention after your fight tomorrow.
You needed to learn more about the new world around you, as well as improving on your martial skills. You couldn't coast by thought competition alone, is what he was trying to tell you.
T-minus two minutes until showtime. You didn't know what to expect.
The match was taking place at a larger venue than the place you fought Miguel in, elevated and located within the actual Gauntlet levels of the vast sky-breaking structure that was the Ring of Heaven. You didn't actually see the actual interior of the place, as you were instead funnelled away from Yoshitoki and Nao, and directly towards a 'gate' where you would be starting. Just before it was a small changing room which you had all to yourself, where you did a few last minute easy stretches, mostly to keep your body busy while your mind emptied itself of distraction.
As you moved you focused on your breathing, holding the inhale for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. With it went your concerns, one exhalation at a time. You left the changing room with thirty seconds left to spare, coming face to face with metal doors.
A holographic screen blinked to life at eye level, hovering just off the door. It displayed two men on at a desk, headsets on their heads and dressed in decidedly casual manners. They had a sort of relaxed air about them as they regarded the camera.
The one on your right, a soft looking man in his mid-twenties, nodded to the camera and began. "Ladies, gentlemen and all those who do not conform to such notions; humans, aliens and everything else that is decidedly less weird than the former, I'd like to give you a big RoH welcome, both as this is the start of the show, and because this is possibly the start of some new careers around here. I'm Archibald 'SweetJuice' Lagrange — "
"And I'm CounterCross!" the more solid looking of the two butted in with his name. "We'll be your hosts on this goddamn fine morning. It's too fuckin' early, but it's worth it to be out here, getting ready to watch hopes crushed and dreams fulfilled! We'll be your casters tonight, and for the next few forseeable hours!"
"That's right audience and chat: Tonight we have another special edition of the Culling coming straight to you liiiiive from the Third ReaGen Event Arena in the Gauntlet. Twice a year, a series of intense, brutal battles are held to determine who among the world's hopefuls deserves to fight in the greatest arenas in the history of this world, and possibly a few others. The fame, the glory, the sponsorships! Imagine."
"The sponsors are a big one. But we don't got to worry about that 'round here. We can cuss out here, boy. We don't fuck around. Ain't nobody going to be dropping RoH! Entertainment of this generation and all those to come, baby," Cross said confidently.
"Now, while we're not afraid of our sponsors dropping out because of a few bad words, our angry producer out of the corner of my eye is a different matter! Look at those gestures. They belong to a professional who is used to wrangling in unruly casters. I feel the fear in my loins, Cross. My future progeny are afraid of this woman."
"You're right. No more cussing! We PG-13 out here in the RoH now. The days of goonery are now behind us."
"At least until our voices start going, and we get hungry."
"Gloves off when that happens."
"To you, live audience and the chat, we have a fairly standard arrangement for this edition of the Culling. Today, you will see foooorty contestants square off in a battle royale to determine who is worthy of entering the Gauntlet to begin their marathon journey to the top and anywhere else in between. We're used to the set up out here in the Culling, it's an easy way to get the numbers down, but there has been a surprise mix up!"
"Usually, promotion to the Gauntlet is based on a point basis. The more contestants you take out, the better! But that don't mean you have to be the last man standing. Today, you'll be seeing the last three of these forty go through to promotion. Everyone else goes home."
"That's right. And not only that the ReaGen arena, brought to you today by DynaCast Innovations, is none other than the dreaded Gehenna City! Modelled after the final conflicts of the Martian Crisis, this arena is a battlefield between two opposing forces. It is a fully generated city, containing all that you'd expect, and maybe more. As you'd also expect, a battlefield is dangerous — and not just because of the forty assassins, martial artists, warriors, beasts and all-round tough guys and gals that'll be wandering its streets! What dangers will await them on the battlefield?"
"Gunfire, you'd assume. And explosions. Maybe Mechanical Shells with generated pilots crazy for blood!"
"Let's not ruin the surprise, Cross."
"Right! With all that said and done, let's get this show on the way. We know you dedicated Culling viewers are the megafans, the nuts, the ones keeping their eyes out for the up and comings! As always, we'll do our best to give you a rundown of who's who as the day proceeds. But until then — Juice, I think it's time to get this show on the road."
"Burn rubber, Cross! To you, the fighters, I wish you nothing but luck and good punchings! Give us a show, and find your truth in the heart of battle!"
"BEGIN!"
The doors opened with a seamless hiss rather than the scrape of metal.
A burning smell joined the murky flood of dingy natural light. Shattered towers of concrete and glass loomed in the distance. Sounds of munitions discharges thundered in the distance.
You stepped forward into Gehenna, mind empty.
The arena is before you. What is your course of action?
[X] Patience. Find somewhere to hunker down for a while. There is no rush, and if you are going to fight, it's best it's done on territory you're familiar with.
[X] Fight & Run. It's best not to wait around for someone to find you, and it wouldn't be best to assume that your opponents are so untrained that they couldn't track you down. Take the initiative, knock off some competition.
[X] Scout. There's plenty of vantage points, from what you can see. Get up to one and get the lay of the land before things get hairy out there — although from the sounds of things, the 'opposing forces' were already making things a bit choppy.
[X] Write in.
With the improvement of her ability to enhance her body, and with the assistance of Nao, Fukutsu has learned the Install technique Suzakuchi.
Install techniques are temporary transformations to Fukutsu's being, altering properties and attributes in particular ways, more often than not to make her a more effective combatant. Multiple Installs can be used at once, for better or worse. The requirement for an Install technique to be used is based on Fukutsu's Ki Enhancement parameter.
Suzakuchi is a technique that belongs to Nao's family, although she implied that there are many similar such things among oni. Details are to be provided on the character sheet and in the story.
The precise muscles between your forearm and bicep burned on each arm, tired from the efforts they were put under. Tired because they hadn't been able to find that result you're looking for. Training posts were splintered — your hands, despite their gloves, were sore with the force behind each strike.
Your mentor had taught you the importance of a 'speciality', a move which you excel at that you can rely on in situations to either win you a decisive victory or dig you out of a deepening hole. You have the Kawataihou, the technique you poured yourself into mastering the movements of from a young age — a sequence that was simple on paper, but the required force behind each of the initial blows needed to be perfect for each opponent, to set their back and chest in a particular way that when the final blow of the sequence came, it peaked in its effectiveness.
Yours was a rigid mastery over the sequence. You could execute the base concept of it flawlessly and quickly, but that was all.
You needed more forms, to develop them and let your movements flow like the proverbial water the move referenced.
But you just weren't there. The combinations you tried didn't feel right.
Sat on your rear, leaning back on tired hands, you allowed yourself to slip into something of a mindful state, focusing on your breathing and allowing your thoughts on the matter to dissipate. A blank slate. You'd start again with fresh thoughts.
On the veranda of the traditional house and overlooking the garden you were in the middle of destroying the tranquillity of was Nao and your Greatuncle.
They talked in quiet tones to one another. The half-oni, dressed in tight light blue jeans and an oversized psychedelic looking shirt, sat with her legs crossed while your Greatuncle stood with his arms crossed, ever looking the traditional family patriarch.
After a brief exchange Greatuncle Munemori shut his eyes for a few moments, his shoulders rising in a gesture indicative of a scoff — or maybe even a laugh — before he turned away and calmly walked back into the house.
Nao exhaled, getting to her bare clawed feet slowly, and approached with a sloth-like lethargy to her movements and posture. She stopped beside you, looking at you with lidded eyes.
"You're struggling," she finally said after a few moments of awkward staring, to which you were well accustomed to. "Trying something new...?"
"Something like that," you admit with a nod, crossing your legs. There was no need to stand up and reimpose the notable size difference between yourself and Nao's five-foot-never. "I think I lacked options, against Miguel."
"Your injuries said the same. Only time you were that bruised was… what… the boar?" Nao drawled, tilting her head up and recalling with a low hum.
"There was more than one boar, and I really wasn't equipped for it. Don't make it sound like it was one. You won't fool me." you protested with a petulant furrowed brow.
"It was more than one…?" she asked slowly, scratching her scalp with a dangerous looking nail. "I only remember one."
"It was, like…" you pause, trying to recall the exact number. The recollections of the uncanny boarswarm assail you, and drive you away from the memory like a mighty curse. You pick the first number that comes to mind. "Forty. Maybe fifty."
"...And were they all as big as the one I remember?"
"Yes," you insist, your head moving to face ever so slightly to the right.
"Liar."
You dropped the matter by simply not responding, not wanting to get into a debate over the number of boars you had to fight off at some point in your life.
"... You want some help?" Nao offered.
"What you got in mind?" you asked, having been in the self-same situation before. Nao wasn't a fighter, but she had insights that came with her background and circumstances. They had helped you before.
Nao considered her words, licking her lips contemplatively. "It feels like you're trying to do something you're not good at. Not yet, at least. You're trying to… what? Make your kawataihou more offensive?" she probed.
"I suppose. It's something like that. I'm trying to mix up the lead and set up, make it more applicable." An example was required. You shut your eyes, and dip the beginning of your mind into the hidden ocean that seemed to surround and permeate you, something you could only truly feel when you were in the middle of a fight or dedicating all your thought to it. It writhed around you and welled within your body — your shoulders in particular. You inhaled and then exhaled. The wave cascades down through your upper arm, through your forearms and then to your then-outstretched hands.
Nothing happend. Nothing would happen, on the outside, but you can feel the summer air on your fingers far more than an instant ago. You don't make any show, but you know that your hands are defter than they were before, your digits quicker to move. A feeling of coursing electricity, like a paradoxically pleasant pins-and-needles sensation, buzzed in your hands. It faded quickly.
You open your eyes, and the ocean once again fades into the background noise of your being.
"Like that," you say simply, looking up at Nao and expecting her to get it. She nodded like a wizened academic, a hand on her chin. Although unseen, she had the gift to perceive it naturally.
"Explosive. It does not suit you, Fukutsu. You're not good at doing that kind of thing. If this was a contest, you'd be second last," Nao said, shutting you down with no ceremony. She elaborated. "Your body's not used to it in both the physical respect and others, and I don't think you've got the mindset to really do that kind of thing without beating it into your body first."
You purse your lips, leaning back on your hands again and casting your gaze to the clear summer sky. The humidity really brought on the sweat, but you were strange and enjoyed the sensation of hard work and sweating out your problems. Unfortunately, no amount of sweat was really working on the problem before you. "Right. I guess I'm not really cut out for that hyper-offensive stuff…" you admit with a groan.
Hardly hot-blooded, far calmer and more relaxed than most people would give you credit for, you were nonetheless frustrated. Lot of wasted time, and the next stage of your 'application' was coming up.
"That feeling again," you say mostly for yourself, but you're fine with making Nao aware of your thoughts. "Feels like a wall. I can't punch through it."
"... Stand Against Heaven is not about punching through walls. You have lived a life of defence from the moment you could stand. It's only natural that it has warped your ability to absorb techniques and sequences outside of that purview. It's pure, and it in turn made you pure —" she stopped abruptly.
A shiver ran down your spine, a lighting bolt down a spire.
You roll back instinctively to avoid the claw rending through the air, threatening to shred you apart. You recover to your feet almost instantly, your hawk-like eyes suddenly wide, appraising your attacker in what felt like a slower version of reality.
Nao moved with a crimson outline. He leg was already carving through the air, her roundhouse kick approaching your neck and collar. Your arm was already up, far quicker than your thoughts.
The top of her foot and some of her ankle collided with your forearm. Shockwaves went through your body, an inhuman strength behind her small frame, a raw power that threatened to crush you in the manner a bear crushed fish. Nothing broke, but it would bruise.
Nao pulled back, and before you could engage, a front kick came your way.
Divert.
Your palm came down on her ankle as it approached, and with the slightest application of force, diverted the blow away. At the same time you moved to the other side, completely negating the kick. You approached until you were upon Nao, an open palm pressing to her collar but not pushing.
You stared at each other. A silent statement was in the half-oni's lazy expression: 'You get it?'
You broke away from her with a nod. "... Yeah. I'm good at reacting. It doesn't seem like something that's going to get me very far."
"It will not. But that is long term. You can round yourself out when you have more time, but right now you are constrained by an upcoming, important competition. You seek your catharsis, but it will not come if you fail here."
A moment of hesitation, and then resolve filled Nao's body language for the first time in a long time.
"Your Granduncle will not teach you. For now, my meagre teachings will have to do. For this next bout of combat, I will assist you in utilising a technique of the oni," she said with clarity. "But I would know if you accept. It is not a safe technique. The very premise requires the robust spiritual constitution of an onikind, and when used by those of more mundane essence, it threatens to burn one to their bones. I do not say this lightly, Fukutsu," the half-oni warned.
"... Why? You've never offered me anything like that before," you ask, somewhat confused. For as long as you had known her Nao always liked to keep that side of herself to herself. It was a sudden change.
"Indeed, before I was. But now…" Nao paused, pursing her lips. "I've never seen you as happy as you were after fighting Miguel. It is concerning, brash and indicative of a warrior-idiot. But I am nonetheless glad that you have found something like that, after the years we have known each other," Nao finally smiled, a goofy looking thing with her maw of sharp teeth, brief too. "I despise your want to fight, but I cannot bring myself to hate you. I will help you, of course. It is only natural."
You stared at Nao.
It was true, you realised on reflection.
You loved competition more than anything else. Miguel's way of fighting was so different from what you were used to, despite how 'common' it supposedly was. It was like tasting a particularly sweet fruit for the first time and learning that you could feasibly have more should you desire it.
There were more people like him out there, strange people with stranger ways of fighting. Ways of fighting you wanted to surpass, and ultimately… at the end of that path…
Ah. A sting in your eyes.
"...Are you crying?"
Your answer was to bring her into a crushing embrace.
She did not look terribly pleased, but she did not fight it. She pat your arm gently. "You will not be so huggy when we are through, I assure you."
Indeed, for all your efforts, you aren't as much of a sad-crier as you are a soppy-crier. Things like Nao's friendship made you cry, because it was beautiful.
It was a well kept secret, and you hoped that nobody would find out. You did have some sort of image to maintain, after all.
Alas you learned that she was not incorrect in her words. Once she was done showing you the technique she spoke of, you most certainly thought she was trying to kill you. Nonetheless it was the thought behind the pain that counted, you supposed with a question mark.
Even through the pain, you felt like you could work with it.
---
You beamed at the article of clothing before you with just your eyes. The rest of your face was perfectly stoic.
Primary purple and secondary pink weren't really your colours, but…it worked for the yukata before you.
Yukata were generally your idea of casual clothing. Nao hated it. Even then she was radiating a pure aura of 'why'.
"... Must you be so conservative in your tastes?" she said, missing the irony of the fact she sounded like she was from a different era herself. Her taste in clothes was just a lot more modern than your own.
"I want it," you said, ignoring her comment.
"I know you do."
"I can't have it," you point out, not sounding defeated by that fact in the slightest.
"Money is an issue, yes. We are hardly rich, not in the traditional sense." Nao exhaled. "Alas, another day. Maybe I can utilise that brother of yours to engage in betting. He is most knowledgeable…" she considered, reaching out to tug you along and away from the store.
Shimokitazawa was once considered tertiary to Harajuku, but over time it had grown into a monolithic tourist trap to rival its sibling. A large part of that could be owed to the influx of creators, designers and brands from outside of Earth, alien and magical sorts who turned the slightly lesser known Shimokitazawa into 'Weird Town'.
The spot Nao dragged you to after was run by something of a dragon-man, his body oddly long with short legs and long arms. He was taller than you by a few heads. Some might say that running a small restaurant would be beneath something like him, but he seemed content — zen even.
Nao, vile little goblin she was, wasted the chance to have actual food and instead ordered herself desert. You went with the mapo tofu because at that moment you honestly felt like you could endure a wildfire and come out the other side unharmed. The sauce was delightfully deep red.
And so you ate. Nao with her rainbow-looking ice cream, and you with your spicy tofu.
"This is all too much…" Nao said, looking out at the city behind her shoulder. The cramped alley was filled with similar restaurants, and the light didn't really bleed into the space due to the proximity of the buildings. Shimokitazawa was well developed, and it had some of the most advanced structures in the city. Buildings only got taller as the years went on, flashier too. It was a caricature of what you imagined in your head, blown up to the extreme. "I do not believe I made or it."
"I'm not either," you admit, settling your white spoon down. "It's different. Loud. Lots of people. Different kinds of people. Always in a hurry."
"It is that last part I oppose. Nothing felt quite so urgent, back home. The air feels… uptight," Nao observed with a tilt of her head. "Do you think it will be worth it, in the end? This endeavour of yours."
"... I don't know. I hope so," you answered honestly, staring down at the mapo, still hot and steaming. "It feels like I've finally started doing something with my life. Even if I fail here, I think I can say that I'm going to leave a different person. Older, probably smarter too. Maybe that'll count for something."
"You are not stupid to begin with."
A hum is the response Nao gets. You weren't too sure about that. You never got along with school, the work and the homework that then followed. The revision and the tests. It didn't feel right to you, and when you tried to sit down and really focus on it, it was like you had to do it through radio static.
It just wasn't as good as learning with your mentor. When you first tasted proper training you knew you'd never be able to really enjoy school again. The physical engagement of it allowed your mind to engage too. When it came to thinking about things that involved your training, your thoughts flowed freely, but in math or Japanese? That fluidity became a bog.
It frustrated you. That was why you kept your distance from school, but metaphorically and literally. It didn't make you feel good, so you didn't really take part anymore than you had to go get by unbothered.
If that approach would fly with your Greatuncle was another matter, one you did not think he would relent on. It was a trade off.
School was becoming secondary in her life, her Greatuncle realised that well enough. Your focus from then on would be the climb before you. He would press you to learn precisely because you've resolved yourself to climb the Ring of Heaven.
Your body still screamed with a potent soreness from your lessons with Nao. It was a good sort of pain, one that wouldn't hold you back. It informed you that you had succeeded in learning from her.
After a lapse of comfortable silence — one of the many reasons you were fond of Nao, as you could both appreciate the quiet together — Nao spoke.
"Only two days, Fukutsu. If you are not feeling ready now…"
"I'm ready. There's only so much training I can do before it's overkill, anyway. You going to watch?" you ask, looking over to her. She had spun in her stall, focusing completely on the world beyond the restaurant.
"I think I will. Maybe through you, I will come to see what you love in such acts of savagery," she drawled, scoffing at the very idea. "Facing down foes from across worlds beyond our own in a contest of martial strength. I cannot believe you were serious."
"...I'm always serious," you say defensively.
She scoffed again, louder. "You'd like everyone to think. You cannot watch movies where the dog dies."
"Because it's sad."
"Dogs die all the time. It is life," she retorted.
"I'm not always made to watch it happen," you counter, turning back to your mapo tofu and scooping a spicy, scorching spoonful into your mouth.
"So naive…" Nao griped, tilting her head back and sighing.
You didn't train that day.
You just spent time hanging out with Nao. Nothing strange happened. It reminded you of how you used to spend your summers. This time there was a maze of people to make it feel ever so slightly unsettling.
---
The door to Unbreakable shut behind you.
All activity came to a brief halt as unfamiliar eyes turned to you, appraised you, and then continued as normal. The number of people in the gym numbered at a dozen and some change. There was the unmissable sound limbs striking solid surfaces, amplified by strength surpassing regular men at least tenfold. They were cracks booming through the air, and the groans of yielding metal.
The Unbreakable gym was, despite its status as a training ground for competitors of the Ring, fairly unremarkable. It was clean and orderly with a blue and cold steel aesthetic to it, the machines and weights that you could spot intended for people like yourself — freaks of martial realm — with weights that were unmovable to the majority of the worlds population without some sort of assistance. Sat at a mass cable machine, a man in jogging pants and his body made from a translucent deep purple fluid pulled down on the bar until it rested just above the back of his neck, lifting a stack of weights that could have been heavy enough to shatter a tank. His body was almost cartoonishly proportioned, with bloated forearms and a set of tails drooping from the back of his head like sharp dreadlocks. There were a few others in his section of the gym, exerting similar efforts to move their own weights, muscles shifting and tensing in displays of almost beautiful strength. It was a far cry from the dojo you were used to.
On a mat closer to the entrance, what you could only describe as a sort of aquatic humanoid stood on a single finger, the rest of his body raised to the air. He gently, carefully, moved his limbs in an almost hypnotic manner, as if dancing while balancing himself on a finger. His breathing was immaculate.
At the centre, drawing your attention most immediately, was a large arena from which the rest of the gym poured out from in organised sections. From it came the sound of blows, rapid and powerful, slamming into an unbreaking surface.
"Faster, less power!" came a deep, growling voice from the ring. Verdant scales were on the other end of Miguel's machine-gun fist as it shot out and then retracted at the speed of a blur. The Brazilian boxer sweat, his gaze set intently on the large reptillian before him, assaulting his guard with his autofist. The large crocodile-man's eyes peered through his guard, watching Miguel's movements with a calculating coldness to them,disassembling every movement that came out of the cyborg boxer. "If you want me to drop my guard, you'll need more pressure than that. Kidney!" he yelled, and Miguel responded with his unaugmented fist shooting for a body blow on the crocodile-man.
A broad clawed hand caught the blow, a 'boom' rolling out from the impact. "Good. Break." Miguel took a step back. The reptile caught sight of you with an eye, turning his head to face you.
Borealis, you recalled. The scarred lizardman blinked, some surprise managing to show on his inhuman features. Miguel followed his gaze to you, and he smiled confidently. "Hey! You made it!" he called out, waving you over to the ropes of the ring with his cybernetic hand. "Thought you'd have shown up sooner! The next stage is tomorrow, right?"
A slight smile naturally forms on your face as you approach, bag slung over your shoulder. "It is. I would've shown sooner, but I've been busy. You got me to think about a few things after the fight."
"You too, huh?" Miguel said, his smile widening into a boyish grin. "I've been trying to work on breaking open a strong guard ever since that afternoon. I'll need more than brute force to overcome what you've got," he admitted, pulling a towel from a corner of the ring, wiping down his face.
Borealis observed quietly until then. "Fukutsu, wasn't it? From the train," he recalled, tilting his head.
"Correct, sir. It's good to see you again," you said, bowing while maintaining eye contact with the competitor of the Stairway.
"Mmrh. And you're the one who beat my friend here. The spider-threads of fate are most unusual and convoluted, as always. You invited her, Miguel?"
"I did! She's a good sport. I figure that if she's good enough to take me down and has the awareness to be respectful after, she deserved that much," Miguel reasoned to the lizardman, who nodded slowly in agreement. "Besides, this place really sucks at recruitment. Barely any brand recognition."
"That is not the point of this place. It's a quieter place because we wish it to be," Borealis said with a sigh, shaking his head. "But new blood is rare here, and not unwelcome." He didn't smile, but there was a kindness in his yellow eyes. "I am glad to hear you have done well, Fukutsu, even if it was at the expense of my friend. It will serve as a lesson, and there is always another time. Now, how can we help?"
You drop the bag slung over your shoulder, stretching to each side as you reply. "I'm looking for a place to train outside of my residence, is all. I liked the sound of what Miguel told me. It's quiet. I like quiet."
"Then you are in good hands," Borealis said in return. "While we cannot make it 'official' unless you enter the Gauntlet successfully, you are welcome to train her as often as you'd like. There are many experienced fighters here from across all walks of life, and all levels of the Ring. I can introduce you to the owner, if you'd like?" he offered.
Miguel shot him a confused and concerned look. "...Y'sure about that? I'm pretty sure that'd drive her away."
"There is no point in hiding her from the owner, or vice versa. He is a respectable man, at his core."
"It's the everything else that's the issue," Miguel said to Fukutsu. You weren't sure where this feeling of dread was coming from, but it was there and building with each passing word.
"One moment," Borealis said, climbing out of the ring to head up a set of metal stairs to the first floor. He returned a minute or two later with a man trailing behind him. His hair was loose, going down to his jaw with a slight sheen to it. It looked that it would have been naturally straight, if he grew it out. Far different from your own, which was prone to messiness and fluffing out at a certain length. It framed sharp features and tired-looking eyes, his face dotted with the shadow of not-too-recently shaven facial hair. There was an air of unkemptness about him. Black gi loose, he only wore white training shorts to go along with it. His muscles were defined and honed in a manner that was a few steps beneath a strongman, still retaining a somewhat elegant shape to his build, but there was undeniable power contained within his body. If you had to guess, he was mixed race, as he looked Japanese by your reckoning, but not quite.
"This is the kid?" he said, a dismissive rasp to his voice. He appraised you and you repeated the bow as you were taught.
"Indeed. Weishen, this is Fukutsu. She is a prospective competitor in the Gauntlet. The one who defeated Miguel, if you'll recall," Borealis informed the man. Although he was slightly above average in height, the lizardman still made him look small by comparison.
"After all the work you put into him, how can I forget." Weishen looked at Miguel blandly. "You. Don't think you get to go back to Argentina or whatever because you lost. You're sticking around until Borealis gets it right, you hear?"
"Brazil isn't — !"
"Don't care," Weishen declared, shutting down Miguel. The boxer fumed, but said nothing else. Weishen then turned to you.
"What's your family name," he ordered. Borealis blinked, glancing to you and then focused on Weishen. "Your eyes are familiar. Who's your mom?" Weishen went for the throat, wasting no time.
Was it that obvious, you wondered with some surprise. You didn't even look that much like your mother, and even your eyes were closer to your father and his side of the family, but the man before you —
"Ryuutei," you answer despite yourself, unsure of why the word left your mouth.
You could have heard a coin drop. You hadn't even said it that loudly, but everyone was looking at you, aside from Borealis. The individual gym goers who had been focused on their own efforts stood from machines and stopped their work outs to watch the exchange, curiosity on their respective features.
Weishen's lips pressed together. He looked around at the gym, grumpy. "What're you doing?! Focus on yourselves, you assholes!" Weishen barked, jolting the others back into their workouts, barr one which began to approach them.
The gym's owner sounded like a delinquent. One that had grown up, but the dry aggressiveness was still there when he yelled.
"Sorry about that," Weishen said, looking back to you with a nod. "The Blood Pillar's kid. What a pain…" he grumbled, untucking a hand from inside his gi to rub the back of his head.
Your eyes twitched. That was…
"Well, that explains a bit," Miguel said with a rub of his chin. "I mean, not to take away from you or anything, Fukutsu. I'm sure you put a lot of effort in by yourself, considering the years she was active…"
"That's right," Weishen said. "Bitch of a shadow to live in, considering she hasn't done shit for you. Whatever. Not all that important, I suppose. I was just curious, is all," he finished almost dismissively. "There've only been two Stand Against practitioners in the history of the Ring. I'm kind of glad we've got another. More information the better," he grumbled to himself as if you weren't present, exhaling.
He exuded an air of constant disappointment and weariness.
"Two?" you ask, brow furrowing. You drop the bag over your shoulder. Also news to you.
Weishen regarded you with a complete apathy. "Your grandfather, I guess. Dad of your dad. The first Spirit Pillar, you know?" he asked as if it was obvious. "... Oi, how much do you actually know about this place? Don't tell me you're walking in here, ignorant as shit."
You purse your lips and rise to the accusatory tone he took on. "Does it matter? I'm here to fight, learn and surpass. I don't care about some ancient history."
"Idiot. That's not just some ancient history, it's your history too," he uttered with some frustration. "Your family name helped build this place. I don't know where you Ryuutei come from, but it can't be that isolated."
"Master Shen, please," a gentler voice interrupted before you could respond, words of defence on your lips. The lithe young man with the aquatic features approached, his skin a blue-ish green with not a single hair on his body. Mottled patterns covered his skin, which itself had occasional layerings and webbed fins in places. His wide, pure blue eyes stared through those present, as if blind in their regard. "You are particularly grumpy today! Maybe some food will do you well. A drink too, maybe?" he asked the owner of the gym with an accent that was unplaceable to you. "You do like to imbibe when it is early. A most strange trait, but one I shall not judge you for, no I will not," finished the aqua-lad earnestly.
Weishen grumbled something under his breath, and after a moment rubbed his brow. "... Yeah, probably am going a bit hard." He pulled his hand away, regarding you with some more clarity than before. "Sorry about that Fukutsu, but I'm serious. You can't go around claiming to be a combatant without knowing some of the background, especially when you've got family in the business. It's more for your sake than for the sake of any sense of pride any one of us nutjobs may have for this stupid place. Some idiot out there will take offence to it, and when people like us get offended we like to cause trouble. You hear me?"
Your shoulders, tense before the apology, relaxed. It was your fault, you told yourself. There was truth to what he said, in that you really should have known more about the setting. You knew how to get in, and you knew how to fight. You knew your mother participated, but you hadn't known she was a Pillar, standing at the very summit of the entire place, a fact which only made the depth of the shadow she cast that much deeper.
On the bright side, the only way was up for you. Complete one goal, achieve the other. You just had to keep going. That was comforting in and of itself, steeling your resolve even further.
"I understand, sir. I'll be more diligent in the future. I just…" you paused, taking stock of your next words, and then continued. "I've only seen matches on television. My family is based in an isolated village, you see. Even television is somewhat scarce," you finish with a lighter tone, smiling somewhat. "I believe the term is 'hick'."
"Tch. Know that feeling, don't worry." Weishen waved it off, some empathy to be found there. "Forget about it. If you're fresh, that means you've got the second stage of the culling tomorrow. I'd recommend getting out of here and resting up — never know what mad shit the chairman and his people are gonna cook up for you." He paused, appraised you briefly and pressed his lips together in thought. "Come by whenever. I never knew your mom, but I can tell you what I know about her fights. More than most of these meatheads, anyway."
"Master Shen, I am not a meathead. That is quite insulting. My head consists of less flesh proportionally to your own, even with my fins included!" the aqua-lad said with a disapproving frown.
Borealis pat the young man on the back. "Sticks and stones, Hobbes."
"Will never break my bones. They are too strong."
The crocodile man scoffed.
Strange guy. You nodded at Weishen. "I'll keep it in mind." You lower your body into another bow, something which seemed to make Weishen wince. He then blinked a few times, something crossing his mind. Whatever it was, he dismisses it and moves off slowly and lethargically, waving over his shoulder.
Miguel exhaled, as if he had been holding a breath the entire time. "He's too much, man. A guy that strong shouldn't be that grumpy."
"He is what they call a... 'starving artist' — " Borealis said, unsure if that was the exact term " — At heart. Skilled he may be, his passion has always been elsewhere. The fighting is simply a means to an end — his true born natural talent, as it were," Borealis said in return. "I would be frustrated too."
"... What would he rather be doing?" you ask Borealis, looking up to him with a questioning gaze. The Ring wasn't a place you went to as a side gig. Not in your head, at least.
"He studied to be an architect. The second floor is filled with his work, but it is a difficult job role to break into in this day and age, so I am told." Borealis shrugged. "The influx of odd aesthetics, he says. Everyone desires something more alien than the last person."
Weishen didn't look very alien, it was true. He just looked frustrated. You could relate on some level if you compared it to your relationship with school.
"He's not what you think of when you say architect. You think of a guy in glasses," Miguel said with a sniff. "Anyway. All that aside, you're comin' back, yeah?" he asked with a pointed look at you, grinning. "Once you're all official, we can get some practice in. Sound good?"
His desire to fight was infectious. You smiled in return. "We'll see what kind of state I'm in."
With a few goodbyes, you left the Unbreakable gym with some things to think about.
Weishen was right. If your mother had enemies, then what were the chances they would try to start something with you? Especially considering her apparent status — a fact that required some attention after your fight tomorrow.
You needed to learn more about the new world around you, as well as improving on your martial skills. You couldn't coast by thought competition alone, is what he was trying to tell you.
---
T-minus two minutes until showtime. You didn't know what to expect.
The match was taking place at a larger venue than the place you fought Miguel in, elevated and located within the actual Gauntlet levels of the vast sky-breaking structure that was the Ring of Heaven. You didn't actually see the actual interior of the place, as you were instead funnelled away from Yoshitoki and Nao, and directly towards a 'gate' where you would be starting. Just before it was a small changing room which you had all to yourself, where you did a few last minute easy stretches, mostly to keep your body busy while your mind emptied itself of distraction.
As you moved you focused on your breathing, holding the inhale for a few seconds before slowly exhaling. With it went your concerns, one exhalation at a time. You left the changing room with thirty seconds left to spare, coming face to face with metal doors.
A holographic screen blinked to life at eye level, hovering just off the door. It displayed two men on at a desk, headsets on their heads and dressed in decidedly casual manners. They had a sort of relaxed air about them as they regarded the camera.
The one on your right, a soft looking man in his mid-twenties, nodded to the camera and began. "Ladies, gentlemen and all those who do not conform to such notions; humans, aliens and everything else that is decidedly less weird than the former, I'd like to give you a big RoH welcome, both as this is the start of the show, and because this is possibly the start of some new careers around here. I'm Archibald 'SweetJuice' Lagrange — "
"And I'm CounterCross!" the more solid looking of the two butted in with his name. "We'll be your hosts on this goddamn fine morning. It's too fuckin' early, but it's worth it to be out here, getting ready to watch hopes crushed and dreams fulfilled! We'll be your casters tonight, and for the next few forseeable hours!"
"That's right audience and chat: Tonight we have another special edition of the Culling coming straight to you liiiiive from the Third ReaGen Event Arena in the Gauntlet. Twice a year, a series of intense, brutal battles are held to determine who among the world's hopefuls deserves to fight in the greatest arenas in the history of this world, and possibly a few others. The fame, the glory, the sponsorships! Imagine."
"The sponsors are a big one. But we don't got to worry about that 'round here. We can cuss out here, boy. We don't fuck around. Ain't nobody going to be dropping RoH! Entertainment of this generation and all those to come, baby," Cross said confidently.
"Now, while we're not afraid of our sponsors dropping out because of a few bad words, our angry producer out of the corner of my eye is a different matter! Look at those gestures. They belong to a professional who is used to wrangling in unruly casters. I feel the fear in my loins, Cross. My future progeny are afraid of this woman."
"You're right. No more cussing! We PG-13 out here in the RoH now. The days of goonery are now behind us."
"At least until our voices start going, and we get hungry."
"Gloves off when that happens."
"To you, live audience and the chat, we have a fairly standard arrangement for this edition of the Culling. Today, you will see foooorty contestants square off in a battle royale to determine who is worthy of entering the Gauntlet to begin their marathon journey to the top and anywhere else in between. We're used to the set up out here in the Culling, it's an easy way to get the numbers down, but there has been a surprise mix up!"
"Usually, promotion to the Gauntlet is based on a point basis. The more contestants you take out, the better! But that don't mean you have to be the last man standing. Today, you'll be seeing the last three of these forty go through to promotion. Everyone else goes home."
"That's right. And not only that the ReaGen arena, brought to you today by DynaCast Innovations, is none other than the dreaded Gehenna City! Modelled after the final conflicts of the Martian Crisis, this arena is a battlefield between two opposing forces. It is a fully generated city, containing all that you'd expect, and maybe more. As you'd also expect, a battlefield is dangerous — and not just because of the forty assassins, martial artists, warriors, beasts and all-round tough guys and gals that'll be wandering its streets! What dangers will await them on the battlefield?"
"Gunfire, you'd assume. And explosions. Maybe Mechanical Shells with generated pilots crazy for blood!"
"Let's not ruin the surprise, Cross."
"Right! With all that said and done, let's get this show on the way. We know you dedicated Culling viewers are the megafans, the nuts, the ones keeping their eyes out for the up and comings! As always, we'll do our best to give you a rundown of who's who as the day proceeds. But until then — Juice, I think it's time to get this show on the road."
"Burn rubber, Cross! To you, the fighters, I wish you nothing but luck and good punchings! Give us a show, and find your truth in the heart of battle!"
"BEGIN!"
The doors opened with a seamless hiss rather than the scrape of metal.
A burning smell joined the murky flood of dingy natural light. Shattered towers of concrete and glass loomed in the distance. Sounds of munitions discharges thundered in the distance.
You stepped forward into Gehenna, mind empty.
---
The arena is before you. What is your course of action?
[X] Patience. Find somewhere to hunker down for a while. There is no rush, and if you are going to fight, it's best it's done on territory you're familiar with.
[X] Fight & Run. It's best not to wait around for someone to find you, and it wouldn't be best to assume that your opponents are so untrained that they couldn't track you down. Take the initiative, knock off some competition.
[X] Scout. There's plenty of vantage points, from what you can see. Get up to one and get the lay of the land before things get hairy out there — although from the sounds of things, the 'opposing forces' were already making things a bit choppy.
[X] Write in.
---
With the improvement of her ability to enhance her body, and with the assistance of Nao, Fukutsu has learned the Install technique Suzakuchi.
Install techniques are temporary transformations to Fukutsu's being, altering properties and attributes in particular ways, more often than not to make her a more effective combatant. Multiple Installs can be used at once, for better or worse. The requirement for an Install technique to be used is based on Fukutsu's Ki Enhancement parameter.
Suzakuchi is a technique that belongs to Nao's family, although she implied that there are many similar such things among oni. Details are to be provided on the character sheet and in the story.
---
zamin
The Watcher in the Dark
[X] Scout. There's plenty of vantage points, from what you can see. Get up to one and get the lay of the land before things get hairy out there — although from the sounds of things, the 'opposing forces' were already making things a bit choppy.
I'll go with scouting for now. I want to get more information on what's going on first before anything big happens.
I'll go with scouting for now. I want to get more information on what's going on first before anything big happens.
[X] Patience. Find somewhere to hunker down for a while. There is no rush, and if you are going to fight, it's best it's done on territory you're familiar with.
This feels like the option most suited to our fighting style
This feels like the option most suited to our fighting style
- Location
- St. Petersburg
That was a meaty update.
...possibly "surpassing that of regular men"?
[x] Fight & Run. It's best not to wait around for someone to find you, and it wouldn't be best to assume that your opponents are so untrained that they couldn't track you down. Take the initiative, knock off some competition.
"I am made for it", possibly?
"both"?
"your", since the narration is in 2nd person, and is talking about us.
"you", since we are Fukutsu. Alternatively it's "Borealis", but since they were already talking earlier I don't think the clarification refers to him.
"sound of limbs"
...possibly "surpassing that of regular men"?
An apostrophe might be missing, even if the word is used in its plural form.
"here"
"bar"
"two men at a desk"?
[x] Fight & Run. It's best not to wait around for someone to find you, and it wouldn't be best to assume that your opponents are so untrained that they couldn't track you down. Take the initiative, knock off some competition.
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WanderingTwix
Posting something good once in a full moon
- Location
- United Kingdom
[X] Scout. There's plenty of vantage points, from what you can see. Get up to one and get the lay of the land before things get hairy out there — although from the sounds of things, the 'opposing forces' were already making things a bit choppy.
