CH_6.43 (214)

CH_6.43 (214)

The grip around the kunai felt perfect. He gripped it tighter to feel the cold metal underneath the wrapping as he contemplated on how to proceed. Masumoto matched his steps with a heckling grin as they kept an unchanging distance between them. Takuma could wait for Masumoto to make his first move, influence him into making the first move, or make the first move himself.

What do I want? Takuma asked himself the question.

He wanted to know more about Masumoto. He had no interest in knowing about the man called Masumoto, yuck—but he had considerable interest in knowing Masumoto the fighter. The man in front of him wasn’t just Bishop—just like Scars wasn’t Takuma. Even then, he didn’t know much, if anything, about Bishop, so his mental image of Masumoto was lacking.

As his wants became clear, Takuma broke the equilibrium and strode towards Masumoto, who grinned wider. The man stood there, welcoming Takuma to have a go at him. Takuma broke into a run and lobbed the kunai at Masumoto. He took another kunai and threw that as well, but this time, he gave it an extra push through augmentation. The second kunai caught up to the first one despite the difference in release.

It surprised Masumoto, but he handled it effortlessly. He avoided one of them and parried the second. But the twin kunai were only the start of Takuma’s offense. He breached Masumoto’s range with a feint. Masumoto moved to block, but the punch was only a cover for the kunai in his other hand.

Masumoto jerked his torso back to avoid the kunai so Takuma switched to a reverse grip and slashed the kunai back. Masumoto latched hold of Takuma’s arm to stop the sharp kunai so he let go of the kunai; it dropped into his other hand and went for a vicious gutting stab. Masumoto, of course, still had another hand that he put in the kunai’s way. The blade ripped through Masumoto’s lower sleeve, but it drew no blood and scratched against a metal arm guard. With his other hand in Masumoto’s firm grip, the other man forcefully redirected the kunai away from his body.

Takuma’s hands were now in Masumoto’s firm grasp. The two fighters looked at each other and moved simultaneously. Takuma tried to overpower Masumoto and bend the latter’s arms into an awkward position—but Masumoto was quicker. He kicked Takuma in the stomach. The hit pushed him back a couple of meters but was now free from Masumoto’s grasp, though not for long.

Masumoto rushed at Takuma, not bothering to feint or force Takuma’s guard down. He overwhelmed Takuma with a dense flurry of combinations. Takuma blocked, dodged, and countered wherever he could but it was clear that he was being pushed back.

‘He’s a melee fighter,’ Takuma deduced. He looked up at Masumoto with a smile, and his heart spiked for a beat when he recognized the look on Masumoto’s face.

The dull brown eyes were looking at him—really looking at him.

Takuma wasn’t the only one observing and making deductions.

Takuma dug his feet into the dirt, his soles skidding on the slippery grass before he could find his feet. He took a stand and turned up the aggression. Takuma used what he noticed and drove a heavy straight into Masumoto’s side followed by a few more solid strikes, but he left himself open to a barrage of kicks that left his lower half throbbing painfully.

Both sides got in satisfying hits as the tactics switched up. Takuma snaked his hands around and under Masumoto’s guard and grabbed him by his clothes, tossed him to the ground over his shoulder with a grunt of effort.. He raised his right fist and his chakra flooded the pathways in his arm, and slammed it down.

Masumoto winced when he hit the ground but gathered his focus in time to see the throbbing vein on Takuma’s forehead and the raised fist capturing the sun behind it. Danger. He slapped away Takuma’s other hand—the one pinning him to the ground—and rolled to the side, using the momentum to continue rolling. The earth exploded and from as far as he was, he felt the ground sink and shudder as he was showered.

Takuma growled as pulled his arm out of the soft ground.

He noticed Masumoto’s dirt-covered face staring at the crater he had just created. Their eyes met, and they sprang into action again. Masumoto, on all fours, turned his back to Takuma and tried to pull away. Takuma leapt forward, grabbed a leg, and dragged his opponent back. Masumoto turned again, now facing Takuma; he kicked him, digging his heel into his shoulder. Takuma’s face twitched with pain, but he didn’t let go and gave a sharp tug to yank Masumoto closer.

He was going to cave Masumoto’s chest in with an augmented stomp if it was the last thing he did.

Three shuriken headed for Takuma’s face but he raised an arm and hissed painfully when they dug into his upper arm. Masumoto laughed at Takuma’s painful grunts as he pulled away, having secured the time and space he needed to get back to his feet.

As Takuma pulled the shuriken from his arm, Masumoto weaved through several hand seals.

Takuma jumped back and did the same, ignoring the twitch his punctured arm gave.

Fire-Style: Twin Tiger’s Fury

Water-Style: Eight Tentacles

Masumoto had a sadistic smile as Takuma screamed in his face.

“Hot enough?” Masumoto said, eerily calm.

Masumoto didn’t try to force the kunai as his arms were still recovering from Takuma’s augmented hit. He released the kunai, and so did Takuma, who truly realized that he was back to fighting a real Ring fighter when Masumoto struck him in the throat.

Takuma felt his ability to breathe to go away—but he didn’t panic.

It had been a while, but he was a Ring fighter too.

Masumoto performed a spinning sidekick and smashed it into Takuma’s jaw. Takuma swayed dangerously and the world felt like one massive marshmallow beneath his feet. Masumoto pulled out a kunai and went in to gut him. Takuma moved his hand in kunai’s way at the last moment to successfully save his stomach.

“Respect, brother,” said Masumoto, sounding strangely genuine about it, “but this is the end.”

The last thing Masumoto saw before he blacked out for a moment was the crazed look on Takuma’s face before he headbutted him in the face and he sagged to the ground. When he came to after a couple of seconds, Masumoto felt a world of pain and disorientation so extreme that he instantly vomited. His nose was broken, he had orbital fractures, his lips was split—his face was just one bleeding mess.

All of that was from a single headbutt.

Out of pure instinct, Takuma’s chakra rushed to augment his forehead—it was the first augmented headbutt of his life.

Takuma completely ignored it and put some distance between him and Masumoto despite seeing the state of his opponent. He needed a moment to get his head and balance straight and knew a Ring fighter of Bishop’s level wouldn’t go down so easily.

He looked down at the kunai-shaped burn wound branding his hands. His palms flared at the slightest movement. He clenched his fists. The more pain he felt, the clearer his head became.

He looked back at Masumoto; the man stood up and stared Takuma down as he snapped his dislocated jaw back into place. Even his messed-up face couldn’t hide the anger he was feeling.

Weaving hands seals hurt, but Takuma did it without letting it show on his face.

Water Style: Water Clone Jutsu

The water rose from the wet ground, forming a moist mass that took the shape of Takuma’s body contours, morphing into a perfect clone of himself.

“Scars,” said Takuma, assigning the role to himself.

“Takuma,” said the clone, doing the same.

If one of him was having a difficult time ending the fight then this ought to solve that problem.

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