[IC] Sword Hall of Shadows

[Green]

Darkness. Death. A wall of void was the first thing that greeted Fuchsia´s eyes as he materialized onto one of many identical platforms built in what he judged to be a highly symmetrical enviroment. Several very well made statues resembling swordsmen surrounded the platforms. Were they made in the image of a singular man? He couldn´t tell from this angle, but if that was the case then someone, somewhere, with a rather large ego, would be very upset when Fuchsia was done with the place. Assuming his opponent would actually show up this time. Speaking of opponents, he had finally figured out what had actually transpired during the previous battle. See, when he had been teleported away from that snow-covered tiger-worshipping playground, he had made the assumption that it was because whoever he had been supposed to battle had not shown up. But what if, in reality, he had?

Who was he to assume that an entity the size of a bacteria or something had not entered the tournament and been matched against him? That could very well have been the case! He must have accidentally defeated him when he dropped his hellzooka. Flawless victory. It did seem a more plausible scenario than that of a combatant fleeing the tournament altogether. Was that even possible? Shameful display. Fuchsia had no respect for cowards. On the other hand.. They were quite fun to chase down! Eh. He couldn´t decide if he -truly- despised them or not..

"So." Nathan-Nade said. "This place.." - Gregor-Bomb turned towards him. Nathan-Nade continued. "This place is -dark-!" He gasped. "Nathan.." Fuchsia whispered. "Eh?" - He looked down on the little skullnade with an empathic smile "I will rip your jaw off if you do not silence yourself."

[ruronihs]

Before anybody came to face Tomaru, the world faded into black once again. Perhaps that last stage was just a brief pit stop before entering the true arena. Still, Tomaru let the darkness wash over him, his stance never faltering, and waited for the new area to come to light... but it never did. A part of him found this place quite fitting; massive statues wielding swords, an unrelenting darkness that only seemed to be growing deeper and colder. "Perfect," The Red Shinigami whispered. There would be nothing here to remind him of his other self, nothing to spark any inkling of mercy or compassion. No, all this place invoked was the thrill of the fight. The demon that stood across from Tomaru, wretched as he was, would be able to feel the killing intent permeating from The Red Shinigami if he had even the remotest awareness of his surroundings. This was when animals usually fled, birds stopped chirping, and his prey would be petrified with fear by the nearly tangible murderous aura he emitted. But, unlike the demon, Tomaru didn't play with his food.

And so, Tomaru took a moment to size up his opponent. It was clearly an abysmal being, what with that giant skull club and the two talking heads on his belt. The smell of blood was even more potent on this creature than it was on himself; that combined with the creature's inexplicably jovial demeanor led Tomaru to believe that this was your typical homicidal sociopath... probably demonic. But, this creature appeared to be on the small side, even taking into account the supernatural strength that would be required to wield that club, so Tomaru figured he could expect lots of speed or lots of magic.

All this processed through Tomaru's mind within the first seconds upon arrival, and yet his Tsubame stance was sill as unflinching as the statues that surrounded them; not a single physical cue gave any clue as to what was going on inside the kitsune's head. So, he waited for his opponent to begin.

[Green]

Fuchsia waved at the newcomer as he appeared on a platform across the arena. "Oh hi there!" Fuchsia said, loudly."You´re my teammate, huh?" He moved his hellzooka as unthreatingly as he could from his front to his back, signifying that he had no hostile intentions. But not before kissing it and whispering "Hellzooka, find me a strong soul." in infernal. He turned his head and continued speaking to his opponent "Confused? You and me both. Apparantly, two latecomers joined the tournament, so our dearest host changed the match typings from classic 1v1 to.. well.. classic 2v2." - He was, of course, pulling shit out of his ass, but the guy facing him looked human, and if there was one thing Fuchsia knew from experience, it was that humans were extremely gullible. His Hellzooka started charging, silently, searching for a strong soul roaming the realms infernal, while held gently along his back with his tail. Unless the seemingly human man was able to sense the hellish magic at work with his mind, or whatever, he should, hopefully, be left unaware of the current state of the weapon. Heck, chances were, it was nothing like he had ever seen before.

The demon child remained vigilant, however. The man could still be brutally violent by nature, and not much of a conversationalist.. Which would be unfortunate. Fuchsia would not be caught off-guard by such, if that was the case Still. A charade was the most entertaining way out. Gullible fool. "They should be here any minute now. What´s your name, friend?"

[ruronihs]

What Fuchsia said didn't add up. The hosts of an invitation-only tournament held in a dream dimension hadn't accounted for latecomers, yet still allowed two people, who were both equally late, interrupt the flow of the contest, and yet they they gave all of the information to only one member of this alleged team? Furthermore, if there were two latecomers, and two contestants without opponents, why change the 1v1 format to 2v2? Hosting two separate matches and simply dropping the latecomers into the vacant slots in the already dreamed-up arenas would have made far more sense. Plus, the scent of death that the demon exuded didn't exactly give him a trustworthy ethos. Tomaru wasn't buying it; if the rules had changed, Skallagrim would have said something. But, Fuchsia didn't need to know that...

"Oh, you don't say?" Tomaru said in an awestruck tone, and then shifted to a new stance. He crossed his arms in a relaxed fashion and leaned backwards, balancing himself on his tail. His toes were off the ground, but his heels were still planted quite firmly. To those unfamiliar with the Usagi stance, it looked like Tomaru was genuinely relaxed, but he was actually still perfectly balanced and from this position he was quite ready to spring in any direction should the demon standing across from him decide to do anything... well, demonic. "My name's Tomaru," he continued in a conversational tone as he channeled Ki into his right arm, "and I'm sure glad you're on my side. That club of yours is really scary." Mental battles were often just as fun as physical ones, providing one had a good opponent. He wondered how far his opponent was willing to take the ruse. "Hey, do you think we're allowed to set up traps before they get here? That would give us a huge advantage!" With that, Tomaru had effectively bet on every possible outcome: he was ready for the very likely scenario that this was a ruse, but he was also prepared for the non-zero-probability event that another team was indeed coming.

[Green]

He smiled. Silly humans. Just as he had been taught in demon kindergarden; tell them anything, they will belive it without question. Fuchsia started tapping his feet to the ground, he was getting restless. His body hungered for chaos and carnage, for the tasty meaty lifeforce of the man before him. All in good time, he assured himself, all in good time. He licked his lips with his tongue. The hellzooka continued it´s search for a strong soul.

"Pleased to meet´cha Tomaru. I am Fuchsia." - Noting the man´s tail, "You have a tail too? This is truly a match made in heav-.." He threw up in his mouth.

"Ugh.." A smooth brown liquid pimpled out between his lips and dripped onto the floor. He wiped the greasy saliva off his chin. "Sorry about that."

"..Traps, eh? I never heard the skull guy say anything about that being illegal. I happen to be a trapmaker." He pulled out Nathan-nade. "Why don´t you take this? It´s an intelligent magical beartrap of sorts. Goes by the name of Nathan Markson." - "Hi." - Nathan-nade said. "Nathan Markson will, once you pull his mouth open and put him down, merge with the ground. When our opponents step on it, it will push them into the air. It will be very effective if we use that moment to attack. I´ve got two of them. If you place this one by the statue over there on your side, I´ll do the same here." - He tossed the skullnade towards Tomaru. "Nathan Markson also has a beatiful singing voice, if you´re into that kind of thing." Fuchsia giggled.

"It´s true. I do!" Nathan-nade said as he soared through the air. A big smile on his face. "I believe I can-.." - "Hail mary." Fuchsia yelled cheerfully when the little skull got close enough.

[ruronihs]

The wretched creature standing before Tomaru was far from the most clever scoundrel that he had dealt with, and even farther from being the best liar. He was fidgety and anxious, not even bothering to hide his "tells;" he agreed with everything and pointed out superficial similarities, just like most liars do to gain trust; his fabrication piled on more inconsistencies when his description of a magical bear trap did more or less the opposite of what an actual bear trap did (why not just say the jaws would clamp down on their legs?); the fact that the word "heaven" literally made him vomit didn't help his case either. What truly altered Tomaru to the impending danger, though, was Fuchsia's complete lack of combat etiquette. Comrades in arms would never throw their weapons at each other, especially when they were only just starting to build trust. They calmly and respectfully handed each other their weapons with the handle facing the recipient to avoid any misunderstandings.

Now, Tomaru was generally not inclined to handle severed heads under normal circumstances, but here Fuchsia's behavior led him to believe that this was nothing other than a sneak attack. Well, if the demon genuinely felt that he had actually fooled anybody, then Tomaru was certain that his rebuttal would be a potent psychological victory. As the skullnade traversed its treacherous arc, the kitsune leaned forward out of Usagi and planted his feet firmly on the ground. Then he uncrossed his arms and pressed his palms together, as if in prayer, and released the Ki he had been building up. A sphere of kinetic energy burst forth from his body as Fuchsia shouted, "Hail Mary." This Gekitaisuru was not a particularly strong one, but for such a light projectile it was more than enough. The blast wave from the skullnade was pushed back towards Fuchsia. Due to the distance between them and the dispersal of energy, it probably wouldn't pose a serious threat, but again, Fuchsia didn't need to know that.

[Green]

The explosion went off, but had clearly not done any damage. Oh well. Seems like parts of it was coming back too, weird. Fuchsia couldn't recall that ever happening before. Some kind of special ability his opponent possessed? A barrier of sorts? Telekinesis perhaps. Didn't really matter. Those skullnades were absolutely awful. There hadn't been a single instance in which a formidable opponent had been injured by em. Good opener though, always revealed all kinds of nasty tricks. The human in front of him was.. well.. more of a beef than average. Would it be a problem? Nah. Re-directing the force of an exploding skullnade seemed like a waste of energy. If he was that frightened by such measly weaponry, then how would he react to Fuchsia's signature hellzooka in action? The mere thought of it made Fuchsia drool. Oh. Right. Explosion.

Would it hit him? Was it strong? Eh? Fuchsia didn't really give a fuck, he took a few quick steps to the side and rushed forward, avoiding the whole thing altogether if it even got that far, jumping off his own platform towards his opponent's, intent on landing at the edge on the opposite side of it. While doing so, he flipped his "club" over his shoulder and grabbed the handle with his right hand. It was still searching for strong souls.

---

***Trivia***
Explosions are not projectiles.

[ruronihs]

As soon as Fuchsia leaped from his platform, Tomaru could tell where he would land; it was one of the disadvantages of taking your feet off the ground and letting inertia and gravity determine where you went. The next step was determining what he would do upon landing. Well, Fuchsia seemed intent on doing something with that club, but he was holding it in an unfamiliar stance. There was no way he could swing that club with any notable force from that stance. There had to be some other purpose to it, but there was no way to deduce what it was given his current observations. So, he decided to place himself based on where Fuchsia would land and the possible directions that he would swing his club.

Tomaru dashed forward to the edge of the platform such that he would be standing on Fuchsia's left side, opposite the strange club. His hands shifted down, grasping the katana at his side, building up tension within the sheath as he entered his Hebi stance. He lead with his left foot, placing that one just behind where Fuchsia's own left foot would land and put the majority of his weight into his left side. This position wasn't ideal for doing maximal damage, but Tomaru had more strategic things in mind than just hitting really hard...

[Green]

It was at times like these that Fuchsia really enjoyed himself. The heat of battle was indescribably satisfying, the thrill of a kill, nothing else could compare. The enemy of the day, a human swordsman of sorts, had fallen into the trap of assuming he didn't plan ahead. A grave mistake. Fuchsia was nothing if not cunning when it came to devising methods of carnage. One could say it was in his blood. One of the million demon-spawn that roamed the deep and fiery caverns of the realm infernal. He was nothing special, not when compared to his peers. A no-name soldier in an expendable legion of the damned. If not he, but one from the royal bloodline had been sent to the realm he currently found himself in, then the tournament itself would not have mattered. It would have been an invasion. A dimension ripe for the taking. The current owner would put up a fight, no doubt, but would he be formidable enough an opponent to come out on top? Fuchsia had his suspicions that there was more to the skeleton than meets the eye. Well, at least more than the human he was up against. Silly man.

Fuchsia was expecting his foe to move over to intercept his landing, and that was just what he did. Sword in hand, of course, what else would he have done? The demon child was still soaring through the air when the swordsman dashed towards his landing point. Expecting him to continue on that path, planning to impale him on his blade, no doubt. Well. That was not what was about to happen. When Fuchsia came in above the platform, on the opposite side of his intended landing point, he aimed his hellzooka towards the dashing man, and once he stopped, Fuchsia fired the triple-charged Hellzooka. "YOUR MOTHER IS A WHORE!" The Hellzooka shouted. The massive recoil halted Fuchsia's velocity, and he landed on the edge of the platform opposite Tomaru. But not before a rocket with Hitler's screaming face on it hurled towards his foe, who was clearly preparing for a completely different type of attack. He braced himself, knowing full well that the blast from the explosion would knock him off the platform.. or worse, even though he was well out of it's normal kill radius. Such was the power of Rocket Hitler.

[ruronihs]

Tomaru's intense blue eyes were keen on Fuchsia as he soared through the air, watching every nuance of his wretched little body, especially those involving that ornate club. He had no knowledge of guns, or in this case a soul-firing bazooka, but he had plenty of experience dealing with magic users. When a mage pointed a staff, a palm, or even a mildly threatening finger at you, it was time to move. So, when the gaping hole at the base of the club met with Tomaru's equally vacant eyes, the kitsune wasted no time in removing himself from the general vicinity. Fortunately, his weight was already primarily in his legs, so an evasive leap was only a matter of deciding where to go. He leaned forward and chose the very platform that his opponent had just abandoned as his new home.

In a white and crimson streak, he darted to the platform, his leap having a much lower arc than Fuchsia's; while the demon chose to gain altitude and descend from above, Tomaru put the majority of his energy into forward velocity, only putting just enough upward force in the jump to prevent gravity from pulling him below his mark. It was a smooth line of motion that put him below Fuchsia and well outside of the impending spell's trajectory. As soon as the fascist fuehrer's furious face emerged from the gaping jaws of the hellzooka, Tomaru was mid-leap. His ears twitched at the simply charming sound coming from the club, but by the time Rocket Hitler hit the vacant spot where Tomaru once stood, the kitsune was already on the other platform, waiting in his Hebi stance to see what his opponent -- and Hitler -- would do.

[ruronihs]

Tomaru's intense blue eyes were keen on Fuchsia as he soared through the air, watching every nuance of his wretched little body, especially those involving that ornate club. He had no knowledge of guns, or in this case a soul-firing bazooka, but he had plenty of experience dealing with magic users. When a mage pointed a staff, a palm, or even a mildly threatening finger at you, it was time to move. So, when the gaping hole at the base of the club met with Tomaru's equally vacant eyes, the kitsune wasted no time in removing himself from the general vicinity. Fortunately, his weight was already primarily in his legs, so an evasive leap was only a matter of deciding where to go. The fastest solution was to twirl around and dart toward the platform behind him, but that would mean taking his eyes off of his opponent, a mortal sin that all martial artists are indoctrinated to avoid from day one. However, there was far more to this arena than the platforms, and nobody had given him a reason why he needed to stay on them. After all, in one sense they were platforms, but in another sense they were thirty foot stone shields.

His path of evasion decided, Tomaru took a tiny hop back and slipped down off of the edge of the platform. As he did this, he whipped out his katana, clutching it firmly in his right hand. Before the fascist fuehrer's furious face emerged from the gaping jaws of the hellzooka, Tomaru was slipping out of sight below the platform. Threat of magic or not, Fuchsia was still heading towards the same spot, so there was no need to completely abandon his position. He caught himself on the edge with his left hand and used his blade as a sort of mirror to continue watching Fuchsia. The image was distorted from the contour of the metal and dim due to the surrounding darkness, but although he wasn't able to see exactly what Fuchsia was doing, he was at least able to see where he was... and he had found found a sort of loophole in the mortal sin, so perhaps his master wouldn't reprimand him.

[Green]

Tomaru disappeared out of sight behind the edge of the platform. Aw. Why would he go all rabbity like that? Was he afraid of Fuchsia? Had he seen the terrible weapon he wielded in action? He had a reason to be afraid. Fuchsia would demonstrate the terrible power he wielded, even if his opponent was about to disappear out of sight. Fear was a weapon in itself. A nuclear deterrent could very well end the battle. "Look'at this!" Fuchsia shouted loudly as Hitler's rocket-tipped face emerged from his launcher, hitting it's original target, the spoot where Tomaru was standing a mere moment ago, with terrible effect. Parts of the platform itself was blasted apart by the vastly powerful explosion, it's pieces sent flying all over the place. The demon child took a solid one to the face, breaking his nose, and shattering more than a few teeth, before the blast-wave itself sent him flying backwards before he could even land. He was hurled into the edge of the platform he originally jumped from, dampening the impact with his left arm, a loud crack emitting from his elbow as a thick sharp bone forced itself through the skin. The darkened stone surface was splattered with the velvet liquid it contained.

Fuchsia dropped to the ground below. Blood dripping. He smiled wickedly. This was a good pain. A pleasant pain. He needed more!

[ruronihs]

The image of Fuchsia in Tomaru's sword was quickly replaced with that of the screaming Nazi overlord. Not terribly keen on having his fingers obliterated, Tomaru released his grip on the edge of the platform before Hitler buried his face into the stone, but soon his downward acceleration far surpassed that of gravity as the impact from the blast penetrated the rock shield and forced the kitsune towards the ground at dangerous speeds. Chunks of what was once the platform came barreling down at him as well, turning what was supposed to be a shield into a giant buckshot. Tomaru slashed away the large hunks of rubble with a few swift swipes of his sword, but ironically, it was the tinier shards that proved to be the bigger problem. One cut into his right cheek barely an inch away from his eye, one shot clean through his left shoulder, and a last one bit into his thigh, this one sticking in his flesh. The injuries were not severe, but the shard in his leg would be problematic if he left it unattended too long.

Tomaru hit the ground hard; hard enough to fracture a human's legs. However, the benefits of learning the Usagi stance now paid off. His knees buckled and a streak of blood squirted out of his wounded thigh as his legs absorbed the initial part of the impact, but then he leaned back and let his strong tail aid in the absorption of the kinetic energy. With three thoroughly trained limbs at work in masterful coordination, Tomaru was able to preserve his skeletal integrity, and he immediately turned his attention back to Fuchsia, who had dropped to the lower level as well. Somehow, the demon's face looked even uglier than before, and his left arm looked like it had taken some serious damage. A grin crossed the kitsune's face; that attack had dealt more damage to his foe than it had to him. He could use that, especially since he now felt the ki flowing through his body once again.

With a cold, menacing smirk, Tomaru walked forward towards Fuchsia. He held his sword in his right hand low to the ground and raised his left arm, palm opened, in front of him, as if making half of an X. The rock shard writhed around in his leg and would have stained his pants with blood were they not already a deep red, but that small pang of pain only made his smirk more sinister. There was not a glint of fear in his eyes as he advanced, not a shred of wariness about the club. He had seen how it worked, and now he knew how to beat it.

[Green]

"DIE! DIE! DIE! DIE!" Fuchsia cackled. Swinging his Hellzooka around with his fully working right arm the moment he spotted his opponent alive and well. Pressing the trigger like a madman before the launcher could even complete it's swing. Once it reached it's path, he shook it left and right, and slightly upwards. Still pressing the trigger. He wasn't much of a marksman, and to be honest, he usually fought like this. A sacred technique taught to every demon at their very first day of "How to kill your enemies with a Hellzooka" - training. Spray and pray. Literally showering everything in front of him with rocket after rocket, he spammed the screaming soul-shots like there was no tomorrow. The recoil from these shots were significantly weaker than the Hitler Rocket, and Fuchsia could easily handle it with just one hand. Being really fucking strong and all.

"Your mother was a hampster!" - "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

"Eat shit and die!" - "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

"Your hair looks lame!" - "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

"Go play in traffic!" - "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH"

[ruronihs]

Tomaru couldn't tell if his opponent was panicking, or simply insane -- the line between the two was so thin -- but either way, this was possibly the best scenario the kitsune could have hoped for. Fuchsia fired several times in a completely wrong direction, which gave Tomaru a pretty good idea what the demon's strategy was, and so he poured a portion of ki into his left arm. He followed the barrel of the club, watched the rhythm of Fuchsia's trigger finger, which seemed to be controlling when the screaming heads came out, tilted his left arm slightly to adjust it's angle, and then violently swung the arm downward to unleash his Ikiteha. What Fuchsia had created in quantity, Tomaru poured into a single quality ki attack. It was far more densely packed than the Gekitaisuru he unleashed earlier, and compressed to a fine blade-like form, every bit as sharp as his katana. "Your aim is bad," was Tomaru's only response to the hellzooka's relentless tirade of insults.

Fuchsia had fired so many explosive souls that the ki-blade was bound to intercept at least one of them, but it was a large blade, about eight feet long, so Tomaru angled it to hit a number of targets. First, one of the more accurate soul rockets, second, Fuchsia's right arm to impair is trigger-happy onslaught, and third, the second exploding skull on his body. The blade was angled so that these three points fell on the same line. Impact with one of the souls would likely halt a portion of the blade, but the majority of it would continue hurtling forward. Likewise, Tomaru assumed that an impact with one of the souls would detonate it and create an impact that would in turn detonate the surrounding souls due to the high projectile density that Fuchsia was creating, all occurring at a much closer proximity that than the demon anticipated. Second, the detonation of the skullnade on his belt would be an added bonus.

[Green]

Whatever it was Tomaru did, Fuchsia couldn't really see it. A chain of explosions went off, forcing him backwards, altough not off his feet, or in such a brutal manner as last time. His rockets had gone of long before they should have. Unknown to him, it had halted an incoming attack, which had latched into the ground somewhere between the two from the sheer force of the rocket blast. The rockets had all exploded, first one, then the rest. Presumably they had been hit by the shockwave and crashed into the ground or something. Fuchsia was no rocket scientist. He just knew how to fire the damn thing. Well. If you fail once.. His eyes narrowed upon the now-again-visible shape of his opponent.

Started firing again, this time the majority of the rockets kept to the same path, but if Tomaru started moving, Fuchsia would adjust his aim acordingly. "One, two, three, four. Did you have a life before!?" Four rockets screamed by. The Hellzooka was running out of common insults, and was now resorting to "You dog!" "If you were my mom, I would be ugly!" and such. "Five, six, seven, eight. So did I but it's too late!" - There was no tactic involved in his current actions. Unless Tomaru went up close and personal, or did something completely different, Fuchsia felt the most effective manner of disposing of him, was to keep firing like a madman, until either Tomaru dropped dead, or hell ran out of souls to give. Which was more likely? He giggled.

[ruronihs]

Tomaru braced himself for the shock wave from the detonation of the rocket cluster, but a map of all possible strategies raced through his mind before he committed to any actions. That last attack was a proof of theory; he had effectively neutralized the magical properties of the club, but that would merely result in a stalemate, which was an unfavorable predicament since he knew nothing of the source of power that the demon was drawing on. If he wanted a victory, he would need to enter close quarters combat, but that would be a reckless option -- a last resort -- so long as the volley of explosive shots held him back. This scenario would require something a bid more unorthodox. At that thought, Tomaru made a small backward hop and rode the impact of the shock wave so that it knocked him back about twenty feet. Now, he was standing near the base of one of those massive statues, and it seemed as though Fuchsia was actually taking a moment to aim this time. The pieces were in a good position.

As the first rocket left the mouth of the hellzooka, Tomaru bent his legs and made a big jump onto the platform where the statue stood so that he was standing on the stone warrior's foot. Perhaps it was just a convenient place to dodge to, or perhaps he had something else in mind. The kitsune was not as quick to react to the second rocket. In fact he waited until the last possible moment before diving off of the statue platform and back down to the ground to avoid the next blast. As he did so, though, he scratched his sword along the bottom of the warrior's leg, leaving a small notch in the rock. It was a pretty insignificant groove, but perhaps it would aid in the destruction of the satue's structural integrity when the rocket soared past where Tomaru was and into the leg of the stone warrior. The massive swords that they were holding ensured that if the rocket broke enough of the stone it would all come crashing down onto the arena. Meanwhile, Tomaru built up his Ki, waiting for when the time was right to unfurl the next part of his plan.

[Green]

The first rocket went flying like a little squirrel. If squirrels could fly. Then exploded like a bird, if said bird was stuffed with explosives. By then, it's mark was no longer there. The swordsman had moved upwards, by using the two appendages below his torso to propel his full form into the air in what was usually referred to as a "jump". Then he had landed on a platform, directly placed between the crazy ass demon child and the foot of a massive stone statue wielding a sword. Fuchsia's feet smelled like feet.

Kablam! The rocket detonated, blasting rocks and dust all over the place, no biggie. Fuchsia had by now, already fired the second rocket, which thrusted itself through the air at such blinding speed that a blind old woman having a heart attack would be completely unable to see it. While the second rocket was in mid-air, Tomaru jumped off the platform, aiming to drop to the ground below. A clear opening. Just as the swordsman had attempted to use the fixed landing point against Fuchsia earlier, the demon child would now do the same to him. He ceased firing, and dashed forward almost immediately when Tomaru dropped, kicking forward so hard that the very ground behind him fell apart. He made a jump, intent on hitting Tomaru in mid-air before he even landed, like a living projectile. Well, sort of. He came at him roughly from a 135 degree angle, spinning like a wheel with great speed through the air, the Hellzooka now acting as the spiked club it occasionally served as, intent on smashing the swordsman down into the ground hard enough to produce a satisfying -splat- sound. Fuchsia was effectively blind at this point, due to the massive speed of which he was spinning, but unless Tomaru somehow moved while in the air, he would hit him dead on with massive force, swinging the club down on his face before he even got into the swordsman's striking range, the length of his Hellzooka serving as a counter to a potential counter.

Unrelated, and unknown to them both, the second rocket hit the statue perfectly, just as Tomaru had hoped, but did not break all the way through. It did not have to, however, as the sheer weight of the massive construction took care of the rest, tumbling forward at a slowly increasing pace. It would soon be visibly moving, before gravity would hasten it's fall.

[ruronihs]

Tomaru hadn't expected the little demon to change strategies so quickly; hell, he hadn't expected him to use the club like an actual club after all he'd seen so far. A purely physical defense would be severely damaging, even if he blocked with his sword, so he would need to orchestrate something with the Ki that he had just channeled. Tomaru's mind once again raced down the paths of all possibilities. Buffer damage... keep the advantage of close range... there was only one path that led to both. He focused the Ki into his left arm and met the oncoming bludgeon with a sharp palm thrust. His palm met with the end of the club, and upon impact the Ki erupted into a Hasaiken, a violent surge of kinetic energy capable of competing with the heavy force produced by that full-metal club. The blow likely wouldn't damage such a sturdy device, and the demon's limbs could likely absorb the impact since they were used to taking massive recoils, but it was certainly enough to halt the spin and even send it in the opposite direction so that Tomaru and Fuchsia would have landed before any more of those baneful rockets could be fired at a grounded target.

A numbing pain shot through Tomaru's arm from the impact as well. Nothing felt broken, but his muscles would need some time to recover before they could exert any real force. He hit the ground hard, but he was once again able to buffer the landing with his tail. Blood shot out of his wounded thigh, though, as the stone shard began to cut through his flesh. If his legs absorbed another impact like that, his movement would likely be hampered. And, as Fuchsia fell down to the ground, Tomaru so that the statue fas falling as well. Perfect; soon he would have some cover.

[Green]

The swing of his Hellzooka met with the surprisingly sturdy palm of Tomaru's ki-channeled strike. The sheer force of the impact knocking the two combatants away from eachother, and down to the cold, lifeless ground below. His body easily handled the recoil, and Fuchsia was too riled up to be much concerned about anything other than his enemy. Grunting, crimson fluid gushing out from his nose and mouth. Crushing pain from his broken left arm was drowned out by an immense surge of adrenaline. His heart was beating, his blood boiling. He was blacking out. In his eyes, reason and logic was no longer to be found, only pure unhindered killing instinct. Like a cornered fox, he was more dangerous than ever. Ironically, if he had kept his head cool, he would have known that the best course of action would have been to pull back, and let his opponent's leg crumble on it's own, hurling rocket after rocket until one would have made a hit and ended the match. This logic was defeated by his desire to feel Tomaru's face splatter apart under his heel. Up close and personal.

He landed. Immediately pushing down hard onto the ground with his feet, shooting forward like a blood crazed shark. His enemy would not be allowed a moment to breathe, he would be relentless in his assault, a manic nightmare. In mere moments, the distance between the two was shortened, and his club was quickly swung horizontally from his left with nothing held back. Aiming to hit the swordsman square in the chest. The gargantuan length of his weapon would still hinder potential counter-attacks, but perhaps not as much as it did previously, since movement was no longer an issue.