So Let the Flames Begin

DON'T TRUST ANYONE

Silver eyes glared hard at the scenes below her. Their owner had taken it upon herself to answer one of the world's greatest questions today, right here, right now. Glaring through the branches at the bustling crowd below, it throbbed incessantly in her head over and over again. Why were humans? And why were humans? It seemed like a nonsense question, and that was perhaps because it was. A nonsensical question for such a nonsensical creature as Yuzuki Faerydae: master of pickpockets and hypocrites.

At this point, the thought of jobs was far from her head as she swung her legs lazily behind her in the summer heat. For a street rat, she looked surprisingly well-off at the moment, chewing on some hunk of bread she had probably snitched from some poor street vendor or the other. Mussed black hair that looked to have been cut with the weapon dangling at her side was casually slung over her shoulder, taking on the guise of some odd species of lichen to those standing below. The unusual silver tips had an ethereal appearance in the sunlight, for Yuzuki was a creature of the nighttime and wasn't meant for the glaring sun. But what really gave her identity and profession away were the ragged, simple clothes on her back. Simple shades of brown and gray, they let off a scent distasteful to most of the species below, and displayed the many types of wear and tear that could be found in the world.

Pondering her question as she lazed away, she would casually flip upside-down on her branch, hanging there by her legs without a care in the world. Humans were such odd and confident creatures; they almost never looked up. Something else to add to her ever growing pile of information to solve her problem.

it may sound absurd but don't be naive

even heroes have the right to bleed

The markets always attracted hoards of people who'd crowd amongst themselves as soon as the morrow drew its first sunrise. They'd bargain with the merchants to give up their coins for better prices, goods were shipped all the way from the high seas, and the temperament of traders gloated around as they load and unload their galleons. The stalwart process of give and take was busy as ever, and everyone lined up to keep it going, everyday, even on that morning, when a stranger with a white hood gathered himself a crowd of stares as he passed by the stands.

His face was a new and foreign one, and people whispered among themselves as he dug into his pockets. But they did not stir from fear, rather, people liked to stare at odd, shiny things from afar, and he was no different. The man didn't want to acknowledge whatever they found interesting on features, be it his clothes or his uncanny glare, and he simply busied himself with his daily morning routine of picking up food for the long road ahead.

An old merchant cackled as Terith bundled several vegetables into a bag, jewels rolling across the table as the trade was dealt with. "You're quite the charmer, aren't ya son?" the old man said, sinking back into his seat as he peeled a potato with a small kitchen knife. "Everyone's got there eye on ya."

He offered the old man a quick glance, shoulders falling as his lips dug a frown into his jaw. "I'm not sure what you mean. From where I come from, I'm just your average neighborhood boy." he eased the bag over one shoulder with a huff, dusting off his knees with his free hand, "Thanks for the produce, by the way."

The merchant tossed the peeled potato idly, tipping the traveler with ten jewels and a wise smile. "Well from I come from, yer hair length is considered austere for a man. Why...it's prettier than a lady's!" he teased, earning himself a fluster despite his old cackles hallowing like white noise against the bustle of a busy market. "And yer far more welcome to drop by anytime."

Terith pressed his pale knuckles to his lips, coughing awkwardly from a dry throat. "I...well...s-sure, I guess. Anyway, good day to you, sir." he'd say, shading the glassiness in his eyes with his hood before he gestured an idle goodbye to the merchant, unable to truly meet the old man in the eye as he'd still be adjusting to his new appearance, his hair uncharacteristically rolling off his shoulders like waterfalls.

He had tried to cut it, but by the gods, it only grows back to its original length the following day.

Terith muttered something incomprehensible to strangers as he weaved himself through the crowds, something akin to cursing as he remembers her face, the image of sadism bundled into an unforgiving creature that went under the title of Priestess. How he loathed her wicked smile, since she must be laughing right now as he carried her will with a grimace. Whatever she was devising was beyond him, but an enchantment that could give him an entirely new face was uncalled for.

Yet faces are only skins attached to bone at the end of the day, and when a fire ball flies several centimeters away from his face, he'd think of how easy it was to melt it off. But he wasn't keen on adapting to those methods to get his old skin back. The flames set a neighboring fruit stand in a rush of hysteria, the old folks screaming with their wrinkled throats and the new folks fleeing the city market with horror spread across their pale faces.

Only the stranger with the white hood was left with his back to the running crowd, eyes stirring with interest as flames rained like meteors from afar. With slow, deliberate steps, he approached the center of the frenzy with one hand on his sword, his thumb edging it out of its sheath by its guard.

"...Guess I'm not the only one who wanted to cook today." he commented, watching the fire mages gathering like ants across the street, their expressions in-laid with abnormal fore-tellers of carnage.

DON'T TRUST ANYONE

Oh dear, they were getting worse. Noticing the turning of heads towards a newcomer of odd appearance, Yuzuki twitched her nose curiously, breathing in the scent of one from elsewhere. It was quite entertaining, watching his obvious discomfort and the curiosity that the people around him didn't even bother to hide. Humans... so polite and cordial one moment, but outright rude at all other times. Was it because of his woman-like hair? His inconvenient-looking garb? Perhaps the way he put potatoes into the sack wasn't quite right? Who knew with humans? It could be anything. Spacing out as the produce was paid for, the next time the semi-fey faced the world came in seconds— with quite a bang, too.

"Ah—kugaaaah! What the?" A angry yell was released from the now falling street rat, who gingerly hugged a burnt leg. As orbs of the substance Yuzuki usually found quite easy to work with soared on past, she barely found her balance in time and regained her footing. "Well, so much for a respite." A sour expression was set on her face, as she jerked Katsuki from its place on her belt. The only person remaining nearby was the stranger, and now that Yuzuki had taken a good look at him, it appeared that there seemed to be a bit of magic signature around him. Well, maybe she could just shove this mess into his hands after a few blows, eh?

As usual, with little care for strategy or victory, the creature lapsed easily into her familiar street fighting routine. It was one she had found effective against humanoids and truly monstrous beings alike, and thus, she reasoned, would work perfectly fine against fire mages. Dipping under a streak of heat, the semi-fey slammed into the ground below it, suddenly disappearing. Via the realm of shadows, she swiftly reappeared from the top of a nearby tree, slashing out at them with the spear-nunchucks.

it may sound absurd but don't be naive

even heroes have the right to bleed

He dug his heel into the ground as the crowds huddled together in waves, their faces placid with terror and their heads bowed to avoid the flames. Managing to go against the flow of the populace had proved difficult with each body that hammered its away against his shoulders. Though he'd persevere, it seemed the crowd just kept coming, flowing similarly to an overbearing sea. He hurled himself forward, one hand safely tucked into the neat folds of his belt as it grasped his blade's handle, the threaded webbing feeling rough against his calloused skin.

When the crowds dispersed indefinitely with a small leeway of space, Torian extracted his sword from the confines of its sheath, flinging it slightly with a crisp tang of metal as it rattled from the force. A flash of silver lingered there in his spot for a milisecond before disappearing, the swordsman thrown forward in a burst of blue energy, particles seething into the air as his body steadied itself at least ten meters away from the rampage, within the bastions of the thugs who played with flames. Their faces would skew in surprise, only to tilt into smug expressions. He could smell the burning odor of smoke, roaring flames eating up half a stand of corn beside him.

To his right, the hooded stranger noticed a strange, red-headed figure, whose expression showed quite the grievance to have been stuck into the nuisances of troublemakers. She'd pry an interesting weapon from her hip, generating a whirl of sharp strikes as her figure retreated almost indefinitely into nothingness before appearing atop a tree. Holding back his bemusement at her lack of tactical precision, he briefly thought if there were any possibility that this new individual will be of any help to him as he narrowly dodged her messy attacks that had him caught up in the fray.

Torian remembered once, in a distant battle that took place months prior, where a fire user was quick to burn his leg into a near-catatonic state if it weren't for his healing ability. He was prepared to not make that mistake again, this time stronger, better, his skills sharpened on a whetstone. He idly spun his sword, fixing himself into a special stance as his target's fingers cracked with fire-red embers, trying to manage their new adversary with their armada focusing on their offense, which came about negatively for them, what with several of their men regrettably falling into an injured state after failing to block the strange woman's attacks. His presence would begin to pulse in a flurry of sea-blue particles, disappearing from the space as he slipped underneath the red-headed woman's fury thanks to Danzo's benevolent silence, where his figure seemed to melt into a position behind the men that gathered before him.

'...That was a close one.' he thought, adjusting his footing to accommodate the shift in surface as he stood atop a tree branch that sat parallel to the girl's frantic figure.

Status:

DON'T TRUST ANYONE

Out of the corner of those eyes that wished ill will on every person about her, the semi-fey would observe the stranger, his fighting style, anyhow much of a threat he would pose to her. This was a thing she found rather useful about her fighting strategy, for she didn't have to pay as much attention to the battle itself and could use her extensive senses to their full capability. His movements, easy and relaxed showed much experience with the weapon, and his style was one that was unique, but still showed much thinking and strategy. It had been along time since Yuzuki had battled with a sword or katana, anything of that sort, so she might be a little rusty in her knowledge. Still, she adapted to weapons easily, for it was something extremely important to her current lifestyle.

Sensing his magical signature pulsing slowly in preparation behind her, Yuzuki leapt into another act of offense, surprisingly powerful arms whipping the silvery chains about her, bringing with it the deadly blade. Releasing one of the hands that gripped the metallic surface, Katsuki was whipped about, forcing a roof fire mages backwards. However, one particularly pesky one hurled fireball at her, nailing her squarely on the shoulder. Cursing in a slang that was used often in Talonia where Yuzuki had grow up, she unleashed her fury upon the irritating man who had dared to hurl her own mastered element at her. Catching a whiff of the man's scent begin her, she would ignore it for now, charging onwards.

Gathering her magical energy about her, the semi-fey released the silvery strands of moonlight, causing them to shimmer and swirl in the light of the sun and fire. Bursting into silver flames, sh slashed the threads across the ranks of men, focusing on the one who had offended her. Interesting, how such a street rat acted like royalty so much of the time. Some of the fire mages had been quick enough to pull up shields to protect themselves from the attack, but Yuzuki found satisfactorily that the one she had been aiming for was now on the ground, either unconscious or dead. After so many years of doing these things, the semi-fey was no longer shy about dealing maximum damage, including death to an opponent. True, life was precious, but there were too many pesky humans to be precious anymore.

Hopping back, she would survey her work with approval for a second before going back into the fray, now caught up in the thrill battle.

it may sound absurd but don't be naive

even heroes have the right to bleed

The swordsman would watch the various fires scatter through his brazen stare, the heat of the fight causing the panic to further into disarray with scorched streets and the screams ensued by burning skin. The strange girl had certainly proved her worth by assuming a certain level of vengeance against the a man who was unfortunate to hurdle his fireball her way, and though he wasn't born with a sense to judge things simply by his assumptions, he briefly wondered if her moral compass was slightly askew. Perhaps it bothered him, but he wasn't a man of idealistic thinking to force her to adapt a new lifestyle.  His plans were but minimizing any sort of interaction with the girl, avoiding the process of association with a shady figure like her unless the situation beckoned him to propose a minor coup-de-etat. He'd play along then, but it wasn't necessary to feign camaraderie now. What mattered was the extinguishing of the fire fiends with minor casualties.

To him, why, was a tangible question in his head, floating amongst his thoughts. The answer, however, wasn't very clear. Terith just had a gut feeling that the possibility of coming to terms with her type of personality were slim, and he seemed to trust that notion with a click to his weapon, fixing into a familiar stance with one leg edged behind him, his arms in a rigid curve and his face devoid of any sort of expression but focus. His glare was intense as a crease formed over his brow, defining his targets and their locations across the open roads of the Oak Town markets. There had been a small group of men over to one corner that seemed to offer no repose for a local vegetable stand,  their respective elements causing it to burst up in flames with nothing less than proud laughter bellowing from their stomachs.

A spur of magic engulfed his legs as he took his first initiative, the bounds of an activated Himizu pulling his body into a spontaneous dashing movement that had him effectively closed in on his target in a given second. In his head, he'd conjure several ghost copies of his etherblade with the help of the spirit Masamune, who seemed gleeful enough to provide five of them while they hovered over the group of boisterous fire mages. His weapon would curve back, a silent conversation composed of nods and hushed gestures as he called upon Hijikata's aid. The spirit was a common presence at Terith's Chronicle nowadays, since the swordsman saw his inspiration as something incredibly effective against crowds and scattered targets. It was just the condescending attitude of his that mainly had the (formerly) blonde traveler at the edge of his wits.

His backlash seemed to have been received nicely, in a sense that the sharp end of Yamanbagiri pierced through their thin clothing like a knife to paper almost immediately after the men felt a sharp sting slither up their backs after each one was punctured by the ghost copies. A bunch of flustered groans spun against his ear drums as his near-intangible figure jumped into the fray with as little sound as possible, where the only distinction of his attack was the specks of blue that outlined his swings. The blur of Hikijata's Hirazuki spun his figure around them decisively, sinking his blade into their skins with the element of surprise being his prime engagement against the flames that crackled at their fingertips. Had he not aimed the weaker blades at the group, then perhaps the Shinesungumi captain's effort would have all been in vain.

One of the men had tried to reach out at his invading tactic with a gush of flame from his right arm, the flourish spreading across a cone shaped area. His fellowmen seemed to take to his attack with the same instinct, bundling their sleeves and slinging their streams of fire at the swordsman, trying their best to sustain their injuries as they blindly chugged their spells at the area around them. The attack was surprisingly tailored to create a field of fire around them, rendering their surroundings impossible to penetrate with simple sword tricks alone, and inevitably trapping him in a whirlwind of fire. Clever of a strategy it was, it wasn't enough to project significant harm unto him (apart from being lightly scorched), not then, when he had been observant of their movements from the very beginning. His legs kicked off the pavement, wind gathering beneath his soles as he called out to Yasusada to manage the Threshold. The black-haired spirit spared him a gruff huff of amusement, sliding his hands into the spaces in his sleeves before powering his existence to maximize his vessel's jumping height.

'Heh.' Yasusada breathed, stretching his ethereal limbs as if he hadn't been out in a very long time.

'Memento Mori!' the swordsman urged, then, sensing the air beneath his feet as his body began its descent. The thought opted a groan from Hattori Hanzo, his existence wriggling about amongst the fibers of Terith's white sheet. '...Fine.' he lazily said, clicking his fingers without so much as a second thought before resolving to resume his sleep. In a matter of urgency, the swordsman didn't question Hanzo's uncharacteristic willingness to offer the Resilience that easily, so he simply took to it with a grain of salt, gritting his teeth as a familiar pain singed into his nerves, the black padding of Hanzo's armor breathing a new found tactic into the cockles of his soul.

"Thought I was done for, huh?" he mumbled, digging his hand beneath his hip in a move to sheathe his weapon.

The flames seemed to disperse as his body landed sharply at the epicenter of everything, and, when he pried his blade from its scabbard, the goons too, had found themselves scattering as a pulse-like force disrupted whatever sort of movement they were supposed to make prior to it. Several bodies were hurdled into random obstacles, some visibly slipping into an unconscious state, while others limped about as the impact caused their wounds to widen just a bit further. Looking around him, he'd count a total of five heads, but if his memory served him well, there'd have to be several more.

So...where were they?

Notes:

DON'T TRUST ANYONE

Ah, yes. This was what she was meant to do. How long had it been since she had last let her blade swing around in such deadly swoops? How long had it been since she had seen that dumbfounded expression on the faces of such lowlife as they realized too late that she was no normal pickpocket? A merry laugh burst from her lips, innocent as a child's as her elfin boot planted it's metal heel into someone's face, knocking them aside as she blocked a stream of fire from yet another mage by quickly snapping Katsuki back into spear form. And in a way, the fey were very much like children. Being the immortal things they were, the snuffing of a life had never held as much weight to the species overall as it did to those who knew death so well.

True, Yuzuki, being only partially of fey heritage was no immortal; only a being with an extended lifespan and slower aging. Yet still, this was nothing that pierced her heart or affected her much emotionally. Humans would reproduce, spawn new humans, and destroy all the other species in the end with their unfair advantages. Such was her view of the world.

Hearing the whoosh of flames as they discovered a new meal, the semi-fey whipped her head about in alarm, narrowing brilliant eyes in anger at the sight she beheld. How dare they? Filthy pigs, with no respect for the greatness that kept one alive! Not a single thought for those that could have benefited from the bounty they had just destroyed with such a sacred element! A feral shout exploding from her lungs, Yuzuki shoved two men aside with a fierce lash of her spear. Oh no they didn't... Well, they did. They burned food. Nope, nope, nope.

If this was a creature of words, now would be the time she exploded into a long and angry ranting lecture on how important food was and how only the lowest of the low could possibly burn and thus destroy the beautiful bounty that this vegetable cart could have provided. But alas, Yuzuki was one of action, and a vengeful thing at that. This was very unfortunate for the culprits. A magnificent sight she was, an itty bitty thing of a semi-fey, blade singing with fierce joy, rags flying about her, yelling the most obscene of profanities falling from the sky. Ropes of moonfire lashed out from the tattoo engraved on her arm, weaving out the illusory shapes of two silvery wolves. Pouncing upon the fire mages, fire battled against fire with Yuzuki's furious form in the midst of it. Burns? Cuts? Scrapes? Nothing to her, as long as it wasn't fatal.

In the end, she stumbled out, weary but triumphant. The food-wasters had been punished! By then, the strange swordsman had finished his own fight there, and was looking about in what seemed to be confusion. Hm? What was he so concerned about? Ah...

Leaning to a side, Yuzuki could feel the tremors in the ground from the light pressure of feet walking upon it. Seeing as neither she nor the strange swordsman was moving, there had to be others approaching. "Prolly some big boss fire guy coming to see how badly his goons flunked this un up," the girl said with a yawn, letting a trickle of moonfire through her fingers to heal her wounds. As the figure came into view, Yuzuki froze, for the increase in power was as much more then the previous few. Who was this?

it may sound absurd but don't be naive

even heroes have the right to bleed

Though she was methodical, restraint didn't seem to a practiced thing in the girl's manner of fight. Her style was a reminiscent of revenge being told through the edge of her weapon, cleanly hacking through her targets' bodies like knives to paper-thin figures. His position had been a little under two meters away from her advancing form and yet, the swordsman could still spot her lightly colored flames arching with a malice. She was peculiar and ruthless to the plain eye, but her magic had the attention of his strange way of putting things, refined by his time staring at his sister's obscure paintings.

He was no poetic a man, but he certainly withheld the ability to compare things in a poetic manner. In his head, he'd see her strokes of light(...or was it fire?) as something alluring, elegant, almost, had it not been for the way she executed her attacks. The swordsman wasn't too confident that he could spare a few seconds before they'd part to share his sentiments, so there was little to be given but his take on a ghost smile, tipping his lips behind the shadows of his hair. At his waist, his knuckles would only pale as he tightened his grip around his weapon's handle, feeling the energies vibrate at alarming speeds as if announcing the arrival of a threat. He'd tilt his head back in response, catching the heat of a furious flame from the corner of his eyes. Approaching them was a man in an impressive red cloak, sporting a malefic aura about him as he walked through the wreckage on crumbly steps. Terith would bite at his lip, slightly, none the foreign to the crazed look in his wide eyes and his grin that knitted insanity unto his pale face.

He was mad, lost, unsatisfied by simple carnage, and his glare settled atop the cowering civilians, hiding behind scattered barrels.

"He...he...hehehe...." came his unimpressed chuckle, the point of his boot meeting the skull of of one of his fallen croonies in frustration, tossing his body back into a nearby rubble pile with very little concern for the agonized groan of his comrade. "Useless, all of you!" he screamed, his rage consuming him like the flames that threatened to devour his entire body the more his emotions flared. "You know how you get a job done? You don't hold back!"

The crisp snap of his fingers ensued the creation of two fire balls sitting idly atop his hands;  one for each set of citizens that took shelter on the left and right corner of the streets, no doubt, which stirred several unwarranted emotions up in Terith's little head. And, without much thought, the swordsman could only sprint, haphazardly appealing to the spirit of Fujibayashi with the matter of life and death and his driving reason. The masked imprint responded to the notion, fair enough, breathing in the necessary inspiration that his vessel needed to perform the Himizu with efficiency.

"Be wary, vessel, this one could cause you dangerous injuries." Fuji whispered, sparks of blue seeping beneath Terith's heel as his words ended with a steady breath. It must've been foolish to blindly move toward the enemies aim to spare lives, only to sacrifice part of his sanity to an absurd amount of pain. But....he didn't care, his body was moving of it's accord, an act of pure will, and nothing short of pseudo-heroism, maybe.

Terith inhaled sharply as he allowed himself to be taken by the Himizu dash, sending his body forward at a rapid clip, hands grasping towards the frightened batch of people who were about to get burned alive. "Watch out!" he pleaded, his eyes urging them to get away as the frenzied fire-make wizard hurdled a large, five meter fire ball at their location.

"Run!"

DON'T TRUST ANYONE

Perhaps surprisingly, Yuzuki paid no particular attention to the mental state of the new opponent, for what was there to care about the hunk of gray matter in one's head? When she fought, all she needed to worry about was how the opponent's body moved, how the opponent dipped and curved as she dipped and curved after them. All she needed within her mind was raw emotion, a strong will to propel her body forward and it would do the rest. Weren't things so easy that way? So simple? Why worry yourself over technique and strategy if all you had to do was charge, and pray to the god known as yourself? And truly, truly, what God could there possibly be in the world besides yourself? After all, you were the one controlling yourself - at least it was so in Yuzuki's world.

However, if you weren't currently the own god of yourself, then what sort of enemy were you? Such was what drifted lightly through the semi-fey's mind as she stared hard at the mage, blowing away the thought on a whisper of wind. For if the man before her, crushing the head of a fallen comrade wasn't in control of his own self, what power did he have? It would be a simple opponent to defeat who had someone else doing the dancing for him. These words... they were all meaningless as they were apt from that filthy pig mouth of his, mind no longer concentrated in the real world, this world of sensory and ground. Fire flickered blankly, emptily around the shell, and Yuzuki let her own tattoo start up a pulsating glow of silvery flames. Too easy.

Fireballs were quickly launched from his fingers, but oh how embarrassing! Were they honestly aimed at those of his own species instead of his true opponents? Stupid, that was the only possible way to describe the once-frightening man. Ignoring the strange swoydsman's alarmed cries that were started up behind her, since you have to stop a problem at its souce, she let instinct take over. The lithe body swished through a shadow, basketball hitting nothing but net, and silver threads tugged Yuzuki from the shadow the fire mage himself cast. A quick hiss at the sudden heat was barely audible, before treads had. woven themselves tightly over his head in a dome of pure moonlight.

As the fire mage cackled with glee, forming another few orbs of mass destruction, sudden little specks of light began their barrage upon the flaming man, sitting him all over with darts of the concentrated matter. While it was true that the semi-fey preferred close combat compared to little spells like these where she could keep well away for damage to find their target, she did keep a few on hand. And naturally, she planned not on leaving the fun all to some pre-arranged spells! A wrap of moonlight, much like a bodysuit of treads snapped taut around her body and she entered in a whirl of insults, boots, and sharp metal things.

Immediately, much to her dismay and anger, Yuzuki was almost instantly thrown out again by twin balls of flaming malice hurled her way. "Why you-" An angry yell rose in crescendo, her mind oblivious to the task at hand, which was to save the citizens. A rather reckless charge into the flames was done once more, blades spinning and mouth in need of much soap. If someone without self-control managed to beat her own battle, never again would she be able to see eye to eye with herself.

it may sound absurd but don't be naive

even heroes have the right to bleed

Mercy was a hard thing to come by when placed at the foot of danger's threshold, this much he knew, for luck was hardly his forte sometimes. But by some small amount of benevolence from whatever outside force was working on him then, it seemed his efforts to act were paid back in kind. Just at the tip of his fingers brushed the sensation of cold, wrinkled hands grasping at his skin, clinging unto him desperately, as if aware of the price that the old man might pay with his life. The swordsman curled an arm over his back, deftly lifting his crumpled form off the ground in the blur of an instance. The sound of fire was a harsh, burning crackle hitting pavement as it it missed it's target, and Terith could only barely mutter strings of several obscenities with his labored breath. Narrowly dodging a mouth full of embers was one thing, but exhausting another attempt at Danzo's Tejun was something else entirely, especially then, where his focus was slightly rattled by panic.

As the spell closed, the swordsman bent at the knee, settling the shaken old fellow at the base of a tree, ways off from the initial site of damage. It had been in the last few centimeters that he decided to cast his teleport, just as the flames started to nip at the bottom of his boots for having been a few seconds to late to dodge them perfectly. The old man's lips cowered as he mouthed an apology, along with his own side of gratefulness. Though the formalities were skipped with Terith's haste for caution, gesturing the man to take his leave immediately, his expression firm under the sunlight.

"Please. Run as far away as possible. We'll deal with this."

Satisfied with his warning, Terith would usher the civilian a brief farewell, turning heel to acknowledge the flaming threat, who was obviously out of his normal state of mind by his hysterical laughs alone. The streets were marred in soot, and the establishments were rattled significantly, but more striking was the amount scattered bodies, all subordinates who've fallen victim for serving a mad man. He'd have pitied them, if not for the truth in the damage they caused. Though his morals were somewhat upright, he had no room for sympathizing with foolish men who brought about their own end.

His weapon made an audible click as he moved to fix his stance, the sharp of his blade parallel to an outstretched arm. He hadn't made use of this position a while, mainly because the spirit involved was difficult to converse with at points. Rationally, however, he was the best for a single target.

Through the gaps in his hair, he'd spot the strange, elven-like girl display her attacks with persistence, and very little moderation for the power she elicited with each pensive strike. His method of attack was more relaxed in comparison to her's, but he wasn't a man to judge someone else's battle preferences, much less a lady's.

'You're quite the softie, aren't you, Teri-boy?' the spirit Souji said, his voice filled with glee as he reveled in the feeling of being summoned.

Terith curved a fine eyebrow in response, resisting the urge to argue with the dead man. 'Quit it, Souji, this is serious.'

Okita Souji rose his arms in defense, shrugging on after as he tucked his hands into the holes of his sleeves, a habit he had yet to break, even after death. 'Right, right, gotta impress the ladies.'

'I swear Souji I will-'

Click came the sound of Souji snapping his fingers, the energy fizzing through his veins like a strong dose of a foreign drug. Terith's chest heaved as he did his best to manage the sensation that threatened to drive him over the edge. He never did like using Souji, for all the wrong reasons, but more so was because of how painful it was to have his inspiration be used. It felt like it was crushing at his lungs, building pressure there, making him gag slightly as if he could throw up blood at any given time.

'Go crazy, then.'

Still, he had to make the most of it.

Stats:

DON'T TRUST ANYONE

It was never a great feeling, to be working with a heroic person. Being the most un-heroic person she knew, Yuzuki considered her personality to be one greatly clashing with the category of person. Oh, there were many things about “heroes” that disagreed with the semi-fey, but the most annoying was probably how much they wanted to save people. People around them. As they were fighting. The mysterious swordsman, no matter how mysterious he looked, was no different. Through her lowered lashes, Yuzuki caught a glimpse of the long black tresses flying out behind Terith as he brought some old human out of the way. Had it been her, the man would be dead by now. Elders would die soon anyways, right? Why try to save them?

Muttering beneath her breath at that brief distraction, Yuzuki bolstered her strength with a deep breath of air, slowly letting it gust out through her charge. This guy was going down, whether he liked it or not. The sprightly figure let her silver gaze sweep across her target, fixating upon those hands. If the fireballs had come from there… A brisk movement of her barely existent wings, and she was brought up far above the fire mage’s head. As planned, his head swung up, hands turning to aim for a target in the sky. Pulling herself short in one sudden, sharp movement, Yuzuki plummeted like a rock without the support of her wings. Using the weight of her weapon to speed the process, she slid right past the exploding balls of flame, landing neatly before him, no less than a foot away. In one brisk movement, the spear point was roughly thrusted towards his chest, a burst of fiery moonlight accenting the attack.

In an instant, that creepy expression had been shoved back in her face, the leering grin wild as fire was pushed back at her. Leaping upwards as a burst of the real stuff was shoved forth away from him, a satisfied grin came over her face as she saw that her blow had indeed placed some damage. Not too bad… Casually, her face angled away towards where the hero was, an aura of energy slowly surrounding him. Well, it appeared as though he was going to return to the main fight. A brief recovery breath was taken, silvery eyes watching in careful anticipation as the fire mage cast his hands towards the crowd again. It seemed his main mission was terrorism. However, she could make this into an advantage, couldn’t she? For now, his hands were away, face angled towards the people. She was out of his focus.

As usual, without putting that much thought into the deep stuff, she charged towards him again, energy seemingly endless when it came to the combat she so loved. In her world, battle was something that you weren’t allowed to think too much about. If you had too much on your mind, you thought too slowly and you hesitated. Here, she was thinking faster than the fire mage, because he had multiple focuses. He had to think about terrorizing, the swordsman, and herself. Meanwhile, she only had one goal in her mind, speeding things up all too much. Easym things would be.

it may sound absurd but don't be naive

even heroes have the right to bleed

The small reserve of power that Souji's little stunt seemed to grant did many a wonder to his otherwise untrained body, regardless of the persistent hacking sensation at the base of his lungs that made each breath just a bit rougher than a throaty groan. A propelling force would extend from his lower leg to the base of his boot, causing his figure to dash forward as he exhausted most of his willpower to fuel his sprinting. A few meters in, and Terith would already acknowledge his female counterpart in that fight from his slowly nearing vantage point, where her spearhead did some significant damage in its effort to carve holes into the fire mage's chest. The former blonde watched his fire-y form bend at a knee as the pain crippled him even further so, but his persistent smile was gnawing deeply into his cheekbones, implying that he wasn't the least bit bothered by the amount of blood that pooled at his fingertips as he raised them back at the dispersing crowds.

Perhaps he had been so far gone that he easily mistook his own scarlet for someone else's red -which was none the pleasing, for it only proved that he was beyond saving.

The swordsman edged a heel down unto the pavement with a different tempo this time, feeling the energies in his sword shift slightly in anticipation of the strike he'd be rendering. His arms stiffened into a particular stance, his weapon following the motion of his muscles as it sharply tore through the air a backward pull. Then, with a breath, he'd thrust inward, flaying the skin atop the mage's shoulder and leaving a large gash that traveled down the length of his exposed back. The Sandanzuki immediately flared into the enemy's being, working its way through his flesh as three similar cuts dug deep scars into his neck and other shoulder, drawing blood. Through the blurring noise of the ruckus beyond him and the hurried sounds of civilians fleeing, it seems that his opponent's scream was but muted in vain, where his bruised lips opened in a foreboding sign of pain and...glee?

Terith's expression visibly dimmed as the man twisted his wrists, snapping his fingers to a beat that meant danger, trouble, spoke death in the very way the ground shook and how a bubbling heat began to mark sweat trails across his temple. In his moment of confusion, Terith would crinkle his brow, only to have his pupils dilate in horror as realization passed him in the form of an outburst of flames from the skies above, raining like arrows as they curved their direction to a running group of civilians.

'CRAP!' his mind urged, the swordsman's first instinct reacting with the casting of Danjo's Tejun for the umpteenth time that day.

"Khh!" he'd have screamed, his body scooping up a child whose short legs would've betrayed her severely had it not been for his effort to take the blow for her. Up on his back, remnants of a bold flame burned marks into his skin, making his knuckles pale as he grasped unto the girl's cowering form. His chest tingled a little as the child grasped at his clothes with small fingers, her face marred slightly with sweat, dirt and rolling tears.

"...I...I'm fine." he whispered to her, resting her fragile body at the base of the market's entrance. "But...it's dangerous here. So please, go find some place safe, far from here, and don't turn back."

Her tears were thick with fear, and in an attempt to produce some semblance of reassurance, he gave her a grin and a ginger pat to her head, ruffling her pigtails and skewing them further. She returned his smile almost immediately, and would roll her legs upwards as she made a move to escape, where her shadow seem to disappear as she rounded a corner at a rapid clip.

The swordsman breathed in sharply, shakily casting his Eiko as he pitifully relished the sensation of third degree burns being healed by a wash of relief. There was only little that he wouldn't give for this little farce to end as soon as possible.

NOTES:

DON'T TRUST ANYONE

The swordsman decided to actually do something with his sword for once, or so it seemed to the simple-minded creature. Skillful balance and careful sensing of his surroundings was something that flickered through the tinier, more precise movements required in such footwork, and the semi-fey couldn’t help but be impressed. This was someone who knew what he was doing. Slipping to the side to allow him to do his thing, she waited for the silvery blade to pierce flesh, drawing crimson curves down the terrorist’s back. However, much to the man’s dismay that slapped itself across the fair-skinned face, a quick retaliation burst free of the wretched creature, fiery arrows raining upon the area. Once more, the swordsman became useless, formerly precise and graceful technique dropping to low levels in order to rescue some human child who had nearly put herself in way of harm. The flames graced his skin, charring the surface, and Yuzuki shook her head with a sigh. So stupid, all of them.

Then, with this gesture, she paused. There had been a time where she perhaps would have done something similar, wouldn’t she? The time when the pompous angel creature had decided to make her his pet project, instilling within her a temporary softness of heart that she regretted to this day. The idiot had been no better than the others in the end, leaving the semi-fey alone where she should be. It was to her, a loud and clear signal not to poke her head into the business of all them wealthy humans and other nasty creatures that piled up in the dustiest corners of the globe. A toss of the roughly cut head flicked the uncomfortable thoughts into oblivion, chains lashing about as she entered the whirl of fire that the mage now seemed to have surrounded himself in. He was going to die today, this wretch.

Flicking her arm to the side, Yuzuki exposed her arm to the light, forcing the tattoo to absorb the rough and chalky solar energy. A soft grunt was forced from her lips at the discomfort, but she brushed it off easily with her usual grin slicing across her face once more. Bursting forth in a whirl of familiar silvery threads, an exact replica of the grinning semi-fey released a chuckle of her own behind the fire mage. Leaping at the target in their center, the two Yuzuki’s aiming their blades at his face. As expected, hesitation was obvious in his movement, pausing for a moment to decide whether he was to defend against two brats with spears or to hurl more fire at the citizens. However, the semi-fey was deemed more important, and the mage whipped his flaming fists away from the crowds to send twin pillars of flame at both. Allowing the illusion to take the blow, Yuzuki slipped through a nearby shadow unharmed, popping out in the fire mage’s shadow instead.

With her arrival, the force with which she was propelled from the darkened area knocked the mage backwards, landing hard on the ground. Her ploy had worked! Immediately, silver lashed through the air, pushing hard against his defenses of flame. As long as she kept the man on the ground though, she knew that the swordsman would hopefully be able to slip his sword through the small openings that popped up every here and there. “Oi, Sir Hairy, care to be of some use?” The call pierced the air clearly despite the sparring pair as Yuzuki reluctantly called out for help. “I’mma open up a space for you to come in ‘n finish ‘em off, yeah?”

Sweeping the blade around quickly, Yuzuki crouched in a swift and sudden movement, bringing the chains swirling around her in a blinding storm of sharp edges. Light flared outwards from the whirl, dispersing the flames. “Go!”

it may sound absurd but don't be naive

even heroes have the right to bleed

'Useless.'

'What?'

'I've had enough of you.'

'.....!'

Terith liked to think that among the pile of dead men that floated through his thoughts ever so often, his basic instincts were no less polished and decent, that he was hardly the type to be so easily overcome by primal urges. So it was easy to justify how distraught he was as he scampered unto his two feet, physically feeling his control slithering between the gaps in his fingers, causing his weapon to shake and writhe in his sweaty palm. His vision had been askew, and nothing remained of it but a tense and consistent blur of color regardless of the number of times he attempted to blink away the haze. Sounds that wafted past were clogged, as if he were submerged in water and he was barely breathing. The rapture of his pulse was perhaps the only vivid thing that his mind was allowed to register. His jaw was lax, and he could feel his movements stilling. But the world around him continued to move, almost as if he was simply a spectator to a battle.

Then, as he felt the weight of his blade rise, the swordsman's heart reacted with a jolt, stirring his conscience awake from the daze it was a few seconds prior. The injury he sustained no longer pained him to an extent, and yet he could still describe the sensation of  his arm pulling back and his legs stretching as his body ran, somewhere north, no doubt towards the epicenter of the action. What kind of expression was he making? The fact that he had no recollection of moving forward, much less have that much killing intent, notably alarmed him. The notion sent warning sirens through his soul, and visibly he struggled, but there was a weight on him, something like gravity, that pushed him back despite his insistent effort to regain control. 'A separate personality' was far from plausible, what was closer to the truth, in fact, was the scariest.

'...A separate entity.' he thought, his words echoing in melancholy, bouncing off the dark walls of his confined conscience.

What caused the shift in psyche? And more importantly, why does it exist? Terith hadn't hope to encounter that question in his short lifespan. But just stating the question once was enough to inject fair amounts of despair around him. A hopeless aura prodded at him as he was forced to watch his body take the woman's advice, responding with little complaint to her request for him to 'finish 'em off'. A familiar sense of wind cutting at his clothes racked him, strands of ebony spreading as the entity forced air beneath his boots, Terith's body being sent air-borne. The swordsman saw the dance of flames at the bottom, weaving through the space in bright red arcs. Then, it dispersed, signifying the opportunity he was supposed to take advantage of. He saw a body free-falling backward as his defenses crumbled, and it was hardly a few seconds later when he realized the entity's intentions.

If his sword had been true to Terith, it would only cause a pain enough to knock him out of commission, a heal-able pain, tolerable and forgiving. But that...really wasn't the case then, much to the blonde's horror. Instead, the entity had the sharp end of his sword tilted to a dangerous angle -downward. With his body's descent, the swordsman could feel the soft squelch of muscle and the crack of bone as his blade pierced the center of his victim's chest, ensuing a gargled scream as blood rose to his throat, leaking from his lips like an open faucet. The man's heart gave one last miserable thump before stopping, the metal of his weapon sinking further despite the fresh death heavily clouding the corpse.

Up came the blade, pulled from the hilt, only to draw a fountain of red from the opening it created. The liquid pooled over the streets, crying out to the earth, perhaps, but that hardly mattered to the entity. In fact, it wasn't even satisfied. It lurched Terith's sword arm forward, thrusting the tip into the man's left eye socket. The body reacted with a jolt, and it shook a little as the entity ripped the fleshy piece of eye from its hole, the flesh that kept it where it was creating a crisp ripping sound. His sword was later flung back, whipping the blood off it's body. The entity peeled the eyeball off the weapon's tip, discarding it to the street and pulverizing it beneath the material of his boot. Then, with little respect for the dead, it approached the corpse again, sticking Terith's sword back into the remaining eye socket. It wasn't content with simply one pierce, and hence, kept thrusting at the eye, immediately reducing it to a soup-like consistency with little effort.

Terith knew he had been screaming all this time, thrashing against whatever restraint was there. But his voice reached no one, and his struggle did nothing significant but tire him. Was this truly where his soul would end? Where a malicious force pushed him back into the corner of his mind? What kind of sick, tragic ending was that?

Then, as if it benevolence composed of black hair and glassy green eyes, he could feel a sensation climbing at his back, sinking into his shoulder and softly, ever softly, dragging him from the void that enclosed him. His eyes were open to an area where light made the bulk of everything. There was nothing, but there was light. It was a strange sensation to be there.

A voice lingered around the corner, somewhat fragile, pleading even, as the fleeting feeling of a butterfly's kiss was placed atop his temple.

'Wake up...please.'

And all at once, whatever curse that afflicted him simply ceased, his conscience steadying back into the cockles of his brain. At his hand was a blade heavily matted in blood, but that didn't surprise him knowing fully well what had happened under the entity's influence. What took him back, however, was how his usual face was back. His blonde mop was back in place of the long strands of black, and gone were the stained oriental clothes. Instead, the familiar feeling of his cloak was there, softly laid unto his stiff shoulders.

He turned around, realizing the girl he'd been fighting with was still present. He gave her a troubled expression, expressing his regret in the way he scowled, visibly loathing the inhumane display before opting to call the spirit Chiyome, who in turn responded with a platonic expression. With a click to her fingers, his figure would waver and all but ebb into nothingness as he casted the Tejun for one last time.

Escape and retribution, perhaps, was all he needed then.