OoC: You never fail to impress. You've got this tournament in the bag.

BiC: Building a barrier obliquely forward. Using Desolation, that’s exactly what Fuzen did. A sand shield that hid the whole of his body lowered forwardly, inch by inch unveiling another portion of the half demon’s figure. Bending his wrist slightly, he gently moved his sword upwards. The edge pushed the shifting sands away, dropping them at an angle towards the nearest chunk. Nearly as slow as they would have moved in their native desert, the grains flattened out and touched foundation just beneath the guardian’s toes. Nothing was in the way, as the opposing man had retracted his spear. Without looking any less ready to strike, he rested his pole and shield. Strangely, he seemed undaunted by the sands that could have potentially reached out and constricted him to death. But no, they merely formed a definite shape and hardened into a bridge connecting the two round platforms.

“Was I really that obvious?” the fallen god inquired, not trying to hide, although never breaking his view of the enemy, that he was talking down to what looked like an inanimate object. Yes, Ijinken responded, projecting the thought to both of the warriors on a silent command from its wielder. Perceiving that one word response, the guardian’s expression changed, for a few moments becoming like it was when he first laid eyes on the Desolation Shield. Since the voice of the Tsurugikami came as if from nowhere, all those who were born without extra sensory perception normally displayed the same reaction. As it were, they weren’t used to hearing voices in their heads.

Unable to move quickly enough to take advantage of the temporary state of disbelief his opponent was in, Fuzen simply smiled and took in the strategy his sword fed to him. Another second‘s worth of stalling, and he would have a satisfactory opening offensive set up. “Well then,” he continued, this time staring directly into the bright, firm eyes of the guardian, “I’ll have to work on making my mannerisms less recognizable.”

With the last sarcastic syllable, the half demon leapt backwards, nearly performing a back flip as he floated towards the black wall. Taking the oh so opportune chance he had been given, the opposing man charged forward, eager to run his weapon through his vulnerable opponent as he jumped away from his defensive sand. However, his very first step landed on the bridge, which crumbled away the instant his foot made contact with it. Tripping forward, he landed on his chest, making the sound of a rusty joint as his armor scraped against the sandstone. Seeing the downed guardian, the fallen god raised Ijinken over his head, in an aerial pose that telegraphed a pounce onto an unsuspecting target. Using his free hand, he gripped the jar on his belt, and the string of sand that ran from it to the chunk went taut. In a shaky motion, the string rapidly pulled him back down.

Most of the time, in the midst of battle, it wasn’t always the better man that came out on top. Indeed, victory went often to the more resourceful warrior. Though there was a clear, if not blatantly obvious, limit to what Fuzen’s body could do for him, he took unnecessary risks to intimidate toy with his opponents. And why not? He had well beyond twice, perhaps even triple or quadruple, the resources of a normal man. Amongst those resources were the God of Desert Warfare, near irresistible charm, and an entire extra body to take risks with. Plenty ways to claim victory on the battle field. However, the word most was meant to be stressed. Sometimes, the battle went to the plain and simple, better man.

Striking a stylish pose, the fallen god brought his weapon down upon the opposing man that lay at his feet. Attack met with Defense as the moonlit edge bit into the ‘T’ marked shield of the downed warrior. Thinking of nothing more than the sense of dominance he felt, Fuzen just stood, locked in place like a statue, pressing against the shield. He donned an insane smile, unaware of the small disadvantage he had placed himself in. With a swift swing, the guardian brought up his weapon, striking the half demon right between the legs with the shaft of his spear. That time, Ijinken wasn’t fast enough to summon the sand. Although, as soon as he felt the pressure, he turned demon, avoiding the pain, but leaving his other form with a very uncomfortable injury.

Enraged, he thrust his free claw into the chunk, trapping his opponent’s spear between the blades. Smiling insanely once again, he began to drool with excitement. Unfortunately, he put himself into yet another bad situation. Without the chance of his weapon falling away, the opposing man let go of the bladed pole and tightly balled his fist. Getting in the best swing he could in his position, he struck fallen god on the chin, knocking him back onto his feet and then onto his rear. Free of the grips, the guardian retook his weapon and began to pull himself up. But, with a crack and the sound of rustling leaves, the piece of bridge, on which his body rested, snapped in half. As armed as he was, he couldn’t get a solid grip, and he fell down to the model of the moon below.

Having unexpectedly suffered at the hands of his opposition, Fuzen made a hasty retreat. “Alright,” he snarled as he jumped from chunk to chunk, making his way to the very center of the astral room, “It’s going to be so satisfying to see you die.” One might have said he was desperate after hearing such a thing, but that was not the case. He was filled with the excitement of blood lust.

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Shisho, Kawaii, Fuzen, Ijinken, Neko, Sukoshi, Dreamer, Miss Spider, and Black Shisho.
Char Fic: The Song of Healing and Mask of the Black Truth and Gaiden.
Signature and Avatar made by Lady Knives.