Match of the Millennium

Description: For weeks, no one bothered to respond to the apparent rebirth of an old Japanese deity in the body of a young miko despite her very public apotheosis. It was starting to look to Suzaku like she wasn't being taken seriously. When at last someone shows up on her doorstep to issue challenge, it isn't the sort of response she expected to receive...

[JUNKO]
Out of all the things that she has experienced in the modern world since her botched reincarnation Suzaku finds the stench to be the most offensive.

That the gods had been diminished enough to retreat from the Earthrealm was surprising at first but not impossible to understand. Their connection to the natural world made their power susceptible to the whims of conscious thought. Without a sufficient number of believers to grant them the necessary worship and acknowledgement it was inevitable that they would fade away. It was upsetting to learn that so many of her kin were now little more than distant memories, if only because it meant she would have to forge the path of revenge alone, but not surprising in light of the circumstances.

The incredible levels of disrespect that she found herself facing on a regular basis were likewise irritating. Even without knowledge of her divine heritage, one would think a pair of flaming wings enough to give pause to even the most obstinate mortal. Yet time and again they proved her estimation of their common sense gravely inaccurate. For one who lived millennia being venerated as an avatar of prosperity and strength the shift in attitude towards her existence has been jarring to say the least.

Problems of a more physical nature have plagued her as well, issues that a being of raw power was entirely unaccustomed to dealing with. The needs and limitations of her mortal body have proven to be a constant thorn in her side. Eating and drinking. Sleep and fatigue. The slow mending of injuries and susceptibility to illness. While none of these are new concepts to the kami, having to actually deal with them is. Such concerns were beneath her when she soared the heavens freely at the height of her power.

But more so than the aches and pains of physical exhaustion or the dizzy nausea of pushing her mind to its limits, the stench of the city has them all trumped in awfulness. Weariness and hunger can be cured with rest and food but no remedy thus far has she found for the array of acrid smells that seem to permeate the air.

Such vile miasma did not exist when last she roamed the Earthrealm freely. At worst some of the larger mortal settlements would fill the air with the stench of rotting plants as they brewed their liquors and spirits. But even that could hardly hold a candle to the constant smell of chemicals and smoke that hang like a dark cloud over the vast stretches of glass buildings and stone highways.

Pollution someone had called it. Smog. A byproduct of the vast engines of industry that now propelled humanity forward. A necessary sacrifice in order to maintain the luxuries afforded by technology. Yet another reason to see these ungrateful parasites wiped from the surface of the land.

Closing her eyes, Suzaku turns her face up towards the sky as a fresh breeze rolls in from the ocean. She focuses on the cool caress of the wind against her pale skin, allowing her mind to drift off towards happier memories, but even the familiar scent of brine does little to hide the ever present stink of industry and automobiles. With a sigh, the young girl takes a bite out of the small pastry in her hand and chews in silence.

Despite her declaration to the world that she would be out for the blood of humanity at large, no one seems to have taken her very seriously. For the past few weeks, she has laid claim to an abandoned section of the city, carving out her own tiny kingdom among the condemned apartment buildings and old warehouses. Her presence had been challenged only by one of the local gangs and she had rewarded their foolishness with baptism in righteous flames. Now all she had to deal with was the occasional vagrant begging for food or protection.

In a strange sort of way it felt satisfying to have mortals turning to her for succor once again, like she had reclaimed a tiny sliver of her dignity. But whatever flashes of previous glory she managed to delude herself into thinking she might have recovered were quickly snuffed out every time that breeze rolled in carrying the smell of rancid fish and choking smog. Either way, burning a handful of dirty beggars and half-starved urchins hardly did much to advance her plans nor salve her rage so she has chosen to ignore them for the most part.

Atop the roof of the tallest building in the slums, the kami peers out across the glistening waters to the horizon littered with skyscrapers and factories. Great flaming wings stretch out from her back, twin sheets of scarlet fire untouched by the chill wind, the only remaining vestiges of her divine power. Crimson eyes glowing like freshly stirred coals stare with silent seething hatred at the symbols of mortal ingenuity and progress built upon the bones of legends and myth.

Her kind died to make this world of marvels possible - and she will not let that debt go unpaid!

[KATSURO]
And through every other thought there, a sound slips through.

A musical tone of some kind. It's quickly recognized as a sharp, yet melodic whistle. Coming first from one direction, then another, and yet again changing to a third direction.

For just a moment, it almost seems as if all the other sounds in the city have faded away completely, and only that whistling remains.

Until it, too, stops.

"o/~ Found you o/~"

All the sounds return. The hubbub of people moving down far below at the street running past the building. The distant ambience of city at large, of motorized vehicles rumbling between concrete masses, of factories and docks running full steam in the name of industry. The wind at the heightened altitude of the rooftop sweeping past.

And amidst it all is something new now. An open jacket audibly fluttered by the wind, a few paces behind the kami. Atop a small, surely long-since blocked chimney is perched a strange figure. Clad in a three-piece suit, with a japanese sword sheathed in a red, lacquered-wood sheath at his side. Peering at the flame-winged god from amidst a wild mane of hair. But none of these things are what make this figure strange.

No, it's the fact that despite coming across with even the closest of divinations as one hundred percent human, there's... something horribly, horribly *wrong* with this one.

Human, and yet somehow inhuman at the same time.

"I've been looking for a while now, you know..."

The man hopes up and off of the tip of the chimney, landing with such grace onto the rooftop proper that there's only the barest of sounds with it. Not even the faintest hint of fear with that closed distance.

"Wow... The reports sure didn't give proper justice to it all, did they?" He whispers while he takes another step forward without so much as a moment taken for a show of respect before getting to where he can get a closer look at the vision of a budding god. The glorious, brightly-fiery wings.

"Aaaah... I was already looking forward to it even with just all that, but... now... Mmmh..."

He stops. Nostrils flaring out to take in a sharp inhale of air. No, not just air. Of scents. Drawing in deep, past all the putrid smells of the neglected slums around them, of the smog permeating air -- to take in *her* scent.

And it sensing it seems to fill him with *joy*, of all things. Makes him shudder and shiver. Drawing one hand up, even, to slowly, tenderly rub his fingers across his own cheek. But in spite of all that, that look in his eyes is not one of reverence for a god, no. What's there is something more primal, something twisted. Something that becomes more apparent when his tongue slips out from betwixt his lips and draws, almost uncontrollably, over his own fingers.

It's hunger.

"Now... My heart is trembling~."

Truly, even by the standards of humanity, there is something incredibly, unnaturally *wrong* with this one.

[JUNKO]
Lost in her brooding thoughts, the goddess almost misses the first distant twinkle of unnatural sound amidst the wind. Her brows furrow slightly in concentration as she focuses her senses on the tone. Limited to the capabilities of her human body, however, she finds herself unable to pinpoint its source or origin. But with each passing moments the notes grow closer and more obvious as the world around her seems to dim. It doesn't take supernatural senses to realize that something is amiss.

The catcall that announces the arrival of her 'guest' earns no visible reaction from Suzaku. With her back turned to the Librarium's hound the faint grimace that twists her lips goes unnoticed as does the flicker of her eyes darting back and forth as she considers how to respond to this tainted presence. Suddenly the smog isn't the worst thing she's smelled today.

For a moment, she experiences an uncharacteristic bout of panic at the thought that another being like the one who had confronted her at the mortal gathering might have been sent to hunt her down. Another bite of pastry is careful chewed on as she tries to maintain her aloofness but the invisible tendrils of her supernatural senses writhe towards the mortal as she attempts to feel him out.

It takes an effort of will not to exhale in relief upon realizing that his power is no where near the level of that red-suited man. He had referred to himself as a god and as painful as it is to admit it, his power had dwarfed her own, giving the man a far more credible claim to that title.

By contrast, the man that stands behind her now is nothing of the sort. The stink that wafts off him is more akin to a wild beast than anything human, a sickly sweet cloying aroma of rotten meat and dried blood. She had encountered people like this in the distant past - mortals whose spirits were stained with too much exposure to raw power. It twisted them, molding them into grotesque mockeries of man and nature. But it also made them stronger, sometimes enough so to threaten even some of the great youkai and lesser kami. And she, as Suzaku often finds herself being reminded lately, is no longer at the top of her game.

Unwilling to display even an iota of the concern that grips her heart, the fiery miko remains as she is, gaze directed outwards towards the city. She offers no acknowledgement to the slavering hound as he chatters away, confirming without even being asked her suspicions that he is the first of what is likely to be many attempts to deal with her.

The insult behind sending such a despicable creature is obvious. These mortals didn't consider her to be a real threat. Or perhaps they simply didn't know what to expect and had thrown a disposable asset at her, a foul beast whose destruction would give them no cause for grief. Either way, she finds it offensive, not least of all for forcing her to endure his stink.

Suzaku considers her options. She could quite easily just leave. Her wings afford her the freedom to come and go as she pleases, after all. But that might send the wrong sort of message to her would-be pursuers. If there is one thing she has learned about the mortals of this age it is that she cannot underestimate their arrogance. Refusing to waste her time with their little pet would no doubt be interpreted as fear or cowardice on her part. The last thing she wants to do is embolden them to be even more insufferable.

With a sigh, the small girl finally acknowledges Katsuro, turning just far enough to peer at him imperiously over her shoulder. The last of her snack is primly popped into her mouth and she takes the time to casually lick the traces of the delicious sugar frosting off her fingers while staring him down. Such treats are among the few things she has actually found enjoyable in this era and she isn't about to allow this mongrel to interrupt her snack time. She had found memories of the pastries among the mortal girl's fragmented soul. They had a strange name, something created by a foreign tongue. Crepes, that was it. As silly as it sounded, she can't deny their appeal.

Turning to face this invader into her tiny kingdom of ruin at last, Suzaku clasps her hands behind her back and spreads the blazing flames of her mighty wings wide in a display of assertive dominance. Despite the diminutive size of her mortal host, she gives off the impression of peering down at the NOL hound with all of the regal poise of a queen or empress - or a goddess. Considering the personality of his new master, it's no doubt a familiar feeling to be on the receiving end of an imperious glare.

"Hmph. I expect an army and they send a single dog."

Her nose wrinkles daintily as if only just now acknowledging the vile stink coming off of his soul.

"And a mangy one at that."

[KATSURO]
"Now now, I'll have ya know I'm an *immaculately* groomed hound," declares the 'dog' in question while running the hand at the side of his face up to stroking through the mane of hair at the top of his head, without even the slightest hint of sounding offended by the accusation of manginess. His fingers briefly flip the hair that seems to usually be perpetually hanging over one eye back, before allowing it to fall back into it's seemingly naturally-chosen position once more.

But that ravenous - and yet somehow cheerful - stare still remains.

"And I've been told to fetch. Don't need me to tell ya though, do ya?"

The hound's left hand grips at the scabbard of his sword, right where his thumb can flip up and push at the handguard from down below, and expose the first two or so inches of sharpened steel from within.

"I'm sure I could tell ya plenty 'bout the reasons why, and the authorities behind me and blablablabla... None of that would mean anything to ya, and frankly I've been waitin' painfully long too... just teased more and more with every new scent I caught in yer trail..."

Something truly maddened flashes in his eyes. His lips, too, curve into what can only truly be described as the grin of a frenzied serial killer. With those twists in his face, his right hand snaps to the hilt of his sword now, and quickly draws the enchanted blade out with a sharp sound and a glint of sunlight reflecting off the gleaming metal.

"...And now I feel like I'm on the verge of blowin' in my pants! So let's not wait any longer, okay? Yeah? Yeah?"

The hound, unable to wait any longer, pounces forth then, blade bared in one hand, to rapidly close in on Suzaku.

"Let's have some fun already!"

COMBATSYS: Katsuro has started a fight here.

[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\  <
Katsuro          0/-------/-------|

[JUNKO]
Fetch.

That one word is enough to send chills down the girl's spine. After spending the better part of a thousand years bound within a prison of soul magic the prospect of being captured again is enough to send the goddess flying into an immediate rage. The sheer temerity of mortals using the power of the heavens to bind someone such as herself was enough to drive her to madness. So caustic was her fury that it had burned away at the very life force of those foolish enough to take her essence into themselves, ultimately resulting in their early deaths.

But those tiny sacrifices were hardly enough to slake the incredible thirst for vengeance. The malice that flows through her has transcended from a mere desire for retribution to an all-consuming hatred for all of mankind. Her love for mortals had once been so great that she became the very embodiment of their desire for prosperity and peace. How quick they were to cast all of the blame for their own failings on her shoulders, however, when even her blessings could not counteract their own wickedness and sloth.

Raw seething anger floods through Suzaku's veins as she faces down the agent of those who would see her bound once again. The intensity of her spirit, an ever-present pressure against the surface the mind's of those standing in her divine presence, magnifies several times over. An invisible suffocating blanket of raw will comes crashing down upon the hound as he finds himself the central focus of a suddenly irate goddess.

"Fetch? FETCH?!"

The miko's eyes, already aglow with inner crimson power, erupt into twin pools of eldritch flame. Her wings spread wide, the very hair on her head bursting into wildly whipping tongues of fire as a wave of heat intense enough to ripple the air with mirage-like distortion erupts around her. Her voice, previously soft and gentle, hammers into the enforcer like a physical impact, shaking the very walls upon which they stand.

Nor is it just the flames that burst forth in her anger for the rage of a kami is itself akin to a living force. Black tendrils of putrid corruption, physical manifestations of her misery, contempt, and sorrow, writhe like bolts of sentient lightning among the flames.

"I will SEAR your soul with such flames that there will be nothing LEFT for your masters to collect!"

[KATSURO]
Any sane man would hesitate upon seeing such a sight. A storm of fire borne from one being in the center. God-like wings of hellfire bursting forth, with dark corruption mixed between.

Katsuro, however, is clearly anything but sane.

For this hunting hound's reaction to it all is an even wider grin.

"Show me then!" he calls out in what actually sounds lesd like a taunt and more like encouragement, amidst his speedy approach towards the fires of hell.

That being said though, the air around Suzaku is *fucking hot*, and even Katsuro's masochistic pain tolerance has it's limits. At the last second, the hound suddenly curves towards the side, turning the vector of his advance from a direct angle to something encircling her instead. A circling that comes with his sword sweeping through the flames, guiding unnatural wind pressure to disperse them at least partially -- while the far end of the sharpened length of steel aims for the very center, for the vessel of flesh and bone within.

COMBATSYS: Junko has joined the fight here.

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Katsuro          0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0            Junko

COMBATSYS: Katsuro successfully hits Junko with Evasive Strike.
-* CRITICAL HIT! *-

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Katsuro          0/-------/-------|==-----\-------\0            Junko

[JUNKO]
For a few brief moments, it's all Suzaku can do to keep her fury from literally erupting like a volcano. Power surges through her body, the mortal flesh to which her soul is now bound screaming in silent agony at the sheer intensity of her emotion. Pain washes over her, the sensation violent enough that she staggers from the onslaught of her own rage hammering against the limits of her physical prison, caught off guard by her own wild outburst.

This is the first time since her resurrection that Suzaku has lost control of herself in such a manner. Not even the disrespect of being summarily dismissed and ignored during her brief visit to the festivity being hosted by her former mortal companions had riled her so. At least those fools had the excuse of not being aware of the true nature of the threat she posed. Whoever had sent this... beast to harass her was clearly not so ignorant. And yet they dared to insult her in such a manner?!

A sudden flash of motion and the cold touch of steel biting into her flesh snaps the miko out of her red haze. Crying out in surprise more than pain, Suzaku recoils from the deadly slash as a thin line of red begins to stain the front of her white shirt. A hand goes to her chest, her eyes wide in what appears to be disbelief, as if until that moment she had not been entirely sure that mundane weaponry would even be able to harm her, mortal flesh or no. Staring at the dark smear of her own vital fluids on the tips of her bloody fingers puts that doubt thoroughly to rest.

A snarl of rage twists the girl's soft features into a mask of raw hatred. She whirls to face Katsuro, thrusting her blood-stained palm towards him even as brilliant scarlet fire gathers within. Junko had displayed the ability to unleash startling amounts of power even before her possession. Evidence of her destructive powers had been captured on live video footage and the ruins of more than one venue chosen as a battleground for the short-tempered miko are still under renovation. No doubt whatever organization had dispatched this would-be hunter to bring her in had educated him in the potential danger she posed.

Suzaku quickly makes it apparent that the violence her mortal gaoler had borrowed as her own utterly pales in comparison to the true fury of a living god.

A beam of coherent red light explodes from the girl's outstretched hand without so much as a warning or build up. Scarlet fire so intense as to be indistinguishable from a laser floods out of the kami in a lance of raw power nearly ten feet wide and equally as tall. The stone of the building upon which she stands simply evaporates into dusty mist as she sweeps the deadly blast around in a wide swing, literally carving half the old building asunder as easily as if swinging a telephone pole sized lightsaber through an ice burg made of butter.

COMBATSYS: Katsuro parries Junko's Shakkahou!

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Katsuro          0/-------/------=|=------\-------\0            Junko

[KATSURO]
Even through the haze of heat and fire, the hound feels his weapon find it's mark. The delightful sensation of cold steel digging through skin and flesh carried across the blade and hilt up to his arm.

It delights him more than it rightfully should. To the point that when his bounding circle around Suzaku comes to and end with a skid of snakeskin shoes across concrete, he actually stops to give a look of psychotic glee at the bloodstain left dripping at the tip of his sword, and...

He... actually guides it right up in front of him, where he can draw his tongue over the life essence dribbling over folded steel.

"I have your taste now~"

Are we *sure* he is human? All signs point to "yes", sure, but...

The hedonistic glee still stays there when he turns to face the kami's retaliation, the bright, scarlet light of the plasma-like energy reflected right back from his own eyes... for the split second, anyway, before the pillar of light overtakes where the human hound stood.

Wiped out down to atoms alongside the chunk of rooftop around him, then.

"More."

Wait. There's a voice. Coming from above.

"More!"

Up above her, beyond even the height of the beam itself is the Bloodhound, mid-flip. Somehow having made his way there in a blink of an eye without so much as a smudge on his clothes. And now coming down rapidly upon her, with his flip guiding the heel of one foot down towards her shoulder.

"Give me MORE!"

The slam of the foot itself isn't even the worst of it -- no, it's just the pivot point at her shoulder to guide his fall further, and swing hil into another flip behind her with his blade poised to cut deep across her back before finally landing into a roll.

COMBATSYS: Junko interrupts Vaulting Hound EX from Katsuro with Hou-ou Shoten Ha.

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Katsuro          0/-------/=======|====---\-------\0            Junko

[JUNKO]
For a moment, the effects of Suzaku's ridiculous outpouring of power fail to manifest, almost as if reality itself is gaping in slack-jawed surprise. Then, with a low rumble of grinding stone, the upper quarter of the building shifts sideways along a perfect diagonal line like a piece of bamboo that has been sliced by a practicing samurai.

Dust and debris fill the air, the shifting of several hundred tons of stone throwing up an obscuring cloud of gray powder. The miko hovers imperiously above the destruction on fiery wings, her face locked into a furious snarl. She watches with grim satisfaction as the massive edifice crumbles from the force of her wrath, the ancient building serving as an effigy of sorts for humanity itself to the vengeful god. There is no small amount of viscous glee that fills her heart as the massive bisected chunk goes crashing down into its neighbor, flattening the much smaller building beneath an avalanche of brick and steel.

But for all the pleasure that demolishing an old tower brings her, the true target of her attack proved annoyingly elusive. Even with her mortal sight obscured by the billowing fog she can sense the rotten mutt's putrid aura. Her head tilts back, eyes ablaze with contempt at the apparent enjoyment her attacker takes in seeing her cut loose.

"I would not be so eager to provoke a god, were I you, mortal!"

Regardless of the soundness of his plan, however, the hound's bloodlust drives him forward. Fresh flames gather around Suzaku's right hand, her dainty mitt balling up into a tiny fist. Anyone who had watched Junko fight in the NFG would likely be able to predict what's about to come next and it seems her divine patron shares the girl's ideas on how to combat fools who attempt to strike from above.

"Be consumed by the flames of destruction!"

Both combatants rush at each other, Katsuro pulled downwards by gravity, the kami propelled skywards on scarlet wings. The impact of the sharp kick against her shoulder sends Suzaku staggering to the side momentarily, a grunt of frustration slipping through clenched teeth. But she recovers almost immediately, centuries of experience with aerial combat outweighing the awkwardness of her non-avian body. With a mighty flap of her vast wings, she corrects her course and drives a brutal knuckle sandwich square into the bottom of the hunter's jaw.

Again, the difference between miko and kami becomes apparent here. Where Junko's frail limbs would hardly have left more than a bruise on a hardened warrior like Katsuro, Suzaku's divine might turns that scrawny limb into a bony hammer. The impact sends her foe rocketing upwards as if he had just been fired out of a cannon and a vertical maelstrom of scarlet fire is swift to follow on his heels. The raging tornado of flame overtakes the Librarium warrior and turns his ascent towards the heavens into a spiraling hellstorm, spinning him about wildly until the storm's fury is spent a few seconds later.

[KATSURO]
The imminence of an incoming counterattack might have been clear to Katsuro by the time those bright wings gave their first majestic flap, but... the hound doesn't truly care. He faced it head on, all the way to his foot finding it's mark. And for those troubles he gets a fist of divine flame into his chin before he can even consider the rest of his intendes maneuver.

"Hrghr?!"

Gravity is promptly defied. He can feel it even amidst the stinging pain in his jaw, and the third-degree burns forming across his body as the inferno chars through his clothes. And yet..

"More..."

A sudden flip, high up in the air. A preternatural aerial maneuver that directs him away from the center of the tornado of flames just as the blaze begins to die down on it's own. His eyes flick through the embers and ash. Searching. Too much dust and smoke to see. His sense of smell almost feels like it is about to be overwhelmed too... but not enough to find her in spite of it all.

His mind locks ok again. A toothy smile flashes from underneath heat-dried lips. The blood that was left on his blade suddenly scatters into glowing motes, swirling throufh the air to gather into a solid, glowing circular disk at his feet yo brace himself again. Legs bending there like springs.

"M O R E"

The springs that are his limbs launch hil forward, leaving the blood-magic formed disc to shatter behind him as hw soars through the air like a missile, spinning with his blade in a truly wild, cutting spiral with more instinct than form, soaring towards the phoenix dominating the airspace.
.

COMBATSYS: Katsuro successfully hits Junko with Random Strike.
Grazing Hit

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Katsuro          1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0            Junko

[JUNKO]
"Tch..."

Suzaku's anger turns to irritation as the hound manages to endure her heated retaliation, her mouth twisting in a petulant frown. The fact that her foe wasn't reduced to a pile of cinders irks the kami more than he will likely ever know. In the past she could have snuffed out an insect like him with little more than a thought.

Uppity mortals like Katsuro, twisted by wicked bloodlust, didn't tend to last long in the age of the gods. Such monsters were often created by the unholy union of youkai and man or, more troublingly, by mortals attempting to step beyond their station and wield powers not meant for their limited existences. Though it had brought her great remorse, she had struck down more than one such abomination during her tenure as the guardian of the Southern Gate. At the time she had seen such souls as merely misguided or perhaps the product of poor circumstances or even insanity. Mortals suffered from a great many unpleasant hardships after all. But time had shown her that men are simply wicked at heart and it is more often cowardice that stays their hands from evil more so than any propensity towards good.

At least, in this case, she can rule out cowardice. Insanity is definitely looking more and more like the solid bet with this one.

Narrowing her eyes at the falling swordsman, Suzaku tenses her body and waits for him to draw near, preparing herself for the moment of his strike. When the blade begins to spin, and its owner along with it, she suddenly leans to one side, propelling herself out of the path of the deadly slash with a flap of her wings. It is a simple maneuver, one that she has performed countless times before, but again the lack of familiarity with this new body proves troublesome.

The edge of Katsuro's crazed assault catches the girl along one thigh as she evades to the side. Fresh blood sprays into the air along with a soft cry of pain and frustration. Biting down on a girlish sob that rises unbidden to her throat, the kami hammers the pain of her injuries down with the force of her will and commands her bleeding flesh to obey. Whatever injuries the strange fighter inflicts upon her can be dealt with easily once she has time to recuperate.

"You wish for more pain? Then I shall grant it!"

Dipping one wing low, the airborne goddess flips around with supernatural agility, turning her entire body in a rapid pivot. Judging by the fact that she isn't constantly keeping her wings in motion it seems the flaming pinions serve more as a symbol than any sort of actually aerodynamic platform.

The miko's uninjured leg snaps out as she turns and a searing wave of scarlet flame erupts around her foot making the kick look like a blazing meteor tearing across the sky. The contrail of red fire billows outwards into a ten-foot wide crescent of deadly power, lashing at Katsuro like the snap of a whip. A second conflagration ripples towards him as she completes her pirouette, twisting her hips so as to force momentum to drag her wounded leg around for the follow up strike.

COMBATSYS: Junko successfully hits Katsuro with Kakyaku Renge.
- Power hit! -

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Katsuro          1/---====/=======|=======\-------\0            Junko

[KATSURO]
You'd think that being so high up in the air would have discouraged Katsuro from continuing this any further. But apparently not so. After that nick of the blade across the thigh of the kami's vessel, Katsuro's spin turns it's axis to bring him facing her, with another glowing-red platform forming at his feet.

"Hahahaha--!"

A psychotic cackle from the joy of the violence. That, too, doesn't stop even when he seed the flaming kick coming. Hell, it doesn't even stop when the blazing strike slams into the middle of his side, and proceeds yo practically envelop him wholesale with the following fireball. Not even when the follow up kick comed to slam against gis chest and launch him, once more, in a gravity-defying arc through the sky.

"Gyahahahaha! Don't tell me ya wanna stop already!"

Abother brief flash of a platform made of manifested mana shattering among the clouds of dust and ash, leading to Katsuro rocketing right back to Suzaku. But this time, another platform forms right in front of her to stop him in his advance there, his whole body coiling over itself there.

"Let's play some more, c'mon, c'mon, C'MON!!""

The hound is burning. His whole body could very well be left horribly disfigured after all this without magical healing. And yet... he just keeps on laughing. And wanting...

"More!!"

From that platform, he stamps one hand to the ground, and glips himself around in a breakdance-like motion that brings him into a brief handstand -- and the rise, in turn, to arc his blade with a trail of blood magic -enhanced energy for the length of the kami's host body, followed by a foot slamming in with force meant to knock her back.

"MORE!!!"

This flip completes, only for him to launch himself forward again the instant his feet land on that platform of mana again. Somersaulting through the air and past her, like a humanoid buzzsaw aiming to open up her side with his pasdage.

"M O R E ! ! ! !"

COMBATSYS: Katsuro blitzes into action and acts again!

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Katsuro          1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0            Junko

COMBATSYS: Katsuro successfully hits Junko with Laughing Hound.

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Katsuro          1/--=====/=======|=======\==-----\1            Junko

COMBATSYS: Junko dodges Katsuro's Rolling Hound.

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Katsuro          1/--=====/=======|=======\==-----\1            Junko

[JUNKO]
As the battle continues Suzaku finds it harder and harder to maintain her calm. Not only is she unused to the body she currently inhabits, making her centuries of experience and boundless power all but useless, but she can't help but keep her mind from drifting back to the gathering at the beginning of the new year. The mortals at the party had all but ignored her as if she were little more than a small annoying dog that had slipped in from the streets. Even the titan, a being more akin to herself than any of the humans, was content to blow her off as little more than a nuisance, taking apparent glee in belittling her status.

Fighting this man strikes annoying close to being some sort of proof that they were right to consider her weak and feckless. Her flames has once razed entire armies with a single sweep of a wing. She could burn forests to the ground and imbue them anew with fresh life. Her very existence was a beacon of hope and prosperity and strength.

And now she is struggling to deal with a single insane warrior.

Is that an indication of how far she's fallen or how much humanity has grown? Either way, it pisses her off.

Despite being the only one capable of flight in this battle, it seems her belief that removing the ground from beneath her opponent would somehow hamper his ability to continue the fight was flawed. The miko's scowl deepens into an undignified snarl as he endures yet another direct hit from her divine flame only to come at her again.

Utilizing blood for power is not a new concept to the kami. In fact, it is one of the oldest and often the most potent sources of magical energy. Almost every civilization in human history had learned that at one point but many of them had rightfully turned away from it as the temptation to turn to human sacrifice was far too great. That sort of power, while not inherently evil, was often too much for mortals to handle without being corrupted by it.

The bizarre method of the strike that comes at her first is so unusual that Suzaku finds herself at a loss for how to deal with it. She leans back as the hound's body twists, attempting to ward off the slash of his blade by slapping it aside at the last moment, but her reaction proves to be a little late and the bloody sword carves into her without resistance.

If the crazed hound is the sort to take dark pleasure in the screams of his opponents, he is rewarded with a particularly shrill screech for that successful strike. The tip of his katana bites into cloth and flesh, ripping a vertical line all the way from her inner thigh up to the top of her head, a blow that might have bisected the girl entirely were she not the host of a divine soul. As it is, the strike very nearly takes out one of the miko's eyes, leaving a thin bloody line from the bottom of her jaw through the center of her right eyebrow.

The kick to the girl's chest proves detrimental to his follow-through, however. Though unaccustomed to mortal pain, the former deity's will is far beyond that of the feeble flesh she inhabits. She recovers from the wound almost instantly, utilizing the momentum from being tossed away to widen the gap between herself and the crazed warrior, pushing herself far to one side with a sudden shift in direction. The spinning cut of his sword finds purchase in naught but air leaving the man to pinwheel harmlessly towards the ground.

"ENOUGH!"

The air around Suzaku reverberates ripples with distortion, the force of her command striking the surface of reality like a drum. Scarlet power erupts from the girl's body in a luminous aura of scintillating neon flame lighting up the sky with the birth of new miniature sun. Waves of heat and divine light pour forth into the empty space around her, a tidal wave of the goddess's raw will made manifest through fire.

Once again the crushing force of that inhuman existence comes to bear against the hound. This time, however, there is no restraint, no effort to hold herself back. For a few nauseating seconds that raw unfiltered divine presence pins him to the surface of reality like a bug on a push board, the full might of Suzaku's remaining god-hood wrapping around his mind like invisible chains as she turns her blazing gaze upon him.

"I have tolerated your disgusting presence far long enough! Now -BURN-!"

And with those words, that new-born star explodes.

Crimson fire bursts forth from the phoenix in all directions, a blossom of scarlet power that engulfs everything in blinding light. Half of the city block over which their battle has taken place vanishes into the corona of neon power, concrete and steel peeling away like flecks of paint in the heat before disintegrating entirely. The poor homeless souls that had gathered to rest beneath the protective canopy of Suzaku's chosen abode likewise go up in smoke, their lives given up in sacrifice to appease the kami's fury.

COMBATSYS: Junko knocks away Katsuro with Reiatsu.

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Katsuro          1/--=====/=======|=------\-------\0            Junko

[KATSURO]
The pinwheel that is Katsuro doesn't quite make it all the way to the ground. Another small disk of solidified mana manifests at his feet to halt both his spin and descent. These small platforms he keeps making for himself in the air-- even without subjecting them to the whiplash of his own motions, they are only able to last for all of half a second at a time. Plenty enough time for how fast the hound moves, however. This time, too, he is already rebounding instantly, to spring himself back upwards in the air in an effort to maintain the somewhat unorthodoxly-aerial nature of the battle between a god and a hunting dog.

Before gravity can quite take hold again amldst his renewed ascent, the hound of the Librarium watches her. All-too satisfied at the bloody mark of his passing he has left upon her.

But somehow, he looks even more so satisfied at the fury it beings out from her-- no, the power she brings to the fore in response.

"Ghyahahahaha!! Just like that!!!"

And something changes. The blood that has been accumulated upon his sword, the blood that was left to spray down somewhere below-- it starts gathering up. Even blood that has gathered from tears at Katsuro's own flesh where fire hasn't already cauterized and dried them shifts, turning into flowing spirals of glowing power that envelope the hound.

In that moment, the already-inhuman hound conceals the last vestiges of his humanity.

The blood-turned-to-power coats his body thoroughly and changes him. His form still remains humanoid, enough so for his clothes ( or what is left of them anyway) to still fit him without issue. But everything is covered in red, and his limbs and fingers seem to elongate. The upper half of his head is covered wholesale to the point of blocking out hos eyes, and scarlet fangs grow from within jaws that open to an unnatural stretch with his maddened howl.


"GIVE IT TO ME!!!"

A flash of motion. A foot kicking into another momentarily-formed disc of mana, again and again with each leap that propels the hound like a bullet at the phoenix, with even greater speed than before. His approach raising the volume of his maddened laughter in her ears with every passing microsecond. Rushing with intent to still attack her even as the miniature star grows.

He even maked it all the way up to within five meters of her.

But then, the explosion comes.

All of his progress in getting closer to her is instantly reversed, with the sheer pressure of heat and the shockwave blasts him backwards even before pure plasma envelops him.

Everything burns.

It may only be the effects of his transformation alone that keep him from being outright incinerated in an instant. But that may have been preferable to being left suspended in the air amidst the cosmic heat so intense it feels as though it is boiling the blood inside of him.

Skin cracks. Flesh chars.

Light starts to fade.

"Mo...re..."

It's as sudden as him getting blown away in the first place. Through all the fire, dust and ash, the demonic crimson hound blows through into view in a lunge. By all rights, he shouldn't be. All his clothes have been charred away, and parts of his body have turned from crimson to black. There's even inordinate amounts of steam rising from every inch of him.

And yet there he is. Face twisted and seemingly frozen into a voiceless howl--

And his blade there. Wreathed in blood-red energy, poised tip-forward like a spear held with both hands, aimed for the very center of the center mass of the kami's mortal shell.

One more. One more rush in their playtime.

COMBATSYS: Katsuro can no longer fight.

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Junko            0/-------/------=|

COMBATSYS: Junko blocks Katsuro's Bloodhound's Bite.

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Junko            0/-------/----===|

[JUNKO]
He wanted more and Suzaku has certainly provided.

The blazing miniature star of the miko's unleashed divinity scorches the earth with unrelenting fury, a small glimpse of the destructive power of the phoenix's legendary flames. Where once stood the massive tenement complex that she had claimed as her own little nest there is nothing but a blackened hole in the asphalt. Nor is the destruction limited to it alone. The crater left behind by the spherical blast stretches from the edge of the waterfront to nearly halfway into the next street behind. Almost half a dozen buildings lie in ruins or are simply missing large chunks of their superstructure, sheered off cleanly as if the kami had taken a giant hole puncher to skyline and simply deleted a circle out of it.

That the hound managed to survive at all is a miracle in its own right. The protective shell of dark power proves just potent enough to absorb the neon heat of the goddess's incredible attack, blood magic turning to charred armor that flakes off like ablative plating. It endures just long enough to keep him alive but not enough to keep him whole. The difference, however, quickly proves academic.

Yet, despite being reduced to little more than a blackened lump of smoking hamburger, Katsuro proves surprisingly tenacious.

"What...?!"

Fully expecting there to be nothing but ash and maybe a greasy smear on the pavement after unleashing her divine flames, Suzaku finds herself briefly stricken by a bolt of panic as the sword-wielding warrior hurls himself at her with the tenacity of a demon. Fear bleeds into her mask of fury and for a moment she is paralyzed with uncertainty.

Every previous attempt to deflect that cursed blade had resulted in failure. Her familiarity with the girl's body was not yet strong enough to make it move the way she wants. She was always a heartbeat too slow or her aim slightly off. Each time it had punished her mistakes with a toll of blood and pain.

At the last moment the kami snaps out of it. Gritting her teeth in preparation for what is likely going to be a very unpleasant decision, she makes no effort to stop or deflect the weapon this time. With a snap of her arm the girl throws one of her pale hands up into the path of the oncoming blade and catches its tip square in the center of her palm.

A hiss of anguish escapes through tightly pressed lips as the tip of the sword bites into her flesh. Though its wielder is all but unconscious the momentum of his assault proves enough to drive the weapon completely through and out the back side of her hand. Dark blood spatters onto the cuff of her clean white shirt and stains the shimmering steel. Ignoring the pain, Suzaku commands her fingers to close, squeezing down on the blade to arrest its forward motion.

Almost the moment that the cursed sword bites down into the meat of her hand it begins trying to feed upon her. A fresh snarl of surprised pain twists the girl's face as she realizes the true threat. The hunger within the steel bares its fangs at her in eager anticipation of the feast, savoring the taste of divine blood as one might the finest wine.

Twisted hatred floods through the girl's veins in literal fashion, the surface of her pale hand becoming riddled with a spider web of black lines as her own corruption goes to war with the demon in the blade. Tendrils of wriggling darkness emerge from the gash in her flesh, encircling the steel like writhing worms, binding the sword tightly so that its wielder cannot escape.

Fresh scarlet power gathers in the kami's wounded hand, seeping into her curled fingers and bloody palm until the entire lower half of her arm glows like heated iron. Liquid fire swirls in the girl's eyes as she tilts her head back, staring down with utter contempt at the hapless fool literally fused to his weapon by burnt hands.

"Beg for scraps at some other table, -beast-!"

As before, neon flame explodes from Suzaku's wounded hand, a coherent beam of solid red light ripping through the sky as she screams at him in wordless fury. Trapped at point blank with nothing of his twisted magic left to protect him from her wrath, the hound of the Librarium vanishes into that outpouring of supernatural heat.

When the sizzling neon lance fades away there is naught but the sword left, its red-hot blade still lodged in her hand. A frown spreads across her face as she considers the weapon. No normal sword would have been able to withstand such heat. Even diminished as she is, it would take considerable power to forge a tool able to survive the flames of destruction. Demon-make, perhaps? Its thirst for blood certainly suggested as much.

After a few moments of contemplation, she takes the hilt in hand and drags the steel free of her flesh. Then, without any further hesitation, turns and pitches the damned thing into the ocean.

"Wretched thing. Mankind will receive no further aid from your ilk."

[KATSURO]
It's a strange thing.

The consciousness of Katsuro had already slipped away before his sword even found it's way to Suzaku's hand. And yet, his grip remains firm on the hilt -- enough so to keep him hanging off it while the blade remains lodged through her palm.

And perhaps even more strangely so, that wretched, psychotic grin of a man consumed by bloodlust remains too, as if his face - twisted as it is otherwise by his own blood magic -fueled power and the charring from the kami's power - had been frozen into that expression.

He looks almost blissful, like that.

It somehow remains even when the final blast of fiery wrath, so hot that it might as well be pure plasma, overtakes him. Even when what is only barely reocgnizable anymore as the body of one Katsuro Kirikawa begins to be incinerate to the point of wiping out completely, as if the god residing in the miko had taken an existential eraser and swiped it across where the hound remained hanging.

All the way to his very last moments. To the moment that that grin seems to be the very last thing to burn away, left to peek for a few seconds to taunt the kami even from amidst the blaze of fury.

For just a second, it might almost seem like that horrid, psychotic laughter of his even echoes in her ear.

BUt then that, too, is gone. Down to the last atom. Even the blood and ash that remained on the hilt and blade of the sword that still remains in her hand has been burned away. With only the weapon left as evidence of the hound ever having been there.

And then that, too, is thrown away. Divine strength sending the accursed weapon soaring through the skyline, clearing not just several city blocks, but outright districts, and past the coast of Metro City.

== ELSEWHERE ==

An alert pings off. A monitoring system somewhere within the depths of The Novus Orbis Librarium's bureaucracy that keeps track of some operatives' status by way of tracking spells imbued within their bodies.

One was imbued in the body of a certain bloodhound, as well. But with an immensely violent feedback leaning to a complete severing of the link, a new message is automatically entered into the Librarium's archives, and a copy sent to the hound's active commanding officer.

PRIVATE FIRST CLASS: KATSURO KIRIKAWA
LIFE SIGNS LOST JAN/XX/XX
STATUS: DECEASED

==800 METERS FROM METRO CITY COASTLINE==

A sword falls into the ocean waters. Superheated steel causes the water to let off a momentary waft of steam before the weapon has sunk too far to be perceptible. The temperature of the waters in january help to quickly cool off the weapon again, regardless, the further it sinks.

By the time the sword reaches the bottom of the ocean, none of the heat remains anymore. But even in spite of it, an odd thing happens.

Not a single sea creature, small or large, gets within ten meters of it. Every single fish, amoeba, anything with even a faint hint of biological sentience gives a wide berth to the weapon that has, in the hands of the Librarium's Bloodhound, cut through countless people since before the hound was even forcefully drafted into their ranks.

Even in the oppressive darkness of the bottom of the ocean, something seems to gleam off the blade.

M O R E

Log created on 05:37:42 01/08/2024 by Junko, and last modified on 08:06:33 01/11/2024.