Description: Ryuhaku Todoh is a man of mystery. He... is a man of duty. He... is a man of destiny. Though he may run long and hard against the winds of fate, it sends yet another topless teenager to him. This one comes with assertion. This one comes with determination to grapple with him. Piles are driven, and kasanes are ate'd. But could the sagely Todoh have possibly expected what the teenager proposes in the end? (Spoilers: Not porn.)
It's been quiet around the Karuta district of Southtown. For a given measure of 'quiet,' in that one of the worst neighbors anybody can have, the mighty(?) Ryuhaku Todoh, has almost kept to himself in a dignified manner. Well... almost.
If one says 'dignified' it is more along the lines of 'he hasn't been camping out inside a newspaper dispenser that he has no way of physically fitting inside for sake of something or another.' Yet he has decided to take a nap right outside of the lawn, the grass blades uneven in rectangular stretches facing a mostly overcast sky on a decent enough afternoon with a blanket spread out with two empty teacups facing one another. The nearby park grounds is surprisingly active even with the school year beginning for some or just looming around the corner for others, the youngsters getting their last kicks of freedom in for the year 2008.
It's honestly a nice day to go out and play and not fret oneself over the fierce competition of the world of fighting. But will the day last as such?! (spoilers: ...you tell me)
Definitely maybe!
See, Drake's been in what most would call a slump. He's been working his tail off, pushing himself through the Neo League (with the most fights this season, woo!).. but he's far from content. He's got a craving to push himself, to test himself.. and to excel. He still has that desire to do good for the world, to impact lives for the better.. and to do that, he has to be able to fight! And fight harder!
So who is Drake seeking for this enlightenment? Hell, -anyone- of any sort of esteem will suffice. But the "big name" masters are bogged down with other pupils, so far as he knows.
Except one.
Lieutenant Japan.
The man he met in Hawaii. The myth. The monster. The.. party-crasher? It matters not! It's worth a looking into, at any rate, so the supermodel has tracked the man's hideout all the way here. ..Right up to his prospective sensei in the grass.
Drake opens his mouth to speak.. then shuts it again. Amethyst eyes shift aside in contemplation, then back over.
"Uh..?"
Those of prestige and talent are always sought out. For lucrative deals. For tests of skill. For tutelage. For admiration. It is the way of a world so enamored with a widely varied art of vaguely defined magnitudes of skill difference between one another. What does it mean to be the strongest? How can one strive to reach that pinnacle of ability? The questions are vast. There is no hard, easy answer, as many of the most obvious ones do not work for everybody. So, sad as it may be, not everyone can be as grand.
Drake "Domino" Vyril has already achieved quite a bit of accolade, no doubt, coming as far as he has. The desire to grow stronger and improve upon oneself is an admirable trait towards any aim a person may hold, and to seek advice from those perceived as 'greater' or more 'advanced' proves more than helpful if the teacher is right... but...
Let us not bother completing that sentence.
'Lieutenant Japan,' as he may have christened himself that day months ago, seems so peaceful where he is. It's not a great lawn. Doesn't even look too comfortable... but nonetheless, a rest on hard ground exposed to the elements is rest hard won, for surely this 'master' must have done amazing things shortly before now that required him, no, pushed him to fall asleep where he is right now. What sort of great effort or achievement did he accomplish to get him a rightful afternoon's rest here in the grass?
Hell if anyone knows. In fact, such questions are likely to leave one's contemplation the notice two wide, open, bloodshot red eyes as he suddenly sits up with such vigor and speed that blood almost could not possibly circulate as well over the next few moments, a prominent bulge on his forehead underneath that headband that unmistakably identifies him with, oh, everything else. That reddish vest garment, the large trousers, the typical traditional socks, and perhaps most importantly...
"What?! What do you want from me this time? Going to yell at me about your little defaced fences, are you, or that lamp post that didn't want to get out of my way, or your 'precious' little livestock?!" The ego laced with irritability. His face a sneer, he raises a fist, shaking with rage of debatable potency. "Come to interrupt me napping just to whine at me some more, huh? HUH?! When will you dweebs learn!"
Purple eyes suddenly take up the entirety of Drake's face. Todoh shoots up, and the supermodel promptly falls onto his duff. From there? Well.. Drake is soundly put in his place.
"I-I.. actually.. uh..," trails Drake, somehow entirely out of his element. Truth be told, he's not been trained since he first developed his personal style of martial arts wrestling (or MMA, for you nit-pickers). "Well.. see.. Lieutenant..," Drake begins, somehow managing to not know Todoh's actual name, "..I.. heard you're a pretty good martial artist. And.. uhm.."
Suddenly Drake hops back up to his boots and clenches a gloved fist. "I wanna challenge you! Right here, right now!" Youthful spunk.
"Hrrrrrrrrrmmmmph," the sound of an old man surveying whoever it is which gradually turns to almost grumpy acknowledgment that this isn't one of those people who have been trying to reach him to complain about whatever stupid thing he is responsible for that he cannot perceive as being his fault, all while not even bothering to provide an apology for the case of mistaken identity, as such is the way of the grumpiest, oldest men. Even if his hair hasn't started to go gray by some miracle of genetics.
He's about ready to lay back down and fail to acknowledge the desires of the youth, up until our young hero does the one thing not many people have bothered to call him over the last year or so he's been an irregular presence in the fighting leagues (or at least Saturday Night Fight).
"'Pretty good,'" Todoh mumbles in a voice that passes off as a poor mimic for Drake's own. At which point he suddenly shoots up all the way to his feet with the only gesture to give away this sudden shift from 'lethargic' to 'lively' being when he pushes himself up off the ground by his hands. "Bah!! How dare you call me, the wielder of the mightiest style to grace heaven and earth, merely 'pretty good!' Oooh, now you'll get it, son! You want it, you got it right here, right now, boy!"
His legs spread apart a little, arms forward with one in front of the other, eyes still bloodshot with the indignation of already decided to be unfulfilled (and unrealistic) expectations of just about everything around him right now. "I'll show /you/ 'pretty good'!!!"
COMBATSYS: Todoh has started a fight here on the right meter side.
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|-------\-------\0 Todoh
COMBATSYS: Drake has joined the fight here on the left meter side.
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Drake 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Todoh
A wry smile touches to Drake's lips at this sudden energy, and honestly? He's quite pleased. He started to have some doubts, but the old geezer's got some spirit in him! Just like how he remembers!
"Alright, Lieutenant!," Drake says dramatically as he shifts into his stance. His right foot draws back, settling into a shallow backstance with his right hand chambered at chest level and fingers splayed. The left arm rests angled before his body and leg, hand tapered flat. No fists here. "Let's do this!"
Drake hesitates only a second for the mental 'FIGHT!' to be called before starting things off suddenly and crisply. Drake hops into the air and torques his body over, launching his right boot out in a spinning aerial hook kick aimed for Todoh's head. "YAH!"
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Todoh with Light Kick.
- Power hit! -
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Drake 0/-------/-------|=------\-------\0 Todoh
Let's do this, indeed. The essence of Ryuhaku Todoh. Come out of nowhere, suddenly desire battle, fight for no good reason, retreat back into the aether. Except this time it's Domino who seems to be muscling in on the 'coming out of nowhere' part. No wonder the older of the two fighters here may be that much angry over it.
It may pale in comparison to what happens as Drake takes to the air, leading to an angle that Ryuhaku believes he can easily predict. 'Ah, he is jumping at me, he will strike me, I will foil this amateur approach! I feel almost too bad that I will have to throttle this youngster so horribly!' So he thinks. Really, there isn't any fault with how he crosses his arms to catch the blow. It is a good defensive stance that has worked well against many vicious assaults.
The problem is that the kick goes over the guard and gets him on the scalp, forcing him to a crouch with an exclamation of surprise and, to top things off, the crouch in question strikes his knee against a part of the ground a bit harder than he recalls, so that's injury to injury to an insult, but... no, that's not how the old saying goes.
The moment he has control of his movements again, he glides his feet back across the dirt and the blades of grass that speak not of neglect but of uneven effort in culling their growths. Exhaling a huff, the old man puts his poker face back on. It's not a good poker face. It's an 'I am angry and think you are cheating at poker' sort of face. If one considers that good, then yeah, maybe it is a good poker face.
"If I had 10 yen for every topless youngster throwing themselves at me..." It's debatable if this statement should end with the ellipses or exclamation marks as he opens up his left hand and palms it for the face of the hearthrob of literally thousands of young women the world over! Gasp! This old man would go so far as to ruin Drake's photographic appeal with but a palm to the face!
But no, sometimes the intent to palm someone in the face is so pure that it can really only be taken as just that, a palming to the face.
COMBATSYS: Drake counters Medium Punch from Todoh with Solar Eclipse.
- Power hit! -
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Drake 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Todoh
The acrobatic kick easily carries Drake back to his boots, and ultimately right back into his stance. The comment Todoh makes gets a temporarily bewildered look on the supermodel's face, mouth slightly hung open.
Dude, it must rock to be Lieutenant Japan. Lieutenant Japan gots game.
DAAAAyumn.
The possibility of learning more than just enhanced martial arts from this old timer will have to be considered later! For right now, a large hand is reaching out to smudge his facial features into a sardonic mockery of his occupation! Determined to give the absolute best demonstration he can, the dark-haired wrestler reacts on pure reflex and instinct, the hand chambered at his chest launching out to catch Todoh's offending arm by the wrist. His body twists aside as the hand pulls, using the momentum of the attack to pull his elder opponent off his guard, Drake's other arm hooks a leg. With a torque of his body, Todoh is yanked into the air, and Drake simply hops up with him to rotate, driving Todoh down back-first against the lawn with a chiselled teen bod' landing crossways atop him in a powerslam.
Following the slam, Drake releases Todoh's limbs and rolls forward off of him to end on his boots again. And once more, he enters his stance, turning to face his 'foe'.
Ryuhaku Todoh never does get to finish that sentence or even provide further context as the palm races for the face. It is a race of time between his palm, the young man's head, or any of the other old man's limbs or techniques deciding to stop napping from behind the start line and suddenly race to the goal to prove that they are the fastest in damaging Domino's beautiful face!
And the winner iiiiiiiiiiiis...
Oh, we have an accident out on the track.
The wrist is grabbed. For that split second, Todoh tugs back with that kind of look on his face that speaks 'let go.' But only for a split second, it's okay if one blinked. Because that split second later, he's sent racing off balance as his leg gets hooked and he's thrown off his feet, into the air without much time to make any funny sour faces or comments other than one of several groans that are likely to be repeated as blows are exchanged. It's a fighter thing. You have several select groans for 'pain' and tend to stick with them!
And so, he hits the ground under the mighty guidance and technique of Domino, leaving enough of an outline through the dirt to show for all who ever care to look past the blades of unevenly cut grass that the master of this dojo has been slammed into the dirt!
Domino rolls off on a timely fashion as hand reaches up to shove at thin air once occupied by the young wrestler, rising up under a dramatic cloud of dirt rising in a dust cloud, throwing his hands back up in the ready stance with hardly any concern for the tinge of pain in his back, eyes narrowing with the more characteristic focus of a traditional master.
"Hmph, not just another loud little punk, are you?" Never mind that Ryuhaku here probably has a higher decibel average across the garbage that spews out of his maw. Yes. Perhaps he requires special attention, maybe he should witness full bore the miracles of the Todoh way.
His hands go up, but not in surrender. No, with them he doesn't beseech the heavens. He takes what he damn well pleases out of what the powers that be have blessed this very world with, the shine of not a setting sun but just as bright (...at this distance), yellowish-orangeish colors of some indescribable shape that could not possibly be contained within the limits of all the patterns people give their own lesser(?) expressions of this power, the power that Ryuhaku Todoh himself commands that moves continents, creates auroras in their wake, and makes grown men weep to witness! (lies)
When his arms sweep downward with a sharp kiai, so too does this pattern descend unto the ground, threatening the few blades of grass underneath that have escaped proper lawn attention along with Domino with it, this power only able to be defined to mortal eyes as but a blocky set of three segments connected together!
Did Domino come all the way to witness its magnificence? Well here you go.
COMBATSYS: Drake dodges Todoh's Kasane Ate.
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Drake 0/-------/------=|===----\-------\0 Todoh
Drake steadies himself in his stance, observing Todoh's behavior with a quiet determination. He has no idea what's coming, to be honest - he's unfamiliar with the Kasane Ate in its entirety, and is only marginally prepared for a course of action when the rather intimidating coalescence of energy forms in the air.
Course of action: MOVE
Obeying his instincts and letting his trained body do the rest of the work for him, Drake suddenly vaults clean into the air in a trio of backflips, clearing the landing zone of the onslaught and instead landing in a crouch some distance back from Todoh and what would have been a pile of Drake ash. His eyes are at first set on the grass beneath his knee, but quickly lift to peer across to the old man.
"Pretty good, yep," he muses, a touch of a grin gracing his otherwise commonly stoic features, momentarily breaking his Dark Side.
A white glow begins to pulse around Drake's body before becoming a full-on aura. "Now lemme show you what I can do!" Suddenly, Drake shoots off from his little spot in the grass, the aura intensifying and displacing him with a white 'shadow' Drake image. He attempts to weave around behind Todoh's back to lock his arms around the man's midsection and suddenly bridges back, aiming to drive Todoh's head and shoulders against the grass behind him in a German suplex. Immediately after impact, Drake (along with his white shadow self) rolls over Todoh, keeping the arms around him to draw him back up and immediately follow up with a second German suplex.
Only then when the shadow catches up to the physical Drake, it shifts into a pool underneath Todoh - which suddenly erupts into a geyser of concussive sparkling white energy as Drake releases him.
COMBATSYS: Drake successfully hits Todoh with Whiteout.
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Drake 0/-------/-----==|====---\-------\0 Todoh
The grass underneath the descending wave finds itself disintegrated at the tips up until where it dissipates back whence it came into thin air, painting a slightly better picture about lawn care around these parts for our friend Domino if he pays any attention to it. There is no added frustration that can be read on the old man's face. If he thinks one is merely 'pretty good...'
"Hmph!" Goes the older of two Todohs again, bringing his arms back to a ready stance. See what this kid can do, huh, why is he one to care, he's the one who wanted to see /him/ in action, he has no patience for the kid wanting to show off during his own demonstration of divine technique!
He probably should care when he spots that familiar summoning of chi that leaves a bright white Drake behind the one running up to him. Child's play, that! Or so he believes as he suddenly sways his body off to the right to avoid the oncoming rush.
Misinterpreting the very nature of the move to begin with, it doesn't require much adjustment for Drake to latch onto his waist and then suplex him into the ground once, giving the exact same kind of pained groan from before! (Remember what was said before?) His feet wave a bit in the air angrily, as if to try and kick back out of it as he's rolled back over flat and suplexed a second time, at which point the explosive fountain of chi forces him out of its grasp and into a third meeting with the ground that is met with a tumble rather than a clean landing, putting the two somewhat distant to one another - releasing him out of grasp a liiiiiiittle bit early but to a beneficial effect. For the upstart. For now.
"Ah, you little showoff!" The insult is broken by the little wheeze of pain's effect on one's ability to draw one's breath and then use it with such clarity of opinion. "Wasting your effort!! Thinking you're cool with all that... that glowing, and... graaaaghble!" Another 'huff' later, he takes a few shuffling steps forward across the grass, a few blades raining from the sky where the geyser happened like little thin green confetti.
There is too great a distance for the young wrestler to suffer another one of those DEVASTATING FIGHTING SUPERPOWER TECHNIQUES just recently shown, so maybe all one can do is wait and see if one will rush to the other--
Forget waiting. Suddenly, Ryuhaku all but throws himself down on the ground, planting both hands onto the dirt as he thrusts his lower body forward, culminating in his right leg reaching upwards in a forward sweeping kick that, incidentally, could probably tag him in the groin or somewhere around there. It's somewhat understated compared to a few seconds ago, but does that change the fact that there is a low advancing kick en route?
No, no it doesn't.
COMBATSYS: Drake parries Todoh's Sweeping Kick!
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Drake 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Todoh
Drake twists over and pushes himself back up onto his feet following the 'splosion of energy, and he sets back into his stance. "Hey, nothin' wrong with pleasing a crowd, right?," Drake asks, small grin returning for but a moment. Nevermind that they don't necessarily have an audience beyond passersby.
As Todoh makes his assault, Drake's amethyst eyes zero in on the kick and its trajectory.
Oh dear.
It's going for the goods.
Oh Hell, Hell no.
Drake simply.. can -not- let that happen. His reaction comes in the blink of an eye, both hands darting out to catch the offending foot by the ankle and immediately redirect it, yanking up on the leg and flipping Todoh over in the process. Following this, he immediately leaps onto... a postbox. Weight balanced along its center, boots side-by-side and back turned to Todoh, Drake thrusts his right fist into the air in salute to any random citizens that happen to be walking by. Following this cocky showmanship, the young 'rassler leaps from his perch into a double backflip, limbs splaying out to pull his torso taut and bring lean muscular toning more to bear - all in an effort to splash Todoh with a modified high-flying moonsault. Fans know it as the Darkside Slam.
COMBATSYS: Todoh dodges Drake's Darkside Slam EX.
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Drake 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Todoh
An expert catch and redirect! If there were any true audience watching now, they'd cheer the shirtless wrestler on for such a quick and decisive reaction that leaves the older man vulnerable with the flip that laps him flat out on his back in yet another display of their prowess. If there are any passing by citizens watching, they would be hard pressed to figure out that the more experienced of the two is in fact the man on the ground.
If this were a wrestling ring, the crowds would be wild, cheering on the dashing young man as he shows his latest opponent how they do things, his trademark technique looking to be pulled off without a single hitch like so many expert displays of his own technique.
And then, the moonsault! The incredible backflip that brings his more than marketable agility and flexibility to bear, at which point our young hero will find that there is not Todoh underneath. Only dirt and uneven grass.
A shadow is cast over where the wrestler lands, arms crossed and the stern look of disapproval more than visible behind his increasingly shadowed features, at which point he simply nudges the young man with his foot. Aggressively. The most aggressive foot nudging to ever happen outside of a sanctioned battle, with more power hidden within the toes of Todoh than can be held within an entire army!!
COMBATSYS: Todoh successfully hits Drake with Light Kick.
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Drake 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Todoh
This is going remarkably well for Drake. He's giving it his all, and he feels he's doing quite well for it. So it felt to be about the right time to pull out his high-risk finisher.
But there's no one to land on.
Crap.
Drake whumps gracelessly against the ground, fully invested in the assault.. and thus perhaps a little clumsy or shortsighted in its execution. He immediately doubles over in the grass, groaning. Hard impact over an unyielding surface hurts, yanno! The shadow isn't even noticed yet, eyes squeezed shut and hurting.
Then Drake's hurting more, Todoh toes driving into his ribs to knock the dark-haired youth over in the grass with a yelp. Drake tumbles a few times, ending on his back and splayed out for a second. Clearly, he counted Lieutenant Japan out way, way too quick.
Curling back onto his shoulders, Drake kips up to his boots again and re-enters his stance, eyes narrowed once more. He moves into striking range again, thrusting the heel of his right hand towards Todoh's jaw, followed by a crisp turn and elbowsmash from the left arm aimed for the sternum. "HAH!"
COMBATSYS: Todoh blocks Drake's Quick Punch.
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Drake 0/-------/--=====|=====--\-------\0 Todoh
Disapproval is strangely potent. Ryuhaku Todoh - or Lieutenant Japan, as he was referred to over on those beaches months ago - breathes deeply, his arms crossing up enough that the heel of the right hand is just barely halted by the higher forearm of the arm cross, descending just enough that it stops the elbow straight up. Well, it does push him back a little, at least.
It is very strange how shadowed the facial features of Ryuhaku appear in broad daylight at this angle. Then again, Drake is roughly a full inch or two taller than he is. It's hard to say other than a blanket nebulous 'taller'. He just has that sort of effect. A good combination strike, halted short by an old man so thoroughly displeased by something or another.
The collective antipathy extends itself as the arms uncross and look to grab our hero Domino on either side of the head, firmly placing them on either side if he lets him. Crush his melon like a grape? The precursor to some fascinatingly deadly hand to hand technique that one would have to train upwards of twenty or thirty years to master by their own strength of will and countless buckets of blood, sweat, and tears?
No.
But there is something that old people, across the board, have that youngsters never will until they are no longer youngsters, and that, ladies and gentlemen... is a cranky old person voice.
"YOU THINK I'M THAT EASY TO SIT THERE AND TAKE THAT?!" He yells so loud point blank that it may very well rattle. If not, the head shaking may. Or it could be both working so much in tandem that they coalesce into one of the deadliest throwing techniques of all?! An amazing obscure facet of whatever awesome style this man claims to be the champion of?
...So many questions, all around something seemingly trivial like this.
COMBATSYS: Todoh successfully hits Drake with Quick Throw.
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Drake 0/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Todoh
For the first time in a long time, Drake is treated like his age. He's grabbed and yelled at, amethyst eyes going humongous. Really, his face is nothing but large purple eyes. And then he's shaken like a red-headed step-child, hands gripping onto Todoh's wrists to attempt bracing against some of this.. but to really no effect. By the end of it, those pupils.. narrow into tiny dots. With insanity.
In an act of rebellion fueled by angsting at-home teenagers across the planet, Drake's knee THRUSTS upwards! 'Twixt Todoh's nithers!
It's a male teenager reflex! Honest!
COMBATSYS: Todoh interrupts Strong Kick from Drake with Aogi Kasane Ate.
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Drake 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Todoh
Imagine what sort of life his daughter must lead! Or what his father must have been like! Or his father's father! If his father's still around, he must be even older, and to think of what sort of authority he could command just by shouting loudly enough at someone!
By the time the hands come up to the wrists, Ryuhaku has decided he will not have any more of it, like the last time he decided he wouldn't have any more of it but had more of it because deep down he's such a nice old man (NO HE'S NOT) but then decides he isn't a nice old man deep down because he thinks this kid is a punk just looking for trouble and thought he could get away with being all showy and flashy and saying he's just merely 'pretty good,' he is not, he is the greatest!!
The hands fly up and his legs spread apart a bit, lowering his height slightly, hands cupping into something more like claws as Domino is blessed with but another expression of what is true battle ability with what is hardly an effort for one such as himself!
The shape seems slightly more defined, if one were to pay such attention to things in between 'shiny thing' and 'death,' as some may in order to appreciate the nature of what will fell them! (maybe)
"HEEYA-GUH!" With the first half of the hyphenated set, the hands scratch forth above Drake's head with the dip of his own posture, guiding down three closely linked, long stretches of yellowish-orangeish chunks of chi that do not bother to take any easily recognizable form like... flowers, or bees, or dragons, or the moon, or Matt Damon. (You bet there is someone who fights using chi Matt Damons!) It rains down upon Domino with all the fury of... fury.
As for the second half of the hyphenated words, that's when he dipped low enough to take the knee to the breadbasket instead of the groin in a narrow miss of the bullseye, but it hits the target to appreciable effect with the old man's eyes bugging out and wheezing soon afterwards. He might've pushed Domino away, or Domino may have gotten a break from further assault.
But how long can either one's luck hold out before skill has to come in knocking for them? (Never send luck to do skill's job.)
The hand gets free of Drake's grasp, comes up above his head, and.. there's chi madness raining upon him simultaneous to the base reaction. If by mere physical manifestations of pain one were to gauge who did the greater damage, the older gentleman would appear to come out on top; Drake lets out more than a grunt or wheeze - he actually cries out in pain. Indeed, he's knocked back from the chi, hitting the ground solidly and tumbling end over end a little. Part of this is from force, the other part is from writhing in agony. When he comes to a stop, it's on his side and panting.
But the moment he's forced the pain from his mind, Drake grits his teeth and pushes himself back up to his full height. The ascent is a little slower this time, and his stance is slouched, but certainly not for laziness or disinterest. Judging from the narrowed purple slits that are Drake's eyes, Todoh has his undivided attention. "A-alright.. that one hurt..," he grants, voice a little strained. "I'm.. gonna show you.. my best now.. get ready.."
COMBATSYS: Drake focuses on his next action.
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Drake 1/----===/=======|======-\-------\0 Todoh
Shows the punk kid right, Todoh would snort out loud if he didn't get kneed in the stomach by the angriest, most angst-powered knee he has ever made contact with. He'll show that knee how to respect its elders, just you wait, you'll /all/ see, yes, your knee too!!
While Drake has to content with significant amounts of pain, the elder of the two at least has it in him enough to move in a bit closer, maybe foolishly so, edging in closer past the blades of grass that are not uniform in length in the least, through the soft dirt that dirty his socks and the bottom of his trousers, advancing slowly while the wrestler's eyes narrow, promising with a small voice that he'll show him his best.
This would be a treat were there an audience watching! The showstopper, the one thing that threatens to clinch the battle between the two. Both have their wounds. Even one as great as Ryuhaku Todoh (if in his own mind) is not untouchable, breathing heavily enough to be heard from the distance he is. He comes closer and closer yet.
Then, inquisitively... maybe even foolishly, he strikes a fist forward with but the most simple of questions one can ask in all of this given the situation in but a simple, quick, fast-flying jab. Punch. A jabbing punch.
"So where is it?!" He calls above his own injuries, given the waiting pause before the youngster shows just what he's made of - if he's ever /going/ to.
COMBATSYS: Todoh successfully hits Drake with Jab Punch.
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Drake 1/--=====/=======|======-\-------\0 Todoh
Drake is... catching his breath! And also, Drake is attempting to discern the best approach to take against Todoh to really show off his greatest maneuver. He starts to think he sees an opening, only there's suddenly a fist in motion. 'Where the Hell it came from?' turns into a question of 'Where the Hell did it go?'. Drake is only jarred back with a wince, but he's then immediately going in for the proverbial kill.
No narration is given on his part.
No commentary.
Drake is just going to let the renowned maneuver speak for itself. His hands lash out firmly for Todoh's shoulders, fingers digging in...
COMBATSYS: Todoh endures Drake's Total Eclipse.
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Drake 0/-------/------=|=======\=------\1 Todoh
With Todoh's shoulders grasped securely, Drake yanks him down to lock his neck between his legs. His arms then lock up around Todoh's midsection to hoist him up into a basic piledriver position.
But he isn't given just a piledriver. That would be too simple. No, the first phase of the Total Eclipse comes in the form of all-out strength. Dynamite comes in small packages they say, and it couldn't be more true in Drake's case. His arms begin squeezing and crushing around Todoh's midsection in an unrelenting bearhug. The arms continue to lock down until they've grown as tightly wound about the old man as possible, either for a case of unbreaking bones or to where he's more or less hugging himself.
And that's where the arms maintain pressure.
The second phase begins thus, a demonstration of acrobatic agility. Drake leaps high into the air with Todoh, ascending rapidly into the sky in a series of forward flips. These flips pick up momentum quickly, and by the time the two have climbed outrageously high into the air and are descending, they've blurred together into a single opaque swirl. The momentum builds and builds...
Until it comes to an explosive stop on the ground again, shattering against Todoh's head. The momentum, their combined bodyweights, and the elevation of the leap all multiply the pain of the piledriver, making the Total Eclipse truly a horrific move to be subjected to. In most cases, anyway. Plus that and the bearhug still maintained.
But following the hit, Drake leaps back from the old man and releases him, setting back into his stance.
There is legitimate curiosity in wondering what the hell this kid's 'best' is. If it's 'sit there and let me punch him' then he is sorely disappointed on all fronts! Part of him, for once, doubts this. A rare instance of truly knowing better! Despite the fact that he is the greatest martial arts master of all time (no) and he always has these careful considerations in mind (no he doesn't).
Then the hands come onto his shoulders and dig in deep, clinching past fabric and all but stabbing into the hard, perhaps exaggeratedly muscular flesh underneath which elicits the gritting of teeth and narrowing of pupils as they enter yet another brief tug of war, why, is it going to be like earlier?!
With only minor resistance considering he is found on the losing end of a pure contest of physical strength, he is locked by the neck and crushed around the midsection while held upside down. His arms do not get caught with him. This would be a blessing and all he'd need to break it were it not for one simple issue at hand.
He fails to exert any real strength to get him off because of the crushing aspect, wheezing and losing breath under the sheer /strength/. But he's so full of piss that he doesn't give up, pushing at those arms and trying so very hard to get out. He does not.
Then the two start going into the air, so fast that the sheer g-forces would make lesser men... no, lesser /creatures/ faint. He has not, because he is still yelling incomprehensible obscenities and challenges that can't be heard above the sound of wind shear with the air whipping about his long, long hair. But he knows one thing, and one thing alone when they leave the ground.
Sooner or later he's going to be back down /on/ the ground, and gods help the poor boy when he gets there, he doesn't care how, he doesn't care what, he knows exactly what he plans to do whenever they hit the ground. It's hard to determine when perhaps by /design/.
Then, the explosion, which leaves Ryuhaku Todoh's head embedded in the dirt, the rest of the body sticking straight out like a javelin, arms straight out against the ground as if in defeat. Has he succumbed to the Total Eclipse's deadly hold and fatal drop height
Nope!! The moment Domino leaps back and taps the ground, he knows where he went and responds in kind by simply kicking his feet straight up to no easily discernible effect, other than the muffled yell of some sharp kiai or another in the dirt.
Then he swings them back behind himself with such momentum that he flops onto his butt and, miraculously enough, doesn't snap his neck in the process. But what miracle is it, he's the one the other only knows as Lieutenant Japan, he must have earned that rank to be Lieutenant. But enough on that. It's not how he gets out of the ground.
It's more how he summons what is hard to see from above because it doesn't start from above, it starts from below - where extremely thin, blu-ish white spears of chi suddenly spread out conically from the ground, gaining height as the wave spreads and travels outward from the flopping old man which unearths and tears up blades of grass that once seemed so smug to have survived the culling of their collective heights.
Everyone's used to summoning chi with their hands. Ryuhaku Todoh, no exception. But sometimes, sometimes, you're so incensed enough over someone's 'best' that by any means possible, you make due with what is available. In this case...
Such a retaliation is a shoe-in. (pardon the pun)
COMBATSYS: Todoh successfully hits Drake with Cho Kasane Ate.
[ \\\\\ < > //////// ]
Drake 1/------=/=======|=------\-------\0 Todoh
Drake's eyes widen as Todoh gets back up to his feet again.. and at that speed, to boot! His mouth hangs a little open at it, and he.. is taken cleanly by surprise. No matter how much he may want to move as soon as he notices the chi, it's already too late by then. Since he doesn't notice it until he's in EFFING SEARING PAIN!
"GAAHHH!"
Drake is taken off his feet and into the air from the spikes, flipping over a couple times.. only to land in a rough heap in the grass, facedown. Unmoving.
But then, Drake does something possibly a little retarded. Gutsy, but possibly retarded. He gets back up, body trembling from the pain he's desperately focusing out of his mind. He doesn't body getting back into his stance again. He just takes flight.
In a butterfly kick.
Right knee strikes for Todoh's torso, and Drake's body twists around in the air to strike his left boot under his chin to launch him into the sky. Drake's jump will already have him climbing in altitude, meeting with Todoh for a second, repeated butterfly kick aimed to nail Todoh in the jaw with the knee, then thrust the boot against his torso to launch him away.
COMBATSYS: Drake can no longer fight.
> //////// ]
|=------\-------\0 Todoh
COMBATSYS: Todoh fails to interrupt Lunar Eclipse from Drake with Random Weapon EX.
> //// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Todoh
COMBATSYS: Todoh has reached second wind!
> ////// ]
|==-----\-------\0 Todoh
(OOC note from Todoh player: My second wind can go screw, this does not fit with my perception of reality, log reader is encouraged to ignore that it happened. Thank you for your patience and understanding!)
It is a striking success. Moving so unconventionally and quicker than anybody may have expected, why he shouldn't expect anything less, he's the best there is, so Todoh believes, of course he could do it! This ego pierces the throbbing of his skull of having been reintroduced to earth so violently, sides like needles after being so crunched like a tin can as he tries to pull himself up so clumsily. It's not helping. Or maybe he's letting Domino do exactly as he feels like to exact his revenge in his fleeting moments. (also lies)
Truth of the matter is, he's helped up as he gets kneed in the chest and then launched straight up with one of those same repetitive, phoned-in grunts from earlier, giving him that one last chance to even the score. For a brief moment, it looks to go so perfectly, that revenge will be had in a last ditch attempt to impress.
Then, all of a sudden, his left hand gets inside his gi top and pulls out a fan, opening it up to display the might of the flag of Japan. "YEH HAH HAH HAAAAH!" He calls out with triumphant laughter, holding back the hacking and coughing of broken ribs and shortness of breath, positioning the fan in front of his face to put on an air of mystique and beauty in a strangely feminine way for that briefest moment.
The briefest moment before he is kneed /through/ the fan into his face from the knee several times to comical effect, leaving a fan imprint in his face a number of times over before he takes one last strike in the gut and flies back down to... the teacups!
The teacups take flight upon Ryuhaku's impact with the ground, expelling all remaining air he has in his lungs and leaving him wheezing on the ground. The fates of the teacups are left unknown as they fly into the air, looking for a deadly crash course against the dirt where they would shatter into millions of pieces...!
Until his wife, dressed in a lilac-colored kimono and bearing light brown hair tied back under a purple ribbon, catches the teacups with deft motions of either hands. How careless, her husband leaving them out there to the elements while he napped and got into yet another fight. She goes to head back inside with them. Maybe she'll make some more if either of them are conscious enough to ask.
THE GREATEST MARTIAL ARTS EXPERT OF ALL TIME EVER is not going to be the first to do so, from appearances, still wheezing and lying on his back against the cloth. "So... you happy, kid? Huh?" Still confrontational in tone for a guy that doesn't look like he could throw another punch if he wanted to, but... this is the guy who keeps sneaking away from cameras the moment he is absolutely sure they aren't looking at him.
As Drake descends from the jump, the energy throughout his limbs seeps out. He lands on his feet, then shortly thereafter collapses onto his knees, then his palms, head hanging low. "Nnh..." Drake can't even speak again just yet. He simply pants and gasps for breath, barely clinging to consciousness at this point. That chi... hurt like Hell.
"Y-yeah.. you'd do fine..," he finally manages. Drake's head lifts weakly to look over his shoulder to Todoh, gaze unfocused and bleary. "I'm.. lookin' for someone.. to train under."
There he is, lying still, like a mighty toppled statue. Made of flesh. And bruises. Most of them don't show too well because the vast majority of the worst of it happened under the clothing. He could probably become an artist in being bruised and broken, for all it happens. BUT THE SOUL STILL BURNS... to put it in Katana-speak.
His head suddenly jerks up like it did when they first came across one another today. "Eh? What... what did you just say, kid?" In absolutely inane defiance of the fact he was just soundly matched, he works himself up to his feet and actually displays measurable expedience and... and /energy/ in actually going over to his side. "You wanted someone to /train/ under... you say? Yeh... yeh hah hah!" It's more of a quiet maniacal laughter that gets interrupted again by wheezing as if to say, no, not even you, the best there is in at least your own head, get to completely no-sell your injuries. No.
He falls back into a kneel, where he withdraws another fan out of the same place to fan himself steadily, take a little wind off of it because now his mood just got a whole lot better! Can anybody say 'bipolar?'
Drake doesn't have the vast energy Todoh boasts. "Lieutenant.. will you help train me?," he asks. His head slouches again, barely teetering on consciousness. He really gave that fight his all! "Don't mind me.. if I pass out.. tried my best to show ya I'm good.."
If Todoh were a kind and sharing man, he would concede the virtues of Drake's movements and techniques and talents in comparison to his own. Todoh is not that kind of man in the least. There may very well be a reason why he is so obscure.
"Hmph!! Next time you ask me first!" Wow, he can manage that many exclamation marks in his current state? He interrupts himself with another juicy cough, which is... not a good sign of his health, which he will probably sleep off as opposed to getting proper medical attention.
But was that phrase dismissal? "Good... feh, good! I'll make you better... better than good, yes. Yes I will! I'll make you..." His eyes narrow, looking for the best English word stolen from Takuma's little black book of favorite English words, made up or not. "Gooder. Goodest. Yes." He's also counting the tuition fees in his head as he waves his fan. More income! More to wave over Takuma's head and make fun of his ailing dojo with! (Not that he's... doing... any better.)
"Heh.. I can stand to be.. the goodest.. sure," Drake agrees. A pleased smile graces his features.. and then disappears. Drake's consciousness drips from him completely finally, and the supermodel collapses the rest of the way into the grass. And that's where he'll remain for a few hours, if left undisturbed, most likely.
Log created on 16:46:14 08/26/2008 by Drake, and last modified on 16:05:54 08/27/2008.