Description: On the plane back to Sunshine City, Takako issues a challenge to her fellow Japanese Schoolgirl to battle! Asuka Kazama is confused about the logic of fighting on the plane, and indeed about pretty much everything to do with this fight. But as bokken and fist clash in the air above the Pacific Ocean, the groundwork is laid for a beautiful... uh... hatred. (Winner: Asuka)
"So? Where is he?"
Asuka Kazama's hazel eyes are bright as she leans across the cluttered desk, gloved palms clamped to either side amidst a disarray of manilla folders and coffee-stained printouts. The man before her remains absolutely calm in the face of the tomboy's eager intensity, one arm crooked and resting against the back of his neck, phrasing a relaxed smile as he pauses to take a midnight gulp of stewed caffeine. The moment lingers just a little too long, Asuka's lips pursing and brow furrowing; the desk begins to creak beneath her pressure. Lei Wulong just smiles a touch wider, setting his mug down and reaching carelessly for one of the many, seemingly identical files, a quick flip of his fingers sending it end over end toward the teenager.
Her disarmingly girlish 'huh?' belies the fact that she lifts her weight and snatches it from the air, sending it tumbling into her hands face-up and almost immediately sliding out the crisp, freshly-printed top sheet. A photocopy of a news report greets her stare, bearing a telltale headline.
"Sunshine City."
By the magic of storytelling, those two words bring Osaka's most famous meddler to her current location a mile above the Pacific Ocean. Regrettably, she can't fly using telekinesis and neither does she have an invisible car like those justice-loving heroes who came before her; in fact, Asuka didn't even have the cash to stump up the fare for a long-haul flight. Her mountain-punchingly powerful target saw to that when he lay ruin to her dojo and hospitalized her long-suffering father, though it hasn't taken too long to find an alternatives means of financing this trip - last time, she was able to secure entry into the Iron Fist tournament...
This time, she's found an open challenge for Ken Masters' ludicrously well-paid Neo League.
It all sounds so glamorous and exciting, at least to a girl who secretly enjoys kicking people in the face considerably more than she likes shopping or hanging out with her 'normal' friends, but the truth is rather less overwhelmingly awesome. In fact, it's pretty damn lame. Asuka is currently employing a wobbly plastic fork to poke at the form of something ostensibly designated as chicken breast, but actually quite unidentifiable, floating in the sickly, glutinous white of something else that's been branded 'wine sauce'. It's her first encounter with airline food and she's got less than no idea what to make of it, actually feeling her brain cells die by the thousand as she squints down the line of the plastic utensil with unveiled disgust.
She's still in this position an hour later, when a brightly beaming hostess leans in to beam brightly at her.
"Excuse me, Miss Kazama? I've been asked to see if you're ready!"
Blearily, the ordinarily brash Osakan looks up from her dread spectacle to regard the woman blearily for several moments. Cogs clank and wind, reminding her alternately that they're on a plane, surrounded by several hundred people packed in like sardines - and all armed with their own terrible trays of fearsome pre-packaged muck - with an access aisle approximately two and a half feet across stretching between the seats... and what was the other thing? Oh, right. /They're on a plane/. Asuka really wants to shout at this stupid woman before her, but she seems to keen to please and the whole atmosphere is just so soul-crushing that she moves to stand.
"Right. I, uh, guess I'm ready?" She hears herself talk as if through a bubble, rising like an obedient golem up until the instant she the top of her head comes into sharp contact with the low-slung overhead compartment. "Gah! Dammit!" Teeth gritting, she's brought back to reality with a startling rush, the babbling of her neighbouring passengers and the screaming of their children exploding against her eardrums and then rapidly lost in a crashing wave of dawning insanity as she processes the last few moments of her life.
"...wait." The single syllable falls hard and stern as she turns to look down the aisle.
"What the /hell/ kind of idiot tries to make somebody fight them on a /plane/?!"
Kazama Asuka.
I write to you in my native tongue of Japanese. As a fellow warrior walking the noble path of the League of Neo, I demand that we do battle!
My name is Fujiwa Takako. Currently ranked 10th in the League. You are an unknown. But I will do you this honor as my countrywoman of giving you the means and the opportunity to engage in most glorious combat. Such is the way of our fists! Of our skulls! Of our hearts!
I will be on your flight this evening. Do not shame yourself with cowardice.
-Fujiwa Takako.
---------
Time waits for no woman! Fujiwa Takako's hellaciously determined manner is gradually penetrating the public consciousness. It is tough going, given that she hasn't won a single fight of the thirteen that she has participated in, but she has slowed little since she made contact with the fighting world again. Weeks of boredom in China have exploded into a furious return to the fighting circuit the likes of which has rarely been seen!
So when she had the idea to challenge someone /on the flight back to Sunshine City/, why, there wasn't a chance in Hell that she was going to pass up on it. She has no idea who this Asuka Kazama is, but her name is on the roster and that makes her a legitimate challenge! The letter had been written, in the same impeccable handwriting but notably better grammar, and delivered. Now, having filled herself up with three grains of boiled rice, Takako is ready to scrap!
"Come on now Kazama!" Takako shouts, the shorter Japanese girl putting her hands on her hips, bokken dangling from the right. "These people couldn't afford decent entertainment, so we're all the show they are going to get! Stop falling asleep and FACE ME!"
Takako herself, of course, is entirely comfortable in the cramped and confined conditions. Probably because she's so small.
Naturally, Asuka took the time to read her challenger's note, though she admittedly spent as little time as possible pondering why exactly somebody in a fighting competition she's never heard of - and who's probably never heard of /her/, unless she's passed through Osaka a few times - would write such a letter. She also drew the reasonable and quite logical conclusion that 'I will be on your flight' merely inferred they'd be sharing the trip across and alighting either in Sunshine City or somewhere along the way to partake of the intended battle. The situation appears to be quite different from expected, and that's... well, it's vexing.
To say nothing of the first impression the talented tomboy draws from her apparent opponent, missing her entirely at first sweep and only locating her thanks to that horrendously loud voice. She's so obnoxious! But that's the least of Asuka's concerns as she looks down the aisle and, quite frankly, down toward the floor. Japanese girls aren't known for their towering stature-- heck, she isn't exactly lanky herself. Takako?
She must be the tiniest (supposed) martial artist Asuka's seen outside of her own pupils.
"I don't even know who you are!" She protests, at first attempting not to mention the other thoughts blasting through her skull as she extricates herself from her seat; thankfully quite near the aisle, she just has to get past one snoring obese man and she's free, the hostess having shifted herself already. Unfortunately, even this is enough to further fluster, as she steps into the ridiculous non-expanse of space, pulling at the edges of her bodysuit to straighten it out. Her cheeks are faintly flushed now, which can only be a bad thing.
"Is this some kind of freakshow?" A very bad thing. "I mean, you're so..."
Exasperated, she waves one gloved hand toward the dimunitive bokken-swingin' brawler, lower lip curling and head shaking to and fro. See, for all her casually-inflected speech and overtly confident mien, Kazama has been raised with certain values that make outright insulting an opponent something of a conflicted process. You know, unless they really deserve it. At the moment, Takako's a fringe case, but...
"A bit like a circus midget, y'know?" Asuka /really/ hates being on this plane with the plastic food and plastic people, and that fat guy smelled really bad, and all she wanted was an easy ticket to Osaka! What's wrong with the world? Everywhere she goes, somebody has to ruin everything by being a total idiot! "Ugh!" Stamping one foot forward, hard enough to awaken the snoozing leviathan beside her, the Osakan shifts her hands to a low guard before her, eyes narrowing as she lets loose a fuming breath. "It doesn't matter..."
"The one who needs to wake up, is you! If you wanna be pounded, then come on!!"
COMBATSYS: Asuka has started a fight here.
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Asuka 0/-------/-------|
Takako has no illusions about her size, or what that makes other people think of her. Nor does she have any illusions about her respectability in the fighting world. She's started to be noticed by the /public/ because of the sheer quantity of fights. She hasn't really picked up much of a following amongst people who care about good fighters because, she isn't one. She's still got a lot to learn before she can command respect! So, Asuka's insults, well... she takes them mostly in stride.
Mostly.
"I'm going to make you eat those words!" She shouts, stamping her feet as she swings her bokken up and around. It makes an interesting restriction, fighting in such a cramped space. She might have no problems with beating the hell out of sheep, but she doesn't want to hit innocent passengers. Or babies. And as always, there are lots and lots of babies on this airline.
Her camera crew has set up behind her, getting a nice long shot of the carriage, and as Asuka prepares herself, she starts to run forwards. There's a little bit of ground to cover, after all. "Circus midget! PFAH! WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!"
And she just... keeps coming! Its a headlong rush, bokken little more than a distraction, as she aims to close on Asuka, and smash into her. Through her. She doesn't care much about the distractions! She doesn't care about her opponent! To test herself, under these conditions, and see whether - THIS TIME - she could scrape victory from the jaws of defeat!
"KIYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"
And one of the many, many babies bursts into blubbering tears as the loud girl aims to open proceedings with a forwards-lunging headbutt to the stomach.
COMBATSYS: Takako has joined the fight here.
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Takako 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Asuka
COMBATSYS: Asuka counters Random Strike from Takako with Falling Rain.
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Takako 0/-------/-======|==-----\-------\0 Asuka
Getting noticed as a mighty warrior in a world that seems quite literally packed to exploding with them is a struggle for anyone; even those born with every possible advantage. Talent alone doesn't cut it, nor does having all the money and resources to fuel a career, instead they're all looking for that certain flair powered by an inward, unrelenting drive to succeed. There's just always someone better, in every sense, that the soul of a great fighter is naturally going to be their key to success. Of all the tertiary factors that may assist a martial artist on the quest for infamy, /size/ certainly doesn't matter...
Though on occasion it does come in handy.
Irritated she may be, but Takako's headlong charge is regarded by Asuka for approximately 0.02 seconds before she's busting out a crooked grin, one side of her mouth cracking open to bare teeth as she watches the squirty spitfire rampage down the narrow aisle. There's so little room to move that neither of them could hope to employ many other strategies, at this moment; which just makes this all the more ludicrous, and in fairness to her opponent... makes Fujiwa all the more admirably gutsy. It's not enough to distract Kazama, though.
"My name," she calls out in her rough Kansai dialect, shifting her lead foot forward just a fraction more in the couple of heartbeats before that thick skull's impact, "Is Asuka Kazama, and I'll be your safety advisor today!" Roaring fills her ears - and it's got nothing whatsoever to do with the fact they're sixteen hundred metres above the ocean - but she isn't threatened in the slightest, reaching out to meet the butting head with one unusually large hand, closing firm and fast as her eyes flash with the excitement of battle. Hey, she only objects to the circumstances; if she didn't enjoy this at all she wouldn't be here.
"Bags carried on board--" Suddenly she's twisting, dragging her tiny bundle overhead in that single-handed grip, utilising all the momentum Takako has gathered to slam her brutally into the aisle directly behind her. The plane lurches, a few women letting out startled screams as five-foot-nothin' of Japanese schoolgirl is hammered into the floor with crushing force. "Must be small enough to store below your seat--!!"
Savagely her lips pull back, announcing an expression quite ill-suited to someone who was apparently startled and dismayed to be handed a fight just thirty seconds ago. This is the only warning Takako would get, were she sensible and un-thrown enough, to see what's coming next, as Asuka's other hand darts down to double up her grip and spin around again in what little space she has. This time, Takako is raised toward the cream plastic roof of the plane and then flung sidelong into the low-slung right flank, an explosion of bags and coats greeting the dimunitive Fujiwa's impact into and through one of those too-familiar hatches at the side.
Which appears to be quite enough for the freakishly-strong tomboy, who lowers her hands back to a guard.
"Or," she says between heaved breaths, "In the overhead compartment."
The impacts are dizzying. But, then, Takako has known that being thrown around is her biggest weakness for a long while. That fact has been hammered home into her more than enough for one lifetime, and the crushing assault that answers her initial rush just proves it to be the case. When she comes back to herself, she is struggling up and out of a bunch of luggage. The bills for this - assuming they don't just crash the plane and cause everyone to die in a terrifying inferno from which there is no escape - would undoubtedly be high enough already.
She's not dissuaded, though. She's definitely been hit harder than that, before, and she's never one to call it done before the fight has even really gotten started. "You've got a fat mouth!" Takako is already getting the impression she can count 'victory' off her list of likely outcomes, but what the hell. She can give it her best anyway, and after some of the beatings she has taken, one more isn't going to shake anything loose that hasn't already been rattled.
That's how bodies work you know. Prior punishment just toughens them up, it doesn't make lasting injury more likely at all.
"STOP BLATHERING AND HIT ME LIKE YOU MEAN IT!"
With another roar, Takako throws herself forwards. Ordinarily, she'd be going for one of her chi-based moves to try and avoid another crushing reversal... but no. She could barely control them at the best of times, and for all her many other bad qualities, the diminuitive Fujiwa is not one to endanger the public. So if a headbutt didn't work, she'll just have to try bludgeoning Asuka with her sword!
Taking full advantage of her slight frame, the girl actually leaps into the air, and doesn't hit her head on the ceiling! Instead she flips, and brings the weapon down with as much force as she can muster, aiming to smash it right down on the top of Asuka's head!
And if she even thinks of getting those hands back up to guard, she's already bringing the wooden blade back to smash it down a second, and a third time! Fully intending to plough through whatever the tomboy might put in her way with all the brute force and ignorance she can muster.
COMBATSYS: Asuka just-defends Takako's Violent Hurricane EX!
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Takako 0/-------/--=====|==-----\-------\0 Asuka
Asuka is swiftly coming to the conclusion that Takako Fujiwa isn't vastly different from one of the many hundreds of young punks she's beaten up on the streets of Osaka in the name of local peace-keeping. Arrogant and fierce, her opening charge was nonetheless coloured by something that puts her a cut above the average person - see, those who seek conflict aren't typically worthless, but tend toward being misguided talent in need of a few adjustments to really shine. Which is where a Kazama has to step in, and help out.
But being this insane girl's Good Samaritan doesn't preclude cringing every time she 'speaks'. It's enough to put Asuka's teeth on edge, and potentially make her hit twice as fast if it means getting this insufferable squirt to shut up and study!! ...wait, where was she again?
"Oop!" Once more blasting back to reality, the tomboy is suddenly met by eighty-some pounds of airborne fury, that lashing bokken met with a screw of the hip and a rising arm - the left, to be exact, palm open and twisting to turn outward. The motion is purely instinctive, and utterly perfect; in such close quarters most of the audience are too busy scrambling away to appreciate it, but she intersects the bokken's striking tip at precisely the point that it catches one cupped callous and diverts it harmlessly away. For a second or so it doesn't seem like Asuka's really done /anything/; like it simply missed, leaving her to deal with the unwary follow-ups with a second and third rotation. The second is very similar, and coupled with a long backstep...
But the third is something else. She's not just turning away to divert the blow-- in fact, this time she actually doesn't touch it at all, merely keeping her hand in a warding position for the instant it takes to enter a dynamic forward spin, feet dancing through the narrow aisle to propel her into a wildly controlled tornado of motion. Asuka makes it through three full rotations before her suddenly-chambered right knee unleashes into a hooking back kick, seeking to plough the heel into - and through - Takako's shouty face.
"Like this?" She quips as she delivers the strike, almost immediately back in place. Technique flawless. The only trouble is, she knows it, a cocky smirk lingering on her lips as she reaches across with one hand to wipe a fleck of the other girl's spittle from her top. "And don't call me fat..."
Her chest betrays her at altitude, jiggling rather too copiously as her hand comes away.
"/Midget/."
COMBATSYS: Takako Toughs Out Asuka's Onikubigari!
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Takako 1/------=/=======|===----\-------\0 Asuka
Takako knows the difference between those points where her own failure is letting her down, and the skill of her opponent is buoying them up. It is a difficult line to learn to draw, but it is there. Her inability to lay her bokken on Asuka has nothing at all to do with her own abilities, and everything to do with Asuka's. It is annoying to be outplayed so convincingly, but it is hardly anything she hasn't experienced before.
When Asuka's knee comes in, Takako just takes it. The throw? That had been crushing, agonizing. She's made mostly out of compacted muscle; there just isn't that much in her which CAN bounce without it hurting like a bitch. This, though? Please. She's taken far more painful kicks than that.
"No." She says, with Asuka's leg still buried in the side of her unbudging mouth. "You've gotta do much better than that."
Takako really doesn't have much interest in trading insults back and forth; she couldn't care less about that nonsense. She is, however, as well-positioned for her counterattack as she can possibly be. The tight confines of the airplane make it difficult, but...
Lunging forwards, she aims to sweep her bokken around, and crash it up into Asuka's stomach. If the blow connects clean, she'll fling the slightly-taller girl upwards, and...
Before she can connect with the ceiling, Asuka will have blow after blow rained upon her, as Takako intercepts her in mid-air, before landing, with some certainty, upon her feet. Hmph. She's had just about enough of this constant midget talk. It is like fighting with Arshe.
Only maybe not QUITE as annoying.
COMBATSYS: Takako successfully hits Asuka with Fujin's Echo.
- Power hit! -
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Takako 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Asuka
Relatively new to the concept of brain-bending physics, Asuka isn't expecting much more in the way of daredevil acrobatics from this battle; she's a solid, rooted fighter herself, tending to keep her feet firmly in contact with the ground until it's absolutely not necessary - and until she can guarantee the leveraging of greater force behind her blows by performing a quick hop or spinning leap. Given her opponent's size, she's also not expecting to be flung around. How much force can the small girl bet behind her blows anyway?
Despite this, she's not entirely underestimating Takako Fujiwa. Her posturing is only there to serve distraction, and she's prepared for the sweep of the bokken, hand leaving chest and not straying too far. It's not a long way to her stomach - flat as it is, thankyaverymuch - and she's sure she has this covered... at any other time she would probably be right. This fight isn't exactly 'usual'. There's a heartbeat where it's in the hands of the gods-- appropriate, given how close they both soar to the heavens right now. Fujiwa is striking, Kazama is moving to respond; and then time very abruptly speeds up. That explosive flurry is unleashed.
How Takako manages to manouevre so well is lost upon Asuka, because so is everything else! Amidst the storm of pain to which she's subjected, nothing makes total sense until she's suddenly bouncing down the aisle, limbs smacking off seats - one foot coming within an inch of committing manslaughter on some poor woman's baby - and head eventually making sharp contact with the thin, dirty carpet. Well, this wasn't the classiest of flights.
"Hngh..." Spitting out a bit of what she hopes is just fluff, the Osakan slams her palms down and springs to her feet, one distinctly unboyish hip rebounding off a plastic-encased cushion as she wobbles a little. "Alright, I'll hand it to you," she mutters, hazel eyes darkening as she turns about and focuses on her proven opponent, one fist slamming to said hip as the other thrusts forth, bearing an accusatory digit toward the stalwart sword-girl. "That kinda hurt! But it's the only hit you'll be getting!" There's a change. Savagery lacing her words, gaze gleaming, she surges forward, completely ignoring her surroundings as she tears up the cheap carpet underfoot, entering a blistering /sprint/ down the aisle. "Fighting on planes, headbutting and using weapons? Then telling me to do /better/? I dunno whether to call you cheap, cowardly... or just STUPID!!"
Asuka's final few yards are covered in a literal blur and she's right the hell there, arms windmilling in a carefully orchestrated blaze of motion. Dropping low, she sweeps one palm high and the other outward with enough force to send a visible shockwave rippling back down the plane. Fingers splayed outward, she brings her palm's heel up into Takako's gut and then drives her full body weight forward. "UUUURYYAAAAAAAAAA!!!"
...she did ask for it.
COMBATSYS: Takako blocks Asuka's Raging Storm.
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Takako 0/-------/----===|======-\-------\0 Asuka
Takako grinds her teeth together. Cheap? Cowardly? Stupid? Two out of three of those fill her with a furious rage, make her narrow her eyes, and brace herself. When Asuka comes back at her, Takako is ready, and the girl's palm thumps powerfully into the braced wooden block of her bokken. It was a strong strike. But compared to Gato's crushing palm? It is nothing.
"You are weak." Takako spits, furiously. "Calling me names and refusing to acknowledge your own failure! You might be a better fighter than me."
"But you are no warrior."
Takako is genuinely enraged, not by the fact that she's taking a beating, but the fact that her opponent doesn't seem to grasp a damned thing about this. If she didn't like the location, she could have chosen to fight when they touched down; Takako wouldn't have cared about that too much! If she didn't like the fact that her kick was, frankly, unimpressive, then she shouldn't have asked for a critique! If she didn't want to fight someone who uses a bokken, then TAKAKO is not the cowardly one here!
The girl's eyes blaze with terrible indignation as she draws the sword back. That would be the only hit that she got in this fight, eh? Well, the challenge has been laid! So be it, Asuka Kazama!
With a sudden lurch forwards, she brings her bokken swinging up forwards, blindingly quickly... aiming not to seriously batter Asuka, not even to really hurt her - no, for once Takako isn't fighting just to put her style through her paces, but now to bring /shame/ on this woman who would dare to mock her and then call her coward.
She aims to just lightly bounce the bokken off the tip of Asuka's nose. Mocking her.
And /grinning/ if she manages it.
COMBATSYS: Takako successfully hits Asuka with Weapon Jab.
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Takako 0/-------/-----==|=======\-------\0 Asuka
As massively hypocritical as she is, Asuka isn't fundamentally a bad person; or at all, really! But when faced with such ridiculous circumstance as this it's like a switch gets pressed in her head, and suddenly she's not simply embracing the downpour but attempting to violently suplex raindrops through other raindrops. Somewhere in the normally grounded and logical back of her mind, she's actually just impressed that Takako managed to get such a solid sequence of hits and then mounts such a sturdy defence against her overpowering palm strike-- even if it is nothing compared to the man she's unwittingly hunting down on the mean streets of Sunshine City.
She doesn't know that part, and this is probably for the best.
It's not for the best that she's in the full grip of frustrated anger, even /before/ Takako's biting insult reaches her ears. Hazel eyes slam wide open and Asuka starts to stand, pulling her striking hand away to again take that low guarding posture; that of an aikido-ka, really, prepared to counter-grapple or swiftly mount diversions on incoming blows until she can find her own position from which to strike. It so happens that a traditional boxer's guard would suit her better in the situation she finds herself then...
But with the best will in the world, she wouldn't have expected this particular strike. Brow knotted and lips pursed in cold fury, she's actually not intending to guard /at all/ - she's going to just take whatever comes her way, show she can eat those big blows just as well as this upstart midget. Awaiting a furious swing of hard, lacquered wood, awaiting the sort of pain she can ride through to a swift victory and a resumption of normal service, she's instead met by something that could scarcely be called an attack. If it didn't /work/.
*clonk*
"What the hell!?" Okay, in reality it sounds more like the Japanese equivalent 'wob da hrrn!?' because Asuka has a hand clamped over her nose and mouth to stem the sudden spraying of flood from a popped vessel. It barely even hurts, it's just so ridiculous and shocking that she ends up dropping to her knees, feet splayed out behind her and mouth wide open along with her eyes as she /stares/ at the tiny girl in front of her. Was she just dismissed as a warrior only to be 'bopped' in the nose by a wooden sword? Is the... is she GRINNING? That would basically be the last straw, if the poor tomboy had any straws left in her hands by this point.
She's only out of it for a moment - barely long enough to get that gloating expression out, really - before she's surging forward, turning her raised hand to press flat against the underside of her nostrils in order to stem the tide of blood. The other is extended to seize Takako Fujiwa by one /short, stumpy/ leg (not that Asuka's bitter or vindictive) and flip her up toward the low ceiling of the plane. If the Osakan can manage that much, she'll do it with gusto; in all likelihood, her opponent will bounce off the roof to pick up a bit of extra momentum in the downswing of her featherweight form, before Asuka is leaping to meet her.
"GO TO HELL!!" 'Bo bu hrrn!' Comes the cry, as Kazama twists through three hundred and sixty degrees...
And slams out with a brutal spinning side kick, pitching the other girl straight down the line of the central aisle and toward the curtain partitioning the passengers from the short corridor leading to the cockpit. Asuka Kazama really isn't thinking by this point, and the relative wisdom of pitching eighty five pounds of human pinball into the delicate precision instruments that lurk within - including the pilot! - hasn't actually occurred to her yet. Clearly they've decided something this day: she is the worst safety advisor EVER.
COMBATSYS: Takako fails to interrupt Sweep Throw from Asuka with Kami's Roar.
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Takako 0/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Asuka
Takako draws her head back as Asuka starts spinning. She's already accepted that she's not going to win this one - she's starting to get pretty good at measuring how badly her own body is being roughed up. There's still an awful lot of fight to knock out of Asuka, so it is time to get to work on that!
What actually happens, is that Takako roars and shoves her head forward, at just about the same time as Asuka's leg extends, smashes into her jaw, and sends her rocketing down the inside of the plane.
THANKFULLY, the corridor itself ends in a heavy security door. You can't be too careful with terrorists and Vegas on the loose these days, after all. So rather than smash through it, the front of the plane, and drop to her death, Takako instead splats out across the impenetrable metal, denting it lightly with her face, before she drops to the ground. By all rights, that should be the end of it!
But of course, it isn't. Not quite yet! Takako isn't as bothered by her broken nose as Asuka had been by hers, and she wobbles back up to her feet almost instantly.
"Told you!" She slurs, "You gotta do BETTER than that! To keep! Me down!"
She's still grinning from ear to ear. She's already proven Asuka wrong, as far as she's concerned, this is a definite victory for short people the world over. Her bokken is raised, and she takes up a firmer stance. "Come and finish it, you /whiner/!"
Which really, sums up every problem that Takako has with Asuka in one word. She's just... a whiner! A whiny whiner who whines! A true fighter shouldn't complain about everything all the time! They should fight and struggle and battle with all their heart and soul! HMPH!
Hits rarely come more palpable or decisive-- it's greatly fortunate that Asuka overestimated the damage done to her scrappy opponent, attempting a knockout blow that may have worsened the situation if Takako had been so deprived of her senses. A common rule of fighting physics; an unconscious person goes through approximately three more impenetrable surfaces before coming to an eventual halt in the rubble. As it is, it's merely the sort of blow that would make most opponents think twice about even bothering to rise.
Takako Fujiwa, it's becoming clear, is not most opponents, and the Kazama heir should be taking stock now. Entering the last stage of a battle like this requires care and attention to detail, particularly given their location. Were this any other sport, she'd have a minute or two perhaps...
But time in battle is measured in mere seconds, and there's been no decisive chance for Asuka Kazama to regain her senses. Had Takako remained pancaked to the unyielding bulkhead, or taken more than point five seconds to find her footing and throw out even more aggravating trash, the tomboy might have been able to recall how important it is to not blast a hole in the side of the plane, or send it jolting off-course with overt displays of power. Unfortunately, all she's able to think right now is: Takako Fujiwa is a demon. Not of the big, lurching, stomping and firebreathing variety but a nasty, insidious little imp. Who still hits way too hard.
And who's SHE calling a WHINER?
Thus, to hell with it! Asuka breaks into another headlong lunge, yelling a sharp kiai as toned legs carry her back into the fray, casting the remnants of that curtain aside with a swipe of one arm, then dropping low and surging into an assault. Body moving in perfect tandem, her leading foot propels her right arm upward, fist closed tight but destined to miss Takako no matter what the other girl does, opening the way for her elbow.
A technique passed down for untold generations. The Demon Slayer. To slay this demon with a mighty battle-cry.
"Shut up shut up shut up SHUT UP!"
COMBATSYS: Takako attempts to interrupt Aggressive Strike from Asuka with Weapon Jab.
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Takako 0/-------/------=|=======\-------\1 Asuka
COMBATSYS: Asuka reverses Weapon Jab from Takako with Exorcisor.
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Takako 0/-------/---====|======-\-------\0 Asuka
If there's one thing that Takako has going for her, it is that obnoxious toughness. She steels herself when Asuka comes in for her, and she actually closes her eyes. Asuka comes charging in for her, shouting and babbling, and she decides what she is going to do. The feint? Is largely ignored because she has her eyes closed! Instead, she steps forwards into the elbow, and she aims, instead, to jam her bokken up Asuka's nose. The elbow can crash into her if it wants, she doesn't particularly care; she's going to inflict another hit on Asuka before this is over, even if it costs her the fight!
"Bonk."
The teachings of the Kazama style, ancient as they are, have developed a very literal counter to most anything even the wariest or most tenacious opponent can throw. Asuka's striking elbow finds considerably less purchase than she'd originally intended - but her mind remains alert even through the frustration and anger of fighting someone who just utterly confuses her. Constructing some alternatively insane fantasy world where Takako Fujiwa is a troublesome oni and Asuka Kazama is the brave exorcist sent to deal with her... it's how she copes.
'Bonk', says Zebedee, and the tomboy sees the lashing horn of a demon set to gore her. Hazel eyes flare with an inner energy that actually, literally pours outward for a moment, lighting the two young combatants in a glimmer of native chi, burning a bright white corona into the eyes of the increasingly startled onlookers. Suffice to say, it's most certainly not time for bed. Kazama cracks her neck to one side, her unraised forearm darting across to catch the bokken's cheeky tip between thumb and forefinger. "Nuh uh," she scolds with a dawning smirk, keeping it clutched just long enough to give Takako a jerk forward...
And then Asuka is spinning about, another three-sixty turn on astoundingly graceful feet at odds with the ludicrously clumpy boots she appears to favour. That flare of energy dissipates swiftly as the tomboy comes back in with a horizontal charge, her elbow still raised but now braced by the formerly parrying hand. This time, her aim is true and there's no response-- it catches Takako right between the eyes.
"Back atcha!!"
Because nonchalant Osaka-ben is precisely how one should address demons during an exorcism.
Ordinarily, hitting Takako in the head with anything is an invitation to be hit back in return, but Takako is still quite startled by the fact that her jab was caught between thumb and forefinger. Her brow furrows. Perhaps it is her turn to be incredulous about what is within the realms of the possible. She knew pretty much exactly how hard Asuka was capable of hitting her right now, and there just shouldn't be enough force in those fingers to stop her pushing through them!
She's still pondering this when Asuka smashes into her and she stumbles backwards a pace. Okay. That's probably enough to call it a day right there, she's put up as good a fight as her body is able, even if this insufferable girl was still no less... sufferable!
For once, she doesn't even shout. Instead, she swings the sword around, brandishing it in a quite alarming fashion, as though she aims to go for another headshot!
And then she instead steps forwards, instead trying to just stomp down on Asuka's foot with her wooden sandle.
"HAH!"
Before she topples over backwards, and lets herself pass out. This might not have been her finest hour... but overall, she feels like she got as much from fighting Asuka, as she was likely to be able to get from this particular opponent.
COMBATSYS: Takako can no longer fight.
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Asuka 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Takako successfully hits Asuka with Light Kick.
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Asuka 0/-------/=======|
It's woefully naive of Asuka to assume even that decisive blow is going to be enough-- she's been on the back foot for the duration of this match, even when it's appeared to be dramatically otherwise. Takako Fujiwa seems to live and breathe this kind of situation, having - despite the apparent gulf in skill between them - undoubtedly the more experience and probably a vastly better attitude, all told. All this occurs to the tomboy somewhere as she's otherwise occupied facing down a final tenacity-driven onslaught. "Ohshi--"
Somewhat wrong-footed following what she assumed to be the final chapter in this sordid tale, her arms swiftly fly up to form a cross-block, meeting the toppling girl's bokken with a firm strength much like the steel that opposed her very-nearly-unfortunate flight into the cockpit. This is a complete misjudgement, once again, of what her fellow countrywoman (countrygirl?) intends, and a beat later Asuka is hopping onto one foot as the other explodes with unexpected pain. Again, it's not /that bad/, it just comes out of nowhere. Not happy.
"Ow, you dumb midget!!"
Barely resisting the urge to spit and curse more, because it's not really how a Kazama should act, she hops about for a little while before taking a deep, calming breath and finding her centre. Testing the weight on her bruised foot while she warily watched her downed opponent, she doesn't seem at all convinced that she's actually won. But eventually, she concludes she must have done. Her eyes roll heavenward as she breathes a long-suffering sigh, then dispels it with an actually very formal and polite bow toward the downed girl. She's in a weird dichotomy of the grudging respect she'll feel once she really thinks about it, and well...
Still being pretty irritated at the way this turned out. Why is she surrounded by crazy people?
"Ugh... god..." Wiping a hand back across her mouth, coming away crusted in blood swiftly dried from her leaking nose, Asuka turns around with a bit of a limp to receive the biggest reality-blast yet. Several hundred staring faces. A mixture of grudging admiration, uncertain alarm and outright disgust greets the tomboy's wide-eyed gaze as the outside world makes itself known. Stopping dead, she stands there for an uncomfortably long time with her mouth open and bloodied hand held aloft, before finding some element of composure.
"Heh," she manages with the best 'lovable scamp' smile she can muster, scratching at the back of her neck as the other hand - heretofore dangling tired beside her - waves back toward the fallen Fujiwa. Then she utters a line she's sure will blow this pesky tension apart. "No ticket."
It doesn't have the desired effect. At best maybe two or three savvy teenagers give a dry chuckle, but they're too cool to really show it, and it's mostly dead silence that greets Asuka's quip. The blush rises to her cheeks quickly, and she darts back to her seat, keeping her eyes down and barely resisting the urge to bury her face in her hands to get away from the people still eyeing her in various states of disapproval.
It's gonna be a long flight to Sunshine City.
COMBATSYS: Asuka has ended the fight here.
Log created on 08:30:04 07/03/2012 by Takako, and last modified on 23:18:53 07/03/2012.