Description: Don't you hate it when you've got everything almost neatly wrapped up and ready to be taken on the road to finding a way to save the world? Even after a (one would hope) temporary goodbye from the largely abandoned Kyokugen Dojo, Howard Rust realizes he should have gotten the list of emergency phone numbers off the Sakazaki fridge before both he and Yuri left to begin with. While he may have forgotten, a certain someone hasn't... and has asked a close friend of theirs to test one of the school's rising stars for their black belt in Kyokugen Karate. Taking on the largely unconvincing guise of Mr. Karate for this purpose, the mythical Gouken of the Ansatsuken school fulfills his friend Takuma's requests to test Howard Rust and see if, as the end of days approaches, he has finally mastered all the fundamental techniques of Kyokugen. Even as the world, no, the universe itself falls apart at the seams, no force of nature must stand in the way of KYOKUGEN MIGHT.
Howard was about ready to get out of Southtown and not look back, as he'd go hunting for friends and acquaintances alike for the catastrophes above and beyond what has already been witnessed across the globe. He had himself a heartfelt moment or two with Yuri as they decided to journey out the dojo to safety so that she wouldn't ravage her lungs breathing in this.. 'air.'
A hotel stay with Jiro in tow in the wake of a particularly frightening encounter with a being who was basically stone itself was rife with difficulties too over matters of self-control and difficulty in trusting people - and even friends - alike with their personal demons. The next day, though... it wouldn't be any easier. It feels as though a guillotine hangs over everyone's necks. Even stepping out of the ash-filled haze, everyone involved knows wherever they're going next...
Well, it's not 'next' for one Howard Rust just yet, realizing that he actually does need to head back to the Kyokugen Dojo for one last look-over that he didn't think about when he gave Yuri time to collect her personal belongings.
The list of emergency phone numbers! He lost every number he had when he had a cellphone destroyed (again), and he doesn't know all of them off the top of his head. Being able to get in contact with some of them - and a few of his acquaintances that are also on that list - could well be a matter of life or death at a time like this...!
It's one of those odd humbling moments that put a record being scratched in the fabric of reality that, even now, one Howard Rust's occasional absentmindedness sees him having to expend the extra time and effort to fix when both concepts are at an absolute premium. None can be wasted, not a single second... and a lot of seconds are going to be spent along the way here.
Day... night... it's not too clear given how covered in darkness the skies of Southtown are, by now. Howard at least got his hands on another few flew masks as he keeps his left hand pressed against his face while traversing across the concrete lot that leads into the dojo. Ol' Rusty still dangles by his right hip via the toolbelt pocket, swaying with his every movement as though it were spouting off horror movie cliches. (Pipes don't talk, so obviously it is not.)
"Friggin'... c-can't believe I," he narrates a partial sentence to himself about the whole thing. How could he be so dumb as to not think to do this before he and his cohorts checked in to a hotel for the night...?
Kyokugen Might! KYOKUGEN STRENGTH! KYOKUGEN ALL DAY LONG!
If Gouken were to have had half a shilling for every time he heard Takuma say that during their many misadventures during his younger days, there is a good possibility that not only would the aged Ansatsuken master be richer then Karin Kanzuki and Ken Masters combined, he'd still possibly have a full head of hair!
Of course, when certain requests are sent amongst old friends who are considered to be legends in their own rights, these requests are generally treated as if they were a life or death matter. Southtown may be burning like London back in the 1800's, and the world is coming to an end..
Yet Gouken stands there in the Kyokugen Dojo, wearing Takuma's favorite gi, and Takuma's finest Tengu mask on the side of his head.
However, once Rust Howard steps foot back into that dojo, even the most inept of fighters will know that something dasterdly is awaiting him.
Ash and smoke swirl omniously around the Ansatsuken Master, yet for today, he's not Gouken, master of Ryu and Ken Masters.
"RUST HOWARD, YOUR FINAL TEST IS NOW AT HAND!"
Leaping high into the air, the aged Ansatsuken points his right leg down towards his comrade in male pattern baldness, moving to strike him with powerful downward kick!
"KYOKUGEEEEEN KIIIIIIICK!"
COMBATSYS: Gouken has wandered into a fight here as a boss!
GOUKEN
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COMBATSYS: Rust has joined the fight here in the center.
GOUKEN
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Rust 0|-------|-------
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Gouken's Hyakki Goheki.
GOUKEN
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Rust 0|-------|-------
Owing to being surrounded by an utter sense of dread in a landscape being overtaken by ash and flames as the actual destruction finally starts to come Southtown's way, it's safe to say that Howard's had to deal with a lot of false positives. Time being as it is, he's become increasingly sure that half the things he sees and hears any more might be phantoms of a timeline just slowly pulling itself apart. (Then again, he doesn't quite have the best track record for personal awareness...)
His name is called as he sets foot inside. That voice, the way his name is being called - even for all the little imperfections in tone and pitch, the inflection is unmistakable (well, in this case it is a mistake, but the point stands).
Takuma Sakazaki. Through heaven, hell, high water, or the latest series of authorities really wanting to ask him some questions if he'd politely show up on the dojo front doorstep and not throw Haoh Sho Ko Kens until they go away... no matter the circumstances. Typhoons, earthquakes, military invasions... the transcendence of these circumstances for the sake of KYOKUGEN MIGHT has always been made clear, front and center, that this is all that matters here.
For every little thing one Howard Rust could come up with to explain what's going on, why he's the only one here (up until now), this has been a deeply beaten tenet into him whenever Takuma comes out of nowhere to lock fists, feet, and/or gigantic chi fireballs against his person, instinctively bringing his left forearm up horizontally to meet the downward kick as he clenches that fist tightly.
The impact thunders across the entire dojo grounds. Clouds of ash and dust all scatter as spidercracks form under Howard Rust's feet. Even avoiding being pinned to the ground under Gou-- er, Takuma's feet, his left shin aches at being held rigid and barely able to withstand the stress of that very impact.
"S-Sensei," Howard clears his throat as he growls the name out, his joints crackling as he raises his hands, clenched into fists in a ready stance he himself admittedly tends to not use when the pipe is drawn (it has yet to be), unwittingly uttering the one thing that threatens the very illusion before him.
"That's... that's not the, the kick you taught me," Howard responds not only verbally, but physically as he leaps forwards with the crackling protest of his own legs, swinging one leg out horizontally in a wide circle as he follows it up with a straighter kick that, for whatever reason, gives himself a slight bit of backwards momentum.
A strong resemblance to the Hien Shippu Kyaku, albeit he appears to have adjusted the use of that one-two series of kicks to his own way of performing it.
COMBATSYS: Gouken dodges Rust's Girder Sway.
GOUKEN
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Rust 0|-------|------=
"Of course it isn't!" The mountain man quickly steps backward, allowing the first kick to pass rather close to his face. The second kick he simply sidesteps as he increases the distance between himself and Rust Howard.
"That's because there was no Kyokugen Heart!"
Loud booming laughter escapes Gouken's mouth as he reaches up to adjust where the mask sits on his face. He spends a few moments trying to find the best place for it to rest. The Ansatsuken master will never understand how Takuma enjoys wearing this thing, and out of sheer annoyance it's ripped off and flung into the distance.
"Rust Howard... umm.." Gouken reaches into the stolen gi and pulls out a scroll, which he then unfurls. While one end remains in his hands, the other end rolls towards Rust's feet. "Ahem. Let's see here..."
Once more Gouken reaches into his gi and pulls out a pair of old reading glasses which he slips onto his face. "Rust Howard, how are you? IT IS I! TAKUMA SAKAZAKI! Of course, well, its not really me, but in fact Mr. Karate! Mr. Karate has..."
Gouken starts rapidly scanning through the scroll sighing loudly. "Unfortunately, I am currently engaged in a life or death battle with Saishu, as we decide once and for all who has the largest collection of..."
Gouken grumbles loudly as he continues to scan through the scroll, trying to find just what exactly Takuma has to say that has any sort of relevance. "Rust Howard! Today is the day where you test for your final belt, and will be considered a master in your own right of the KYOKUGEN-RYUU style. This may infact be the toughest battle you have ever faced! Just as I once traveled to Mexico to take down a gang of bandits that had taken over a train carrying gold..."
The reading glasses are removed, and a face of pure annoyance now rests upon Gouken's face. It's one thing to test eachother's students, however it is another to make the tester read through nothing but rambling!
Unfortunately for Rust, this means that his test may have just gotten that much more difficult.
Gouken quickly leaps backwards, rapidly gathering chi into his right palm, forming an azure ball that seems to be sucking in the smoke and ash as if it were it's own vaccuum! the blast is quickly launched forward towards Rust, only to have yet another follow after it!
"HAOH SHO KO KEN!"
COMBATSYS: Gouken successfully hits Rust with Double Gohadouken.
GOUKEN
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Rust 0|-------|=======
For every breath of air needed to bellow out in laughter, Howard inwardly cringes. Well, beyond the whole thing about whatever it means when the biggest man on campus has a good laugh. This air should not be breathed. Absolutely no one should be out here, to the point that even if one has a good cause... they run the real and true risk of suffocation. It's hard enough even when trying to use flu masks to keep the worst of it (which is to say, all of it) out.
His eyes barely follow the removal of the mask. After all, he is being accosted by Takuma himself... probably. Their face is obscured with the removal of a long scroll, and he even appears to treat the unfurling of long paper as such that the aging American man treats it like it's a serious, credible threat as he lies in a brief crouch after those two kicks, standing back up and giving ground when the end of it bumps against one of his feet.
He would think to speak up and answer, but he knows far better. Takuma had seen to that - you don't backtalk your sensei. (He's had years to learn not to backtalk the foreman, or the principal, or just any number of authority figures well above his station, so this wasn't that hard to instill - if it even really had to be.)
All the while the scroll is fumbled through, Howard maintains something of a stance, of a narrowed focus - from all he's been seeing he's starting to question a lot of this nonsense less. The man before him appears entirely sincere in his intent, based on that single strike. He doesn't dare to show much weakness in his left forearm before him, as he sizes up this 'Takuma' with a far different face than he recognizes, in the wake of a farfetched story that is rather tame by known Takuma standards.
Regardless, it's a test for his black belt, according to them - now's better than any time, right? To reflect on how far he's come since he first came to Southtown as a fighter. A test above and beyond mere matters of encountering the superhuman - or maybe inhuman - forces that tug at threads behind the scenes as the whole world unravels. After all, in the end, all that matters here is...
The wordless acknowledgement is forced to be put into motion as his tester rears back that hand. The glow of light dispels the very air around it, sucking in the grime that flits in the breeze. Another pop in his knee aside, Howard willingly moves forwards just as the very first syllable is spoken.
He takes to the air once more, the tip of his foot clipping the very first of those fireballs. It sounds singular - he's only ever known Takuma to throw one or three. If it's just one...!
It isn't.
His mouth goes agape as the second blast is expertly timed in a 'gotcha' moment for the ages, the second 'HAoh Sho Ko Ken' as it is presently being identified (in spite of the obvious differences) slamming into the man's chest. It disperses in a violent, even explosive splash as Howard takes to the air and flies a notable distance.
He tumbles into worn, cracked concrete, halting his momentum as he thrusts his left hand down into the ground to right himself up with a cough, a grimace, a sneer, and... he can't breathe in this thing, either.
The flu mask comes off, exposing his nose and lungs to the elements, and revealing the better part of his face. Flaring nostrils, a thin, solid horizontal line as he tries to breathe out the compressed feeling in his chest.
"If, if it's a test," he murmurs out, "well... I, I got my number two pnecil... right here." He says as he takes off into a short jog back towards Gouken without a second question to his identity (really more at least seventeen, but, those are for another time).
Moving in close, Howard draws back an arm about as swiftly as his aging, aching joints ever allow him, but it's not because he's coming in intending to strike up high. No, he leads in low with his left foot, striking at the ground not once, not twice... many times, rapid-fire, as he briefly lights up the space from his knee down in flickering, washed-out chi of a color that could be... blue? Green? Gray? It's impossible to tell.
More important is the ferocity in those repeated low kicks that have always bore a strong resemblance to the Zan'retsuken in its execution - a series of rapid-fire strikes from the same limb, each one striking flesh or ground with such strength that it threatens to burst one's eardrums. It's like a jackhammer at work.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Gouken with Jackhammer Kick.
GOUKEN
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Rust 0|-------|=======
Each chi imbued kick blasts into Gouken's stomach, sending him staggering backwards with each blow. It's obvious to him that Rust is quite suited to the Kyokugen-ryuu style, however it's still not quite enough to declare Rust the newest master of the KYOKUGEN-RYUU SCHOOL OF MARTIAL ARTSİ
Once Rust finishes those powerful kicks, Gouken staggers backwards, clutching his stomach. "OOF!" There may bruising! It's not that often there's brusing in these sorts of things.
Once more Gouken rises to his full stature, and he cocks back his right arm, closing the fist tightly as he launches it forward!
"RUST HOWARD! DO YOU EMBRACE THE KYOKUGEN-RYUU AS YOUR ONE AND TRUE STYLE?!"
As the fist rockets forward, the hand flies open to snare Rust by the collar of his shirt. If that hand manages to grasp ahold of the fine clothing that Rust Howard owns, and most assuredly must not be owned by an old hobo, the younger man will find himself being flung high into the air!
COMBATSYS: Rust interrupts Power Throw from Gouken with Weakened Cement Upper.
- Power hit! -
GOUKEN
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Rust 1|------=|=======
Given the true nature of whom one Howard Rust dares to stand and fight... the man before the American is a match for some of the greatest heroes and horrors to have ever walked the planet. To dare move up and strike a blow against them is no mean feat. To even connect with them is another. Bodies hardened through strife, training, and technique the likes of which few eyes could ever see, few stomachs could withstand, and few spirits could survive without being shattered outright...
Is it a fluke, or a true reflection of what somehow brings a man so plagued by various maladies and setbacks up to the level he can truly claim to be, as he draws back the striking leg not when it tires, but because it needs not go much further. He doesn't rest on his laurels. Takuma wouldn't go down to a single sequence, and... this one before him, absolutely not.
As Gouken yells and flings his meaty hand his way, Howard halts it clean with his left hand outstretched... no. The very air crackles under sheer power on display as his feet slide back against the ground. There is no way to ever fully halt nor stop Gouken's advance.
He is too strong.
Howard's stand starts to buckle as though he were about to be forced onto his bum, really and truly only held upright by the tight vice-grip around his left hand that was originally intended for his collar, and his face is the picture of tension itself. There is no wiggle room. His hand feels like it's being compacted outright in Gouken's grasp. Gouken could pretty easily crush that hand into jelly, far beyond repair, if he were of the inclination, as the question is asked.
It's not a question to be answered in words, as Howard lets himself crouch down as he stomachs the pain that shoots through his left forearm down. His right hand balls up tightly into a fist. Ol' Rusty is not drawn - it doesn't need to be. He has adapted much of the subtle movements and intricacies of his Kyokugen training to even his regular arsenal of techniques he developed over the years. As such, to now show the very baseline of what was adapted, previously, to the trademark advancing uppercut pipe swing that is the Cement Upper...
He substitutes it for the much more traditional rising punch technique of the Kyokugen school - the Kohou.
His reply to Gouken is that single rising fist, throwing it upwards with such strength that it carries Rust himself a short ways off the ground, his form perfectly vertical aside from accounting for the issues of having the other hand grasped as it is, driving fist to chin as Howard rises into the air with a loud kiai.
It's the way Takuma taught him to answer in fights on the grounds like these.
As the pipe connects into Gouken's chin, it's enough to force him to not only loosen his grip upon Rust, but to be sent flying backwards as well! The Ansatsuken Master slams into the ground, causing clouds of ash and soot to fly upwards.
Gouken lays there for a few moments, debating on what to do next. Rust DID hit him rather well, and it's not like Takuma said to break him into a thousand pieces to ensure that each piece was firmly etched with the Kyokugen moniker...
However it'd be a very big slight to the man to just have him sign on the dotted line and hand over his very own MR. KARATE! mask that each master of the Kyokugen Style seems to have.
No, now is the time to truly test him as a real master.
The elder man slowly climbs to his feet as the ash and soot around him starts to swirl. It's obvious now that he's going to give Rust the honor he deserves.
"Rust Howard, as the master of the Ansatsuken, I hereby declare you to be the newest Kyokugen-Ryuu master. However, I cannot have you sign on the dotted line just yet."
As Gouken starts to move, the ash and soot start to violently swirl, as if the very world around them were starting to answer to Gouken's call. It's a subtle call, yet one that speaks volumes.
If Rust were to blink, he'd miss Gouken's next move entirely as the elder man suddenly surges forth, his body leaving an after image from the sheer speed he moves, and then he's gone as he ducks downwards..
COMBATSYS: Rust blocks Gouken's Kinjite Shoryuken.
GOUKEN
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Rust 1|----===|=======
A mighty fist surges upwards towards Rust's jaw, and if it connects, Howard will find himself being taken towards the sky, as the fist that had connected will seemingly continue to strike, just as if it were a jackhammer blasting away at his face.
"SHOOOOOORYUKEN!"
That moment of release he gets, Howard sees to it that he shakes his arm out and flexes his fingers as if to reassure them that yes, they're okay, they still exist as bones, joints, flesh, and blood, and not just a blobby slurry of all of these concepts. The man blinks a few times as - successes in his own offensives aside - he can comprehend through the mists of ash, confusion, and occasional inability to reorganize recent memories in a coherent continuity as to what happened when...
Gouken is easily among the most powerful he's ever locked fists with, and yet, with almost every other encounter with one of his caliber, it was in times of incredible strife and life-or-death circumstance. It's hard not to notice the very careful, subtle restraints in Gouken's technique even when they surpass just about everything that has ever been thrown at him... and then some.
"Me?" He finally thinks to speak as he clears his throat. Try as he might, he can't quite overcome the invasive soot that wants in his sinuses. Unlike Ryo, Takuma's own son, he's been a student for far shorter of a time. Unlike Robert, he hasn't spent his formative years among people he barely knew in hopes of being reshaped into the man he is now. Unlike Yuri, he hasn't been brought into the fold out of a strong desire to see him in distress less for the sake of immediate family. Unlike Marco... well, no, almost exactly like Marco, he got something of a new lease on life through this after he finally lost his job at Pacific. All four of them are incredibly dedicated, famous, respectable students in their own right. Both Yuri and himself may be of the same belt rank, but he'd say in a heartbeat that in terms of the base Kyokugen technique, she's his superior even if he's far physically stronger than she is (and, well, probably a lot stronger than Marco too, but Marco's a senior instructor - a position no one would dare contest with his top-to-bottom mastery of the fundamentals and major techniques of the school alike).
"I, I dunno, I don't think this is gonna be the end of the li--"
Gouken rushes in, catching Howard almost unaware. He doesn't blink. He instead tilts his upper body back as his jaw hangs open, crossing both arms inward as his left fist clenches...
It doesn't appear a match for Gouken's mighty fist. That's because it /isn't/.
It's a subtle distinction that, visually, shows little to no real difference between 'impact against face' and 'impact against arms as one leans back.' If someone gets caught in that, odds are impossibly high that they're going flying. It doesn't matter who, it doesn't matter what. For all his strength, Howard can't stand to that.
It isn't even about that, his flying arc more horizontal than vertical. His arms fan out wildly from the impact that could shake the heavens, two new horrible bruises for the record as he has to deal not with the height of coming back down, but the sheer velocity of it. The ash and soot in the air whip about his body as he flies. The whole area is so dark that even without much lift, it can be hard to tell the ground from the sky... especially going this fast.
If there's one thing he learned, and rather well... it's how to take a fall. How to minimize the impact against vital organs, maybe sacrifice a shoulder instead (as he damn well near did when escaping the tower with Jiro). Being hit by just one of those almost mythical variations of what may be considered the strongest rising punch technique in human history is one thing. The landing proves just as big a problem.
Like when he was struck by the second of two powerful blasts of chi, he hits the concrete and rolls against the dust and ash at an uncomfortable speed, a series of grunts as he fights his body to regain its senses from the sheer shock of even being /clipped/ by that... his hands slam down onto the ground, his current set of gloves being worn threadbare by friction (to say nothing of the bare flesh of his arms scraping against it all)...
He comes to a stop, eventually. His breathing is loud. His body is still in shock, as though the entire world had nearly whited out around him as he pulls himself up... eventually. His joints fight him every flex of the way, crackling and otherwise. There is no sense of smug satisfaction, even if he may have realized that exceedingly narrow difference between 'taking it' and 'barely mounting any sort of meaningful defense,' in that he's still intact. Standing. Probably... able to fight.
Shaking his arms out as he blearily looks about the distance, his fingers spasm from numbness and nerves that try to comprehend that they are still in existence. The ashen clouds are thick. He can barely see Gouken anywhere - if at all - from how far away he now stands. Still, he drops to a ready stance, hands circling about once in something resembling focus but more to make sure that he can actually still move his arms.
He doesn't say 'hello' to ask where this mysterious man is now. He'll come to him... most likely, making sure he himself is standing up straight so that if Gouken looks, he can see he's still there.
A little shaken, pretty battered, but not fallen... yet.
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
GOUKEN
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Rust 1|----===|=======
Rust has to be in a lot of pain, yet he still stands. He's earned Gouken's respect for sure. However, there is danger with earning that respect as there are those who seek challenges, and with Rust now being considered an 'equal' in Gouken's eyes..
"There are many dangers with being called 'master'. You will need to beware of my brother. However, I'm still not quite done with your graduation ceremony yet."
The words will easily be heard, as this kind of enviroment is nothing to Gouken. He's fought in the harshest of locations, barefoot at that! Of course, it's easy to believe how tough the Ansatsuken master truly is. Once more he's rushing forward towards Rust, once more creating a visable after image of his body as he slides forward, this time coming to a stop before Rust's battered form, letting his left fist burst forward, aimed directly at the man's solar plexus.
COMBATSYS: Rust Toughs Out Gouken's Senkugoshoha!
GOUKEN
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Rust 2|<<<<<<<|<<<<<<<
Equal is a lofty position to hold a man many, many years Gouken's junior - well, junior to just about all of Gouken's friends, rivals, and the one soon-to-be-noted brother as Gouken showers praise upon the aging man. (Could this brother he's about to mention, in fact, be...?!)
"I, I wouldn't call myself--" Howard protests the designation of 'master.' He knows he's not there. Still, in his advancing age, he's went up the ranks of Kyokugen at an alarming speed... a speed not quite as immediately alarming as Gouken's impending approach, his imposing figure cutting through the fog of pitch black and leaving glimpses of the world before crisis in his wake, if only in brief. (They aren't very pretty glimpses, but if Howard weren't in the middle of being tested he could probably appreciate the clarity in which to see what the concrete looked like before all the soot took roost pretty much /everywhere/.)
Howard's still waving his arms in that circular motion as per the famous wind-up of the Haoh Sho Ko Ken subconsciously as he ascertains he hasn't lost everything from the forearm down to traumatic injury. This does not provide any true defense against how fast that fist is coming in. Even if he were to shift to a defensive posture now, he couldn't stop Gouken's rushing fist. He could barely keep his footing when Gouken had earlier rushed to simply grab at something of him instead. What hope does he have when he's actually going in to strike?
He abandons the idea entirely in the heat of the moment as Gouken's fist comes in against his solar plexus. Rather than steel his core, he focuses on keeping his footing, to try and stay upright by leaning into the impact. He refuses to fall backwards.
He pays for that, surely, wind rushing out his lungs, through clenched teeth and his nostrils cleared as he emits a harsh wheeze, his ribcage threatening to buckle outright under the ripples of displaced air between fist and chest that sweeps away much of the ash in their immediate vicinity. Heck, if Gouken kept punching him across the entire lot, it'd be dust-free in minutes, for as long as either of them last. (...For as long as Rust lasts, to be specific.)
"Gkfkghkl," he so strangely vocalizes as he continues to whirl his hands about to gather strength into them, the point of impact coming right at the end of the traditional gathering motion for the Haoh Sho Ko Ken. Howard, unfortunately, is not all that gifted in chi manifestation by the disciplines of Kyokugen proper. Just about all of the physical aspects of it come second nature to him at this point, except that. It takes him a lot of effort to even throw a simple, measly projection that actually leaves his body (and even then tends not to be... uh, threatening to look at).
There's a tingly feeling at the ends of his hands. Numbness of pain? Whatever it is, he gets what he wants - he stands on his feet, even as his heels start to dig deep enough in the concrete to leave trails that start to descend into the earth in wake of the tremendous lunging strike, but he stays uncomfortably close relative to the impact he just, literally, toughed his way through.
Even if his technical skill in the pure Kyokugen disciplines may be beneath the proper senior instructors, he still has decades of experience under his belt. That is what he truly holds above everyone in the dojo short of Takuma himself - fighting experience. It is here where his right hand, at last, goes to Ol' Rusty, the busted length of pipe.
His instructors, no, friends he's made here have had varying opinions on the way he still incorporates his old technique into it. Ryo has always been supportive and progressive of the idea. Marco, who discarded everything he fought with previously before finding Kyokugen, always had a bit of a laugh. Takuma generally seemed to side with Marco's thoughts there, as the master of the school himself. Robert's certainly had little to complain about how he's taken to incorporating the kicks to his already existing skills. Yuri's always just been cheerful about any sort of advancement in the Kyokugen school itself, far as he's seen.
This is no doubt where his ultimate strengths lie, as he dares to blend both disciplines - his own, and the Kyokugen school's - as one. Stand-alone, his odd construction-inspired techniques with the pipe don't hold a candle to the school. Stand-alone, his Kyokugen technique is still a ways from the prowess of the two best students, Ryo and Robert.
Putting them together, however...
He draws Ol' Rusty clean of its toolbelt sheath, pointing it backwards for a split second as a light gleams off a surface that should not produce it in the least, and Gouken can probably recognize the reason for that.
A manifestation.
Without saying anything more, Howard thrusts the pipe forward with his right hand in a lunge with enough strength to drag Howard by his boots beyond the distance that exists between them. This is familiar, for anyone who's watched him - that infamous samurai-like lunge-and-single-strike blow, but this time there's a difference.
That flickery, washed-out chi is... still flickery and washed-out.
Now it envelopes him entirely. Using his pipe as the focal point of his focus, the tool he is most familiar fighting with, he does not project the manifestation of the HAoh Sho Ko Ken-sized burst of chi as much as he does carry it with him, using his body to deliver both significant striking force and the entire burst of energy behind it.
The air around the two becomes clear in a dome-shaped radius as the blackened particle matter all gives way.
The impact, if any should land upon the master of Ansatsuken, is one that can be heard for probably a good mile or two - to say nothing of how many cracks may form underneath the ground, to scatter fragmented piece of concrete around its wake, as Howard aims to lunge not at, but virtually through Gouken himself in a moment of clarity, focus, grit, and...
Maybe not quite mastery, but competence in one of the very highest disciplines of Kyokugen itself, bolstered by his own innate skills.
COMBATSYS: Rust successfully hits Gouken with Condemned EX.
GOUKEN
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Gouken is truly impressed by the development that Rust seems to have made within this test. He's heard a lot from Takuma about the middle aged teacher who has flown up the ranks in the Kyokugen-Ryuu. The scroll alone was proof of it! However, it no longer matters at all. Rust has shown to Gouken just what he's capable of, and with time, will be able to do.
Once that pipe comes loose, and starts to glow with the power of chi, Gouken lowers all of his defenses and merely stands there as the pipe crashes down upon his shoulder. The impact alone is enough to drop the man to his knees, yet the force behind it is enough to make Gouken truly think that something may have just been broken. Not many get to brag that they broke a bone on Gouken.
Of course, while Gouken can stay here for hours on end breathing the most toxic air, he has to believe that Rust is suffering far more from that then the mere love taps he's endured.
"Rust Howard. Tell me something." Reaching into the 'borrowed' gi, he pulls out a black belt with green kanji that reads 'Furinkazan'. Tossing the belt towards Rust, Gouken rises to his feet. "How are Ryu and Ken doing?"
COMBATSYS: Gouken takes no action.
GOUKEN
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Gouken's observation of Howard's ability take in this inhospitable air is spot on, well before he even starts to sputter and cough in the wake of that one glorious, single strike in the wake of a lunging punch that could fell at least ten men all at once (if not from being struck by it directly, by simply being in the proximity of whichever poor sap got it). His ankles seem hesitant to want to /bend/ forward much, giving his gait in the aftermath of his own return strike a clumsy, limping air.
Ol' Rusty is thrust back through the makeshift sheath that is that torn toolbelt pocket. For being someone he's never met, or fought... it's in the air between them as the dust starts to settle back down with the coast being clear of further displays of incredible power. He turns to face Gouken, left hand on his own chest as he rubs at the everything that aches under the point of that impact, a sour look on his face for it. Real fights are exciting.
Real injuries, once the adrenaline wears down... less... so.
The belt is caught in his right as it is tossed, and Howard gives it a look. A black belt. First degree black belt in Kyokugen Karate - one of the very, very few people to ever lay claim of making it this far, given the high drop-out rate of one of the toughest martial arts schools in the world. For being the equivalent of a substitute teacher who barely understands the actual curriculum in question, Gouken receives the proper polite bow all the same.
It takes him a moment to regard its meaning, but... he doesn't really need to ask 'is it okay.' He doesn't need the constant reassurance from people that he can measure up. His fighting career might not be gaining much ground - if it will ever start up after all this disaster that would grind the world to a complete halt, if there actually will /be/ an after, but one thing's for sure...
His left hand goes inside his top for a moment to check and see that something's still there, intact, pulling out a rectangular-shaped thing before setting it back inside, clearing his throat again as he draws ever closer to Gouken.
"I... If you mean, ah," of course he means Ken Masters and... Ryu, who, well, he's about to say, "Ryu... h-haven't seen him since, uh, the invasion of 2009," he admits with a bit of regret as he offers his left hand to help Gouken over inside the dojo if he needs it. After all, Howard needs those phone numbers off the fridge, and he hopes he doesn't forget anything else important that's going to have to see him brave this hot, dry, even (in some places) burning landscape again. It's... inevitable. There's probably still a bunch of people trying to wait it out.
"Ken," he continues, "y-yeah... he, he had this thing goin' for a while, a, a whole... program, for, for newer fighters, he's... he's really been... pushin' that hard, bringin' up a lotta... lotta young folks, newer faces," he continues in that stuttering, meandering, roundabout way of speech like old friends catching up, even though the two of them just met.
Howard coughs again, patting his chest, "'scuse me," he says, "I... I can tell you all 'bout it, but... m-maybe not for too long, 'cause, well... we... we got a, a lot of work to do, y'know," he vaguely motions with his head, his tired tone of voice belying the sense of urgency in his reason being here, "talk... talk 'bout the, the world ending, and all that... 'm hopin' to, to get as many folks together as I... I can find, and..."
Beat. He finally remembers the important thing he wanted to ask the moment he heard it.
"Y-Your brother's name, uhh, it... it wouldn't be... Saiki, right?" A shot in the dark. The truth would probably be even more horrifying to have to behold, and... well... the worst of it is, the true nature of this 'brother' might well be the least of anyone's worries...
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
GOUKEN
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Log created on 10:33:12 09/19/2014 by Rust, and last modified on 18:02:32 09/19/2014.