I. First Fight
The first time he fights Fuuma, Kamui nearly loses an eye.
He had been distressed upon his arrival to Tokyo, but not distressed enough to forget the feeling of flesh beneath his talons. He defended the reservoir with unrestrained violence. When those malleable humans finally decided to call him their leader, he defended them with a similar ferocity. Not that he needed to expend too much effort – his fingers slice through his enemies' bodies like a blade through the water.
The first time he fights Fuuma, Kamui bruises a rib or two.
Kamui takes it upon himself to investigate breeches in their territory. Often he only finds wandering squatters or half-mad men whom he leaves largely alone, but sometimes he discovers hostiles making their way closer to the boon beneath their tower. He always enjoyed these types of extermination missions if only for the rare feedings he indulges in afterwards.
His human associates have learned to let him investigate alone. He whizzes across the ruins, enjoying the feeling of solid earth pushing up against his feet. A report had come to him detailing a tall, unidentified but well-armed man making his way across the southern borders of his area. Already twin levels of anticipation and apprehension overwhelm him as he bounds through the acid drizzles.
The first time he fights Fuuma, Kamui breaks all his fingers.
Tall, Kamui reckons, is an understatement. The man is confidently propped up against a jutting beam in a valley of white powder wreckage. His arms are folded against his chest, but even so Kamui can make out the outlines of guns beneath his jacket. He is broad shouldered, well built, giant, and judging by the patch on his sleeve – an enemy.
Kamui approaches quietly, but with no serious intention of stealth. The man picks up on his sharp little footsteps and assesses him through dark tinted sunglasses.
"Hey," He says with a one-sided grin, "What brings you out here?"
Despite the nonchalance in both his manner and demeanor, Kamui has learned to identify the slope of a liar's smile. He is immediately on edge.
Kamui stops at a safe distance from him. He allows the stranger's words to settle and fester before responding, "You are trespassing. You are aware of this."
The stranger chuckles loudly and stretches his arms above his head. He drops them and sidles forward a step, grinning openly at Kamui.
"Just thought I'd come and see how you guys live in paradise. Isn't much better here, actually -"
"You have ten minutes to remove yourself from our territory before I forcible evict you."
This time the stranger chortles openly before leisurely rolling his shoulders. His gaze is much more scalding that his tongue.
"You must not know who I am."
Oh, but Kamui does. Rumors precede him entirely.
"Fuuma." Kamui manages to grit out, battling his rising temper. "I can't say that I'm impressed."
He looks blank, almost taken aback, before allowing his eyes to roam all over Kamui. His grin grows into a leer.
"Likewise, Kamui"
Kamui spares little strength from the first punch he throws at Fuuma's face. He's solidly blocked, which is annoying, but the small huff Fuuma gives upon contact is almost worth it. Fuuma responds with a powerful sideswipe that barely catches Kamui in the side.
Fuuma's responses are incredibly fast and strong – almost inhumanely so. But Kamui has long since lost any concern for humanity.
He lets his nails grow long and deadly. This elicits yet another shit eating grin from his enemy. Fuuma draws two weapons out from his shirt sleeves. Not the guns Kamui was expecting (which might have been problematic, really) but two sharp hooks extending from cords. The fight resumes, physical and rough in their cradle of ruins. Their erratic movements grow fiercer and faster as their range of motion extends.
Kamui draws the first blood deep with a talon to Fuuma's thigh. With a snarl, Fuuma grabs Kamui's offending hand and crushes it in his palm.
"You are stronger than you look." Fuuma whispers close and course into Kamui's ear.
"Likewise." Kamui spits, before punching Fuuma square in the jaw with his free hand.
Even before his injured hand starts healing, Kamui's other is crushed in a tangle of cords. He pays Fuuma back with a bony knee to the gut. Fuuma topples over with a grunt, but drags Kamui down with him by his throat.
Fuuma forcibly rolls Kamui underneath him and uses both hands to stretch a cable taut against his throat. As soon as he looks down in supposed victory, self-satisfaction written in his vain sneer, he feels a razor edged talon prod at his jugular.
Both breathe hard as they evaluate their stalemate. The drizzle of rain has begun to increase, each drop stinging Kamui's skin with a tiny hiss. Water trickles down the end of Fuuma's nose and runs down his neck. The concrete beneath them shudders as the acid water paints scars into its surface.
"Get off." Kamui says. Fuuma obliges. Both rise shakily to their feet.
Fuuma allows the predatory sharpness of his demeanor to recede a little. He shrugs and grins again. "Let's do that again sometime!" He says in a mockingly cheerful manner that makes Kamui sick.
"Let's not."
Fuuma chortles. The dimensional witch chortles. Subaru sleeps ever on.
Hello friends and readers,
Thank you for reading. This story will tie into another piece I am currently working on entitled That Which Cannot Heal. Reviews and constructive criticism are always appreciated.