OPENING ROUND FIGHT #23: YASHIRO NANASAKE VS IORI YAGAMI
It became apparent how long the round had dragged on when Iori walked out and saw the stands... they were almost desolate. Fight after fight, loved ones and friends earning victories, suffering defeats, celebrating, being hospitalized... but still, it surprised him. It felt a lot livelier last year, even in the later stages...
The fatigue of doing this routine a second year? A disdain for the hostess herself? Maybe they just didn't care to watch him. They were all believable answers, which... spoke a lot.
At least a few were still there.
"YEEEEEEEAH YAGAMAYYYYYY!" Shingo, the perpetual hype man, cheered from his almost solitary spot on the bench. "I'm still here for ya buddy! YEEEAH! I mean... I AM kinda hungry... and cold... I'd really like to go put on some clothes and... you know... get a nice juicy hot dog with sauerkraut... b-but I'm here till the end! Shingo's got your back! WOOO! Kick some bootay!"
Benimaru, still hanging around for whatever reason (to protect the idiot near him), gave a clear sign of embarrassment with a sharp sigh and a burying of his cheek in his hand.
Iori immediately rolled his eyes dismissively as he turned his attention back to the destination. Although... a minute part of him felt the slightest comfort in the boy's presence. Perhaps it was a subconscious longing for Kyo to be there, and Shingo was a faux replacement. Not even really that... Kyo would never give such inflated hype to him, only a clever wit and a formidable snark.
As he continued towards the ring, another obstacle stood roadside on his route. Tall, elegant... a cold serenity before her, as she looked at him with a face bordering on sympathy, but with tones of supposition.
Knowing she would go nowhere, he stopped to address her. For a few moments, she just continued that stare... but finally, she mustered the will to speak. "Iori-"
He sharply cut her off. "Don't say a word, Chizuru. I'm not winning for the fate of the world, for revenge, self-discovery, to fill a void, any of that crap. I'm winning because I feel like it. Enough said."
Her eyes slightly fluctuated, a sign she was disappointed in being so brusquely beaten to the punch and shut down. Nonetheless, her pursed lips relaxed to their normal posture... and her eyes softened, as she placed a hand on his head and gave the briefest stroke.
"Then win."
No more words were shared. Iori simply gave a nod and walked onwards. But as fate would have it, at least one more person was present in this Stadium, someone his destiny had been inadvertently connected with, despite the two's limited interactions. A man Iori could never truly escape from, no matter how little they confronted each other.
Iori made no attempt to stop walking. He hoped he could get past without a single exchange. Unfortunately... Saisyu Kusanagi would never allow that. Those pearly whites shown, and that Kusanagi wit he was so familiar with poured into his passing ear.
"I do hope you've improved since last year, Yagami bratling. With your... heedless propensity... it's a wonder you've remained intact so long."
Did he just call him a sloppy fighter?
Iori obviously had to get the last word, and he was in a good place to do so. "You should take notes, old man. Might help you get up to my league one day."
Feeling sufficient, Iori walked with an added haste, to make sure the elder Kusanagi couldn't fire back.
He also found support in a small, motley band of peers, splintered and scattered in their own right, but a unit strong nonetheless. Yashiro Nanasake had but two allies come to his aid: his longtime friends, allies, bandmates, worshipers of Oblivion Incarnate. They stood ringside, not in the stands, awaiting his arrival with warm smiles and a zealous embrace.
"I see the other three are nowhere to be found." Yashiro whispered into the nape of Shermie's neck as she buried his face within it, gently stroking his hair with one hand, while the other circled dotingly across his back.
"We don't need em." Chris, standing beside them, hands in his pockets, smugly assured. "It's always been us three. Us, and..."
Yashiro noticed Chris's eyes look away dejectedly, as if recalling the memory of the fallen fourth. Removing himself from Shermie, he walked over to Chris and leaned down to his level, meeting the boy with a brotherly grasp of his shoulders.
"Goenitz's soul calls to us, Chris." Yashiro addressed his younger mate. "His ethereal coil beckons us, encourages us to fight on. He's waiting for us up there... I'm going to bring him back to us."
He stands back to his feet, proudly pounding his chest with an authoritative fist. "I'm to get past this red-haired bastard once and for all!"
"Go get him, Yash!" Chris called out, removing one hand from his pocket to pump in encouragement.
"He's nothing to you, babe." Shermie reinforced. "We have Right on our side~"
Iori rolled his eyes. Mystic nonsense. None of that would help him in here... not in the ring, where only man and man can reside. He took a deep breath... he let his mind release, his instincts take over. No ideology, no superficial moral compass compelled him. Only his hands, his tools of violence, would be the guide. Yashiro could have all the "right" he wanted.
His onesided mortal enemy stepped into the combat zone, opposite him, and his eyes never left Iori's own. Immediately, venomous words spouted forth, and what began in the locker room soon spawned a sequel.
"I've been waiting for this for a long time, Red Hair!" Yashiro thrust his finger. "You won't get away from me this time. Flesh or no, my hatred makes me strong... and I have the light of destiny on my side. I carry the decree of God's Wil-"
"Are you finished yet?" Iori sharply interjected. "I don't know you on a personal level, Yashiro... but you and your two yahoos are easily the most deluded motherf***ers I've ever met in my life. What you three believe in, what that bastard Goenitz, believed in? It's a LIE. It's bullshit, puffed up propaganda designed to poison your minds into serving a mad cause. You really think you guys are going to find Utopia at the end of all this?! Get real! You're contributing to the end of all things! That includes YOU too!"
Yashiro swung his arm defiantly. "You are NOT going to shake my faith! The same faith that leads millions to believe Jesus Christ will return to earth, that drives radical Muslims to kill and die for a paradise beyond mortal living, is the SAME faith that's going to lead the Hakkeshu to the promised land. It's all for us! Me, Shermie, Chris, Goenitz, NOBODY ELSE! We, who faithfully served His cause when nobody else did. We, who lost our lives but willed our spectral essence to carry on His work. And when we take down you, the Kusanagi head, and that Kagura bitch... the defeat of the Three Clans will finally be complete. Heh...Kyo's not here to bail you out this time, Red Hair."
..That easily set Iori off. His fingers twitched, cracking with malicious desire. "You're dead."
FIGHT!
Iori roared as he went airborne, leaping at him with a closed fist cocked back. He came down on Yashiro, swinging like wild hammer, but Yashiro brought his arms up and absorbed the impact. Though it blew him several yards backwards, his formidable legs easily helped him maintain balance as he reset his position.
The two circled once more, like vicious predators... but there would be no outside interruptions this time. They were free, to unleash all the rage they saw fit.
"Iori... he's fighting for us." Chizuru softly called out.
"No... he's not." Saiysu shook his head. "But it doesn't matter. A victory is a victory. A win for Iori here means a major setback for the forces of darkness."
Yahiro frontflipped forward and transitioned smoothly into a thrusting kick: his powerful appendage impacted on Iori's chest and sent the man off his feet, but he landed on all fours and skidded backwards, snarling like a preying wolf. He shot forward, coming back towards Yashiro with wild swings. A looping left to the midsection, his right fingers flexing and going towards the head with a cleaving swipe. Yashiro took the body shot, but dodged the swipe, and Iori spun completely around with a backfist behind it. When that failed to connect to, he followed up with a kick.
...Yashiro timed the propulsion of his leg before it even kicked off. He drilled into Iori's knee, locking the leg before it had a chance to properly fly, and Iori was forced into a helpless stagger. A right hook found Iori's stomach; with a grimace, he retreated, but not before Yashiro cracked his jaw with a left.
"GET OUT, YAGAMI!" Saisyu shouted.
Iori found range, thinking he was free... Yashiro surprised him with hidden speed, phase shifting forward in a blur, and delivering a massive uppercut that not only launched Yashiro's feet from the ground... it put Iori in the air and knocked the boy on his back.
"YEAH YASHIRO! KEEP IT UP!" Chris cheered.
"YOU'RE DOING GREAT~!" Shermie applauded, so excited she couldn't help but do a graceful pirouette.
Iori was back up quickly, not hurt, more angry than ever. With a growl, he rushed in and fired a low kick, trying to clip those legs. Yashiro checked it, and he raised his forearm just in time to absorb a vengeful fist from crashing in his face. Iori hit HARD; Yashiro still staggered backwards.
Iori was far from done. Stepping forward, getting a spinning start, his lungs produced a war-like bellow. "HRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"
His claws left blood-red contrails through the air behind them, as they swiped across Yashiro's chest, eliciting an anguished cry from the white-haired man as his red top shredded to pieces before him. Iori took advantage and pressed forward; a deep step, and a lunging kick behind it plowed into Yashiro's stomach, knocking the white-haired man to the dirt.
"Agh! Urrgh...!" Yashiro was still grimacing from the shock of that violent slash... he looked down, and could see the deep grooves of Iori's cutting aura, now inscribed in his pseudo-solid form. Thank Orochi he had no blood to bleed.
Yashiro spring-kicked back up with style. Ripping the remnants of his top from his torso, he rushed at Iori and busted his jaw with a left hook. Iori recoiled, and managed to block a right, but Yashiro fired kicks immediately after. Each assault from his legs was like battering Iori's arms with a heavy oar. The red-haired man could feel his bones aching, his muscles screaming in agony as they tested the limits of their fortitude to block these shots...
Left. Right. Low. Mid. High. Yashiro's kicks kept coming. He peppered Iori with several quick ones, then, when he felt his prey was softened... he took a deep step, spun around, and unleashed a terrifying spinning roundhouse.
...That was Iori's opening. Pure instinct shouting at him, he not only ducked the big kick, he flopped to the ground completely and blasted Yashiro's foot out with a dropkick.
"Arrgh!" Yashiro went 360 in the air before landing with a painful THUD.
Iori allowed his nemesis back up... but left Yashiro no chance to ready defenses. As soon as he was back up, his footing was tested as a straight right knocked him wobbly. Before Yashiro could grasp his surroundings, Iori was up against him, and the dirty boxing came out: several short, point-blank, punishing blows into his ribcage, tenderizing the man until he abandoned all strategy to retreat in desperation. He couldn't get away fast enough, and a wide left knocked his head sideways, taking his feet away from him and planting him facefirst.
"DAMN what a hit! WOOOOO!" Shingo whooped. "WHOOP WHOOP! YOU DA MAAAAN!"
Benimaru dragged him back to his seat. "Sit down, dummy."
Chizuru was without words this whole time, as the powerful concentration of her eyes siphoned energy from her vocal chords. She was completely, unabated, focused on their every action... HIS every action. Pain in the neck though he was, she believed in Iori, believed in his capacity to do the right thing, even if his sometimes shallow perception didn't acquire it. Just like Kyo... he was one of them. A good guy. A hero. For that reason, she silently urged him on to victory. She didn't even notice she was squeezing Saisyu's hand in a crushing grip.
Yashiro was back up, but desperate. He fired a right roundhouse, but Iori bounced it off his arm and punished his solar plexus with another brutal mid shot. Yashiro hunched over; he was feeling them hard at this point.
A left connected with his cheek again... and Yashiro got creative. As he recoiled, Iori followed... and fell for the bait. Yashiro went backwards, on his hands, as if going for a backflip... but it was simply a handstand, and his feet swung upwards and collided full force with Iori's chin.
"UNNNGHHH!" Iori grunted loud as the surprise blow knocked stars into his vision. Yashiro's legs followed through their motion, until they were bending far back, nearly touching his own forehead, a true display of flexibility.
"NO!" Chizuru cried. Her grip got even harder, and Saiysu's face started to twist.
"STAY STRONG, BRAT!" he managed to call out with a grimace.
Yashiro's legs came back forward as he spring kicked off his hands and onto his feet again. The kick assault resumed: a left sailed into Iori's chest, a 1-2 combination from his hands boxed Iori's head clean. Iori traded with him, launching a left into his chin, and following up with a right, which was blocked. As Yashiro blocked it, he fired back with a roundhouse. Parried. Iori came forward with a wild slash: Yashiro ducked it, and hit Iori with an uppercut, stumbling the red-haired man back, and he pressed forward with front kicks, right foot to the ribs, left foot to the chest, another 1-2 combination to his face after!
Iori spat blood in his face. "YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" he leaped into Yashiro with a Superman punch, blasting the white-haired man into the dirt with the cracking left hand.
"YASHIROOOOOOO!" Shermie and Chris squealed in unison. Chris's hands were clenched, and Shermie had her cheeks squished.
Yashiro crawled back up, panting heavy... face wobbly... his dazed vision tried to focus on Iori in front of him. The man was hunched over, blood drizzling from nearly every pore of his face, mouth open with snarling breaths... he could almost feel the ferocious mist from those fangs. The man just... didn't stop. No matter how much Yashiro hit him, Iori came back, harder, stronger... angrier. Unfiltered, unstoppable rage... NO! He couldn't win! He wasn't fighting for a just cause! Destiny was on HIS SIDE!"
"Orochi give me streng-THUUUUGHHHHH!" Yashiro's prayer was cut off, as Iori drove a forward elbow into his jaw, knocking him backwards. Yashiro tried to counter with a kick: Iori caught it!
"Hrrr... hrrrrAGHHHHH!" Iori lifted the leg high, away, exposing the stationary leg sustaining Yashiro's balance. He kicked off with one foot, propelling his other foot into a sailing punt kick, chopping Yashiro's ankle at the base. Iori didn't so much let go of the captive leg, as SLING it away, and Yashiro was thrown violently to the ground once more.
"He... he's losing it..." Chris officially started to worry.
"Have faith in him, Chris!" Shermie quickly tried to shut down doubt. "Our God grants him power...!"
Iori was in full animal. He snatched Yashiro by the scalp and forcefully JERKED him back to his feet. His uppercut flew so wild, no grace in his movements at all... just a monstrous yell, and his flailing arm sailing upwards at a 90 degree angle, so undisciplined he nearly punched himself in the process.
But the punch hit true... and he could see the lack of lucidity in Yashiro's eyes. The man was nearly out on his feet.
"HE'S DONE FOR, IORI! GO FOR IIIIIT!" Chizuru screamed.
"THE FINAL BLOW! DO IT!" Saisyu bellowed.
"THIS IS FREAKING AWESOME!" Shingo whooped.
Yashiro stumbled forward defiantly... he tried a weak left, but Iori drove a fist into his elbow joint and prevented his arm from swinging. A counter right sent Yashiro backwards, and a follow-up left assaulted his body once more.
"Cough cough... ughhh..." Yashiro groaned as he fired a weak uppercut; Iori easily weaved away. He tried a right hook behind it; Iori easily smacked his fist away, and Yashiro's own swing caused his body to spin around dizzyingly. He had no control of his footing; Iori kicked him in the back of the knee, and reduced the man to kneeling.
Iori grabbed him by the head and stood him back up. He squeezed his skull to hold him in place, drew back a free hand... he planted it deep into those washboard abs, and Yashiro folded over. As his head dipped low, Iori tilted his chin back up and a straight right knocked him away.
Yashiro was essentially knocked out, somehow still standing. Iori made sure this blow would be the last.
"Huffff... huuuhgh... HRRRRRGH... YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
His eyes glowed purple as his fist flew one last time... as he connected with Yashiro's chin, magenta embers spouted in all directions from the impact point.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Shermie and Chris squealed out, as they watched their leader figure, their rock, their pillar of strength... collapse onto his back.
WINNER: IORI YAGAMI
The Stadium shook with a cataclysmic uproar of reception. They weren't necessarily cheering for good defeating evil... truth be told, the masses were mostly blissfully ignorant to the inner conspiracies and deep-rooted context, satisfied having merely gotten their fix of tournament action.
Regardless, the fact remained... Yashiro Nanasake had fallen. Iori struck a critical blow to the Hakkeshu's ambition.
These things mattered little to him. With a raspy breath, Iori slowly limped towards the sidelines... the blood still trickled from his face, painting a mask of red on his visage. Even with no mortal life, Yashiro had proven a formidable foe... perhaps one of the greatest Iori had ever faced. Was this what he meant in the locker room? Did he want Iori to see this, to see how far hatred could mold a man? He had spent so long, deeming them of no consequence... not caring that he'd stepped over them, cast them aside as irrelevant. Meanwhile, this was what festered...
Perhaps in some way, Iori himself was responsible for the team known as New Faces. Perhaps he gave birth to their cruel intentions, to hold dominion over a scorched Earth, to heedlessly dismiss all lives, like Iori did theirs.
He finished limping to the sidelines, where Chizuru was there waiting to rescue him into her bosom. "Iori! Are you okay?"
He didn't immediately respond. Too much on his mind... too tired. He forcefully jerked his head from her chest, pulling away from the woman; he didn't want to stain her favorite white top with blood. Chizuru, of course, missed this reason, and instead thought Iori was pushing her away...
"Iori..." Chizuru softly addressed him. "I know you're lost right now. I know it's hard... when Kyo's here, everything feels so much simpler, doesn't it?"
Iori looked back at her, listless eyes... she had to turn her head, lest the blood turn her stomach, and her heart.
He continued to stare. Deep breaths... slowly regaining himself. He looked almost ready to talk.
Saisyu took a step forward, looking to beat him to the punch. "Iori... IN THE RING!"
Iori knew something was wrong; the Stadium tone had changed drastically. He swung around-
RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUMBLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLE...
The ground quaked beneath them, so forceful their feet nearly left them!
"Wha-wha-whoooa! What's going on here?!" Shingo couldn't control his sitting position.
"HIS BODY!" Benimaru pointed outwards, but the extension of his limb caused him to lose balance and fall over from the shaking.
Iori wiped the blood from his eyes and slowly limped back out there... he was locked onto the former resting place of the body of Yashiro, now awash in a golden pillar of light. The closer he got, the more the energy singed his skin... it was so... pure. Each step felt heavier than the next... pretty sure, he couldn't manage another step towards it.
The bright field of light slowly began to shrink... slowly dissipating, thinning, absorbing into a singular focal point... and Yashiro Nanasake was back up, on steady feet, body hunched completely over.
His torso slowly, ominously rose upwards... until he stood tall again, his skin darkened to a brown much different than the light shade of his natural pigment. His irises, no longer their normal color, bore a redness that could only speak of bad omens...
He raised his left fist. His right fist. With a mighty bellow, he brought his fists outwards, and the energy PULSED from him, sending a powerful shockwave radius around him, that shook the ground once more.
"I AM YASHIRO OF THE PARCHED EARTH!" a demonic voice spoke. "I WILL SHATTER THIS WORLD'S GEOGRAPHY, SO OUR LORD MAY RESHAPE IT TO HIS DESIGN!"
HATRED UNFILTERED: IORI YAGAMI VS OROCHI YASHIRO
FIGHT!
"I-Impossible!' Chizuru gasped. "Even with no mortal coil, he's still strong enough to...?!"
"So this is the true power of those blackhearts!" Saiysu cursed.
Rose, in her VIP booth, was utterly confused, cowering behind Krauser and Silber. "So uhh... the match isn't...over...?"
Rather than rush Iori outright, Yashiro stood firm. He instead knelt down, raised his fist... with a bellow, he drove his own fist into the solid Earth.
Iori grimaced as he put up his defenses. He could see Yashiro shuddering... pulsing... golden streams crackled through his skin, illuminating his once-live veins with geothermal energy. His eyes glowed bright gold, blinding to look at...
Fully charged, he uprooted his fist and rushed Iori. "DIE!"
Iori threw his arms up in defense... but it proved nothing. When Yashiro leaped at him with a Superman Punch, a shotgun blast of golden energy, from the Earth itself, obliterated him point-blank, knocking his body so far back it exceeded the threshold of the combat zone, going so far back as to smash into the wall of the Stadium itself.
Suffice to say, this battle was now beyond the safe boundaries.
Iori's muscles ached, cried out from head to toe... but it was a cry of fury. He could feel his blood getting hotter, his skin almost superheating... as if is own body was commanding him not to go down. The blood formed droplets at the base of his chin and jawline, slowly dripping on the ground around him... but only a few droplets fell, before the blood stopped completely.
"IORI! FORM UP ON US! NOW!" Chizuru rushed to him and extended a rescuing arm-
FWOOOOOOSH! Purple flames spawned at hers and Saisyu's feet, forming an impenetrable wall that no mortal man could cross with their health intact. Self-preservation kicked in, as Saiysu immediately got in front of her and shielded her from advancing any further.
"THIS IS MY FIGHT!" Iori roared, his arms coated with purple flames sprouting high. "I created this... and I'm going to destroy it!"
Chizuru reached out in vain... Saisyu pulled her back, allowing purple to rush yellow in a catastrophic collision of energy.
BWOOOOOOOSH! The combat zone exploded with their unrestrained, untapped rage. Iori swiped at his head with rapid, relentless slashing attacks, each stroke leaving trails of violet behind each finger. Yashiro bobbed and weaved each strike, intensely concentrated, as if his head was never addled. He dodged each strike and countered with a perfectly-timed knee, sapping Iori's aggression as his stomach took that unholy power and nearly crumpled him.
In a stunned state, Yashiro seized the advantage; his fist glowed with the power of Gaia... he brought it raining down on Iori's crown, sending the man facefirst into the dirt at his feet.
"IORI!" Chizuru squealed. "He can't win like this! He's too hurt! Too tired! We.. we gotta-"
"He made his choice." Saiysu coldly responded, his body showing no signs of urgency, unlike Chizuru's. He merely stood, calculated.. a hand on his chin, observing. "Let's see what that boy can do."
"OROCHI... GRANT ME STRENGTH!" Yashiro uttered that same macabre request as he planted his fists into the solid ground, once again charging himself, borrowing strength from the very Earth...
Iori knew what he had to do. Still too weak to get up, he willed himself onto all fours... with a desperate cry, he swung his hand out, sending a stream of purple fire at Yashiro's feet. The devilish flames exploded upon impact.
"ARRGH! Damnation...!" Yashiro grimaced as he was knocked off balance, forced to uproot his hands and bring them high to defend himself. At last, Iori had regained himself...and he was coming in hot.
Yashiro could barely absorb the blows: a left to the stomach, forced to take it clean, so he could defend the shot to the side of the head. But his leg was wide open, as Iori brought a foot crashing into his tibia, nearly collapsing the limb. Iori reached out with claws extended, raking the skin, as he held Yashiro with one hand and used the other to pummel him with short punches.
One to the face. Two to the face. Three... Yashiro's vision started to blur. Shaking the cobwebs, his eyes glowed from a deep red to the most blinding crimson... and he snatched Iori by the shirt.
Yashiro demonstrated his athletic ability. Keeping the shirt clasped, he vaulted upwards, frontflipping over Iori's head... as his feet touched the ground, strength and momentum lifted Iori high in the air and sent him on a wild ride.
KABOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM! As Yashiro slammed him, the Earth cracked, a towering golden geyser erupting where Iori's body had landed.
"YES! HE'S FINISHED!" Chris cheered loudly.
At this point, Chizuru couldn't watch any further. She had yet to see Iori emerge from the impact point of that massive slam, and she assumed the worst. She pressed her face into Saisyu's chest and quietly sobbed, cursing... who? Herself, for being unable to prevent this? Iori, for not listening to her? This tournament, for even existing? Maybe even Kyo... if Kyo were here, would things have been different...?
But Saisyu kept on looking... and he smiled when Iori at last limped forth. The man heralded as Kusanagi elder held benefits where Chizuru did not: a hardened heart, not bound by the sisterly, or maternal love and sympathy Chizuru held for him. Saisyu instead would CHALLENGE the boy; test the utmost limits of his capabilities, his physical and spiritual fortitude. That's why, deep down... he had more faith in Iori than even Chizuru did.
Iori dragged his weary body forth, open mouth fighting to regain air to his aching lungs... he was feeling the limits of man, whereas Yashiro was the perfect specimen: strength, spirit, the inability to get tired. But surely the man was getting power from somewhere...
...Of course. It was clear in front of him.
"You know what to do, Yagami brat..." Saisyu muttered.
Yashiro's fist was back in the ground, once again engulfing his body in a golden light. "YOU'RE DAMNED, IORI YAGAMI! YOU'RE GOD DAMNED!"
Iori rushed him. He couldn't let Yashiro absorb the Earth's energy!
Yashiro of course saw him coming. He slammed his other fist against the ground, this time for offense: where his fist connected, a rift started forming a path through the ground, slowly coursing with a stream of energy, creeping towards Iori's feet like a lit fuse.
Iori was wise to dive roll out of the way, as the energy reached him and EXPLODED from the ground like a geothermal bomb. Iori transitioned into a barrel roll and sprang back up, swinging his hands wildly and sending fireballs soaring towards Yashiro to counter.
Yashiro frontflipped, cartwheeled out of the way of each soaring flame, his agility bringing him great success in evading, and closing the distance. The two were back on each other, and Yashiro beat him to the punch with a kick to the body. Iori started to go down; he'd been hit WAY too much, and his body was failing him... but as his knees buckled, a latent rage spawned in him, and strengthened his stance once more.
"RRRAGH!" Iori gave him back a strike of equal magnitude, crashing into Yashiro's chin with a spew of purple embers, sending the white-haired man back on the defensive.
"Red-haired bastard...!" Yashiro cursed as he stumbled backwards, but came back forward swinging with crisp combinations. Every punch carried with it a point-blank explosion of golden light, his fists supercharged with the lifeblood of the planet, his Orochi power and heritage. The ground beneath them was his domain: an infinite resource of limitless power, to sustain and strengthen him, to vanquish any foe.
It was no use. Yashiro was simply too juiced. A charged up fist exploded into Iori's stomach, and the red-haired man went down with a grimace.
"YAGAMIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII!" Shingo and Benimaru yelled in unison.
"Damn it brat..." Saisyu cursed. "Don't let him recharge...!"
The world around him was a blur. The blue sky, clouds and sun washed together, like one big watercolor painting. He was so weak... so tired... it was the easiest thing to just give up. He'd done his part. Never asked for it anyway. Let Chizuru and Saisyu do it...
...Who was he kidding? After all he said to Kyo last year? He'd be Hypocrite of the Year. He didn't ask for this... but he never did. The shovel was thrust into his hands. He had no choice but to use it. He created Yashiro Nanasake... it was up to him to silence him. All he had to do was get past this... get it done, and go to bed... back to solitude. Back to his guitar. Back to Mature and-
...Well, that last one could be excluded from the list of comforts. Maybe.
With an anguished groan, he returned to his feet. He looked forward... Yashiro wasn't coming after him. He looked a little weak, to be exact. Maybe, just maybe... the man had used too much, too fast...!
Iori knew it to be true, when Yashiro abandoned defense and tried to siphon more Gaia power. He was leaving himself wide open.
Getting a running start, Iori slammed into the man, uprooting his hands and putting him into a vicious tumble to the ground. Yashiro couldn't get up fast enough, and a fist found his cheek, another coming right after, knocking his jaw the other way. He was definitely wobbling.
"GET AWAY, CRETIN!" Yashiro threw a pushing kick to the stomach, not exactly powerful, but with intent to repel. He backflipped to create distance, and tried to root his fists..
"Not this time."
FWOOOOOOOOOOOSH! A ring of fire surrounded them, nearly touching Yashiro's body where it had sprouted from the ground beneath him.
"AGGHhhh!" he cried out as he stumbled backwards, away from the hellish lick of the forbidden flames. With nowhere to retreat, he was stumbling backwards... into his sworn enemy.
As soon as he turned around, Iori knocked him on his ass with an uppercut. His torso nearly fell backwards, but he instead sprang up with his hands... he tried to swing, but Iori swatted his hand aside and drilled his lungs with clawed fingers. Knowing he wasn't fighting living flesh and bone, Iori cared not about sinking his talons deep into Yashiro's insides, twisting to rend the fabricated anatomy.
"GgghhhAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGhhhhh!" Yashiro cried out as he felt real pain, a side effect of trying to impersonate a human vessel. There were many advantages his ghostly form granted him... but many cons to match, and perhaps outweigh.
Iori let him have it again: a clear, deep stroke across his torso, cleaving the skin with fresh claw marks, making an X to match the laceration he'd already given him earlier. Yashiro buckled to his knees... he tried in vain to absorb more Earth power, and Iori would have none of it.
"RRRAGH!" killing instinct consumed Iori as he abandoned all tactics and tackled the man to the ground, pinning him flat. He got a full mount... and the punches started coming. Endless. Merciless. He would burn out the last of his energy, he would put himself to sleep... but he wouldn't stop.
"RRAGH! AGHH! HYAAH! RRAH! GRRAAGH!" one would think Iori had gone full Riot the way he grunted like a predator mauling a meal, as his fists pummeled Yashiro over, over, over... left, right, left, right, he stopped for nothing. No audience, no cameras, no host intervention to prevent the massacre.
...Until finally he could punch no longer. He began to raise his fist one last time... but he stopped, when he saw the sight below him.
Yashiro's face was blank, staring into his own, eyes showing life, but dull and passionless. He looked like the fight was completely taken out of him... but not as a result of the punches. His skin had returned to its normal brown hue, his eyes no longer their menacing bizarre colors.
"Figured it would end like this." Yashiro's voice was his own again. "You one-upped my only passion in life. You one-upped my undying ambition. And now... you've overcome me, completely. I guess I was just meant to be beneath you, Iori Yagami."
His fist suddenly lost the desire to hit anymore. Feeling his aggression cool down to a solemn mellowness, he outstretched his hand and snuffed the ring of fire surrounding them. He then brought his arms to his sides... no longer strong enough to fight.
"I envy you, Iori." Yashiro's voice continued, calm, almost devoid of life. "I'll never know what it's like to just be with a bigger destiny... to be born into nobility, granted an advantage over the rest of this world. Why... why the hell would you ever complain?"
Iori slowly got off of the man, willing himself back upwards. With a deep breath, he dusted his black leather coat off. "I wonder the same thing a lot."
He turned his back to Yashiro and walked away. But something strange happened... a moment, a mere flicker, an anomaly of humanity from him, as he turned around just enough to peek Yashiro in his peripherals.
"Sorry I stole your gig."
With that, Iori Yagami exited the Stadium. He walked past the wreckage, past Chizuru and Saisyu, past the audience... he only wanted his bed, and nothing else.
Man... I sure hope that was a decent co-main event for you all. I know it took two weeks to get this out, and I strongly apologize for that. Life has been getting to me big time. Changes happening. But no matter what, the show must go on.
NEXT CHAPTER: it's the conclusion of Round 1! Adelheid Bernstein finally steps in the ring to face... his biggest challenge yet? Find out next time! Be sure to review, because I love that.
