The Black Iron Prison
The edge of his blade clashed against the gun's guard, the dark purple gear turning in the mechanism, visible through the red stained glass, sparks ensuing from the grinding of the two weapons, the muscles in his arms and shoulders protesting with his exertion. He pushed against it with his all his strength, grinding his teeth together, and then, when he could not force the weapon down further, or cause its owner to yield, he jumped backwards, sweat upon his brow, his face flush with effort and embarrassment.
Begrudgingly, he lowered the sword, the wind catching his unkempt hair, once dark, now shot through with silver. He thought back to the bitter winter of the previous year, of the woman with the golden ravens at her shoulders, the crop held in her gloved hands.
"What is it with people like you coming here to challenge me?" he asked with displeasure, bringing up the Falcon Sabre once more.
He was old now, older than he cared to admit, and although the sunlight warmed him and the seasons had changed, the cherry blossom now fleeing the branches of winsome trees all across the quiet expanse of Academia Island, Amamiya Yusuke was too old to keep fending off those wishing to prove themselves against him.
In the long years since the defeat of Great Professor Bias and the Armed Brain Army Volt, since the loss of his friends, he had trained two men in the way of the sword, Washio Gaku, and—
"Maybe you're an easy target," the young man countered.
He was thin, dressed in robes the like of which Amamiya did not recognise the style of, yet knew enough to realise that they were expensive; a pampered child, he thought, noting the different coloured polish on the nails of each hand, the immaculate orderliness of his appearance, his thick hair, his tidy eyebrows, his firm poise and posture.
With the weapon still in his grasp, he pointed towards the heavens, the dark clouds that gathered.
"You know this place is a prison, I take it?" he asked, almost with indifference. "Your world is trapped within a gear, locked away from the rest of the universe; anyone can find you here should they have the right access."
Amamiya glanced up at the shadows. He remembered the darkness that had crowded the skies several months ago, before spring had truly come on; he remembered the shadows, the world brought to the brink, before, at last, against all odds, the light had returned, and the skies had cleared, and no one knew why.
With cruelty, the boy across from him smiled, his thin lips curling upwards.
"You guessed it," he said, taking a mocking bow.
Amamiya grunted with displeasure.
"So we have you to thank, do we?"
The smile faded, and the boy levelled the gun, pointing it directly at Amamiya.
"Perhaps your thanks are premature."
From his belt, he pulled out a dark purple gear, lifting the glass cover and exchanging it with the one that previously had whirred within the weapon. His expression remained emotionless as he reached forward, wound the handle of the weapon once, twice, three times, and then his finger pulled sharply against the trigger.
'12!' a warped and distorted voice resounded through the air, echoing out from the mechanism within the gun.
A cloud of ink exploded forth from the gun with a crack of thunder, five shadowy figures taking form between them; encased in stone, frozen in place, five familiar figures. The stone broke, falling away, revealing the five warriors in all their glory, the coloured armour as vibrant as Amamiya remembered.
'Liveman!' gurgled the gun.
Without pause, each of them leapt into action, Red Falcon wielding the Falcon Sword that Amamiya knew had been destroyed by Sword Brain all those years ago. He ducked, desperately pulling away as the sword sailed over his head, jumping back as Jo's Lion Punch failed to connect, a bolt from Megumi's Dolphin Arrow hitting the ground before him.
"Jo! Megumi! Come to your senses!" he cried out in alarm.
He jumped further back as the Bison Rod jabbed further at him, held tightly within Tetsuya's grasp, and Jun'ichi's twin Sai Cutters whisked past his head.
"Tetsuya! Jun'ichi!" he cried.
The other shape, the familiar shape stepped forward, Falcon Sword clashing against Falcon Sabre, sparks flying as he came face to face with Red Falcon, his own face reflected in the black visor of the familiar helm.
"These aren't your comrades," the boy called to him with amusement, "rather they are the echo of your likenesses, their forms resurrected in service of the Tojitendo Dynasty."
Once more, he was forced to jump back, almost losing his footing as he did. His own armour and that of his friends brought back to serve evil? The thought chilled him, a feeling of anger and frustration welling within him, and though he did not wish to admit it, a feeling of helplessness.
Again, Red Falcon leapt forward, the Falcon Sword lifted above his head.
A gasp escaped his lips and he brought his sabre up, but he knew it was too late, he knew that nothing he could do could prevent the blow from landing, and that, when it did, it would kill him.
Abruptly, he was shoved backwards and out of the way, the Falcon Sword bouncing uselessly off a massive sword of black steel, its edge a vibrant orange. Its owner turned to look at him, the hem of his blue greatcoat stirred up by the movement, a wry smile on his lips.
"Senpai, long time, no see."
Amamiya's eyes widened.
"Oogami?"
With a grunt of determination, Oogami Ryo knocked the sword back, spinning the massive shape of his heavy buster sword, the Dogouken Gekido, and striking down each of the villainous copies in turn, their forms dissolving into clouds of acrid black smoke.
He turned the massive sword about with one hand, and then slung it over his shoulder in a fanfare of victory, and then, with displeasure, faced the boy in the purple robes.
"Boy, I think you and me should have a little talk."
Still with his sword over his shoulder, the older man took a step forward, his heavy boots pushing down against the green grass.
The boy's expression hastily became one of displeasure, and before Oogami could take further a step forward, he brought his gun up once more and pulled the trigger, a cloud of black smoke engulfing him, consuming his form.
By the time the breeze had gathered up the smoke and dispersed it, he was gone, leaving Oogami Ryo and Amamiya Yusuke alone together on the cliff overlooking the rocks and the ocean below, dark clouds forming above them.