nestbox | | will the water help me find the way? (takeshi, squalo)

[Though it really shouldn't, these ring battles irk him beyond belief. Yamamoto has always been the patient sort, the kind to weather out a storm and shrug the rain out of his eyes without complaining, but this tries his patience. While he can see the potential in Tsuna, he also knows that it's a flickering thing. Weak and easily extinguished. His choice of guardians hadn’t proven particularly worrisome either, and while the silver haired boy who was his opponent was talented, he was more a pair of lungs than a swordsman.

It seemed a waste of time to fight them, but Yamamoto hadn’t come this far to see Xanxus’ right to the Vongola just given to a random boy who didn’t want it anyway. Not after Xanxus had been locked away for so long after the Cradle Affair. Not after Yamamoto had worked hard gathering and keeping the Varia together all these years. Not after all he’d sacrificed.

He hadn’t said much to Xanxus before he had entered the arena, because really there was no need. Yamamoto was confident that he would win this, or he really would be the trash that Xanxus always told him he was, and he would be a shame to his old man’s name.

Yamamoto watched idly as the other boy clambered noisily into the ring, Shigure Kintoki tapping rhythmically against his shoulder as he waited, patient and smiling. Most people could call it pleasant, until they realized it didn’t quite reach his eyes.]

Yo Squalo. Are you ready?

[Squalo looked over the arena and it crossed his mind how in the fuck they were going to fix this until tomorrow so that nobody would be able to tell. This time, climbing up the levels with water soaking into his shoes and the ends of his slacks, he was less of a nervous bundle of energy now than he had been at their first meeting, calmer and less angry. Tyr had told him a few things about this Yamamoto guy in the meantime, when they took breaks from their constant sparring for long enough to eat or drink.

Slowly but surely, he was carving his own style out of all the ones he'd seen and fought. Was he ready? Well, he was as ready as he was going to get, his cocky smirk in place as if there had never been a dent in his confidence at all. He knew one thing, his opponent was a cold bastard. No jovial friendly tone was going to change that. He sneered in response.]

Vooooooooi, what are you talking about? I was born ready!

[And if he wasn't fucking ready, they were all going to die. Squalo drew his sword, feet shifting into position.]

[Even if it was all misplaced cockiness, Yamamoto couldn't help but laugh at Squalo's bravado. It'd been a while since he'd fought someone who hadn't been quivering in fear just at the sight of him. The title of Sword Emperor wasn't something just anyone could claim, and he was well aware that his reputation wasn't exactly kid friendly.

His grin a bit more genuine at that statement, Yamamoto slid into his starting pose, ready to go on the offensive.]

Glad to hear it. It wouldn't be fun otherwise.

[The Cervello had barely signaled for the fight to start before Yamamoto was rushing forward, springing into the Shigure Souen style's eighth form quicker than a blink.]

[Just like that, it's life or death. Squalo doesn't have time to think about it. It's all instinct, even the way his mind and body rush to comprehend the movement coming at him while he rushes forward to meet his opponent's charge. The horizontal strike he hoped for comes - and instead of ducking, or moving out of range, or doing anything remotely sensible, Squalo throws all his momentum and his strength into a parry.]

[Ah, so it seems like Squalo has managed to improve in the short amount of time since Yamamoto last saw him. It's odd how pleasing he finds it, to have an opponent who has no sense of hesitation either, who has the skill to back up his boasting. This might prove to be fun after all, since there are men who he had fought who hadn't been able to withstand that first blow.]

Haha you've gotten better.

[Yamamoto's grinning when Squalo parries the attack, and lightening quick goes into the fifth form, slashing at the other man diagonally, sword switching to his other hand mid attack.]

[Squalo bares teeth in a grin at the compliment.]

I know!

[He worked for it as many hours as he was physically able to. At the same time, he winces inwardly. Of course the impact wouldn't have immobilized someone that much stronger than him - not like he can't admit it when it's plain to see, Yamamoto has more than just time on him. But he'd hoped there'd be at least something.

He has no time to even breathe before the next attack. Instead he drops under the blade, free hand splashing into the water as he catches himself. The next moment he rises, bringing his blade up with him slashing up and across. The screen of water rising with his strike is just a side-effect, but in his mind, it opens possibilities.]

[What a terror Squalo would be if he had more time, if he had been training as long as Yamamoto had been. The slash catches him neatly on the chest, a shallow wound, but enough to draw blood, and the sight of it makes Yamamoto's grin even wider. It's been some time since he's had a challenge, and while Xanxus might not approve, he's going to try to eek this out a bit more. Squalo has potential to make this fight the most fun he's had in a while, irritation at these ring battles aside.

He jumps back to avoid the slash that had followed the upward strike, lunging forward eagerly, his sword aiming for the chest. He doesn't want to hit anything vital, but he does want to slow the other boy down.]

[First blood in the fight, and he's the one to draw it. He feels euphoric, because this, this kind of fight is what he's wanted, this, he realizes, is what he's been training for. But it carries him away and too far toward the assassin's attack to get out of the way again. Try as he might to hold his blade in place to parry, he's pushed back, hissing, unable to stop the katana from meeting his skin. His eyes are wide and bright from the pain, but there's no fear in them.

He doesn't slow down though. Can't yet. Freezing up just because he's been hit, Tyr taught him, will only give the enemy the chance to hit him again. So with a long motion he brings his blade straight down toward the other's head.]

[There's a sharp jolt of validation that thrills through him at the feeling of his sword meeting his opponent's skin. Squalo may have had first blood, but Yamamoto intended to uphold the mission of a rain guardian.

There's a bit of interest too flickering in his gaze when he notes that even though there's pain registering on Squalo's face, it doesn't slow him down. He blocks the attack that would have been deadly, the movement of his sword spraying water upwards and drenching the both of them. He's already moving again to counter, but he can't help but talk during his fights.]

Why is someone of your skill following Tsuna?

[Given that split second, Squalo does finally pause, bracing himself for the inevitable next attack instead of pressing on. Part of him wants to examine the wound. See how deep it is, how much blood he's losing, because past all the adrenaline rushing through his veins, the pain barely even registers. But he has to focus on the fight. Concentrate or die.

Already, his movements have been a seemingly haphazard mixture of different styles. A fencing stance, a swing from fighting with the heavy chinese dao. He just has to find something that will work against Yamamoto. There has to be some opening. But the question brings an outright snarl to his face.]

He's the fucking heir! You think I need another reason?

[The thing about his old man's style is that is completely flawless and invincible. There are only a few people Yamamoto has been defeated by, but that was his own failing. He doesn't need any other style, but it doesn't keep him from admiring the crazy mixture of styles. Just because he doesn't need any other style doesn't mean he can't incorporate others and make them his own.

He can't help but laugh at that murderous expression on Squalo's face, still pressing forward, not giving an inch.]

He doesn't want to be heir to the Vongola. Why not join up with someone who does?

[Because Squalo has a lot of potential, and he'd hate to see it wasted.]

[And that's it, just like that, Squalo is furious. The volume drops away, he narrows his eyes at his enemy.]

Because.

[He punctuates the growled word with a counter, and fends the hits off as they come, as well as he can. Some cuts land, most of them shallow, but before long it's more of his blood in the water than Yamamoto's for sure.]

I'm not some fucking turncoat. You're talking about me betraying my boss like it's no big deal.

[To him, that's insulting on a deeply personal level. He doesn't care if he's taking step after step backwards. He doesn't care if Tsuna doesn't want to be heir to the Vongola, because as far as he's concerned, the right to inheritance isn't something he can just hand over.]

[Ah, so he'd struck a nerve. Yamamoto filed that away for future use if Squalo lived through this fight. He blocked, countered, and struck out in kind, soaked in both water and blood. It's bogging him down, bit by bit, the amount of blood he's losing and his drenched Varia uniform.

His smile is almost apologetic as he moves to try to incapacitate Squalo's arms, sword lightening quick.]

Haha my bad, my bad.

[This intense sense of honor and loyalty was a bit surprising. It wasn't something Yamamoto would have expected from an extremely loud and surly looking guy.]

Why Tsuna?

[The question is what trips him up, makes him slow, makes him pause. He snaps back loudly, frantically trying to make up for it, but it's only a matter of time until Yamamoto really lands a blow on him.]

Vooooooi... it's none of your damn business!

[Teeth bared. Still not looking much like his namesake though.]

I don't ask you why you follow that asshole either!!

[This kid doesn't have half as many openings as Yamamoto would have thought, so when the question causes him to lag behind, Yamamoto took advantage and pressed forward, sword slashing down diagonally.

If Squalo can get distracted by talking, then Yamamoto will keep doing it.]

Haha if you want to know, I'll tell you.

[Even if he doesn't Yamamoto's gaze narrows dangerously, murderous intent steeping the air even more so than the water. His smile is a brutal thing, sharp as a blade.]

Because following him means I have more people to whet my blade against. I have stronger opponents to test myself against. I don't stop improving, and he's the same.

[Each sentence is punctuated with an attack, the water roaring around them.]

[Squalo doesn't want to see the appeal, but he does. The blade rips through his shirt and the protective vest beneath, even through his skin - it might have been his bones, though, his ribs. The pain is enough to clear his head. Gets rid of the near-misstep. If he hadn't met Tsuna when he did, if he hadn't been through what he has with him and Gokudera, he might've gone down that path. It thrills him to seek power to that extent.

But the pain brings his pride back to the forefront as well, a roaring spiteful thing. Tsuna is too good to simply turn his back on. If he's going to stain his hands for anyone, it's someone who'll still look at him as a person despite it all, and he'll still have every chance to improve. After all, isn't he fighting the sword emperor, already?

Squalo grits his teeth, eyes and focus sharper for the pain.]

And what happens on the day you lose a fight?

Haha are you concerned?

[Yamamoto's tone is light, teasing. This kid has been a pretty funny opponent so far, and he has to approve of the fact that he's even thought to wear a protective vest. Perhaps he had prepared far more than Yamamoto had given him credit for. He'll press forward, trying to use that wound to his advantage, aiming for that spot again.

Still the question is a good one, one that Yamamoto tries not dwell on too often because his losing isn't a possibility.]

My style is invincible and flawless. [That line is said with utter conviction, no hint of doubt in it. His expression is just as clear] But if I do lose, I'll really be the trash that Xanxus says I am.

The fuck would I be concerned for you for?!

[But what Yamamoto is saying is just solidifying his opinion on Xanxus. A powerful and ruthless and cruel man. Completely unforgiving. As much as those were qualities Squalo could appreciate, he wasn't the kind of person the Vongola needed for an heir.

In fact, he called bullshit on the whole ring battle thing from start to finish, even if that hardly had a place here and now. Now, he has to consider if this will be his first kill. Directly or by proxy - because he doesn't have to ask what happens to "trash" - or if he's going to die himself. It's not, he's finding, a question of morals.]

You're fucking delusional. No style is invincible or flawless!

[This time, when the blade descends toward him, he dodges it easily and with precision, countering by striking parallel to it, aiming for the arm.]

[His opponent's bluster makes him laugh, despite the circumstances, and even Squalo's retort against his style isn't enough to wipe the grin off of his face. That wasn't the first time he'd heard that, nor would it be the last.]

I'll show you.

[Though it was a losing argument with Yamamoto either way, because even if he did lose, it would be through his own failings and had nothing to do with the style. He shook off the momentary image of his father's stern face, swearing out in surprise when Squalo connected with his arm. It'd be little better than useless, and he was surprised that he'd gotten past his guard.

Ah, maybe he had been getting a little ahead of himself.]

Guess I can't play around with someone like you, can I?

[With his arm in that state, he would have to end this quickly. He slid into his ninth stance, deciding that this would be the deciding exchange.]

Let's end this then.

Bit fucking late to that memo!

[He's got his teeth bared, in part because he doesn't know what's coming, in part because he's still struggling against the part of him that seems like a monster in human skin, the part that enjoys the feeling of flesh giving under his blade. Following Tsuna, there are a lot of kinds of crazy he'll get to be, but that isn't one. Can't be.

Instead he watches, backs up a ways as Yamamoto takes his stance. He doesn't know what's coming, he's never seen this stance even studying the style. There's no way of knowing if he'll survive it, no matter how ridiculous and out of place it looks. So he raises his blade and watches, waiting. The pain from his chest and the multitude of smaller cuts barely touches his mind. The cold of the water seeping into him with the continued bloodloss can't compare to the rush of adrenaline.

Now or never. If he can get past this technique, he can win it still. He has to.]

[He knows as soon as Squalo's blade bites into him that he's lost, with all of the implications that come along with it. He'll be useless to Xanxus now ( what did he murder his old man for if he can't kill this mouthy child ), and Yamamoto's always been a bit of a sore loser.

He'll comfort himself with knowing he's managed to take the kid's sword hand, but he doubts that will mean much in his Boss's eyes. He manages to keep his legs under him for a moment before he's coughing up blood, falling face first into the water. Defeat. How pathetic.]

[It's a matter of seconds before it's over. Just seconds. Yamamoto moves, and Squalo moves, both attempting techniques of their own. Ultimately, Squalo is too fast, landing cut after cut on the assassin while still moving around him at the same time, dodging strike after strike.

Except one. It's a surprisingly hard choice to make - his life, or his hand - and he's only given a split second to make it. Squalo kneels in the water, staring at where he knew his sword fell, alongside the hand still gripping it, too shell-shocked to make a single sound. Just stares.

Sword Emperor.

But at what price?

He needs a moment to find his sword, and his stomach turns at having to remove his hand from the hilt, bloodstained and calloused, but he carries it in his right as he stalks over to his fallen opponent, stump still bleeding.

Only to realize he has to put it down again if he's going to do what he aims to. So he does. Jams it into the concrete awkwardly. But his right is barely enough to turn Yamamoto over, soaked uniform and all. He's got to collect the ring, after all.

If the ground shakes under them, Squalo barely notices. They did say they'd release an animal once a certain water level is reached.]

[He has enough presence of mind to be helpful enough to remove the ring from his finger in case Squalo is vindictive enough to return the favor and just chop his hand off to save himself the trouble.]

Here.

[The kid deserved it after all, or perhaps he should already be thinking of him as the Sword Emperor now.]

You should get out while you can.

[In his condition, Yamamoto wasn't going to be getting out, nor could he say he really had the will to.]

[Squalo is struggling just to focus his eyes, but he manages to grab the ring and pocket it. Maybe he should do something about his arm, really, because that's still bleeding enough he won't be conscious for long. It shows, the bloodloss, the steep drop from the adrenaline high. Makes him slur his words. For now he stays, crouching next to his defeated opponent.]

And you're gonna fucking what? Stick your head in a puddle and die like a coward? Wait until whatever the fuck's in the water eats you?

[The teen struggles to his feet, glaring at the downed assassin.]

Vooooooooooooi. What the hell, Yamamoto?

Haha are you worried?

[Even with his last breath Yamamoto supposes he'll just laugh and tease people, but he's surprised. He had just taken Squalo's hand, and he was showing concern for him.

He sits up, the gesture taking far more energy than he thought he had left.]

It's fine.

[His old man would be pissed to see that he'd lost like this. His uniform is in tatters anyway, so he tears a few strips off of it, forcing himself up. His world spins, but stubbornly Yamamoto stands, breathing ragged.]

Here.

[He ties it tight around his arm to help stem the bleeding.]

No point in beating the Sword Emperor just to die five minutes later, right?

[The sight of his arm just ending before the wrist still turns his stomach. He has to clench his jaw and avert his eyes and he feels his insides lurching anyway as he lets the man do some rudimentary tying off to stem the bleeding.]

Voooooi, I don't die that easy. You shoulda figured that out by now.

[No word of thanks. Squalo smirks at him, unafraid, with complete conviction that Yamamoto won't try to harm him now. The battle is done. Still, he grabs his sword and sheathes it, clumsy with his off hand.]

C'mon, let's get out of here.

[No use waiting for the water to rise further.]

Haha you are made out of pretty strong stuff.

[There's no ill will towards the other boy, just an anger and disappointment in himself. How could he have lost? He can't decide if it makes it better or worse that he's now being pitied by the younger swordsman, but there's no use in getting angry over it.

The building around them is shaking violently, and he almost misses the sight of a fin circling lazily in the water. He hefts himself up, straightening as best he can. Might as well have some dignity in this whole mess.]

You know they're not going to let us both out right?

[And even if they did, there was no point. He was no use to Xanxus if he couldn't even beat a kid.

He turns back to Squalo, giving him a grin.]

I had a lot of fun though.

[And then he's jumping. He'd have a better chance with a shark than Xanxus, at any rate.]

[There's a moment where his face falls and his stomach drops all over again. It clicks into place like a matter of course, like of course only one of them walks out of here, like a thing that is natural, that makes sense. But the bigger part of him wants to protest and scream at him that none of the others died either, that Ryohei put that creepy fucking fag in the hospital but didn't murder him, that that insane prince cut Gokudera to ribbons but nobody demanded he be killed but there's no time to say any of it.

So he just stares, watching him drop into the water, struggling to keep his feet. Watching as the shark circles and then strikes while the feeling of triumph drains out of him faster than his blood.

It shouldn't be a surprise. He'd called it, even. What happens on the day you lose a fight? Looks like he wasn't about to find out, choosing some honorable suicide instead.
Not even he can think of anything to add to that. Instead he lowers his head, taking a moment to gather up the pieces before he makes the ascent.

Squalo grits his teeth and climbs, not even thinking to put the halves of the ring together. He passes out soon after.]

| will the water help me find the way? (takeshi, squalo)

let me know if I should edit. o/

This is fine! :)

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lol fin?

looks that way!