May 2nd. Holding camp building entrance. Sometime in the night.
"I'll kill you."
She stared at him as he stared at her. One was of insane, crimson hatred; the other was of bleak, cold indifference.
Whoosh! Without warning, she pounced towards him like a wild feline. Though her hands were restrained, one ought not to underestimate a monster.
Ayanokouji lunged back avoiding her ramming force. She then used the momentum generated from her earlier attack to lift herself high in the air. She soared into the air twisting her body before dropping a downwards-kick from above. Bam! She only hit the ground: he lunged back once again, merely displacing his body just enough to not get hit.
She propelled herself towards him with one leg in the air, guiding her direction. From that same leg, she threw a piercing kick. Thwoosh! He evaded it.
With no pause nor jitter in her motion, she stomped one foot hard on the ground, toes pointing away from him, and threw a ferocious back-kick with her other. Thwoosh! He evaded it again.
She retracted her leg and sprang backwards. The flame in her eyes, the hatred, the murderous intent only grew further and further than the furthest extremities of hate.
"Urgh!"
"I'll Kill You!"
"I'll Kill You!"
"I'll Kill You!"
The intensity of their movements showed their drive, their motivation—the impassiveness of one, and the murderous intent of the other. She fought with such indecipherable anger whilst the other doesn't seem to show that much interest.
I didn't try earlier, but, are handcuffs really that hard to break?
Snap!
...She just read my mind, I guess.
Whoosh! She rushed towards him like a train without breaks. When she was nearing striking range, she exaggerated the locomotive motion of one of her legs for one cycle, stomping hard as it dropped. She then threw the hardest punch she could ever throw, aiming for his untucked chin. He prepared to move his head to one side of his shoulder, intending to dodge the missile-like blow. However...
Slash! She adjusted the direction of her punch, and a psychopathic smile crept across her face: there was blood on her fist, and it wasn't hers.
His lack of interest was such a handicap that it allowed her to graze and cut the right side of his head, slashing it, producing a few centimeters of shallow laceration. Blood oozed steadily, at a slow, lava-like tempo. It ran across the contours of his ear, then his cheek then started to drip on the edges of his jaw.
"Haah," he sighed internally, "I got cut...I'll play your game, I guess."
Right after she cut him, she directed her fist away from him. Like a cocked gun, she threw a backfist towards his face with bullet-like speed. Whoosh! He sidestepped and leaned back, avoiding the powerful blow. Snap! He snapped the rigid handcuff restraining his arms.
She gathered her strength and pounced towards him yet again. Thud! He caught her wrist and pulled her towards him, amplifying her momentum. As she was forcefully propelled towards him, he thrust the elbow of the same arm, aiming for her face. Bam! Her face landed on the sharp bone of his elbow. He let go of her wrist, then quickly spun, thrusting another elbow of another arm whilst his back was facing her front, aiming for the same target. Bam! It landed with exact precision. He then held the back of her head, leaped up, and scissored his knees as he threw one towards the same target. Bam!
She staggered backwards, her feet wobbly, struggling to keep herself up. She then fell to the ground, shaking her head, fighting back the concussion. Thankfully he targeted a hard bone—the cranium—the force was enough to dent a normal person's cranium, but they weren't normal; her bones were still intact. Unthankfully, though they were caused by impact, if the physical trauma was strong enough, it would still cause a cut, and in turn, bleeding (and swelling, intense swelling in her case).
Blood ran from her forehead to the contours of her nose. She placed her hand on her forehead as if bothered by something. She then realized that she was bleeding and so proceeded to smear the blood across the sides of her forehead. She let the blood on her nose and beyond travel further, not caring so long as it doesn't obscure her vision.
"Urgh!" she growled as she glowered at him, frantically shifting her hips, arms, and legs away as a form of strategic retreat. She forced herself up, moving backwards whilst her knees were still feeling wobbly, but not enough.
He walked towards her at a steady pace whilst she was moving back. But their paces weren't balanced. His walking speed was faster than the dizziness of her retreat. Like a starved snake, he lunged towards her with his arm like a snake's fang. Thwoo—
Screech! He abruptly stopped his advance, using his lead foot like a vehicle's brake. He bent his knees further, and sprang back, retracting his fang-like arm: a tranquilizer dart zipped through the air between them. Armed men were concentrated by the only exit. They were trapped, caged in the hallway. Of course, they weren't so kind as to fire a warning shot, they certainly intended to hit one of them.
For peace and order purposes, tasers are typically used. However, the effectiveness of tasers depends on the pain tolerance of the target. From the information leaked, there was no doubt in their minds that tasers are ineffective. And so, they used fast-acting tranquilizers.
Tranquilizers were not used for non-lethal operations due to the fact that they are very unreliable, unstable. However, that's merely what the general public knows. For years, a specific R&D division for police- and military-related work had been trying to create a fast-acting, non-lethal tranquilizer that is stable and effective. In all the pages of history, this was the first time it was used. Rehabilitating such monsters was quite a troublesome task.
Fighting whilst flying needles are zipping through the air, aimed towards any of the two—it was a nightmare for most, but for them, it just amplifies the thrill. It was about to rain needles...
Thwish! Thwish! Thwish! The needles continued to fly, zipping through the air. Of course, he had no intention of getting hit first: if he was hit first, that would give her an opening for an attack, which he certainly would never want. They continued to dodge the flying needles. One was doing it with ease, whilst the other suffered difficulties due to dizziness. She was still affected by the three-strike combo he pulled swiftly and the blood that was continually obscuring her vision as it flowed through its path.
As he continued to dodge—left, right, up, and down; twist, turns, and spins—one dart's trajectory was fast approaching him. He shifted parts of his body, intending to do something about the impending threat. And then, it passed closest to his left ear, so close to grazing it. He snatched it. He wrapped his fingers around it and positioned it in a way that only a few centimeters of its length can be seen through the side of his clenched fist.
Reassurance.
He rushed towards her, still dodging the needles fast approaching.
Thunk!
"Wha—"
He pierced it through the vein of her neck. Without instruction from anyone whosoever—they all stopped firing, ceasing the rain of needles.
After a quick moment, her strength was rapidly vanishing. She fell to the ground, shaking her head, fighting back the drowsiness. But still, she was something that was limited by nature's rules; and so, in no time, she succumbed to its effects.
"Haah," he sighed internally, "Done."
Now, time for me to sleep as well.
He just stood there, staring perfectly still at the muzzle of a tranquilizer gun. He was waiting...
Twoosh! Thunk!
⟡ ⟡ ⟡
May 3rd. Inside the holding camp. Room number 3.
Ayanokouji woke up. It wasn't sudden, nor did he sprang up like being unshackled from a horrible nightmare. It was a peaceful, unnoticeable awakening—he just opened his empty eyes and stared at the ceiling, all done in a completely calm and cold fashion.
Dull. It isn't white. Is that supposed to have a psychological effect on us? No, they couldn't just color the ceilings and walls that fast; it was already like that since a long time ago. They didn't use any life-sustaining equipment, I can't see any natural light, but it's safe to assume this is the exact next day after that little performance of hers.
She reminds me of Ibuki, not caring that her underwear was shown after all those kicks with such a short skirt. Apparently, she's also angry at me.
She's good, no, outstanding. At first, her arms were restrained, but her movements were still perfect. World-class fighters would have difficulties doing what she'd done without the essential arm-movements.
Growth that stems from anger huh. That would be a lot more efficient than worshipping me: she's constantly motivated by her anger, wanting to be better than me. However, when applying that development, logic is far greater than emotions.
That reminds me, I wonder how this little experiment of mine would end...
Author's Note:
Ahhh...s-s-so aaah, y—you guys, you guys gonna kill me for Ayanon's minor head injury, r-r-r-right?