Seaside Fight Night: Kikoto vs Nero

This little prideful dickhead! Was his head so far up his own ass about beating Kikoto with his "superior" techniques, that he thought surrendering, when there wasn't a chance to win because of all his spam, was childish?! As Nero pushed him in retaliation for the admittedly cheeky and underhanded use of Kido spells, Kikoto wasn't going to just stand there and take it!

He promptly shoved him in return, only to be met with a sudden punch to the chest. At first, he was surprised, but as Nero confidently declared that he would beat him in hand-to-hand combat, a big, confident grin spread across Kikoto's face. If Nero was gonna step into his wheelhouse, he sure wasn't going to back down from that!

"Fine! I take back my surrender, let's fight with our fists!"

Even though he was far outmatched with Nero in terms of energy, Hakuda and hand-to-hand combat was his specialty! Well, outside of Kido, of course. His grin never faded as he lifted his arms, bouncing from side to side for a moment, before suddenly dashing forward with a Flash Step to throw out another Tessho, the open-palm strike he had tried to land before.

However, Kikoto wouldn't give Nero much breathing room, as he would quickly, albeit clumsily, throw himself into the air to make a shearing movement with his legs, moving one foot in front of the other to unleash a powerful, devastating kick to the head.

It was a lot sloppier than were he to have full energy and all that, but he was still gonna give it all he had!

"Now that's the spirit. I wouldn't have it any other way. At least, in this way, if I defeat you, you won't have any excuses!"

Of course, Nero was no fool. By no means did he expect this to be an easy victory. Close quarters combat was something he viewed as a last resort, after all. He wasn't entirely inept, but his body certainly didn't function to the degree one would reasonably expect. His durability was, more or less, rooted in how well he could maintain his blut.

He didn't appreciate the term by any degree, but if he had to assess his own physical constitution, he'd undoubtedly consider himself something akin to a twig. To make up for his lack in muscle, he studied martial arts that worked to his ideal way of combat. Showcasing his prowess was one way of impressing his family, he supposed.

When Kikoto came roaring in with an open palm strike, Nero's intent was to cut off his flowing sequence of offense before it could truly begin. He darted forward with Hirenkyaku, ducking down to tackle his shoulder into Kikoto's frame. If he collided successfully, he would shift his own body around, attempting to hold him down as he attempted to toss him over. In a scenario where that sequence of events failed, Nero would employ Blut to mitigate the damage on his own frame before ducking down to sweep his foot from underneath of him.

Even in complimenting him, he just had to be super pompous and all holier than thou! Kikoto's confident grin briefly faltered, pouting and glaring in annoyance, before it quickly returned. He'd show this prettyboy that he wasn't to be messed with! As Nero ducked out of the way of his Tessho, Kikoto went to attack again, only to feel the wind being knocked out of him as he the other boy tackled him, causing him to stumble backwards.

However, he was quick to recover, getting back into his stance and reinforcing the stability of his body with skilled footwork. As Nero tried to twist around and hold him down, Kikoto swept his leg to the side to counteract Nero's leg sweep, and in an additional attempt to throw him off-balance from the sudden, equal force to his leg.

However, Kikoto gave him little time to rest. Immediately after this, his knee shot up to try and hit him in the stomach, along with a simple, but powerful punch to the stomach that intended to send the other boy sprawling to the ground. But, Kikoto didn't give chase. Instead, he just clumsily hopping from side to side, still with that big, stupid, confident grin on his face, eager for his opponent to get back up!

His first blow was a success - albeit momentarily - short-lived as Kikoto answered with a counter of his own, sweeping his leg against his own to distort his balance. This technique proved successful on Kikoto's part as Nero stumbled momentarily, presenting a moment of opportunity for Kikoto follow through with his own offensive.

Expecting that as a result of his own misstep, Nero activated the defensive system of blut to soften the damage of that knee strike. Maintaining his balance rather than falling to the ground, Nero grinned at Kikoto with a smile even after the boy followed up with a punch, those magenta eyes burning with unwavering confidence.

"I won't go down that easily."

Nero beckoned him forward as he stepped back a few meters, adopting a stance reminiscent of Aikido. It was but another discipline taught to him by the patriarch of the Arant family that he wished to display before the entire world. If one finds themselves without a bow, let their body be weapon enough to attain victory.

Despite being tired, his movements being somewhat sloppy, Kikoto was unable to stop giggling in excitement and happiness as he and his opponent met with their fists. This was so much fun for him! So, as the other boy tanked the punch, he saw the aikido stance, and his grin grew even wider. The side-to-side hopping grew in intensity, and he was quick to dash forward.

"Good! 'Cuz I won't either! Give it all you've got, prettyboy!"

He didn't see the same familial significance that Nero would, but nevertheless, he still was excited. He wanted to see what all he could do, test his limits, and hopefully break them. He would be pretty salty and upset if he didn't win, but he was still gonna try and take this smug prettyboy down!

Even if Nero tossed him to the side, over his shoulder, whatever happened, he'd still try to get up and get another hit in, continuing his aggressive, fast, but powerful strikes to try and break his stance and posture.

"I will, Kikoto! Come! Let us conclude this duel in a contest of martial prowess!"

No more words need be offered. This was a duel. No, a clash of wills. Nero held no inclination of the man's reasoning for entering this stage, but he was abundantly aware of his own. Overwhelmingly so. The Glory of the Arant. A victory for the family who offered him a home his birth parents were unable to provide. Whether here on this stage or in the battlefield, he would ceaselessly offer every fiber of his soul unto honoring their name.

Exhaling vibrantly, Nero welcomed Kikoto's charge as though inviting him into a partnered dance. For every dash, he swept through evasively, moving under his frame to carry him over his shoulder, catapulting his body with the intent of ending his offensive every time it began. His stance remained open each time in preparation. There was no waste of movement. Everything was economical.

From an observer's point of view, it was certainly clear he was very well practiced even without the use of his weapon. Was he some paragon of elite martial skill? Of course not. But he was crafty when it was required. Everything was required of an Arant, from bow to body. His aim was to make sure everyone knew what they had to offer. Till his body could no longer remain upright, his display would be a tribute of boundless honor and genuine admiration.

No matter how many times that he was dodged, thrown, or countered, Kikoto, despite his waning energy, was not going to stop. Every time he was thrown over his shoulder, every time breath was stolen from his body when his body hit the ground, he got back up and got his breath back quicker than before. His breathing had become labored, his movement sluggish and sloppy.

Yet, he still refused to give up, throwing sloppy punches and kicks that, by some miracle, adhered to some level of martial art. Regardless of whether or not they gained purchase, Kikoto relished in every moment of the fight. The sound of his heart pounding in his ears, his blood burning and rushing as he continued to move and get up, his throat burning as his inhaled.

Frankly, it was lunacy to continue fighting. But, Kikoto did not care one bit. The fun he was having in this fight, and the rivalry he felt toward Nero was something that continued to drive him forward, drove him to continue getting up. But, every time that he did, small bits of his strength went with it. Even as his rebounds were quick, they were just as swiftly becoming slower, more of a struggle to get up.

The life and fire in his eyes still burned bright, but yet they still were slightly glossed over in his exhaustion. It would only be a matter of time before Nero managed to finally incapacitate the young, stubborn Shinigami.

He had never intended to approach this battle for the sake of enjoyment, the mere thought going against all sense of propriety. From the moment he stepped onto the pagoda, this was a battle waged in the name of the Arant. Yet, his bright, otherworldly expression told a different tale entirely. He was smiling. He was approaching this battle like a young man with a heart full of foolish pride, a man who desired to win at all costs.

Perhaps that was what kept his body going, what fueled his adrenaline as he met every attack from Kikoto with a counter. Pure madness? Pure elation? Pure joy? What was going on anymore, really? Was he Nero Arant, the man who wished to put on a show for his family?

Or was he simply Nero, a young man overjoyed to meet someone he could call a rival? Stubborn. Foolishly stubborn. He rose up after every attack, and that only erred his body forward to hand Kikoto a defeat, to prove his superior in a contest of fists. It was unlike the combat he was use to, where several arrows oft decided his victory. No, it was a clash of pride. His versus Kikoto.

Soaring in, his fists emblazoned, he charged at him with everything he had to offer, drawing his fist back like an arrow nocked against a bowstring. Roaring out with everything his soul had to offer, he launched a powerful fist at Kikoto's midsection with the intent of ending their battle in decisive fashion. He didn't care if he ended up breaking his arm in the process, such a result was inconsequential when it concerned his victory. Victory. That is what he would claim here. for the Arant and himself.

The cheers and sounds of the crowd had since become nothing but white noise. He didn't care about any of it -- he just wanted to keep fighting and keep having fun. But, with his dwindling energy, the sudden slam of Nero's fist into his stomach caused the young man's legs to collapse under him, sprawling backwards. For a few seconds, he stared up at the sky, his breathing soft and quiet, despite how badly his throat and lungs burned every time he took a breath.

He tried to get back up, but his arms felt like jelly. The adrenaline was finally wearing off, and he was finally realizing just how much pain he was in. Every bone felt like it was creaking and cracking from the strain of such a simple act, and Kikoto's arms gave out from under him. But, that didn't stop him. He continued to struggle and attempt to push himself up, but his arms just didn't have the strength anymore.

His eyes fluttered shut as his body eventually went limp, fading into unconsciousness. Part of him was angry that he couldn't win -- but, with such an opponent, Kikoto felt a fire light inside him alongside that anger. To continue his training, to get better, and eventually meet him on his level and surpass him. Even as he went into a dreamless slumber, Kikoto's confident, happy smile never faded.