Iso Super [Private, Phantasia, Serenity]

The song of metal; a distinct ring in the air as the blade slid out of its scabbard strapped to the girl's back. The sword was grasped by both of her hands firmly, and brandished before her partner. Her body was turned slightly to the side, left foot forward and right foot back. Fantasia, the golden-haired female, looked from base to tip of the Claymore, fancying the gleam of the steel as the warm arena lights reflected off the mirror edge. Any small turn of her sword would displace the glimmers substantially, making for a beautiful sight that appealed to the swordswoman. Her blonde hair was knit into a bun at the back of her head today, with two hairpins piercing through the small collection of hair. Some stray strands had escaped the encompassing hug of the hairband, and thus hung distraught down to the back of her neck. She had just recently unsheathed her sword, and as she transitioned into her battle stance, her solid black full-body cloak would open up from the middle and fall off her shoulders, sliding—daresay almost seductively—down her body to reveal what she wore underneath. The ebon body suit was mostly a tough spandex, her top much like a long-sleeve shirt. However, fundamental pauldrons guarded her shoulders, while a skin-revealing gap was placed at the top of the sleeve to flexibility's sake. Then, the hem of the shirt was pulled beneath the embrace of a waist-tight belt, to make it appear as though it seamlessly transitioned into the snug trousers that covered Fantasia down to her ankles, finished with a pair of boots that would step out of the now-crumpled cloak at her feet. This apparel felt blocky, for within the threads of this suit were plates of plastic that defended just as well as steel. It had the defensibility of armor, paired with the flexibility of typical clothing.

"To be challenged is a great honor," Fantasia said to her partner, not further nor closer than ten meters from her position in this flat circular arena. She had a small smile on her face, anticipating the release of her limbs and the joy to come in the approaching duel. This was a rare occasion, to have someone come to her like this young man had, pitting himself against the blonde. Fantasia's odd mental deficit often caused others to stray away, but this was simply one of those exceptions. Fantasia was thankful for it. "Before we begin, may we inquire your name?" Her voice was soft and inviting, in hopes that the student would overlook her usage of the plural form. Thankfully, the smile he had in return persisted and he didn't look taken aback. His response came, titling himself as Genji before asked for Fantasia's, which she did give customarily. He was Chinese in ethnicity, sporting dark inky hair in a short bowl around his head with heavy variation along the back of his head. His eyes, stunning jade in color, were bright and happy, showing he had an enjoyable personality. Underneath his school uniform—which he had chosen to keep on for this fight—was a well-muscled and ultimately larger figure that would appear as though it could easily overpower Fantasia's thin one. He held a simple long-sword in hand, though it paled in comparison to Fantasia's bulky weapon.

"Ready?" Fantasia would inquire as she spun her sword around in circles; an idle display. His affirmation, though, would ignite the adrenaline within the blonde's body, and she would shoot forward with excitement piercing every fiber of her body...

Light laughter soon filled the air, now as the clash ended with the victory going to Fantasia. "Ahaha... That was a close match, but in the end we still won!" she exclaimed, pleased with herself and the fact that she had gotten to spar with another being aside of her clones. However, the fight had not progressed as evenly as Fantasia had portrayed in her words. She stood upright without a single mark made upon her body, and not just because the regenerative aura of the arena had healed her. Meanwhile, Genji was on his ass, his bruises and lacerations just recovering now as the fight had come to a close. He did not look as excited as Fantasia, nor as invigorate as the young teen either. His heavy breathes came irregularly, and he would groan as pain throbbed through his body. As Fantasia settled down, she would grant her opponent a helping hand, which he would look at for a quiet moment before he clasped his own hand against it. She helped bring him to his feet with just a slight pull; she had clearly shown her superior strength with the power of her Soul backing it, along with a greater speed. She had outmatched him in most every way.

He would sigh lightly, before bowing his head to accept the defeat. He was graceful about the matter, even though he looked a bit weary and saddened by it. Fantasia would bow in return to show the young man respect just as well. But as he began to walk away without another word, she would let him go without an argument. She was used to dejection, but at the very least she had received a duel... her first duel at Karakura High. Now as the arena emptied of all besides Fantasia herself, she would realize the persistence of energy residing in her limbs. The adrenaline rush was still kicking her into gear, and she had to find a way to get rid of all of it. Three spins of her sword later and she decided it would be best to practice a couple of forms passed down to her from her former mentor. They were combinations of stepping and swordplay that were artfully crafted and specially designed to improve her general skill with the weapon. The way she trained polished her skill to a shine—and she was looking forward to perfection, something she had not quite achieved yet. Her body was thrown into motion, swinging her blade with a precision and grace that really shouldn't have been possible for a sword so large and weighty. It looked more of a dance than anything, demonstrating with ease the swordsmanship that had bested Lee. She would quickly shift into a state of mind that clouded the world around her, but focused her self to a sharp point. Lost in the routine, she was.

Motion like emotion; Action as fluid as time itself, able to progress at a constant velocity without falter or lapse. Such were ways to describe the unbroken cadence of Fantasia's blade while it drew stories in the air. Sometimes it would fluctuate between power and nimbleness, without distorting the overall feel of the form. This blade waltz worked its magic on Fantasia, solving the abundance of energy in her system as she had desired. Excitement transformed into tranquility, and any onlookers would notice so, despite that the girl did not believe she was being watched. As the form deepened, Fantasia was able to showcase just how increasingly powerful her weaves could become, tearing stale wind as the heavy blade sliced through it with crescent slashes. The atmosphere in the arena around Fantasia became distorted, with each swing of her weapon sending out a wave of air. Whistles of the zephyr sounded too, a testament to the crippling force behind these attacks. Though there was no true target to opaquely advertise what damage could be done with these strikes, there was a... disturbance that thrummed in the base of your chest, and you could feel it inside you. You knew just from that, just what fortitude backed the Claymore.

The weapon was stopped on a dime, parallel to the floor, straight out from Fantasia's body. She was looking right down the blade, and yet what lie beyond the tip was naught but bedlam for the girl. No, she had not finished her form; rather, something beyond her five senses had prodded at her mind, and frozen her at this precise moment. Her blade was still in mid lunge, aimed directly toward the stranger that had spoken. The girl's pupils had constricted to exclude most light from her sense of sight. they would only now begin to dilate back to their normal size, and what was but blurs and colors to her would begin to focus into sensible images. The figure beyond her blade's tine solidified, and Fantasia's brow would raise in slight surprise. A somewhat elder female teen was standing several feet away, looking straight back at her. She sported long raven black hair with a green base ribbon that held her hair together in locks. Upon her face were cobalt eyes and an impassive expression. Her clothing was just as the school code dictated—a light brown button vest over a white shirt with red detailing. Beneath that was the black skirt, the knee-high boots, and even higher socks. Fantasia would vaguely note to herself to change back into her school uniform when she was done here. She remembered leaving it back in her locker.

Still maintaining the grace of her swordsmanship, she would spin her sword until it pointed down at the ground, and would lightly drop its tip to the flooring, where it would tap the wooden floor with a light clack. Cinereal hues met azure, both calm and cool. Something had been said, Fantasia realized, and although she had heard it, she had not listened. Too focused was she with her form that the words had passed in ignorance until now, where this stranger would open her mouth to utter something else. "Overhearing the crowd, I believe a few mentioned your name being Fantasia, correct? My name is Keianna Tanaka. This is the first time I have ever attended a duel. I am glad I did. I never thought it would be so entertaining... I do not mean to seem forward or rude, but I was wondering where you learned to handle your blade? I myself use a sword, a katana. I never thought about using such a large and heavy weapon... If I may ask... What exactly made you choose it?"

There were a lot of questions asked by the other student, and Fantasia would stand composedly and patiently while she waited for her to finish. It was when silence ensued that the blonde would look down shyly, not quite as energetic as before. She would crack a nervous smile and force herself to look up, wanting to address the questions and socialize with her. Again, not many such chances presented themselves to her... or perhaps such was just the case in her past. Back then, her strangeness was looked down upon as deplorable, and isolated her from the others. But in Karakura the situation had begun to lighten. She was not being estranged from the community but assimilated into it. Her strangeness was not so... strange here. She spoke up, quietly to begin with, trying to seem as friendly as possible. Yes, our name is Fantasia... Fantasia Nevermore for a full name. And actually, this is our first time attending a duel too; and participating in one. It was a nice friendly fight, got to train a little bit.

She held her sword up, surveying it with her eyes as she turn it over and around. Her blade had been inquired about as well, and it brought some nostalgic memories to the forefront of her mind. Flashbacks of her former mentor leading her through her childhood and setting her on the right path when she was truly lost. How she had been forever linked to the object the one fateful night, unlocking her true self and realizing that she would never be alone again. Her eyes rested finally on the sapphire embedded in the crossguard, which gave off a humble glow that revealed itself only to her and her alone. Her smile lost all awkwardness, becoming warm with the profound memories that ebbed and flowed in her mind. "Our blade? she began, thinking how to answer the girl's questions in a curt manner—a difficult prospect. "We had an old master, named Rubeus. He taught us all he knew when we were children, and even then he was able to send us in the right direction. It wasn't what we chose... but something bestowed upon us. This may seem weird but... we're inseparable, the sword and we. It's called a Claymore."

Fantasia brought herself out of her reminiscence, looking this Keianna in the eyes again, curious brow risen. "And you? Do you have a story?"

It hadn't taken long for the female to pick up on Fantasia's speech patterns, albeit it was fairly obvious. After the first bout of words from the blonde, she had injected to point this out, asking about it as many people did. The terrible part of it was that many more people simply chose to scorn the weird little girl, passing her off as nothing more than mentally retarded... or at least in the past. Fantasia simply had to accept that things changed here in Karakura. It was just that it was hard to get used to, even if it was for the better. So, at first Fantasia would shift uncomfortably at the mention of her plurality, her eyes avoided Keianna by wading toward the upper left corner, and then reversing toward the lower right. But then as acceptance breathed itself into her, the gray hues would slowly creep back into focus on the student. A surge of strength pulsed into her from the hilt of her Claymore, as it noticed the moment of weakness; it was greatly appreciated. "Well..." she tried, opening her mouth to continue, and then closing it. She tried again, but closed it once more without uttering a word. It was only upon the third time that Fantasia could formulate a sentence.

"We're different from the normal people; really different. We are talking only for ourselves, but, like... There are a lot of us. All are the same, so that's why we speak for the rest. It's... hard to explain from our point of view, I suppose," This was really a head-scratcher for the girl of multiplicity. She had a searingly difficult time comprehending a sense of only one of herself. There was once upon a time when singularity was the case, but it had been so long ago. Her eyes would shift toward the dazzlingly blue gem encrusted in her Claymore, and see oceanic depths for her sight only. She would look in, and she would see hundreds of eyes staring back at her. No, it was not creepy as some would assume, but rather quite comforting. When everyone she cared for had left her, it was gratifying to know that she would never be alone with these thousands of entities at her back. She was more than herself, and that was what made her strong and what allowed her to transcend the humane limits. But still, something she knew so well in the core of her soul could not simply be explained at the bat. "We're sorry, but... we just met you, and you us. It's pretty personal, so perhaps it'll be a story for another day. Is that okay?" she asked nervously, afraid it might turn her away.

Thankfully, it didn't. They moved right on to the subject of her Claymore, and Fantasia was more than glad to change up the conversation. After she had explained a little bit of that, she would in return ask for Keianna's story. Her ears perked up in preparation for a great story, eager to hear something that tethered her interest. Unfortunately, what she received in actuality was Keianna's admittance to not having any exciting stories to tell. Fantasia wanted to say that there had never been a story she's ever considered boring in her life, and that she was more than intrigued to hear hers; but she would not do so by interrupting. The blonde allowed the raven to tell of her parents, her grandfather's instruction, and a rather quiet mention of the name 'Minami' that only further piqued her ears. Again Fantasia tried to open her mouth to inquire about her more, but she was swift to forge ahead with another subject change... The Nevermore would shut her mouth reluctantly, respecting her evasion as Keianna had respected hers. "If I may ask," she continued, “What other types of fighting do you know? I can tell you enjoy your Claymore, but I figure there must be something else that you might be skilled in... You sorta annihilated that boy from earlier.”

She let out a hum as she considered the question, and really she realized how narrow her style of combat was. Yes, she was passionately skilled with the massive weapon, but it was only because she focused almost exclusively upon it for the past ten years of her life. She didn't feel like she could hold a sword too much lighter without accidentally flinging it out of her grip. And the Claymore was in a class of its own among other heavy weapons. Any other cumbersome tool, like a warhammer or halberd, did not utilize as much grace as the Claymore did. Because although the Claymore was weighty, it still was a sword. As Fantasia's hummed dimmed into silence, she would swing her sword back over her shoulder and into its scabbard with one fluid movement, disarming her. And yet, it offered an alternative. "So we thought about it, and well, we can punch and kick stuff. We're not exactly masters of unarmed combat, but we think our strength and speed can cover for that. If you wanted an honest answer, it would be no. We're not skilled in much else besides swordsmanship. Sorry." With that, the blonde would bend her legs and begin hopping on the balls of her feet, arms held up combatively. With zero warning and blurring speeds, her back arm would shoot forward for a straight punch, followed by a jab with the opposite arm displaying just as much speed. One last uppercut through the air, and she relaxed again, letting out a small giggle.

Fantasia's hand reached toward the back of her head and scratched above the tight bun of her hair, giving a rather pleased expression as she did so. After all that, Keianna had admitted to being pleased to meet her. Coupled with the million times she had apologized for something small, the blonde would realize just how much a mannerly student this one was. She had a really sweet interior to go with her pretty exterior, combining to make quite a wonderful person, at least from first impressions. Fantasia would respond to tell her she thought likewise about meeting her. "Yeah, we hope you share a class with us. See you later," she called out to Keianna as she turned and began to make her way out of the arena. Fantasia planned to stay a little longer and perhaps do a few stretches and exercises. She still felt a little awkward in company, hence why she was averse to leaving at the same time as Keianna. She would cycle her arms for the relief of the feeling, and to start with the stretches immediately after, but soon came the shuffling of turning feet. Keianna was walking back.

"Hu—" was all Fantasia had time to enunciate before Keianna posed her question, much to the blonde's surprise. She was left standing there, taken aback, as Keianna would become the second person to challenge her here in the same day. She should have realized this would be the eventual outcome; it would be the reason she was so interested in her styles and weapon. But nevertheless Fantasia could only be pleased to hear it. Before she even finished talking the answer was set in the Nevermore's mind. "Uh yeah! Sure, we'll spar you. The rules are pretty much common sense; don't kill each other." She hesitated in place for a moment though, trying to work up the energy to prepare for this. The thing was that she had just made what she believed to be a friend, and yet she was already assuming that she was too strong for Keianna. She didn't want to go and win and possibly hurt that. It took some time, but eventually Fantasia was in her combat stance; legs bent, arms held up defensively, and ready to go. Only her sword would be resting upon her back for now.

"Ready," Fantasia called.

Fantasia's eyebrows would slightly rise up in response to the trick performed before her eyes; she had summoned a katana into her grasps seemingly from thin air, and it would become apparent that Fantasia was not the only powered being in the room. But she would focus now on the sword itself instead of the fact that she could create swords from energy. The blonde was at an impasse now, since she had not unsheathed her sword for the fact that she had thought this was going to be a battle of fisticuffs. But, she had it in her head that the sword Keianna now possessed would prove as a handicap that could further balance the odds between them—but then, would she take it as rude if Fantasia herself did not draw her blade to match her? She really did not know, and it wouldn't matter in the next second as Keianna began the skirmish with a frontal dash. In her confusion, Fantasia hadn't heard Keianna's words and was caught off guard by the sudden movement. Before she knew it the sharp edge of the blade was rushing towards her side, and from then on it was natural reaction that took over the Nevermore's movements.

A crescent swipe at her hip—too high to jump over, and too low to duck under in saving time, at least for a normal human being. But Fantasia choose to waste the least energy possible, and thus was hopping back off the balls of her feet outside of the range of the blade. Her eyes watched seemingly in slow motion as the silver metal sliced through the air with a low hum and a liquid shimmer in the light. There was no waving or hesitation in her strike, Fantasia noticed in that short time, which was a very appreciable trait in the student's swordsmanship. Yet, her strike was placed too early, and would have only given the blonde a minor wound if the blade would even prove powerful enough to slice through her skin. Was it tunnel vision? A lack of depth perception? Or perhaps it was simply a wish not to harm Fantasia too much... oh right, they weren't trying to kill each other. But, she was afraid that if Keianna spent too many resources in trying not to cause grievous injuries, then she would not get the chance to truly contend. As Keianna's swing fell through and switched back to prepare for a follow-up, Fantasia was landing back on her feet with her hands at her sides all too ready for action.

The second attack was simply a mirror image of the first, albeit aimed slightly higher than the first. For a human it was particularly fast, but to Fantasia it felt so slow; she could just dash back once more for the same results. But the crux of it was that this wasn't the same fight that had preceded it, as Keianna did not feel like the run-of-the-mill person to her. And so, just as Keianna was trying to strike while taking into account Fantasia's vitality, Fantasia too was struggling internally with the balance of Keianna's well-being and her capability to fight. Ah, thinking too much, one of her internal voices called to her as the second swipe was fast approaching. Duck! and Fantasia was obeying her own command, her body becoming a blur as it curled up low to the ground while the blade hovered by over her head. The metallic hum was closer this time, and every time she heard it it never ceased to sound like music to her ears. But her body was moving faster than her mind, as her left palm jutted out at Keianna's stomach, holding back hard. Still, if it would strike it would feel like solid iron plowing into her gut without enough force to send any normal person several feet back and clean off their feet. This was just a test to begin with, gauging Keianna's defensive capability, whether evasive or durable it be. She wouldn't immediately counter-attack, for she wanted to know how much to hold back, if at all.