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An exasperated questioned aloud, before smiling wide, seeing the panel of glass in the ground. There it is… Finally. Good thing glass smells like it does.
The blonde haired man's right foot pressed down onto the platform, allowing for him to stand up straight upon it. This man was not a typical visitor to Nevada. His hair was gigantic, reaching well down his back, peaking off in different clumps. His crimson eyes contained several black rings, circling through them.
Perhaps more bizarre than his physical traits were the clothes that he wore. A single shoulder pauldron on the left side kept the cloth that he wore on his torso in place. On the uncovered half of his chest were a series of black tattoos, which would have stretched out if the owner of the body had ever drawn a breath. Wrapped around his legs was were several pieces of fabric, concealing baggy pants that did not reach down to his knees. His feet were clad in sandals, completing the ensemble that he wore each and every day.
The man's mouth was smiling, smiling wide. It had been quite some time since he had the opportunity to kick back and enjoy himself. Maybe that was why he had agreed to these egregious terms. He had just wanted to punch that Hollow in the face, chase it down, get a good and honest fight. But no. The thing had gotten all uppity at the fact that they were in a public place, it was all 'how could you tell what I am' and such. Moonie's nose rarely failed him; it was one of the few things that he believed in one hundred percent.
Apparently the creature thought that it would be better to monetize this event. At this point, Moonie was desperate for anything resembling what he craved, so he agreed. He remembered laughing at the suggestion that they would be able to do their fight in a coliseum. So now he was here, cracking his knuckles, drawing a large breath as his cheeks expanded slightly, before bringing both his hands to his mouth.
The words echoed around the surroundings, leaving it sounding very much like Moonie was replying to himself, from far off. And then, after perhaps ten seconds of bouncing reverberations, a single voice could be heard, as a creature walked towards along the desert sands, twin tails gently coiling through the air as it approached. Long horns jutted back from its head, giving an appearance not unlike horns, as it tilted its head to the side, staring curiously at the man in front of him.
"Save your voice, please. Shouting like that just frustrates people, and doesn't change anything. Since you came all the way out here to fight, I suppose I owe it to you to fight. I apologize in advance for disappointing you, but I'm not exactly the combatative sort."
As this was said, one hand rose to his horn, slowly breaking it off; it came off with the ease of something on a hinge, no true effort or exertion being put into it, as he swiped it once through the air. As he did, the horn elongated and extended, forming into a blade near-instantly. He held it low and by his side, though his stance was clearly full of openings. He stared dispassionately at the man in front of him, and then sighed.
Somehow, he'd managed to attract the attention of a member of the Vanguard without even intending to. And an especially strong one, at that; while he wasn't certain this man could kill him in a single swing, now that Yaksha had obtained his new form, he certainly had no illusions about his prospects of victory. This was a fight he had no chance of winning, a circumstance with no good ending in sight. He wasn't fighting to win, or even to survive, but simply to...buy himself another week or two. To convince this man in front of him that he could offer him an even better, even more monumental fight if given just a little bit longer to grow.
"This will mark my first real fight in nearly a year. I hope I don't disappoint."
Moonie's entire body was chittering, shimmering. He could feel the raw power of his soul beginning to flow through him, that mental state that he so deeply endured. Some people called it the 'flow' state; the state in which a being becomes immune to outside stimuli in the face of their task. Moonie's ability as a fight meant that he could enter into this state simply by flooding his mind with thoughts of the devastation that could be caused through a battle the likes of which he sought to create.
"Cahahahahaha… What?" Moonie asked, tilting his head back, one eye opening wide. Perhaps he was curious; perhaps it was disbelief. In either case, there was no agreement to be found there. "Let it frustrate them. There is no guarantee for comfort in this life. If shouting at the top of my lungs is what I want to do… Voi… then I will…" He was still laughing as he spoke those words, his golden locks strewn back and forth from how animated his head was. "Who cares? You're a hollow, right? Voi… Maybe you just need a sampling of the Way of the Fist."
Moonie's tone did not change through his speech. He was eager, excited. But… he would not yet begin the assault. Instead, he watched as the demonic-looking creature before him snapped off one of its horns. "Cahaha… Nice sword. Maybe that's you're first problem." Moonie told him, before reaching behind his back. Gripping into the air, his fingers pulled… a solid object beginning to slide out of thin air. The massive object kept sliding, larger than Moonie's body. Moonie wielded what was essentially a carved boulder on a stick. The flat edges of his 'blade' would never cut anything; it was designed purely for crushing.
So it was that Moonie would allow for Mun to slip out of his hand, crashing firmly into the ground. "Voi. That face of yours kinda pisses me off though." Moonie spoke, reaching back as he grabbed his sword. "You're gonna fight for your life… Cahahaha… For the right to have your soul!"
Moonie threw the blade up into the air, his foot pressing into the ground. Throughout the desert, shockwaves would course through the floor. Some distance away, a field of glass would begin to shatter and crush. Underneath Moonie's foot, the ground had caved in completely, creating a colossal dune behind him. "VOOOOOOOOI!"
His body shot forward like a rocket; extraordinarily fast, but single minded. Approaching Yaksha's body, Moonie's right fist began to slug itself forwards, aiming directly for his enemy's torso. He was trying to send him flying. Moonie's right foot planted on the ground, slamming down into it to help hold back the amount of force that he was trying to exert. The left foot used the shockwave to help stabilize Moonie's body… allowing for him to use a decent amount of strength in one attack.
Before Moonie's fist, the space would ebb and course, fierce winds pouring outwards. The desert floor gave way, producing the bottom half of a hollow tunnel extending for half of a mile out of where Moonie's fist had attempted to impact. Moonie's entire body shivered, that smile plastered on his face as he performed his first attack. He did not expect for Yaksha to be fiercely damaged, or even killed by it. He was more curious than anything else how the man would react. Would he try to block, mitigating the force of Moonie's attack so that he would remain close enough to counter attack? Would he simply dodge, and take advantage of the fact that Moonie's attack had a huge lapse of time after which he was unable to move, due to the amount of focus required to maintain his stance?
Or maybe the hollow would simply be sent flying, crashing and coursing throughout the desert. Either way, Moonie would be standing there still, his mouth running.
"Voi, don't like my yelling? Then just try and shut me up."
Yaksha stood safely in place, his expression nearly impossible to read behind the mask he wore; he simply seemed to track Moonie's movements slowly, one hand folded carefully over his chest, and the other one holding his blade at the ready. He inhaled, slowly...there was a dreadful sort of resignation there as he did, as if he were preparing to say something he really didn't want to, or as if he were trying to endure an unpleasant circumstance. He didn't so much as twitch as the stomping of his opponent's food created a dune of incredible size, something that looked more at home in Hueco Mundo than this place. His wings flexed, ever so slightly, as the opponent pushed forth, kicking up sand. He'd gotten used to seeing opponent's move quickly, but this was unexpected. Moonie's movements were almost telegraphed, to his senses, now.
His tails, both of them, slipped outwards towards the Iramasha's legs, as if he were trying to trip him or snag one by its edge. Predictably, this had little to no impact in and of themselves; they were trampled into a thick white paste with only one or two steps, slowing him down about as much as a few pebbles scattered on the road would slow down a motorcycle. And yet the hollow looked unperturbed as he saw his opponent approaching, his blade remaining at his side. There was a feeling of anticipation there, as he watched the Iramasha single-mindedly fling his fist out. His fist extended before the rest of him, giving the impression of a man flying moreso than running, or of someone being propelled forward by his sheer desire to smash.
But something went wrong, as he was attempting to plant his right foot. It lasted all of a second, but it was long enough; there was a hideous feeling of -depth-, as if someone had forgotten about a step on a staircase and not properly braced their muscle for it. His right foot slammed down, planning to create additional weight and force for his punch to land a telling blow...and continued to go down, meeting no resistance -at all-. It almost felt as if he had stepped into a hole, without ever realizing it. And indeed, had he looked down, he would've seen a hole, roughly the size of his foot, tinged with purple-and-black flames that he had stepped directly onto.
And indeed, had he looked down, he would've missed the hollow's counterattack completely, so quick it was. He twisted to the side, able to easily dodge the strike with relative ease once the Iramasha's stance had been broken. His horn slipped forward, aimed directly for where a kidney could've been found on any human. It was a smooth, negligent thrust, one that held little real force behind it; indeed, it felt more like he was testing the consistency of the skin, or trying to enflame Moonie's passions, than to really land a meaningful blow.
"I'm sorry, that was a lie. I've fought plenty of times, in my head. You're one of the first ones who didn't find some way to throw a wrench in my plans. Please tell me you're going to stay this focused and direct the entire time."
Coding Altered From: [The Frost]
Yaksha formed a Garganta just below Moonie's foot as he was trying to form his stance, and then took advantage of the momentary distraction to tag him. Pretty much the same as in a fencing match, he's barely even trying to scratch the skin.
"Cahahaha…." Moonie's voice laughed as Yaksha's tails came for his legs, both limbs smashing into the approaching parts of the Hollow's body. Maybe he had been trying to grab onto the Moon Iramasha's limbs; maybe he had something more in mind. "Voi, got something planned, do we?" He shouted at his opponent as he flew, pressing his foot into the ground.
Not bad. But. Moonie's foot pressed into the ground, and kept going. Voooooooooi… Those look like mine. The Moon Iramasha thought to himself, seeing the dark purplish flames gathering around his foot.
"VOOOOOI!" Moonie roared at his opponent, seeing him lower down and thrust his head straight into Moonie's torso. A feeling like pushing a stick against a boulder would reward the hollow, the first indication that the man he was dueling with possessed monstrous durability. A blow without commitment like that did not make Moonie flinch, his foot stamping onto a plate of pure energy, something Moonie did not often do. A small red mark edged against the outside of Moonie's body, his skin mildly bothered by the contact but overall unaffected. His technique was rough, to be sure, but it would be enough. Moonie's body focused on the muscles in his left hip, bending his entire body backwards.
The weight of Moonie's torso increased dramatically, gravity gripping onto it as it forced the Moon Man's back towards the ground. Yaksha would most likely be caught in the fall, Moonie's knee rising in the forward path that would make escape easiest. From there, Moonie extended his entire leg, his mouth tearing open as another earth-shattering roar echoed out from his mouth.
All over Yaksha's body, the sand would begin to rise. If the blow itself had made contact, the man would be launched high into the sky, Moonie's body rising up as the weight of his body decreased dramatically. He used the momentum of his own attack, gripping his legs with his arms, the sand all around the two of them launching into the sky. Moonie's body had rolled into a ball, and it was now spinning as the two of them rose… before a single arm reached out.
"Voi… Why would I not be direct…? Get serious!"
He told the man, a rock like blade coming downwards. If Yaksha had avoided the attack, it was still likely that he would have been knocked up into the air from the amount of force that Moonie had exerted on that location. If he had not, then Moonie would have to grab onto his sword, kicking off of the air, hucking it at him.
Either way, as the monstrous weapon approached Yaksha's body, he would likely begin finding movement… difficult. Excruciatingly difficult. The weight on his body was being increased by ten times its normal amount, due to the closeness of the sword that Moonie was using. Meanwhile, the Moon Iramasha was still spinning, the course of his trajectory having changed.
His attack was shouted, telegraphed. Towards Yaksha's body Moonie would shoot, gaining speed and momentum as the man's body weight increased exponentially. Finally, Moonie would crash down onto his opponent's location, trying to throw the full weight of both legs down into his opponent. More sand was blown apart, scattered as a crater appeared beneath Moonie's body, which merely sat there, his legs folded out before him. It was as if he were frozen in time from the moment of impact. In reality, Moonie had rendered his body nearly weightless. He was not moving because the dispersal of his momentum counteracted his resistance to the pull of gravity.
Moonie was not a scientist. This was technique, plain and simple. Yaksha was likely intelligent enough to realize the extent of control of the man before him.
Moonie's arms folded over his chest, looking up at the evening sky. There was a light smile on his face, but that was all. He wanted to enjoy this fight more, but for that to happen, the man before him would have to start attacking him with the intent to cause injury.
"Voi, Do you want me to try to kill you? Are you one of those types? If you can't get serious without it, that's fine…" The Moon Iramasha spoke, not shouting for a change. Instead, a deep sense of malice began emanating from his body, an indication of a sea of bloodlust that this man could produce. If Yaksha did not try to capitalize on his opponent's awkward body stance, then Moonie would straighten himself once again, preparing for another attack…
"I had a feeling that your defenses would be near-impenetrable. This fight isn't one either of us is going to enjoy. I apologize once more, but...this is what you wanted."
To watch Moonie bending backwards was incredibly unpleasant, like seeing something out of a poorly animated video game, or a cartoon; his upper body fell downwards with hideous speed, his lower body remaining nearly immobile as his torso dropped downwards. Yaksha mused for a split second about whether or not the Iramasha's spine was acclimated to this sort of gravity...but a split second of contemplation, and remembering the feel of his flesh against the horn, ensured him that his posture was the least worry.
He could feel the gravity focusing around his own body as well, leaving his reactions sluggish and less fluid than normal; the entirety of the area around him felt like thick soup, or like he was trying to swim through ocean waves. He could see Moonie's body planning to pin him to the ground, or crush him under the monumental weight, and it was clear that the changes in gravity barely effected -him-; obviously, he had acclimated to his own powers long ago. He watched the approaching object, beginning to slip around to the most obvious point of escape...and right into a careening foot, moving at speeds normally reserved for discussing vehicles.
The foot slipped out, striking against Yaksha's center of mass...where his body parted neatly, giving the sensation not unlike kicking a bag filled with pudding or some similar substance. It clung to the Iramasha's foot faintly, but more importantly...Yaksha's own body seemed to split into two, like some sort of strange reptile. His hand slipped down towards his lower body, grabbing it and pulling it closer to himself. He would've been able to recover in two or three seconds previously, before his evolution...but now, he could feel the sinews and flesh reconnecting near-immediately, his legs already capable of moving by the time the sand particles were being flung into the air. He hadn't been able to stop the actual upward momentum from affecting him, but he was now far better suited to deal with whatever Moonie threw at him, as he soared upwards, wings spreading outwards behind himself, to slow his ascent.
"I am incredibly serious."
His horns began to elongate and extend...and then immediately seemed to dissolve, each of them spreading outwards into cobweb-thin slivers of hair, enforced by reaitsu. They captured the rock, absorbing a significant amount of the force, digging small furrows into its surface. It gave the stone a look not unlike a slab of beef that had had tiny slivers sliced across the entire surface by wires. It held for a good two or three seconds, before the strings began to snap and buckle under the tremendous weights, and it wasn't long before Moonie launched himself directly towards Yaksha, as he began to fall back towards the ground.
He inhaled, eyes widening, a faint lime-tinted flame seeming to form within his eyes, as he watched the Moon Iramasha move downwards at great speeds. His tails, having already reformed, both began to weave a pattern behind him, creating another of those purple-and-black curtains, rending it into the air, and forcing him to fall into it. Had Moonie followed him, he would've found himself sliding at an oblique angle to the ground, just behind the dune Moonie had first formed. Yaksha stood atop it, inhaling slowly, and then shaking his head, even as new horns seemed to be forming atop his head, gently poking forth from where they had been, as hairs from across the battlefield began to slip back towards his head.
"I told you already. I'm no fighter. This will end in disappointment, for one or both of us. Swing your fists all you like, it won't change things."
Abilities used are:
Yamata-No-Orochi: By combining all of Yaksha's hairs together into an extra-dense layer, Yaksha can launch it at an opponent with great force, attempting to smash through whatever barriers stand between it and the opponent. The hairs themselves are relatively thin and brittle, doing little on their own, but when woven together tightly enough, the hair can puncture wounds as effectively as a dagger. If the hair does manage to get close enough to an opponent, and one of their wounds, it attempts to burrow deeper into the body, seeking out the nearest major organ and filling it with countless hair filaments, until it shuts down. Th hair will continue to seek out an ideal target so long as it remains attached to Yaksha's scalp, or until it is removed from the body itself, at which point it fervently attempts to find or make a new wound to enter through.
Shed Skin- Yaksha's anatomy and physiology are incredibly fluid, by hollow standards. By coating any limb in reaitsu, he can make it pop off from the whole as easily as one would pop the joint in a finger. It regrows at a prodigious rate, and the remains left behind are still very much capable of acting independently from Yaksha. They're very fragile and easy to destroy, making them more of a distraction than anything.
Yaksha then formed a garganta as he fell, to reappear nearby, before Moonie smashed into him.
"Vooooi… do you listen to yourself?" Moonie asked the man, shaking his head from side to side, even as he was contorting his body. He decided to focus on the attack he was trying to produce from that point forwards. "CAHAHAHAHA!" Moonie laughed, feeling his foot driving into the man. Spineless, huh? He thought to himself, failing to feel anything that resembled bones or a satisfying crunch noise.
"Voi, no, you're not." Moonie told the man, spinning upwards, rotating and rotating and rotating. "You're focusing on winning, or something stupid like that. You're right, this will be incredibly boring if you can't even focus on the most important thing." Moonie's words crashed and spun about along with his body. Who knew if Yaksha could hear them all clearly through this mess. He was mildly impressed that the creature had managed to capture Mun in its descent. As Moonie had planned, his body stopped directly above that strange 'curtain' that Yaksha had created.
Even though the man had passed some distance between the two of them, he was no match for Moonie's nose. The Moon Iramasha righted his body, placing both feet down onto the dunes, beginning to step towards where the Hollow was located. "Voi…" Moonie's eyes could not be seen, his hair moving lightly around his body. It was almost menacing, how it shifted back and forth. His stance was not relaxed. It was much too forward-pointing. The closer and closer he got to Yaksha, the stronger the feeling of pressure would become, a veritable ocean pouring over Yaksha's body as Moonie stopped less than ten feet away from him.
"Everyone in this world… is a fighter… Except for soldiers." He said, raising his head up. His black ringed eyes stared into Yaksha's, a fire behind them. "Have you ever taken a hit?" He asked, his right fist slamming into his open left hand, helping him maintain his focus. "Have you ever gotten upset with someone, and had only the urge to destroy them, to force them to do what you want?" He continued to ask, his teeth showing as his lips parted. The emotions that were flooding through him were easy to see on his body; he made no attempt to conceal them.
"Voooooooooi… Garganta, and space holes in general, really piss me off. What are you so afraid of? Getting hurt?"
Moonie almost sneered at the expression, before opening both of his hands. He spread his arms before his body, exposing his sand-swept torso. "So here, Hollow… why don't we play a little game I'm sure you'll like. Your kind always do. Hit me, right here. Don't half ass it. Voi…" Moonie stood there, his arms stretched. Mun laid forgotten, back in the middle of the crater that Moonie had created. The sand was being strewn about, thrown in every direction. Dunes were being created, craters filled back up, all kinds of chaos around this battlefield. Yet, Moonie could not help but feel the… hole, for lack of a better word, in his opponent.
It was a little bit sickening to the Moon Iramasha. Passion was his lifeblood. Gradually, he began to smile, looking at the man. "Cahaha… And if that's not your plate, tell me… when was the last time you were actually challenged, and couldn't overcome it? Truly FRUSTRATED." Moonie's words were direct, as the man had been the entire time up to this point. While Moonie was a bit of a barbarian, he also enjoyed interacting with people, and he lived for the fight. But fighting was an intimate thing; if he could not feel the emotions of the one he was battling, things would not feel… quite right. More than anything, he was upset with the fact that Yaksha had not taken advantage of his physiology and countered Moonie's attack which had landed on him. He was also slightly upset that the creature had chosen to retreat with his garganta, instead of assaulting him. It was like the thing was putting up with him, like he was some kind of child. If he wanted Moonie to throw a tantrum... he supposed that he could. It would not be the first time. But it would be much less satisfying than it could be... after all...
To understand one's opponent… that was an essential part of the Way of the Fist.
"I am not in this world. And I've taken a great many hits. It's why I can say with great confidence that I don't want to take any more, if there's nothing to be earned from it. I don't fear it, but I don't seek it either."
He tilted his head to the side, watching Moonie's emotions pour outwards like a curtain, billowing around the battlefield. They seemed to buffet against him, lashing against his form and sliding off, like water off of a duck. He seemed almost entirely unmoved by the passion, as he walked towards Moonie, his gaze meeting the Iramasha's. He inhaled again, that same sense of someone seeking the right words, or trying to steel themselves for something they knew they wouldn't enjoy discussing. His blade gently weaved through the air, dipping here and there.
"Don't deign to treat me as if you have already met me, or know me. I told you already, I can't give you what you want. I see no reason to stand in place and attempt to throw pebbles at a tank, while it runs me over. This game will continue, as it is now. You will continue to bait me into striking you, and I will continue to avoid confrontation. There's nothing to be gained from falling for your provocations."
His voice was distant, crisp, but not quite emotionless, or cold. There was something there, but it was hard to put into words. It sounded chiefly like someone who was trying to find the right words, who was numbed from the full details of what was going on before them. It was a deep, weary frustration, something that seemed to say he'd already realized his words were going to fall on deaf ears. Still he approached, movements slow and without fanfare, as he stood at arms' reach from the Iramasha.
"Despite all of this, I stand here for the same reason you do. For the same reason all people stand across from one another. We probe around in the darkness, hoping our hands will alight upon another's by circumstance and luck. You seek to understand, and be understood. Allow me to expedite the process with a simple statement."
He drew his blade back, sliding one clawed hand down the length of the blade. He inhaled, closing his eyes, and focusing his mind directly on the pectoral muscle of his opponent. His defenses in and of themselves weren't much more impressive than other opponents he'd met, but Yaksha could sense the wide gap between them, could feel just how far the two stood from one another. He drew his arm back, one eye opening lazily, as he enunciated slowly. There was, for the first time, a sense of true emotion there. Something akin to glee and savage delight poured off of him, for a split second, before he spoke. This time, it sounded almost like someone else was doing their best to mimic his voice, as opposed to him speaking normally.
"When faced with a rigged game, the only smart move is to flip the table, don't you think?"
He moved forward, with a fluid, almost hideous grace, the blade sliding up against Moonie's flesh, piercing through it with far greater speed and force this time. Now, it almost felt as if the man in front of him was overflowing with pride and delight, the same way a young child, showing off a crayon drawing would've been. The blade seemed to slide past layers of flesh and muscle with far greater ease than previously, the force focused at its point to deadly efficiency.
"I don't think we've introduced ourselves yet. Call me Sir Prize for the time being."
Coding Altered From: [The Frost]
Sword of Kusanagi: Yaksha is able to pluck strands of hair as easily as one can pull leaves from a branch, and once plucked they quickly harden and elongate into blades that closely resemble rapiers. These weapons, thin and precise, are able to focus incredible piercing force into a small area, bypassing defenses such as Hierro with great effectiveness. Most importantly, any wounds left by the Sword leave small hair filaments in the wound; they lay dormant until an attempt to heal the wound is made, at which point they begin to burrow deeper into the surrounding muscular and skeletal structure, ripping open fresh wounds, and increasing the risk of infection. In the event the wound is healed effectively, the hairs still lie dormant, able to be yanked back out by Yaksha with force great enough to cause damage from within the target's own body.
Moonie breathed out, watching the creature before him try to explain himself. "Doesn't that get boring, though?" The Iramasha asked, his arms folded across his chest. "You get hit because you want something. In my case, voi, I just want to feel alive." He explained, his eyes wide, shining. "Seems to me you're the type that thinks way too much. How can you stand it?"
Moonie asked him honestly, his emotions pouring out around him. He observed the hollow as it began to approach him, staring right into his eyes. Moonie was glad that he was given that; his eyes were fierce, uncompromising, searching.
"Voi, and what makes you so special, so 'mysterious'?" Moonie countered, his arms held out before him. "Cahahahaha… voi… if you haven't noticed it yet, then you're probably not as smart as I first thought." Moonie told him, almost sighing. The truth of the matter was that Moonie was still completely sealed. If Yaksha actually bothered to try… well. Who knows what he could do? "Sure there's a point. You can shut me up." Moonie laughed then, a slightly bitter, jagged laugh.
"And you know what? It really can be that simple, if you let it. If you don't like it, then smash it into the shape you prefer." Moonie continued, letting Yaksha stand directly before him. "…" Moonie was silent as Yaksha began to build up into something, his words not quite… reaching the Moon Iramasha. He did not view the world as dark in the least, except when it was night time. Even in the night, the moon stood high in the sky, an eternal pillar that the world was as it should be.
Moonie's entire body tensed as Yaksha prepped himself, his muscles beginning to tighten, his eyes widening, his breath ever so slightly slowing down. Yaksha could likely read such things; who knew what he would think? Moonie was more than anything else experienced in battle.
"Caha… Is it really rigged?" Moonie asked, his eyes wide. Moonie's chest was hit, driving in, shattering through his first few layers of spiritual defenses, embedding itself inside of his muscle. "FINALLY!"
Moonie's eyes shone, his free arm grabbing onto Yaksha's head or shoulder, whichever part he managed to get his hand around, if he could. Force like a vise grip against a watermelon multiplied a couple hundred times pressed against the hollow, Moonie's mouth wide as he shifted his body to the alternate side, trying to free himself from Yaksha's claw. It had managed to wedge itself about half an inch into his body, blood forming around it. Yaksha might be a bit surprised to learn that past that first layer of skin… the Moon Iramasha was completely liquid.
Driblets and a solid line of fluid, dark black in color, slid down Moonie's chest. "Voi… Sir, huh?" Moonie asked, cackling as he shifted the weight on one foot. The alternate foot had the majority of Moonie's weight shifted into it, pushing hard on the ground. Moonie's other planted foot shot upwards, his knee rising in the air as he aimed it directly into Yaksha's stomach.
Moonie's strike was ferocious, trying to slam directly into Yaksha's core. Unlike his prior attacks, however, Moonie's knee stopped short at the point of impact, his arm letting go of Yaksha's body if it was still gripping onto it, letting his weight slide forwards on the raised leg. His entire torso shifted backwards, purple energy flowing outwards from his body. "WELL THEN, PRICE, TRY AND FLIP THE TABLE! SEE HOW MUCH YOU CAN CUT ME UP BEFORE I SMASH YOU TO BITS!"
The purple energy gripped and pulled at Yaksha's body.. Changing his experience of gravity. Instead of pointing at the ground… it now pointed towards Moonie's shifting body. Moonie's weight kept moving forwards, pressing into his opponent as his unwounded elbow shifted outwards. His feet were now parallel to the side of his body, taking another step forwards to shift himself into the proper position… rocketing his elbow forwards. He was aiming directly for Yaksha's chin. This kind of blow could cripple a normal human, snapping their neck in half. He was curious how Yaksha's peculiar body would react to it.
Moonie's wounded arm hung limply at his side, as if he was deciding not to use it for now. His arm that had elbowed Yaksha rose up to his face. His back foot shifted, letting him face the man once again as he began to take a deep breath in… his cheeks becoming comically bloated, as if there was a great deal of something stored within them. Moonie's entire body was stock still, holding his hand in a fist before his mouth, like a pipe.
Pushing outwards, Moonie finally allowed for his Blast energy to come to the surface. A small building's worth of black flames poured out from Moonie's mouth, ripping and tearing at the desert's surface. If it came into contact with Yaksha's body, it would create a great deal of friction, ripping away at any defenses it came into contact with. If a tree was subjected to this kind of force, it would be shredded and rubbed against with such ferocity that it would become a jagged pike, not a bit of bark remaining.
Moonie stood there, his right arm held out to the side of his body, hand open and pointing at the sky as he laughed. "VOOOOOOOI! That's it! Let's go!" He was almost screaming now, his blood pumping through his body, eyes wide and eager to continue. "How can you have all that power inside of you and feel good to finally let it out?! I really don't get that! You want to flip the table, right? Well that's how you're going to get it done against me! CAHAHAHAHA!"
"You just don't get it. Man, dealing with dim bulbs never gets entertaining, no matter how many times I do it."
Five fingers gripped his shoulder tightly, squeezing it with enough force to form a bruise, or to shatter bone. A knee rose towards Yaksha's chest, moving with a speed that was at the same time ponderously slow and filled with a sense of dreadful immutability that most people would've been terrified by. Yaksha could see, faintly and in some strange way that he never could've put into words, the distortions in gravity around the Iramasha's knee; it looked not unlike heat shimmers, but in a way that the eyes and mind simply weren't designed to understand. He watched the knee approach, and then stop completely...to land on the ground instead.
He could feel his body being pulled towards Moonie's, as he spun around on his heel, in a gesture that looked very much like a standard backhand. He couldn't move, any more than he could've jumped and remained airborne for more than a second normally. The elbow was approaching, prepared to strike his chin and snap it back with enough force to count as a demolition weapon. But Yaksha's own hand slipped upwards, slowly, grabbing onto his head and twisting it upside down, so he was staring at Moonie from the wrong side up. Where his chin was originally supposed to be, there was now only his head...which was even now molding and elongating, like a piece of thin taffy, sliding into a needle-like shape. The elbow struck it, hitting against nothing of particular note, and causing dead skin to slough off like a popped balloon.
The Iramasha jumped back at this point, inhaling as if he intended to blow out something. His cheeks were expanding and elongating with great force, his movements poised and prepared. Yaksha took a few steps towards Moonie, meeting his gaze without hesitation...and with that same lime-colored flame gently flitting away at the back of each pupil, as he inhaled as well. He twirled a foot around himself, as if marking an area, and then slammed his feet down.
"I don't owe you an explanation. I don't owe you entertainment. I don't owe you shit or fuckall. And I don't have to play your game. You come across the fucking ocean and think that just because you're strong, you get to make the rules? It doesn't work that fucking way, shit-for-brains. Don't know who told you it did."
His tails had raised, forming an array that looked very similar to a fan. And as it did, he flicked his hand negligently towards Moonie, causing the tails to dig into the sand beneath them, throwing it up in great huge gouts...which were immediately consumed by bala, counting in the dozens, formed without warning. They struck against Moonie's hand, his chest, his throat, all glancing blows that seemed to serve no purpose but to throw his aim off. As this happened, Yaksha's wings spread wide, allowing him to take flight, directly upwards. What Moonie's attack had in width and breadth, it lacked in depth...and in this fight, the third dimension made all the difference. Yaksha soared down from above, landing back on the blasted crater, and digging at one ear theatrically.
"If I win by 'impressing you', then fuck you and fuck that. I'll leave right now. I'll fuck off into Hueco Mundo and there goes your fun for the day. Or week. Or however the fuck long it takes you to find someone else. I'm not interested in watching you shift goalposts. I've dodged your attacks, I've drawn your blood, I've made you laugh...give me something to sink my teeth into, and you'll see me get serious. But this? This is just a fucking shitshow, I don't feel even the slightest bit ashamed to say. I don't do shitshows. I'm an entertainer by trade, not a soldier...or a fighter...or any of that shit. I'm about fuckin' done with the matador schtick, so if you're gonna keep up the raging bull routine, I'm just gonna peace. You want to break shit? Go home and break your mattress. You wanna come into my fuckin' turf? Then give me a real win condition."