| Behind Enemy Lines | ||
| Date Started: June 15, 2024 Date Finished: Ongoing Next Role-Play: Timeline: June 15, 1620 Setting: Characters Involved:
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| Participants | ||
| User:KontonMan • User:Mr.Zeno999 • User:JTXP | ||
Shattered Walls[]
For the last couple months, the World Government had dispatched their precious marines to an island, to oversee their scientists working to excavate it of its resources. Strange artifacts, gold, precious metals. All of it would be collected by the illustrious organization. But today was the final day. Several of the senior officers had gone back to their bases. Leaving only ensigns and some willing to watch over the last few hours of this job.
Now of course, Django had no idea any of this had been happening. He had come here because he heard Marines were around. They had to know more about where he came from. Right? It made sense. Django suspected nothing wrong as he traveled up the coast and onto the main dig site itself. There wasn’t anyone stopping him.
He placed a hand on the wall of a large stone building. He couldn’t find a door, so he simply pushed. The wall fell inside the building, breaking countless items and furniture. An alarm began blaring and the sound of destruction echoed out. Django winced.
“AH! The fuck?!” he yelled, leaping half a foot into the air. “I’m not even breaking the law!”
Django didn’t have much time, he guessed. He charged in and began searching for a computer. He had to figure himself out.
The alarm reached the entire bases within seconds, one after the other singing in harmony. The loud screeching reached the ears of a Ensign’s ear.
”Huh?!” Charlemagne Moses said.
He was standing watch at the west flank and was very close to where the alarm had been triggered. Soon seeing researchers and rush around caused him to move from his stationary position and pursuit the intruder.
Purupurupuru
A call rang in the marines pocket, “Move it Ensign! You’re on the clock! You are the closest soldier near the intruder hold him off until further notice!”
Click
The call was ended very quickly almost giving him no time at all to adjust, but all he could do was make his way to his target.
Sitting on the sunny side of the base, Castor basked in the warm rays that caressed his skin. He was simply relaxing, savoring the rare moment of peace amidst the chaos that usually surrounded his life. Castor had been stationed here for a few days, and his recent promotion to captain had come with a mix of pride and added responsibility.
"Man, this is the life," Castor mused aloud, stretching his limbs and closing his eyes to better enjoy the sunlight. He felt a sense of contentment, knowing he had worked hard to earn his new rank.
Suddenly, the serene moment was interrupted by the shrill ring of his Den Den Mushi. With a slight groan, Castor reached for the transponder snail.
"Hello?" he answered, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"Captain Castor, we need you to move out immediately," came the urgent voice on the other end. "There's an intruder on the island, and they need to be apprehended at once."
Castor sighed, the brief respite shattered by the call to duty. "Just my luck," he muttered under his breath. Without hesitation, he sprang to his feet, his muscles tensing with readiness. The lazy afternoon sun would have to wait; there was work to be done.
Swiftly, Castor headed toward the site of the break-in, his mind already shifting gears from relaxation to the focused determination required of a captain.
Running through the pods Moses rushed his way toward the alarm. He ran hard and fast something he had been training to do these past months during recruit camps.
Moses was rather built for his size of 6’4 and weighing 190 Lbs. He had an olive skin tone with straight blonde and white streaks of hair that hung around his shoulders.
He rushed past workers and other marines before turning a corner revealing a broken in wall with the intruder right in his tracks.
“Hault!” Moses shouted already in a full sprint toward the enemy.
Django came to a screeching stop, pivoting around on his foot as he saw a gorilla of a man sprinting at him. His eyes widened. A hand fell onto the hilt of his sword. He began running backwards, craning his head over his neck every now and then as he continued to search for their more sensitive files.
Moses closed the gap soon enough using a nearby cabinet kicking it towards Django hoping to knock him down.
"Oh, there he is," Castor remarked, spotting the chaos stirred up by Moses and Django. His keen eyes tracked their movements, analyzing the situation. The sight of the commotion sent a thrill through him; it had been too long since he had done anything except watch over scientist.
"Time to have some fun," he muttered to himself, a grin spreading across his face. He cracked his knuckles, the sound a prelude to the action about to unfold. With a burst of speed, Castor moved, his form a blur as he closed the distance between himself and the pirate.
"One's just moving close. That's fine." Django clicked his tongue as Junkreaver slithered out from his sheath. Like a warm knife through butter, it moved without effort.
He thrust the blade forwards and pierced into the cabinet that had been launched his way. Splinters and cracks spread throughout it before it suddenly shattered, the debris avoiding Django entirely. That motion came with a sudden turn as he brought himself face to face with Castor who was closing the distance. He was fast.
Django swung the blade with an arm, up and then down. It rotated mid-descent so that the flat of it faced the earth. A bludgeoning attack struck the earth and stalagmites exploded outwards through the tents and towards Castor.
"What a cool-ass sword, man!" Castor exclaimed, his eyes gleaming with admiration as he watched Django wield the impressive weapon. With a swift, practiced motion, Castor activated his Geppo, propelling himself high into the air just in time to evade Django's aggressive attack.
Landing lightly on his feet, Castor smirked. "Definitely gonna confiscate that later," he added, his tone laced with confidence and a hint of playful menace. Without missing a beat, Castor executed a powerful Rankyaku, sending a razor-sharp air blade hurtling toward Django.
“KAYOYOYO!!” Django laughed. “Thanks boss, made it myself!”
What had just happened? He had kicked off the air. And then a flying slash with a kick? He wasn’t even using a sword. Django didn’t quite understand it at the moment. But he would. His sole eye hadn’t blinked since this exchange had begun. The blade rotated once more. The blade lifted from the ground and up as the flat of the blade was used to slam into the air slash, forcing it to alter as winds blew violently within. Django had swatted the air blade back towards Castor.
He ran past Castor and back towards Moses, rolling his shoulder. It was clear even then. The unnatural flexing of musculature.
“Hey boss!” Django yelled. “I need the files!"
Moses was initially surprised at the swiftness of Django, but it seemed that he was being ignored. He watched the swordsmen hit the ground with strength as it sent ripples across the earth.
”hmph!” Moses leapt of the ground high enough to dodge the environmental catastrophe. Seeing Another marine on the other end of the battle made his tensions calm down.
“Smooth, and steady…” he said to himself as he landed on a nearby pole catching it with his right hand. For his size he was extremely nimble and acrobatic, a gifted athlete in nature.
The razor kick was blocked and parried back toward Castor, “Interesting…”
He watched closely as Django has started to make his way back toward him, “I’m not your boss pirate,” he said.
He twisted his body forwards gripping the edge of pole crushing the hard metal beneath his grip. He swung the pole toward Django’s head from the right side.
"Nice parry," Castor remarked with a grin as he effortlessly dodged the incoming Rankyaku, his movements fluid and precise. He watched Django for a split second before pivoting on his heel and giving chase.
In one swift motion, Castor executed a Tobu Shigan, firing a sharp compressed air shockwave from his finger thrust that targeted Django's leg. The precision of the attack was meant to incapacitate, to bring Django down without causing unnecessary harm.
“Eh?! That wasn’t a parry, boss.” Django said. He spun around to face the incoming pressurized air. He felt and heard the intense force coming his way. But that didn’t stop the massive metal pole coming towards his skull either. He clicked his tongue as a deep focus came over him. His body immediately tensed and relaxed. The process began to repeat constantly.
“Zero Parry.”
He lightly swung Junkreaver with one arm, into the metal pole coming at him. The energy behind Moses’ attack was gone. An attack of equal force had completely neutralized the attack. The resulting moment seemed as if the world itself had paused. But Django moved quick. The moment the attack was matched, he slid backwards towards Moses, his blade grinding against the steel and moving so that the Shigan wouldn’t reach him yet. He took a wide step out and spun his body with it. The flat of the blade became prevalent again as he swung Junkreaver like a bat towards Moses’ side with enough force to send him flying out of the tent and away from the group.
Django grinned. "THAT’S A REAL PARRY, WOOOO!”
Immediate shock riddled Moses, “M-my swing?! He canceled it! Impressive,” he thought after the clang of metals.
As Django came around his flank he was knocked back by the blow.
"Can't say I'm not impressed," Castor remarked as he dashed toward Django, his movements a blur of calculated aggression. As he closed the distance, Castor's left arm shot forward in what appeared to be a powerful left hook aimed directly at the pirate.
The attack seemed genuine: his muscles tensed, and his eyes locked onto his target with intense focus. But it was all part of a subtle feint. Beneath the surface, Castor's true intent was carefully concealed, his mind and body already orchestrating the next move.
As his left arm swung forward, hopefully drawing Django's attention, Castor's right hand moved with lightning speed. In a fluid, almost imperceptible motion, he executed Tobu Shigan, launching a precise air bullet aimed directly at Django's ribs. The air bullet shot forward with incredible velocity, its path aimed to exploit the opening that would be created by the feint.
Django only had one eye. It was a clear disadvantage that he would forever be stuck with. But it was because of that eye he also had another advantage. He had made sure he was able to perceive as much as possible. And the one eye he did have was unlike others. T Coupled with the fact that Django’s entire style of swordsmanship required for him to almost constantly be analyzing the situation laid before him, he was aware that there would at the very least be a follow-up.
He had prepared for the left hook, his sword in his right ready to let the fist slam into the flat of Junkreaver, but the true attack came. He could see it. The one eye he did have naturally held a higher field of vision. The same motion he had already used from before. It was going to be an air bullet. Django’s mind danced with the factors of the situation, but as fast as Castor was, Django’s mind came to the conclusion a moment faster.
Django threw Junkreaver into his other hand. He grabbed it in a reverse grip, and did a quick thrust of the flat end against the incoming Shigan.
“Zero Parry.”
The force was met with its equal, and negated. And in that brief pause the world experienced, Django acted again. The blade spun within the confines of his palm as it returned to a regular grip and he brought it up and down, taking a step back as he slashed down at Castor. A swing with enough force that he’d rattle the earth itself, like a stone did a still pond.
Rushing through the base covered in dirt was Moses already heading back to Django. His sprint was pristine, and conductive making it back just in time as Castor and Django made an exchange.
Dropping his shoulder Moses intended to wind Django from his blindside.
Moses had the right idea. Django’s vision didn’t exist in that eye. But even casting aside the much wider range of vision his one eye did have, Moses’ steps weren’t silent. He was a tall man that had sprinted towards him. His free arm would defend him while he focused on the slash. He extended it out towards Moses at the last moment, until there was only an arms length of distance.
He went to shove him back away with more strength than the sprint had.
An extended arm alerted Moses to alter his course of action, a stiff arm had come his way meeting his shoulder, but Moses leaned his body slightly causing his extended arm to slip past his shoulder creating an opening for attack.
A grapple ensued, with Django trying to keep his distance from Moses. But the marine used his quick thinking skills and basic training intertwining his arms with the adversary, “I got him!” He shouted digging his heels into the ground and utilizing his strength and size.
"Keep him there," Castor instructed, his voice calm yet commanding as he raised his arms and activated Tekkai. His muscles instantly hardened, transforming his body into an almost impenetrable shield. Django's slash came down with ferocious speed, but Castor withstood it with relative ease, though a thin scar etched its way across his forearm, a slight testament to Django's strength. "Thanks for the save there," Castor said, acknowledging Moses' assistance with a brief nod. Without wasting a moment, he shifted his focus back to Django, his eyes narrowing with determination. Summoning his strength, Castor unleashed a powerful punch aimed directly at Django's jaw.
“Shit, man! You took that?” Django’s eyes widened. He hadn’t swung hard, admittedly, but that was usually enough to defeat the others that he had fought since leaving Scrapshore. He had done something. Hardened his body? What was that? His mind split into two, half focused on solving that while the other focused on solving what laid before him now.
Django slid a foot back to build a wider base. He began to lift his shoulder and extended arm up, lifting Moses off the ground with a level of strength that seemed unbefitting for a man of his stature. His grip around Junkreaver tightened. It was switched to a reverse grip as he slammed the underside of Castor’s extending arm to force the punch off its target, as Django tilted his wrist to both thrust his sword through Castor’s gut, and roll his shoulder to slam the lifted Moses onto Castor’s skull.
"This dude is strong," Castor muttered under his breath, his eyes widening as Django's sword sliced through the air towards his gut with alarming speed. Reacting instinctively, Castor employed Kami-e, the art of paper-thin movement, to contort his body in an almost unnatural fashion. His form twisted and bent, narrowly evading the deadly arc of Django’s blade. The sword whooshed past him, leaving a chilling trail of wind in its wake.
With the immediate threat averted, Castor didn’t hesitate. He shifted into Geppo, propelling himself into the air with blinding speed. The ground beneath him seemed to blur, the distance closing between him, Moses and Django in a heartbeat. Castor's sudden motion ensured that Moses, instead of crashing down on Castor's head, collided with the ground.
Moses was again surprised at the strength of the swordsmen, the man Must’ve been a brawler. Being tossed was not a strange occurrence for Moses, he’d been bullied and tossed like this many times in his youth.
Being the neighborhood punching bag he eventually learned how to shoulder throw. Upon being tossed toward the ground he caught himself and landed on his feet plunging deep within the mud. His arm still locked with Django’s.
He rolled his right shoulder like he did him lifting the same swordsman from his feet and throwing him crashing toward the ground.
As Django was lifted from the ground and thrown towards the ground, he kicked it before he would've crashed. Ripples that tore the earth burst from the point of contact, shaking the site in its entirety. But that hadn't been the point of the movement. He had kicked and exerted more than enough force to go against Moses' throw, the man lifting his blade in its reverse grip and going to pierce it straight down into Moses. The downwards force caused sparks to form, threatening to ignite the tents they were in.
Moses was quickly realizing that this marine job wouldn’t be as easy as he thought. As Django lunged his way downward Moses had kicked his body back dodging out of the way of the initial strike.
Skidding back Moses readjusted his frame, “Give it up, reinforcements will be coming sooner rather than later.”
However, the one-armed downwards strike still had to hit something. Junkreaver pierced into the ground. The air pressure instantly changed, popping the ears of those in the area. A sound like glasswork shattering echoed out from the point of contact as the ground exploded outwards. Fine amounts of stone and debris shot out omnidirectionally away from Django and towards both Moses and Castor.
“Grah, I can’t even leave!!” Django yelled. He ripped his sword from the ground. “I need to know about that thing! You know?! FUCK!”
The debris kicked up and blasted towards Moses and Castor. With the blast the tent was able to be exposed to the free open space which allowed Moses to preform a back handspring several times just to avoid the blast.
He showcased his acrobatics and nimble nature effortlessly dodging rumble and debris. Landing near flat open ground Moses noticed Django acted very strange.
Was he high, or whacky? Maybe both. Moses thoughts raced through his brain thinking of ways to take him out. He checked the surroundings in the area to see what he could use.
And that’s when an idea lit his mind.
"Hey, don’t destroy the site!" Castor shouted as he landed gracefully back on the ground, the base around them was already showing signs of damage, and the last thing he wanted was to compromise their stronghold further.
"You're cooked, buddy," Castor continued, his tone hardening as he prepared to launch his next attack. With a swift movement, he activated a combination of Soru and Geppo, his body becoming a blur of motion. In an instant, he surrounded Django, his speed creating afterimages that disoriented the pirate.
As he moved, Castor unleashed a barrage of Tobu Shigans, each air bullet aimed with deadly precision at Django. The projectiles whizzed through the air, their paths crisscrossing as they homed in on their target.
Django’s physiology was unique. He didn’t quite understand it, because as far as he knew, everyone’s was like his. It was why he was surprised. No one so far had been able to produce a physical force like he did. The eyes of the common folk at the most basic level, seemed to be worse than his one. And they didn’t have the same ability to differentiate scents. Castor was faster like this, but he had been sliced into ever so slightly. The scar on the forearm.
The scent of cut flesh. Of blood. It revealed where he was.
The flexible leather armour across his right shoulder stretched as musculature in the entire limb swelled. With perfect form, he raised the sword up, his grin revealing his teeth that were now serrated. Django swung down at Castor as if it were a bolt of lightning. As it cut through the air, the earthen terrain rumbled and broke. It split into cracks and stalagmites, a rough and difficult terrain shooting out beneath Django’s feet. The force of its downward swing pushed the travelling air projectiles away entirely, creating more destruction around the group.
A violent, immensely strong physical swing of the sword that sought to slash against Castor to leave him a greivous wound. A level of strength that had let him cut through the absurd metals and steels his home was surrounded in.
“Wavecrasher!!”
“Castor’s demeanor shifted as he watched the sword descend toward him. "This dude’s getting serious now," he muttered. Instinct kicked in—he had to evade. ‘It’ll shred through my Tekkai,’ Castor thought, his body twisting with the agility of Kami-E. The blade missed by a hair’s breadth, leaving a decent-sized cut on his arm. But Castor didn’t hesitate. Without missing a beat, he retaliated, launching a pair of Rankyakus at Django.
Junkreaver ripped itself from the crevice it had slice into the earth, raising it halfway as Django cut through one of the Rankyaku's in time. The second cut into his shoulder as he force himself to the side to avoid the full impact. Blood leaked from the joint and he clicked his tongue in annoyance.
Django rolled the shoulder and yelled. "Shit! That was messed. What's that thing you do called anyways?"
“It's called Rankyaku,” Castor said as be began examining his arm. Despite employing Kami-E, Django had managed to leave a substantial mark, demonstrating both speed and power. “You’re quite strong,” Castor acknowledged, though with a hint of regret. “It’s a shame you’re a pirate.” With renewed focus, he unleashed Rankyaku “Sen.” This time, the air surged forward in a straight line, akin to a bullet, significantly faster than the standard curved version. The battlefield crackled with energy as the enhanced technique cut through the air, leaving no room for hesitation.
“Ran-gay-fu?! That CANNOT be real, bro.” Django’s jaw was agape. He began sprinting towards the incoming Rankyaku Sen, Junkreaver slicing through the air as Django swung it back down at it. The two forces of strength whistled against one another, a high pitch ringing through the air before the slash was complete. Sen was split into two halves that tore into the already rough terrain.
Django should’ve stumbled through the terrain he had made earlier, but didn’t. With every step, the strength behind each step immediately flattened the parts of the ground he ran on. “Another thing! Pirate?! Why does everyone out here call me that! I’m a swordsman!”
His grip around Junkreaver tightened as the blade fell to his side and back up. Nearby rock and debris were pulled up by the sudden surge of wind the blade brought. An upwards diagonal slash that brought out swollen musculature.
"Do you have some sort of Devil Fruit? Or is this being caused by that sword?" Castor asked as he used Geppo to propel himself high into the air, skillfully evading the rocks and debris that Django had upheaved from the ground. As he hovered momentarily, he surveyed the battlefield, assessing the damage and planning his next move. Then, with the grace of a hawk, he landed back on solid ground.
"And swordsman, pirate—it's the same difference to me," Castor continued. "You attacked World Government property, and we can't let you go unpunished."
With those words, Castor shifted his stance, his muscles coiling with latent energy. In a fluid, almost imperceptible motion, he executed a side kick, generating an immense amount of force in a fraction of a second. The resulting Rankyaku was a testament to his power and precision: a razor-sharp air blade that shot toward Django with incredible speed and devastating force.
The air crackled with the energy of the attack, the Rankyaku slicing through the debris and heading straight for its target. Castor's eyes never left Django, his focus unbroken.
“GRAAAAH!! STOP RUNNING AWAY, MAN!!” Django angrily ruffled his hand through his hair. He ignored the comment about the Devil Fruit or Junkreaver being the source of his strength. As long as that was still up in the air, the better for him. But the annoying part was all of these evasive movements. These air slashes. The kicking away. He had to be kicking off something. His eye gleamed with understanding. He finally understood it.
Junkreaver was spinning around his hand, faster and faster as the winds began to kick up. Stones and debris flew around him. Brought in by the pull of his strength. The faster it moved, the faster the Rankyaku did. Django took a step forwards and rammed his shoulder against the projectile with a mighty roar that would only alert to more that he was around. It cut into him, leaving a wound that would scar, but was met with enough force for it to dissipate. An unoptimal execution of his unique parry. He could’ve executed this plan of his better, he knew.
“Shit man, wasn’t this place not the Bowl Government’s in the first place?!” He asked with a furrowed brow. “Just let me find my shit! I’m not even trying to kill anyone, damn!!”
He slammed the spinning Junkreaver blade down with the palm that spun it.
“Eye of the Storm.”
Winds seemed to pull into Django’s blade, before being pushed out violently. He created a vacuum chamber around all of them that would last for a few seconds. Air could not exist. Sound could not travel. There would be no more speaking, nor any airborne attacks. His own legs twitched with power as he burst forth. With Django’s explosive strength, came an equally explosive speed. He could close distances, not run marathons. And so he closed the space between them in but an instant.
Junkreaver was already in motion, the ground rumbling from kinetic force. Django’s foot sought to step on one of Castor’s. His immense strength would ideally keep him in place. A contingency within a contingency. He thrust forwards in but a moment, an explosive force of power contained within his sword that yearned to pierce through Castor’s shoulder.
“Shigan!”
Just before a possible strike could occur, Moses had reentered the battle once more, in his right hand he threw a pile of sand directly in the face of Django, while using his left hand to deliver multiple finger pistol blasts into the shoulder of his sword arm.
1604.
“Yeah, I know bud.” a younger Django ruffled a mane of hair that fell to his shoulders. A creature made of materials not of Scrapshore barked in agreement, wagging its tail. A robotic dog. They stood in front of massive pile of junk. Metals, furniture, and food waste came together to form what was essentially a mountain of garbage. He couldn’t see the top.
Django awkwardly spun Junkreaver in his hand, a blade that was clearly too large for him to wield despite making it himself. He raised it into the sky with one arm. A serrated grin curled onto his face.
“Just gotta hit it even harder.”
The swing didn't stop. Django wouldn't let it happen. He had closed the distance in a flash. He had swung down with an absurd force comparable to Wavecrasher. Sand struck his face but would be twice as effective as normal. Django only had one eye, after all. The smell was also gone. Django had removed all air. None of them would even be able to hear what was happening. They couldn't. No one had heard Moses, only seen him.
Shigan pierced into his shoulder, meeting more resistance than it should. As if every fibre fought against them. A blunt noise echoing out. Blood poured out. It hurt. This was simply put, a lot of pain. But Django refuted it. He would not deny himself of completing the thrust. He leaned further towards Castor. It’d reach his target even faster. He made the swing stronger in the face of adversity. Like he always had.
Django would always just hit harder.
He could not see, smell, or hear. But that was okay.
Django just had to hit.
The thrust continued forwards, the devastating power growing stronger. More concentrated. The explosive force that was ready to burst even more potent. Aimed to pierce straight through Castor’s shoulder.
"This might be the chance I've been waiting for," Castor thought, gritting his teeth as he deliberately allowed the blade to pierce his shoulder. Pain radiated from the wound, but he welcomed it. This was the opportunity he needed to turn the tide.
With a determined glint in his eyes, Castor locked his gaze on Django, his adversary. "Now, I've got you right where I want you," he declared through clenched teeth. In a swift, calculated motion, Castor gathered all his strength and channeled his energy into his fingertips.
With explosive speed, he unleashed two devastating Shigans at point-blank range, driving his hardened fingers towards Django's ribs.
Django hadn’t heard Castor speak. None of them could right now. But he knew they soon would be able to. The air would return eventually. He had his one eye squinted, watching through the tear as Castor acted. Django moved in retaliation but wasn’t fast enough. The first of the Shigan slammed into his ribs. His body threatened to give in, but denied him the chance. Before the second could hit, Django’s initial movement came true.
He raised Castor, who was pierced by his blade, up into the air. The second Shigan lost its target.
His arm twisted with the motion and Django grit his teeth. And then he spun it back, slightly loosening his grip around Junkreaver. The sword began spinning like a drill. Faster and faster it left grooves against Django’s own tough flesh. But importantly, the sword was still in Castor. The blade spun faster and faster, seeking to either rend his arm clean off or at the least, render it useless for the rest of the bout. Blood would no matter what, gush from the joint.
“Waterspout.”
Django grit serrated teeth together. He was not leaving this island without some information.
"I should have thought this through," Castor berated himself silently as he felt Django's sword slice deeper into his flesh, the pain a sharp reminder of his miscalculation. If he didn't act fast, he was certain to lose his arm. The stakes had never been higher.
Without hesitation and driven by a surge of adrenaline, Castor summoned his strength and began to channel energy into his legs. In a fluid, practiced motion, he unleashed a flurry of base Rankyakus toward Django's sword arm.
Moses had also thought of the same action, in his mind Django had already taken significantly more damage than himself. He was the most healthy, but he knew taking his sword arm was at better odds at ending the fight.
Moses jumped a few feet into the air and brought his left leg into an axe kick aimed to hit the upper arm of Django.
The first thing to happen was the air returning. Oxygen would fill their lungs, offering at least two of them some relief. It hadn’t mattered much for Django. He was being approached by the side. He had caught Moses scent since they had first crossed paths. But the more dangerous one was Castor by far. Django yanked his other arm back.
“GRAAAAAAAH!!!”
He punched the Rankyaku. And again. And again.
Fist met foot repeatedly, a “shield” to protect himself from the onslaught of Rankyaku from Castor. His knuckles began to bleed and tear. Pain claimed a hold over Django. His Waterspout technique began to affect the environment. Winds began to surround the blade. It sucked up the blood and dyed itself red. The sheer harsh nature of the wind rendered it difficult to talk to one another, especially while they were all so close to each other.
Punch and kick collided, and almost immediately after came Moses’ axe kick. Django’s arm tensed as the leg cracked against it. A bruise formed from the point of collision.Moses was more than likely faster. But Django made it up with his sheer durability and mindset. The weights of piles of steel falling on him had hurt. He still kept going. This kick, unremarkable nor amplified in any way, would not stop his attack from completing.
And the Waterspout kept churning.
”!!”
Moses was again shocked, “It’s like he keeps getting stronger, or am I just weak?”
The brief thoughts of doubt entered his mind as his attack to save his fellow marine failed, but he quickly snapped back into the game.
hIs slippery movements made it look like he could grab the air itself and move his body however he pleased. In seconds Moses had seen the exposure to Django’s sword arm side holding it in place in Castors shoulder.
Again he preformed the Shigan launching three more into his leather armor which he already been shown to pierce again. It was true that Django was durable and strong, but for how long could the bear fight among the pack of wolves.
“SHIIIIT MAN! LEAVE ME ALONE GRAAAAH!!” Django roared out in anger. He was covered in blood, though not entirely his own. His arm shook. Not with fatigue or exhaustion. But the sheer rage that coursed through his veins. He was mad they were taking away his chance to learn more about the past. HIS past. His teeth were almost as sharp as his sword at this moment.
The first Shigan pierced through leather and into his arm. A dull noise as a wound began to release blood. For the second, he rammed his shoulder into the Shigan with enough force to match it. Creating a pause. Zero Parry. It gave him time to wind back and do the same to the third, neutralizing it.
His arm reached to grab Moses by the scruff, and to throw him far away once more.
“GRAAH! GO AWAY!!”
”Leave you alone? You broke in?” Moses yelled out as he slipped backward for a moment avoiding his reach and jabbed another finger pistol into his knee.
Django forced his hand down, withdrawing enough force to neutralize once more. Zero Parry.
"AAAAGH! STOP! AND YOU!" Django turned his gaze towards Castor. Waterspout was vicious now. Dust and rubble began to spin around the trio. "LET ME THROUUUUUGGGGHHH! I GOT, GRAH! SHIT TO DO!!"
"Looks like I'll have to take this one," Castor muttered under his breath, steeling himself for what was to come. With a swift, decisive movement, he grasped Django's sword firmly, feeling the cold steel bite into his palm. Ignoring the pain, he began to pull with all his might. This was going to be a tug-of-war, and Castor was ready for it. His muscles tensed as he anchored himself, planting his feet and drawing on every ounce of his strength.
“NUH UH!!! I GOT TO DO THE THING, MAN!!” Django’s grip responded in tandem to Castor’s. It tightened. Waterspout had ended but it was fine, the damage had been done. Castor sought to overpower Django in this moment. To rip the sword from his hand. Django wasn’t sure if Castor would be able to overpower him, especially with one arm weakened, but that didn’t matter. If Castor wanted the sword,
Who was Django to deny him that?
The ground would be flattened with every step. That same explosive burst of speed emitted from nothing more than raw speed that had closed a much larger distance earlier without reaction. Without resistance in an opposing direction, Castor couldn’t take the blade from Django. He closed the distance to push Junkreaver in further, to push the blade all the way through.
With blood drawn from the wound, the joint more than likely torn and shred by Waterspout, it was more than likely exceptionally weak. Django’s arm rippled, the leather armour swelling as if something was crawling deep within Django’s flesh. So as he rushed forward he yanked the blade to the side to try and forcibly tear the arm from Castor.
"Fucking hell," Castor thought, his mind reeling from the shock and agony as his arm was brutally torn off by the pirate. The searing pain threatened to overwhelm him, but he couldn't afford to falter. In the midst of his torment, a fierce determination blazed within him.
Without missing a beat, Castor gritted his teeth and focused his energy. He clenched his remaining hand, channeling all his fury and strength into a full-force Shugan. Keeping all five fingers extended, he thrust his hand forward with deadly precision, aiming to stab Django in the ribs and puncture his lungs.
Time seemed to slow as Castor's hand shot through the air, a blur of motion driven by raw desperation and unyielding willpower.
“GREHAHAYAG!!!” Django’s eyes went wide, jerking his upper body back as his legs began to stomp to slow down. But the distance was closed. The arm torn. He was basically running into the Shigan. He was going to make it worth it. He swung the extended blade back towards Castor. The air itself repelled and wavered around Junkreaver. It was too weak to remain around the swing. The ground unable to withstand its force. Yet before the attack would connect, he switched it to the flat of his blade.
He didn’t want to kill anyone.
The thrust pierced through the thick layer of metal and leather, reaching firm and tense skin that seemed to be more akin to the rough hide of a beast, and reaching his ribs, breaking some. A combination of outside factors coupled with whatever Django’s physiology was, had defended him. But the concussive force from the attack, whether his swing reached Castor’s own ribs, sent Django flying away.
Blood burst from his mouth, staining his armour and the ground as he flew back. His legs wavered but for a moment. Junkreaver was stabbed into the ground to forcibly stop his momentum. A screeching halt. Django rose to his feet and ripped his blade free. He pounded his chest with his free arm and roared. He threw the blade from one hand to the other, rolling the now free arm’s shoulder. There was so much pain. But if it was only pain, he wouldn't stop.
Whatever Django was, he wasn’t human.
He began to run, explosive force propelling him and turning his trail to debris, into the remnants of the marine base to search for something. Anything that explained what Khimaira was.
"Come on, Moses. We’ve got a job to do," Castor growled through gritted teeth as he charged after Django. Blood streamed from the stump where his arm used to be, but he barely felt the pain, his mind singularly focused on the task at hand. He wasn’t going to stop, not now, not ever.
Broken Fields[]
Moses was stuck in the moment, he quickly ripped off his marine zipper jacket and ran towards Castor, “Your goddamn arm marine! We need to get you to a hospital!”
He wasn’t a medic so he didn’t know too much of the ins and outs of saving a wound but he did know that suppressing it closed was the best option.
With Django still kicking into high gear, Moses had to act fast, so he started to devise a plan in a short amount of time, “I noticed this guy has a shit eye, meaning he can only use one. So I think obstructing his vision is the best way to beat him, but he also seems to be in distress? Both sides are in pretty bad shape, but we can get the edge.”
"Out of shape? Buddy, I'm just getting started," Castor retorted, his voice a growl of defiance as he tightened the marine jacket around his bleeding wound. The makeshift bandage stemmed the flow of blood, but the pain was a constant, throbbing reminder of the stakes. He glanced at his marine partner, eyes blazing with determination. "Let's go."
Without a moment's hesitation, Castor launched himself forward, charging towards Django with renewed vigor. Every step sent jolts of pain through his body, but he welcomed it, using it to fuel his resolve. He couldn't afford to show any weakness.
"Hey, Cyclops! You really gonna leave me hanging?" Castor shouted, his voice carrying over the chaos of the battlefield as he summoned his energy, channeling it into his legs. With a swift, practiced motion, he unleashed a powerful Rankyaku.
The sharp whistling of something cutting through air preluded by the taunt alerted Django to an attack trying to reach him. He stomped his foot down into the ground and spun rapidly back, his mouth agape. Pristine white jagged teeth gleamed in the sun. An explosive kick sent him barrelling forwards, charging through and destroying the ground. Like a bull in a china shop.
Django bit down on the air slash, and yanked his head to the side and spit.
The slash went flying off.
But instead of attacking Castor, he came to a screeching stop before kicking once more. A massive cloud of dust rose into the air. All of the destroyed terrain made it much easier. He went after Moses. Django followed Moses’ scent and broke out of the cloud he had formed, his blade raised into the air. The musculature in his arm grew and swelled for a moment.
The downward swing forced all the air down. It pressed into the ground. It splintered out. It caved in on itself. It was destruction raining down. All of it aimed to slash down Moses’ front side. Not to kill, but to maim. When the swing would be completed, it would create a cacophonous sound that echoed out for hundreds of feet. Like thunder itself.
Django had used Wavecrasher once more, aiming it at Moses.
Moses had a plan for Django, this time he was sure to even the odds, he too, darted toward Django holding a metal pipe in his left hand and reaching into his right pant pocket was some sand and dust ready to be administered. But it was like Django had the same idea of obstructing vision. A large cloud of dust kicked up into the air, "?" Moses looked in confusion.
Out from the cloud popped Django already conducting another swing, a powerful thrust something that Moses had seen before. In that same moment, Django brought his blade upward Moses threw the dust directly in the eyes of the swordsmen, he dashed out of the way rolling his shoulder around his left side and colliding with a steel blade, "Parry Zero?!"
CLUNG! Mimicking the sound of a Gong or Church Bell
His left arm vibrated from the force, "Was he this strong to endure that every time?" Moses thought as his bones chattered and his muscles rippled. The longsword cut through like butter, but what did Moses expect? It was just a pipe.
However, a portion of the slash was parried away, which led to Moses getting a slash from above his left eye and diagonal across until his right cheek. "Agggrrahh!" He winced out in pain as quickly dropped his destroyed weapon and held the blood start to pool from his face.
“GRAAH! LEAVE ME ALONE!!” Django lifted the blade up and paused. No, he wasn’t going to try to kill someone. His leg arched back and went to slam it against the broken arm to try and pin Moses to the ground. If successful, he’d press the tip of Junkreaver to his chest. He looked around like a wild animal before settling his gaze on Castor and the sharp scent of blood.
Django pulled the straps on his armour tighter. Keeping his body close and compact to reduce the effects of the broken bones and bleeding. “Nubs!” he yelled. “Bring me the file. It say K-H-I-M-A-I-R-A. Don’t…don’t have me kill a guy. That’s not what swinging a sword’s about.”
"Buddy, I'm a marine, not a file cabinet," Castor joked, his voice steady and eyes locked onto Django. "And besides," he continued, his tone growing colder, "even if I did know what you’re talking about, it’s my job to protect these files." Castor added as he shot several Tobu Shigans. The air bullest shot forward with lethal speed, aimed directly at Django’s torso. Without waiting for them to reach the pirate Castor dashed towards Django, his movements a blur of determined speed. His muscles screamed in protest, but he ignored the pain, focusing solely on closing the distance between them. As he closed in, Castor’s gaze remained fixed on Django, reading every subtle movement, every twitch of muscle. The battlefield around them seemed to fade, leaving only the two of them in a deadly dance of wills. Castor knew he had to strike hard and fast, leaving no room for error.
“GRAH! The hell is a Marine?! Just do me a solid so we can stop this!” Django spat. His grip around Junkreaver remained stalwart. He swung it like a one-handed baseball bat, an impact echoing out as Django slammed the Shigans away from him. He remained still but let his muscles tense as Castor closed the distance. He felt his very fingers twitch with power. Junkreaver shone in the sun. The one eye Django had bore a hole into Castor’s own gaze.
And once Castor was close, he swung.
The blade sliced through the air. It cut through with a forced ease. A slash that held mass powerful enough to send Castor flying from here and into the crater’s wall, if not deeper within. But that hadn’t been the main point. Even if Castor used his air step to avoid, the resultant air slash would still follow. The further it’d travel, the larger it’d get. And sharper. And faster. And stronger. It drew the winds into itself. It would cut and cut. Out of the crater, into the town, until the oceans had claimed it. Django wanted to create distance. But his sheer physicality denied him the ability to do so without destruction.
This was his Rogue Wind.
Utilizing Kami-E, Castor’s body seemed to flow like a breeze, effortlessly ducking under Django's vicious strike. The fluid motion allowed him to evade the blade with a grace that bordered on the supernatural. His eyes, sharp and focused, never left Django’s form as he anticipated the next move.
Without missing a beat, Castor transitioned smoothly from defense to offense. Drawing power from his legs and core, he propelled himself upward, his fist rocketing towards Django's chin.
Moses clung to his face while Django shifted his attention and his vision started to be obstructed by blood and sweat. As his left arm was stomped and pinned by Django, he had nowhere to go. Lifting his right hand from his open cut he started to become infuriated with rage, He quickly threw his right hand toward the knee of the swordsman forming a dragon claw
Ryu no Kagizume
A swift and piercing attack launched toward the knee in record time.
Django craned his head back and slammed it down. He avoided being hit with the chin strike, and decided to defend himself with a headbutt that shook the already torn apart earth they all stood on. A pounding pain overcame his head and then his knee as claws slammed into his knee. Though they were unable to pierce through due to the metallic nature of the armour plating and his own tough hide, there was still a dull pain that shot up his leg.
But as Django had collided with the uppercut, he went to grab onto Castor directly, his arm moving akin to a blur as it shot with that explosive force within Django. They were up too close to each other. And it was why with his crushing strength, he wanted to keep Castor here. His arm had burst forth with the same amount of power and therefore speed as he had used to close the distances twice before. And in that same close range, it meant it would appear even quicker.
Should the grip settle around Castor, Django would thrust Junkreaver forwards, and into Castor’s gut, to cause it to spin and churn as he had with the shoulder. To bring back the Waterspout technique.
Employing Kami-E once more, Castor twisted his body with fluid precision, narrowly evading Django's attempt to stab him through the gut. The blade passed mere inches from his torso, a close call that left no room for error. Castor's mind was racing, but he refused to let desperation take hold. Instead, he planned his next move with meticulous care, determined to turn the tide of the battle.
With a fierce resolve, Castor launched a powerful punch towards Django, his fist cutting through the air with formidable speed. The strike seemed poised to connect, but this punch was merely a diversion, a clever ruse to mislead his opponent.
In a split second, Castor shifted his weight and executed his true attack. With the stump where his arm used to be, he aimed a devastating blow as strong as any Shigan at Django’s side.
“GRAAAAH! SHIT!!”
Django had prepared to deal with the feint before the sudden weight shift. His saving grace was simply the fact that it was a nub. It was a shorter appendage. It’d take a bit longer to strike. His arms were at the sides of Castor due to Kami-e, his strikes having missed. So as the nub travelled, Django went to grapple Castor with his free arm. Kami-e would’ve disrupted the incoming strike, and so Django had confidence. He wanted to grab Castor in this motion.
And then with that repetitive explosive strength, kick off of Moses’ arm. A direct launch that would unleash devastating force into the arm. And in the same motion, go to throw Castor with his potential grip and slam him into the edge of the crater. Django acted just before the nub’s full damage would come to fruition, the second it made contact, unable to move fast enough to act in between the strike. Pain burned at his skin.
If Django found himself free of Castor, he’d use that kick off from earlier to continue his run to the tents. Then he’d start to look amongst the rubble. For the scent of ink.
Moses spun his legs and body performing a windmill kick aimed for the legs of Django tripping him up and freeing himself at the same time. Moses rolled onto his shoulder and performed a back handspring making some distance away, "Wait! Maybe we can work something out?" He shouted his left arm bruised and swollen and his right arm over his face.
Django swung his blade around, cutting stones and debris into halves like an explorer cut through vines. If not for the sheer force and denseness of his muscles, especially when kicking off, he would’ve tripped from Moses’ attack. But he hadn’t. He searched around violently. Ink had a distinct scent. It had been important to find when he had taught himself to read and write.
He threw a large chunk away, almost a boulder. A cabinet with files. A drawer with “K”. He pried it open and began scurrying through. His eye going between folders and Moses’ direction. “I’m reading the folder, and leaving. I didn’t come here to fight. If I did, I’d have put you down earlier. Just let me find this thing in peace. I’m not even taking it! I’m gonna leave it once I get what I need!”
"Hey, One-Eye! Is this what you're looking for?" Castor called out, his voice loud, trumping over any other noise in the vicinity. He held up a file encased in thin, hard plastic, the word "Khimaira" boldly printed on it.
"You can have it," Castor continued, his tone steady despite the pain and exhaustion seeping into his bones. "But on one condition: you leave this island and never come back." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in. "And there's one more thing—you have to open it on the next island. The scientists have rigged these files. If they're opened without authorization, they’ll explode."
Castor’s vision began to blur, and he felt a wave of dizziness wash over him. The blood loss was taking its toll, but he stood his ground, refusing to show weakness. He could feel the warmth of his own blood trickling down his side, his shirt now soaked and clinging to his skin. His grip on the file tightened, knuckles white with determination.
“YEAH! OKAY!!” Django cheered, still searching through the file cabinet. “I’ll grab it too. Just looking for a part two, if it’s there…”
He paused, brows furrowed and tilted his head. His own file labelled appropriately. He looked at his. Then at the one Castor held.
“Which one blows up?! Both of them?! GRAAAAH!” Django stomped his foot. The ground shook. “This is so shit! GRAAH!”
"Yeah, both blow up, so you should probably leave if you wanna find out what's in these," Castor managed to say through gritted teeth, his voice strained with the effort to remain coherent. Django’s figure flickered in and out of focus before him, the edges of Castor's vision blurring with each passing moment. The blood loss was taking its toll in earnest now, draining his strength with every heartbeat.
Castor felt a cold sweat break out across his forehead, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He fought against the encroaching darkness, refusing to succumb to weakness or fear. His fingers trembled slightly as he held up the files in their plastic cases.
"Oh! PHEW! GRAHAHAHA!" Django extended his hand out, with one of the files there. "Toss it over. Next time we fight, we'll do it for the sake of that. Not, uh. This whole chase thing."
"Next time I fight you, I'm arresting you," Castor declared, his voice carrying a hint of weary determination as he managed a half-smile a hee extended the file towards Django. Despite the wreckage around them and the stark reality of his missing arm, Castor harbored no ill-will towards Django. His expression softened slightly, a flicker of respect and perhaps even understanding in his eyes. They had clashed fiercely, each driven by their own convictions, but Castor knew that their paths might cross again.
"EH?! Is that legal?! Can't be, tch." Django grabbed the other folder from Castor. He turned, his legs tensing. "Uh. See you? That's what you say during this, yeah?"
A cloud of dust kicked up as Django launched off. Away from the scene of the crime.
The two marines were in a hospital room with several nurses attending to their injuries. After the exchange of fake information Django left the island. Moses and Castor soon found help and they both passed out due to injuries.
Moses who lay in the hospital bed on the right had bandages all across his left arm and face now bearing a permanent reminder of what a pirate can do. He thought to himself how the sword hit him, and that rush of adrenalin hitting his body.
He looked at his hands, "These are not enough. After seeing what a blade can do, I should thank that guy. It's a shame I didn't get his name." But in his heart a boiling sense of revenge, "whoever that one-eyed fuck is, I'mma beat you at your own game."
"Hey Moses, watch this," Castor called out, a playful glint in his eyes as he waved his numb arm around. Despite the pain and exhaustion that coursed through his body, he couldn't help but find humor in the situation.
Castor grinned widely, his smile full of a youthful exuberance that belied the harsh reality of their recent battle. "That guy was pretty strong," he admitted, nodding towards the direction Django had disappeared. "Hope we can fight him again."
Moses could do nothing but grin and smile, "How could he be so playful after losing his arm, strange guy," Moses thought. "He was very strong, makes me realize how much harder it is in the real world. Compared to the top dogs that guy a pushover, so what does that make us..." Moses fell back into his bed and let out a sigh.
"You want to go sword shopping with me once we get outta here?" Moses asked.
"Yeah, but right now, I don't even wanna think about swords," Castor admitted, his voice carrying a weariness that only a grueling battle could bring. He reached for the small container of applesauce that the nurse had left on the bedside table, the simple comfort of food a welcome distraction. As he dipped his spoon into the smooth, sweet mixture, he felt a momentary sense of relief wash over him.
The first spoonful of applesauce was cool and soothing, a stark contrast to the chaos and pain of the recent fight. Castor savored it slowly, allowing the sweetness to spread across his tongue. It was a humble pleasure, but one that grounded him in the present moment, away from the bloodshed and strife.
"Are you gonna eat your applesauce or nah?" Castor asked as he began to eye Moses' applesauce with the eyes comparable to a hungry wolf.
"Mohohoho! Go right ahead Castor you deserve it."
Moses tossed the closed applesauce toward Castor, but mid-laughing the wounds across his face hurt more than ever, "Now which sword to choose? Hmm."
Django crawled from the water and onto the shoreline of the neighbouring island, standing to his feet quickly. He walked past residents and tourists alike that had found themselves resting across the beachside.
He flipped through the files, but fell to his knees as he opened them. He had swam all the way here. The water had ruined the papers beyond eligibility. Off the file that Castor had given him, all he could read was "don't know".
"GRAAAAAAH!! SHIT HELL SHIT!!!!" Django roared into the sky, shaking his head. Winds pushed the sands away as a result, people complaining. "USELESS! COME ON! SHIIIIT!!!"
He opened the other file, which was practically all unreadable. But there was one word visible.
Mishka.
Django blinked. "The hell is a Mishka?"
Fin