>>5916451>>5916453>>5916463>>5916525>>5916584>>5916592>>5916600>>5916663>>5916665>>5916861>>5917241>>5917698You do hesitate. For a moment ‘What if Akimitsu is watching after all?’ and ‘What would Otomo do?’ pass through consciousness. Masami probably wouldn’t like it either. Hell, you can’t think of anyone who would actually COMMEND smashing this bitch, at least, not without a prolonged speech about the worthiness of a righteous ass-beating to show someone the error of their ways. And if those were the only thoughts in your mind you’d probably just let her with some light banter and love-tap.
But the last thought on your mind is what stops you. ‘What would Naoki do?’
Yuzuki stabbed my hand. Yuzuki needs to learn a lesson. Yuzuki could have killed me with Lightning Death Cage. And, you think with a snarl parting your mouth, normally concealed by a mask, you just didn’t fucking like her. She was an evil little runt, she’d probably stab you or something if you showed any tolerance.
You’d aim slightly low from her ribs since you implied you wouldn’t break any bones.
Savagery overtakes your brain, an electrified impulse of stern fury. With a muted thud (Weaker and more hollow than your normal sparring partners who actually have some mass.) your fist drives into her stomach as hard as you can without needing to fear whether or not she’d be able to recover without medical care. She was a strong girl though, and you let that fact be your guide. You hit her. You hit her hard.
Straight into the upper intestine, angled upwards to aggravate her lungs as much as possible.
Effective. She immediately goes limp, the urge to curl up in the fetal position thwarted by gravity and the newfound lack of strength in her limbs. A weak gag, an aborted and unsuccessful gasp for air, emanates from her throat. You let her go and she crumples in the sand, head lolling against your charred shoe before you viciously use it to propel her the fuck off of you.
You honestly can’t even remember why you were fighting anymore. It takes you a bit of thought. Oh yeah.
You regard Yuzuki, a reptilian hate dissolving into a more human disgust. “You’re a mean cunt, aren’t you?”
—
You are Otomo Mizutani, and you just watched your friend die before clearing the light from your eyes, rushing forward, tripping because of the booze in your system, looking up, seeing that he’s fine, and then watching him strike down a little girl like and then cast her aside like some kind of executioner. I quandary to be sure!
Well, why were you here? This was a best case scenario. Naoki is the type to bear a grudge, and Yuzuki was getting to be a little shit. You guys were ninja. There should be a basic sense that you owe it to yourselves to be professional. Where that wasn’t a possibility, at least an outright duel was better than a prolonged spat between overgrown children…
Oh yeah, you were technically children. Yuzuki was definitely children.
How about that?
