The Rising Dark of the Soul (Battle Royal)
Sept 1, 2021 22:26:56 GMT -5
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Post by Deleted on Sept 1, 2021 22:26:56 GMT -5
Rain was falling against the windows of the old rundown bar not far from the arena. Takaru Matsui sat in the dim glow of the neon, absently watching the game on TV as he sipped at his beer. He looked troubled, merely grunting as the nearby jukebox blared classic rock through the bar. He motioned for another drink, sighing as he placed his chin on his hand. He was not a man to wallow in doubt, or self pity but he felt that his skills had been slipping. Something was amiss, and he shook his head as he took another drink of his beer as he tapped his fingers against the bar. He took a slow drink, and he frowned once more.
Maybe he was getting old, or had lost his edge. It was hard to say, perhaps it was time to return to Kyoto.
A shadow fell across him, and he grunted before he lowered his beer to look over. Donzig stared down at him, those terrible eyes cold and knowing as he waved the bartender away. Takaru muttered under his breath, noting that Sinclair was not at her master's side. He looked away, waving the beer bottle. 'What do you want, O King of the North?'
Donzig snorted, and he slowly settled onto the barstool beside him. Like he owned it. Takaru could say many things about his friend turned enemy, but Donzig had a way of owning wherever he was. Donzig smoothed his beard, smirking before he rolled his shoulders. 'I hate seeing you like this, Takaru. I see you drifting through these matches, always good. But not good enough.'
Takaru rolled his eyes, taking a swallow from his bottle as he turned to face Donzig. He leaned back against the bar, a brow arching. 'Not all of us are the Great Donzig. You don't drift ever, you consume.'
'Your father would not approve, Takaru. The Old Man howls in his grave, weeping for his son. He didn't raise you to be just good enough, to just get so close and fail. He raised you to be a king, a warrior.' Takaru stared at him, he knew Donzig was right. Donzig was crazy, but he was very wise. Only a fool would ignore his counsel, even if his soul was a black as the Void he so loved.
'And what am I doing wrong?'
'You have lost your killer instinct, you don't listen to the darkness anymore.' Donzig shrugged, and Takaru blinked. Donzig leaned forward, and he tapped Takaru's temple with a sneer. 'Eh, you never would have let me get away with what happened at the Trios once. You would have defied Gus, and attacked Freakke to make me pay for what I did to you. But now you are content to wait for me to fail? Foolish, Takaru.'
He stared at Donzig, and he stiffened as he considered those words. Was he right? Had his lost his killer instinct? Had he lost that inner darkness? Donzig was a killer, Takaru knew that. His darkness was everywhere, and even when he was not what he was now Takaru had never known Donzig to hesitate. When it was time to strike, Donzig showed no mercy. Had Takaru forgotten that? Had he forgotten what his father had taught him?
'I don't want to be like you.' Takaru whispered, shaking his head as he took another drink from his beer.
'No one can be like me, Takaru. I am the Scourge, I have been chosen for the Great Work.' Donzig answered, his eyes going distant as he stared into nothing. Then his head tilted, and he licked his lips before he shrugged. 'How many times could you have defeated Zepp? How many times could you have defeated the others? You hesitated, Takaru. You are a man of honor, but that doesn't mean you have to be soft. You know this, you need to find the biggest man in NPW and show him why he should fear you. Why they should all fear you.'
Takaru took another drink of his beer, and he glared at Donzig. 'And who is that?'
'You know who it is.' Donzig answered. 'If you want to be back on top, Takaru? If you want to be known as more then just a good match? You need to walk into that battle royal and destroy everyone who gets in your way. You need to teach them to fear the name of Takaru Matsui! You must make them bow down before the King of Kyoto. And you can't do that if you keep being this.'
Donzig gestured, and Takaru shrugged as he sat the bottle aside. Donzig snorted, and he reached inside of his jacket to produce a bundle wrapped in black silk. He sat it on the bar, patting it lovingly before he rose to his feet. He slid it across the old wood, and his eyes met Takaru's. 'Don't listen to me, old friend.'
Donzig turned to go, leaving as suddenly as he had come. Takaru watched him go, shaking his head before he pushed back his dark hair as he turned back to the bar. He stared hard at the bundle, wondering what game this was. What had Donzig left him? He muttered under his breath, and then reached forward to slowly unwrap the silk from the bundle. His eyes widened, as he saw what was inside of it.
It was a mask of painted wood, decorated with metal, and bleached white hair. The mask had been cracked and broken, but someone had put it back together with loving hands. They had made it whole, though still broken. He knew this mask, it had been worn by his father when he revealed himself to his enemies. He let his fingers drift over it, stroking the smooth wood. His fingers ran across the repaired cracks, and he looked into the empty eyes of the mask. He could hear his father's voice now.
Maybe he was getting old, or had lost his edge. It was hard to say, perhaps it was time to return to Kyoto.
A shadow fell across him, and he grunted before he lowered his beer to look over. Donzig stared down at him, those terrible eyes cold and knowing as he waved the bartender away. Takaru muttered under his breath, noting that Sinclair was not at her master's side. He looked away, waving the beer bottle. 'What do you want, O King of the North?'
Donzig snorted, and he slowly settled onto the barstool beside him. Like he owned it. Takaru could say many things about his friend turned enemy, but Donzig had a way of owning wherever he was. Donzig smoothed his beard, smirking before he rolled his shoulders. 'I hate seeing you like this, Takaru. I see you drifting through these matches, always good. But not good enough.'
Takaru rolled his eyes, taking a swallow from his bottle as he turned to face Donzig. He leaned back against the bar, a brow arching. 'Not all of us are the Great Donzig. You don't drift ever, you consume.'
'Your father would not approve, Takaru. The Old Man howls in his grave, weeping for his son. He didn't raise you to be just good enough, to just get so close and fail. He raised you to be a king, a warrior.' Takaru stared at him, he knew Donzig was right. Donzig was crazy, but he was very wise. Only a fool would ignore his counsel, even if his soul was a black as the Void he so loved.
'And what am I doing wrong?'
'You have lost your killer instinct, you don't listen to the darkness anymore.' Donzig shrugged, and Takaru blinked. Donzig leaned forward, and he tapped Takaru's temple with a sneer. 'Eh, you never would have let me get away with what happened at the Trios once. You would have defied Gus, and attacked Freakke to make me pay for what I did to you. But now you are content to wait for me to fail? Foolish, Takaru.'
He stared at Donzig, and he stiffened as he considered those words. Was he right? Had his lost his killer instinct? Had he lost that inner darkness? Donzig was a killer, Takaru knew that. His darkness was everywhere, and even when he was not what he was now Takaru had never known Donzig to hesitate. When it was time to strike, Donzig showed no mercy. Had Takaru forgotten that? Had he forgotten what his father had taught him?
'I don't want to be like you.' Takaru whispered, shaking his head as he took another drink from his beer.
'No one can be like me, Takaru. I am the Scourge, I have been chosen for the Great Work.' Donzig answered, his eyes going distant as he stared into nothing. Then his head tilted, and he licked his lips before he shrugged. 'How many times could you have defeated Zepp? How many times could you have defeated the others? You hesitated, Takaru. You are a man of honor, but that doesn't mean you have to be soft. You know this, you need to find the biggest man in NPW and show him why he should fear you. Why they should all fear you.'
Takaru took another drink of his beer, and he glared at Donzig. 'And who is that?'
'You know who it is.' Donzig answered. 'If you want to be back on top, Takaru? If you want to be known as more then just a good match? You need to walk into that battle royal and destroy everyone who gets in your way. You need to teach them to fear the name of Takaru Matsui! You must make them bow down before the King of Kyoto. And you can't do that if you keep being this.'
Donzig gestured, and Takaru shrugged as he sat the bottle aside. Donzig snorted, and he reached inside of his jacket to produce a bundle wrapped in black silk. He sat it on the bar, patting it lovingly before he rose to his feet. He slid it across the old wood, and his eyes met Takaru's. 'Don't listen to me, old friend.'
Donzig turned to go, leaving as suddenly as he had come. Takaru watched him go, shaking his head before he pushed back his dark hair as he turned back to the bar. He stared hard at the bundle, wondering what game this was. What had Donzig left him? He muttered under his breath, and then reached forward to slowly unwrap the silk from the bundle. His eyes widened, as he saw what was inside of it.
It was a mask of painted wood, decorated with metal, and bleached white hair. The mask had been cracked and broken, but someone had put it back together with loving hands. They had made it whole, though still broken. He knew this mask, it had been worn by his father when he revealed himself to his enemies. He let his fingers drift over it, stroking the smooth wood. His fingers ran across the repaired cracks, and he looked into the empty eyes of the mask. He could hear his father's voice now.