Can't Run Anymore [Active]

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Character(s): Akira, Shiki, anyone else who wanders in
Content: Akira saw Shiki and took off like a jet. But a person can only jet for so long before getting tired.
Setting: The I6 area
Time: Just before noon
Warnings: None yet.

He had run as fast as he could. He had run as far as he could. Common sense told him he shouldn’t stop. He’d had a few steps’ advantage over the other man. Akira could book it when he really needed to move. He had plenty of adrenaline running through him. He should have been able to move more.

But his legs had had enough. They were starting to burn, and his feet ached from pounding the ground all those times. He was trying to catch his breath as well. So, he’d put up a good resistance. Now it was time to face the music. It was inevitable now. The other man would be at his side in mere seconds.

Leaning against a building, Akira turned to face the way he’d come. He put his hand on his knife’s hilt, just in case he had need to use it. With Shiki, there would likely be a very strong need. He doubted the man would let him go twice in a row. Only a fool would, and Shiki was definitely not one of those.

[OOC: Sorry for the delay. T_T]

Comments

[coldblade.livejournal.com]

Ah, this was much easier than he had anticipated.

The wolf honed in on its prey, so to speak. Shiki grinned slightly- he was winded but not nearly enough so much as to stop running, or perhaps he could ignore the burn in his calves that much easier than Akira. When you participate in Igura, you learn to ignore petty things like pain. Especially when your life is on the line- there is nothing worse than death, at least to a man full of honor, like Shiki.

Seeing the other slow down, Shiki decided that he would cut some slack on himself and slowed to a quick trot, restraining a soft, dark chuckle under his breath as he shoved carelessly through what crowds seperated him and Akira still- and eventually, he came to that building the other leaned against, now sauntering up to him like he had every right in the world to be following him.

"Akira," Shiki purred with a grin, lifting his blade out before coming in close quarters with him- it was about four feet long so it wasn't hard to do such a thing. He pointed it at his throat, but did not touch the skin. "I'm disappointed in you. I was looking for a challenge."

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It had been a mistake to slow down, Akira thought as he glanced at the sword that was held to his throat. He couldn’t have argued with his body, though. His legs had practically demanded him to stop. Even now they still burned, and he still struggled for breath. He’d run all out, and look where it had gotten him. Maybe he should have stayed still from the beginning. At least then he’d have had access to his knife. Now if he tried for it, he’d probably lose a lot of blood, among other things.

He swallowed hard. A thousand childish retorts jumped to his mind. What the hell! was among them, along with What the FUCK do you want with me??? But he bit those back. The other man surely wouldn’t appreciate being yelled at. Or he’d smile like he expected it. That would be irritating. Instead, he must try for a smoother, more conversational tone.

“I’m sorry to disappoint, then,” Akira said with distaste. He didn’t like being spoken to as if they were such good friends. This man hardly knew him. And the last time they had met it had been almost exactly like this, except with a lot more struggle. Akira moved his arms slowly to show his empty hands, palm-up and unthreatening. “If you want a challenge, move that thing away first. I’m more than willing to fight you, if that is what you want.”

[coldblade.livejournal.com]

Shiki had not been expecting that reaction. His expression lit up with curiousity for a few moments as he listened to Akira's words... but soon, his expression changed into sheer amusement again. He hadn't been expecting Akira to say something like that, but then again it was all too predictable that he would try to find the right words to weasel him out of this situation.

He gave a chuckle. "Aha, you are a sly thing," Shiki teased, grinning as side as a fox as he idly waved the blade around the area of his throat, slowly swaying, as if threatening to cut it at any moment. "Unfortunately I don't see a proper fight happening any time soon, not with that little thing I know you're intending to pull on me. Come now, you realize a weapon like that wouldn't get you very far anywhere, don't you?"

Hm. He weighted his options. He wanted to play with Akira, but there was really no fair way to go about it--he mused for a few seconds, and then that smile came back, and he heh'd softly. "We could always, oh, I don't know. Go fetch you a real weapon. And then we could go at it as we see fit. What do you say? I'll let you off. Just this once."

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Akira did not enjoy being patronized. But, since it was coming from the man that made most men run off in sheer terror just at his name, he figured he could deal with the patronization for now. He couldn’t stop the look of annoyance that crept into his eyes, though, try as he might to keep his face neutral.

Shiki was offering to let him go. Just this once? He’d let him go before. He honestly didn’t see it happening a second time. But he’d be stupid if he didn’t take up the offer. Besides, he might be able to find something like a gun to make things short and sweet. But, looking at the weapon that hovered around his throat, he thought it would end up being a sword. Shit. Akira had no clue how to use a sword. He was much more accustomed to getting things done with his fists. Or his knife. A weapon like that had gotten him pretty damn far. What the hell did Shiki know about him, anyway?

More immediate decisions, then. “A real weapon?” he echoed. “Fine. Whatever you think would be best. Since you obviously know what a real weapon is.” Patronize the guy right back, then. Just lower that goddamned sword and things would be fine. “I have no idea where that would be found in this stupid place, though. But you could always consider the alternative. We can go at it, as you’ve said, with just our fists. You do know how to street fight, don’t you?” He was taking an extreme risk with such language. But he wasn’t about to stand and quake and piss himself just because this Shiki guy was thisclose to ending him.

[coldblade.livejournal.com]

The thing was, Shiki didn't quite consider it 'letting go.' And once Akira found out what was running through Shiki's head, he'd realize that too. There had to be some reason he was grinning so much, right? The truth was--he didn't intend on allowing Akira to head anywhere without his discretion; he wanted to make sure Akira really did get a weapon and not run off somewhere never to be seen again. He knew Akira would pull something like that... and Shiki didn't think that would be very fun at all.

The black-haired man just laughed. "Street fighting? You think I'd stoop to that level...? Street fighting is for people who don't have the brains to learn how to use a real weapon." That was absolutely out of the question. Shiki was pretty sure he could take Akira even without his sword (he was a former member of the military, after all, and what was Akira, some stupid little punk?), but swordplay was more... elegant. More his style.

"You're a smart boy. We'll find a place to get you something decent." Shiki began to move forward, then--and the weapon slowly moved down, but still kept close to his throat. "I'll hold off until I think the time for a fair battle is right." His head tilted, and he was still smiling.

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The man’s smile was downright creepy. Why was he smiling that way? Akira guessed it was probably because the man had him cornered. Who wouldn’t smile when he got what he wanted? But there was more to that grin than simply happiness at getting his way. It seemed predatory. Why the hell was Shiki so interested in him, anyway?

Apparently he wasn’t going to be ended here. Shiki seemed more like a cat in that way, wanting to play with its food before eating it. What a freak. If the situation had been reversed, he would have already ended Shiki. Quick, painless, and over with.

Akira’s eyes flashed with anger when his chosen style of combat was insulted. He couldn’t help talking back. “Using the body alone as a weapon is nothing to sneer at. Being deadly without needing something extraneous is something some people spend their whole lives working towards. It is much more efficient than needing some long piece of metal.” He swallowed more anger, putting a cooler look on his face. “But if you want to duel with swords or whatever, fine. Just tell me one thing. What did I do to piss you off so badly?” This had to be vendetta work or a grudge thing. He had no idea what he did to start that mess, though, and it bothered him.

[coldblade.livejournal.com]

Shiki just rolled his eyes at Akira's attempt to defend himself. "Just keep telling yourself all of that, Akira," he said with a small laugh. "One of these days, you'll become cultured enough to understand my words." His eyebrows lifted and he offered him a look of encouragement--or at least, a mocking one. "Why, in a way, I'm even setting you on the path to greatness now."

A black-gloved hand lifted, and fingers curled around the collar of Akira's orange shirt. His head bowed down, and he looked him over, like a wild cat surveying its prey. At his next question, the swordsman replied with another amused tone in his voice, "You didn't do anything, my friend. You existed. You're interesting. A little rough around the edges, but I can look past that."

Perhaps it was something else entirely.

"Now let's get going. Come with me, won't you, Akira?" he purred, stepping away slowly--but not enough to give him room to make a run for it.

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Oh, no he didn’t. Shiki was the most arrogant asshole Akira had ever bumped into. First there was the diss on street fighting, and now he was called uncultured. Who needed culture, anyway? There hadn’t been culture since before the wars. If Shiki was deluded enough to think having a sword meant he was cultured, then he was too far gone. Akira was now dealing with a certified crazy. Getting mad at crazies never led anywhere. They never understood sense.

And then the guy grabbed his shirt and leaned in. It was an intimate gesture. No. It was an intimidating gesture. Akira glared hotly back at Shiki, his hands curling into fists at his sides. So this wasn’t a grudge. It was furthering the agenda of a crazy. And where did this guy get off, calling him ‘friend?’ If it was a pacifying attempt, it failed miserably. It didn’t work with all the insults that had already been thrown.

Finally Shiki let him go and backed off. Akira felt like he could breathe again. Had he been holding his breath? He had, and for no good reason. Another reason to resent this black-clad loony. There wasn’t enough room to make a break for it, though, and he didn’t particularly feel like being gutted or impaled today. His only choice was to continue on with Shiki. Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. Exactly what he wanted to do with his time.

Akira forced a smile, which looked more like a grimace. “It’s not like I have a choice in the matter,” he said sweetly. “Lead the way.”

[coldblade.livejournal.com]

"Come on then," Shiki said, his voice dripping with a mock-joyfulness put up simply, perhaps, to annoy Akira. He stepped away from him and glanced to the side--out toward the people, from the alleyway. Then he turned, intending to move forward, and out of it--but looked back to Akira, keeping his eyes trained on him so he might not run away. He could always just chase him down again if he tried that, though. Besides, in a narrow alley like this, how far could one go?

Shiki planned to take him to the nearest weapon shop, where he would get him a proper weapon, as he had said before. Finally beginning to move, in hopes the boy really would follow him, he contemplated the final outcome of this all; he could see it now... Akira was a smart boy. Just a little bit of training and he would be able to properly fight him. That's what he really wanted. To test his true strength. If he was what he thought he was, he should have been very impressive.