Newfound Righteousness

Ryosuke rolled out the way at the incoming slash aimed at his head, branding his sword, spinning it for the metal to create grey-shaded afterimages, he directed it for the tip to aim at the debris-riddled ground as a dark-skinned fist clanged against the katana's blunt end. The way his bloody eyes reached the edge of the eyeball, Satoru glared at Jeff, gritting his teeth and exhaling, he jumped back just in time to dodge an incoming kick to his head's side.

'Mimic - Red.'

The flashes of scarlet barely soared past, a crack echoing out as knuckles implanted their shape into his shoulder, leaving Ryosuke without an arm, the limb limped as it hung; shattered. Directing his head down so he could examine the shape of his wounded arm, he hummed curiously at such a discovery.

'So, he can utilize powers he's copied from the past and not only presently, too. That's irritating..'

Grumbling like an angry old man, he ducked so easily, feeling the bolts of emerald lightning shocking the implanted nerves hidden by brown skin, his feet guided him backward, moving so elegantly, flowing each new movement into the next, Ryosuke could watch it all. The way her arms flailed around, fists desperate for a target to touch, forming streaks of light from the trajectories accompanying the attacks. There was no point even using his blade to block such heavy, incomplete blows, the way they missed so often, in the end, she attempted a move that'd lead to her downfall.

Trying to swipe at the feet with a nimble slide circling his legs, he jumped so effortlessly in a way to dodge, now standing tall, pushing out her left leg, just intending for the bottom of her shoes' sole to stab into the chest of the assaulter. Taking this opportunity to try out the speed he was gifted, he ran ahead after jumping back under the guise of a smooth weave, bending the leg she threw so carelessly inward so it could leave a painful snap into the world. She screamed, well... after the second delay, that is.

"AGHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"

She was swatted away like a useless bug buzzing around the face of the superior Samurai, a simple palm strike to the chest sending her flying back, but as she did, with the embers of determination lit aflame in her soul's core, she threw but one more attack. Like she was wielding a spear in her right hand, with all the might she could muster in her delicate white hands, there it flew ahead. A singular bolt of lightning that singed away his thick beard hairs, all Satoru could do was continue to stare ahead, watching as she rolled away, out the range of the occurring battle.

"That leaves only one... doesn't it?"

The way he slid his soles across the dusty ground, striped golden haori's edges moving with the corrupt winds of the spring season, as he spun around the katana in only one hand, he needn't even squint. Scarlet lightning borrowed from the Red Defensive of Ace's Divergence, Jeff stared ahead with glowing balls of fire lit aflame in the center of his orbs, the soul's aura expanding further and further to encompass not only his inner spirit but the outer shell he named his body.

"That's an annoying power you got there. Which Artifact did you have to take for you to get it again? I forgot if I was there, and I doubt the Founder gives enough of a shit to check when I bring you back to him. So, enlighten me, Darrell Jefferson."

There was the mention of that man again! Memories, like shattered fragments hovering to the back of his head, reminded him of a time better left forgotten. Shaking it away so he could step on the shards of the past with one step, Jeff clenched his teeth and fingers, the tips of those extremities sinking into the palm, revealing his veins from out his muscled limbs, sleeves rolled up to reveal that honed exterior.

"You're the only black man on the Evolution Frontier, and even so, you remain in the clutches of that cancer you name the Founder. I will never understand how twisted you are. For the sake of such a lofty ambition, betraying your brothers and sisters without regard for who you are beneath those layers of edge, I want to know why!"

Jeff ran ahead, leaving nothing but a stream of flames in his wake, rapidly moving feet similar to that of a locomotive's wheels ever turning on a train track. Fists colliding with the defensive stance he took, Ryosuke kicked him in the chest, sending him back so he could go skidding on his soles. Darrell felt gauntlets of electricity crackle into existence over his arms, running ahead to throw more punches, but the more he did, the more Satoru was forced to take the defensive. Right hook, right hook, left hook, left hook. All too easy to dodge, but then came the unexpected. Not an uppercut from a fist but a flying upward kick to the jaw, head flying back with droplets of blood splattering out the prison he named his mouth.

Gritting his teeth, he caught the fist aimed for his features, and went for a sucker punch to the gut, watching as Jefferson hurled those chunks of saliva waiting to litter the atmosphere. Darrell had other plans for the counter, instead, discharging another wave of defensive scarlet energy to propel Ryosuke backward. Tumbling back as Jefferson pressed him against, the clash between them leading to more flying sparks, Satoru went on the offensive and started slashing with his trusty blade.

With the extra Artifact in his possession, seeing through such basic attacks was mere child's play, for the second he went for an overhead strike, the blade was yanked out from the Samurai's grip. It seemed he'd rid the opponent of his crutch, or rather... that was simply the illusion. Ryosuke wasted no time branding the knuckles, granting another gut punch to his list of connected blows, discombobulating Darrell however momentarily. A chop to the throat's center led Jeff to start choking, gasping for air as he held his neck, not to mention another blow to the cheek, sending the older of the two to the ground, coughing on his knees in search of breath. The coughs never ceased, there was an obvious gap in the moments between the continuous coughing and the uppercut kick to the jaw, leading Jeff to splat onto his back, unconscious and lying in a pool of rusty bones and a disregarded zone scattered with hidden corpses.

"You're weak. Slow. Old. You rely too much on your powers, that's why I was able to beat you; even without Satan's Six Eyes. You are so pathetic, you know that?"

The only thing that remained after he plopped onto his bottom was ragged breathing from his bruised victim, for the winner was the Samurai, but even as he sat there, recapturing what remnants remained in the air of his fleeting breath; he could feel the tear streaming down his cheek. Almost akin to speeds moving at light's sprinting, his fingers touched his cheek, withholding a gasp, clearing his throat, he shivered she sucked in the remaining air from the dirtied environment into his lungs and pushed it out yet again.

The sensation within his heart reached a boiling point, like bubbling water capping at a thermometer's peak, the clear outcome of unimaginable heat was obvious. Singing away at what remained of the fragments leaving nothing but steam afloat into the atmosphere, as Ryosuke stared off at the distant chaos of the Remnants' realm, he stood silent.

What is the purpose of a blade? That question held an obvious answer that remained unavoidable in its truth, for the tip of the metal was edged to perfection for but reason, and that was to destroy. That was clear, but even now, with open eyes that held no haze, he continued to peer downward at the blade in one hand. Just one touch with one finger against the metal end, and it was like he were in another world. No longer was he surrounded by a world of white, questioning the world he knew and the reason for taking up the blade, but realizing what he'd done with it. The next second he'd turned his head, there remained no fragments of Jefferson's defeated body, but another of his victims. A mother coddling a child code to her chest, both of them sliced in half right down the middle for their entrails to slide on down and form a puddle of blood from their exposed innards.

It seemed so sudden, for them to appear without warning, he couldn't help but jerk away from his hand, instinctually reacting as if a demon appeared to his side. Shaky breaths escaping dark lips, an attempt to move away made more apparent, his hand squelching as it sunk into another puddle, dirtying his fingers' tips in more piles of gore he spilled.

Everywhere he looked, it was the same, a product of his malice, gifted unto thousands blindly, indiscriminately. And now, he was in the palm of her hand, for as he sat up from his laid-down posture, what he stared up at was nothing more than the Judge for his sins. Or rather, a student of the Judge, whose white hair moved like the elegant shape of snowflakes descending from the frosted heavens. In the dead of winter, what everyone hopes for more than anything is the sun's resurgence and the blinding heat rays of the summer, to burn away the chilly snow and take away their puffy coats.

"I'm not anything more than trash, I've killed and killed and I have nothing to show for it other than pure glee. I rejected my identity because I was afraid of the truth, I never thought of myself as a black man, but just a man… when your friend wakes up, tell him I'm sorry. I still have so much to learn about my humanity."

"You expect me to kill you, but after you say something like that, how can I? When the time comes, you might kill more of my friends, or you might kill some of your friends. I don't know what will come of the future, but I want you to do me a favor. Live the way you want to. That's the best justice you could do for nobody else but yourself... That's the righteous path."

It was time he'd realized the hands that caused that chaos were nobody else's but his own, that he was unable to change what occurred in the past, no matter how hard he tried. Though the mission was a failure and Jefferson had to be carried to the Second Artifact, there remained one clear thing that came out of this encounter, no matter how bloody it might've been. Both for Ryosuke and June.

They were… themselves. Nothing more, nothing less. And as she limped through the piles of broken trash, additionally scattered bones, she couldn't help but turn with Jeff's arm spread over her nape. The sight of a man's ponytail moving with the wind, standing atop something larger than himself, maybe then, as he vanished to nothing, she could hope for him a better life. Whether it be herself, her brother, or anyone else, it mattered not, as they marched inward toward their second goal, despite her injured comrade, she couldn't wipe away that childish smile from her lips. Maybe it was because of his parting words, for even as he returned to the Riverton Capital to announce his failure, they echoed in his mind, as well.

"You're a kind person."

To Be Continued.