Waka (桜 002)

[prophet4thelulz]

Who: Abel, Waka
Where: Dojo, Espoir
Style: Either
Status: Closed

Today seemed to be a perfect day for training: the sky was clear, the air was warm, and a slight breeze from the sea blew southward over the village. The prophet himself decided to walk today, instead of just teleporting to the dojo. As much as he liked a good entrance, he acknowledged

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[prophet4thelulz]

Waka eyes the gauntlets. He hasn't ever seen such weapons, mostly being a swordsman himself. So this one fights with sheer force? Magnifique! It will be a fun battle. He wasn't humbled by Abel's size or stature, and was in fact even more eager to begin their duel. Though he did check himself on his self-assurance. His battle with Yami was enough to remind him that he was still capable of defeat.

Waka walked quietly on as Abel walked with him. He could see Abel wasn't much of a talker, and it was fine by the prophet who wasn't comfortable holding long conversations unless it someone who knew well.

As they approached the wooden dojo, Waka pulled out the sword strapped on his hilt. He had traded, before he came, his katana for a wooden practice stick. It was a simple design but it could still give a nasty bruise with enough force.

"Are you ready, mon ami?" Waka cocked his head, almost like a taunt. He wasn't sure if such tactics would truly faze the stoic Frenchman, but he was so used to short tempers accompanying warriors that a few taunts seemed necessary before a battle, practice or not.

[prophet4thelulz]

He hadn't even gotten into position when Abel came at him. With a spring of his legs, he jumped back. His geta were high enough to give him enough propulsion to get out of the path of the kick. His hat fluttered from the breeze and he could nearly feel the force emanating out of just that one maneuver. He thanked the Gods he wasn't hit by that, for it would've definitely broken his defense and would've decided the battle in his opponent's favor.

He began to run to the right, his steps so light that they hardly alighted to the ground.

His tactics had never changed over the last two-hundred years: He would first analyze the enemy, keeping his blows light enough to drive away attacks while keeping himself in position to run if needed to. Once a weakness was established, he would narrow the gap between himself and the enemy for close combat. A few well-placed blows were all the prophet believed he needed to win the battle. But a mistake in calculation left him in grave danger. Waka positioned his sword to be ready to attack, but his attention was fixed on Abel. He was surprised at how much speed the brawler possessed. He was almost graceful in a way, and Waka could truly appreciate grace in something as harsh as battle.

The prophet angled towards Abel, with his swordarm outstreched. He decided on a vertical blow, which could strike a somewhat decent blow but could be manipulated to a defensive sheild quickly. Now, it all depended on his opponent.

These were the moments a swordsman lived for and a prophet dreaded, the moments where he could not discern what could possibly happen. His lips curled into a smiled, and his breath hitched as if both sides of his being were unleashed that very moment. He had enough breath to give one last taunt.

"Let's rock, baby!"

[prophet4thelulz]

Unfortunately, when Abel blocked, it rattled Waka's wrist. He had put too much strength into the attack and he was momentarily defenseless, which allowed Waka only enough time to lower his hand to try and block Abel's punch.

Bad idea. The force sent his arm right into his chest, and knocked the breath out of him. But the impact did give him enough leverage to step back further. Ah, that one hurt... Abel was definetly strong and recovered quickly but was slower, all of which Waka mentally noted. A direct blow would have to be avoided at all costs. But running out of the way would only last so long, and the prophet's energy could only go so far.

He smiled, making sure not to appear fazed by the blow, "I try, mon ami, I try~ &hearts" So, this would be a test of stamina, qui? Let's see who can wear down who first, and strike the final blow! As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he moved again, this time to the left. Keep him guessing, Waka mused. He was curious to see what Abel would do next.

[prophet4thelulz]

Waka's head turned, just in time to see Abel appear behind him. It came as a surprise, especially since he had never seen a move like that, but Waka's hands were already moving and his feet still in motion. He swung his sword in a curved arc as he turned to face Abel. The prophet knew the success to his attack was in the timing.

Still, there was a few second delay in his reaction, and it could be enough for an opening.

[ooc: I should've asked this before, but is there any way you would like to see the match end? I was just thinking they would wear each other out and stuff, but idk. Your thoughts?]

OOC

[prophet4thelulz]

I'm just going to put another comment to address the rules of the match. Feel free to reply to it when you can. ^^