I think it's time for an adventure~

[two_inside_one]

Day: 001
Characters: Anyone, two_inside_one for sure.
Summary: SHOWER TIEMZ
Day/Night: ANYTIME.
Status: Open to anyone :3

Comments

[subtilise]

He had seen Shira's eyes go blank a moment, seen his movement falter- Magatsu had been so sure the man was finally losing consciousness.
He was so close. So close to avenging O-Ren, so close to finally ENDING Shira, so close to victory he could taste it as clearly as the blood in his mouth.

It had been a foolish mistake, to pause before hitting Shira again- waiting to see if the man was already out. In that split second, biting fingers grabbed his wrist- and down Magatsu went from his position of power. In the next moment, surprise and pain- pain and the heat of Shira's swollen mouth against the skin of his neck.

Every fiber of his being wanted to pull away in panic. If Magatsu tried to jerk away even slightly- he felt skin tearing away from his throat.

With both fists he beat down on Shira's chest, gasping in air as he clawed and grabbed at anything within his reach. The other man was mostly on top of him, and the crushing weight of a body on top of his already battered frame wasn't helping his efforts.
Struggling as hard as he could without pulling his neck away, Magatsu felt Shira's legs shift to either side of his body. An opening. It would either work- or he would bleed out like a fish with ripped gills onto the floor. Shifting one of his legs up beneath Shira, he rammed it straight into the other mans groin with a strength aided by desperation and fear.

He felt softness connect with his leg, his aim had been true. As predicted, he felt Shira's teeth unclench from his throat- most likely to howl in pain. Using the distraction to his advantage Magatsu kicked Shira in the gut with the same leg, throwing the bigger man off.

[cut_em_open]

There were no words or screams or curses to express the pain that exploded in Shira's body in this instant, although he would have been lying if he had said he had never felt worse - skinning and cutting off the flesh from the bones of his arm had definitely felt worse. Still, he was angry. Clearer again than before, now that he was out of immediate danger, but with a searing anger building up quickly inside him. Fighting dirty or not, it was embarrassing to fall for a trick like this.

The kick hit him in the gut and he fell back against the wall of the shower cabin, choking and spitting out blood. He really couldn't tell where it was coming from anymore - his cut tongue, his broken nose, or a new injury in his stomach, because for a moment, it felt this bad. But he had no time to waste. Leaning against the wall, he managed to stand up using his only free arm for balance, and as long as they were not on the ground, he was at advantage.

His bare foot shot forward, heel against the side of Magatsu's face, throwing the younger and much lighter man with his head first against the wall on the opposite side of the cabin. More careful than when he had entered, but quickly nonetheless, Shira closed the distance between them, and grabbed Magatsu's arm, just below the wrist.

"That'll teach ya, fucking brat," he panted, swallowing hard with pain that was still surging through his lower body. He brought his foot down, heel first against the arm he held in iron grip, breaking it right through.

[pleasuresinpain]

Quieter than one might expect of a man of Sokaro's stature, the once-General crossed the shower room in but three strides, an obscene grin on his face as he drew near. Without missing a single beat, he reached out with his long arms and seized both combatants by the backs of their skulls with each of his hands. His grip clamped down so tight that he seemed just shy of cracking them open like hard boiled eggs, tearing them from each other before lifting them clear off the ground.

"Now, now, kids," he warned in an almost conversational tone, glancing at each of them in turn. "You're both being fucking sexy in my book, but you're bein' inconsiderate to the people here actually trying to shower, see. Spraying blood on them, the floor, the walls, well... that kind of defeats the purpose of a shower, now doesn't it?" Dangling them in midair still, Sokaro paused as though trying to decide what to do with them even as he took mental inventory of their wounds. Nothing severe, by Sokaro's reckoning. Which meant that neither of them was likely to be dying in the immediate future. Sokaro had pretty much used the same scale to gauge what to do with his apprentices back when. He gave a moment's pause, once he'd figured he could afford it, to bring Magatsu close enough to cheerfully sample the blood on the kid's jaw. He dragged his tongue over the other's skin nice and slow, breath hot and somehow almost menacing as it passed over Magatsu's face. Sighing out a rather aroused sounding breath once he was done, Sokaro returned Magatsu to arm's length, slowly licking his own lips clean before he continued.

"By the by, I'm assumin' it was you two who banged up against my cell earlier and redecorated for me with a fresh coat of blood?" he inquired innocently enough, giving them both a sharp shake. "Who wants to volunteer to come finish the job?"

[subtilise]

Magatsu couldn't help but cry out in pain as his forearm was snapped in two, the jolt of pain so strong he nearly threw up the meager contents of his stomach. A little bit of the Asylum's food, and a lot of Shira's blood.
The room spinning, he had been about to struggle to his feet when Sokaro grabbed him forcefully- hauling the young Kenshi off the ground.

Despite the pain, despite his exhaustion- Magatsu was enraged by the huge man's interference. Couldn't he see this was a fight between two men, and not his business? If the Grand Turk had been in his possession, he would of sliced Sokaro in two.

"This is none of your con-" His voice died in his throat as he was drawn closer to Sokaro, and a thick tongue slid across his bloody and strained face. Magatsu was overwhelmed with disgust and fear- his slender body shaking. There was something else too, that made his blood run cold- and his pupils dialate so large they completely blacked out his irises.

Helplessness. He hated it. Without warning, he swung a dangling leg as high as he could- hooking it over Sokaro's arm. Pulling himself onto the thick limb, he twisted his head out of Sokaro's grip and straddled the man's bicep.
Teeth bared in an almost feral show of violence, he tore the fingers of his good hand across Sokaro's face.

"How dare you, you fucking monster!"

[pleasuresinpain]

"God DAMNIT," Sokaro swore viciously as the barely closed lacerations on his cheek were torn open again. Twice now today, clawed right in the face and it was barely past breakfast. Pain was great, blood was great, fighting was fucking great but getting all scarred up in the one fucking place he had managed to avoid all these motherfucking years because these little bitches wouldn't stop trying to cat fight with him was not.

The first thing Sokaro did was pitch poor, hapless Shira at the nearest pillar on which the shower heads were mounted so that he could try to force an arm around Magatsu's waist to pry him free even as the hand that Magatsu had a vice grip on strained to clamp tightly around Magatsu's throat. He slammed Magatsu into the nearest wall soon as he managed that, being just careful enough not to kill him but not careful enough to promise much more.

"First of all," he snarled, grinding Magatsu back against the wall, "if you're gonna spruce up my morning by raining blood all over me, you take fucking responsibility for it. Don't think I don't know which one of you that was. I've got the taste of you memorized now. So you do not get to call me a monster today." Growling, Sokaro mopped a blood-streaked hand through his hair in irritation, then pointed squarely at where he had thrown Shira without even looking over.

"And you. You be a good boy and stay put. I'm going to teach your friend here a lesson, but if I hear you so much as breathe funny, I'm going to drop him and make sure you can't walk or be on a solid diet for months."

[subtilise]

Magatsu choked up fresh blood as his already battered body met solidly with the wall. His insides ached from bleeding, his outsides ached from bleeding- it took too much effort to get his eyes to concentrate on Sokaro's face.
Not a good sign.

His hands rose weakly to grasp at the fingers wrapped around his throat. The fingers of his broken arm were barely moving, pain shooting to the elbow bad enough Magatsu wanted to throw up. He could foresee serious problems ahead.

Looking up at the monster of a man with dark, heavily lidded eyes- Magatsu half-winced, half-scowled. Where was the man from? Apparently he hadn't been to Japan, a country where Samurai cut down peasants in the middle of the street for no reason. How many times had been splattered with the blood of another as a child? Violence was something he had become used to, familiar with. If two men had a quarrel to settle, they should be left to kill one another- it wasn't his business.

"Get between us-" A pause to gasp in air, coughing violently "And I swear you'll regret it." A message in a glare shot up at Sokaro, his sharp gaze partially hidden beneath dark lashes. Don't touch me.

[pleasuresinpain]

"Shut the fuck up," Sokaro snapped, clamping down on Magatsu's windpipe for good measure. "I already regret getting between this bullshit, but you fuckers don't seem to know good manners and I want a motherfucking shower. I can't stand people like you. Even dogs know when they've lost a fight. You're trash." White eyes scanned Magatsu's body up and down again as Sokaro reevaluated the other's state of health and found that Magatsu was deteriorating rather quickly, and Sokaro wasn't exactly doing much to help.

A sigh left Sokaro's lips, heavy and unimpressed. This fucking conscience thing. It was a pain to have.

But.

All toughness, all violence and sadism and blood lust aside, there was the unfortunate and well-hidden truth that Sokaro had only ever taken exactly one life. Casualties his carelessness fighting Akuma notwithstanding, Sokaro had never been responsible for a death firsthand since then, and now seemed like a poor place to start.

"You're at your limit, kid. Fucking get over yourself and I'll let you go."

[cut_em_open]

Shira didn't know what was happening when he was suddenly grabbed, by a hand that seemed strong enough to crush stones easily and bones even more easily, and lifted up. Eyes held wide open in rage, still staring down at Magatsu, he couldn't do anything but let it happen; the strength in that hand, and his weakened condition, didn't even allow the idea for resistance. For a moment he even thought the feeling of being pulled up with this painful constriction around his head was his consciousness giving in, maybe from a hidden injury in his stomach or head that Magatsu had given him, and that now turned out more severe than the pain had made it seem. But that was not the case. Turning his head slowly when he realised that he was not passing out, eyes still torn open wide with the murderous glare that had been resting on Magatsu until now, he stared at the man holding him, and for the moment could do only that. He had fought against tough bastards before, but that giant - another of those foreigners this place seemed to have in masses - was a true monster, towering over him by a head and with what could well be twice his bodymass, at least certainly more than twice Magatsu's. The faintest idea that he was in trouble now arose in his battered head.

Gladly, he should say, the man didn't pay him too much attention. He fought to stay on his feet for a moment, unable to balance his fall properly with one of his arms strapped to his body, when he hit the pillar, shoulders and head first. This had to be the third or fourth blow against the head he had received in the past hour, and slowly the back of his skull felt like it was finally giving in and breaking. Standing there, back leaned against the pillar, panting heavily and staring at Sokaro and Magatsu, he should have considered himself lucky. He did not. Another wave of murderous rage rose inside him, this time against the man who dared to interfere, but it was a cold, controlled kind this time. He took the opportunity, catching his raspy breath, staring at the two men with cold, murderous hatred, blood running down his face from the cut in his forehead and his broken nose and swollen, burst lip, dripping from his hair that clang to his neck wet and warm, more red than white by now, kimono soaking wet and heavy on his shoulders from both water and blood. A few more deep breaths, then he was ready, fighting down the dizziness that started to rise in him again and again from blood loss, pain, and the repeated blows against his head. He choked up the blood that had been running into his throat and mouth again, spitting it out without turning his head away. His eyes narrowed.

Sokaro was busy and distracted with Magatsu, whom the huge man had pinned to the wall. Shira had learnt enough in the countless fights of his life to know a chance; and this was his. Gritting his teeth and suppressing pain and vertigo, he moved closer, silently, eyes resting on the giant's back with the cold, calculating blood-thirst of a predator. Breathing slow and shallowly, he clenched fist that hurt from beginning haematoma and bruised bones in his knuckles. He exhaled, and then put his whole strength and weight into a blow aimed at the back of Sokaro's head.

[subtilise]

With Sokaro's fingers wrapped tightly around his throat, it was hard to breathe- never mind speak. Glaring up at the other man, he could only whisper harshly. "Don't tell me what to-"

The young man's eyes widened as he saw Shira's form stagger silently behind Sokaro. Sokaro was the one who had split them up, gotten into their business- but Magatsu begrudgingly saw his point. The man didn't deserve to die, and Magatsu didn't want to be the reason it happened.

"Behind-" A gasp as he struggled to suck air into his lungs, prying at the fingers muting him. "-you!"

[pleasuresinpain]

Catching a glimpse of Shira's shadow on the wall, Sokaro took Magatsu's word for the truth and growled low in his throat as he released his hold on the kid, pulling back his fist before Magatsu had even hit the ground. Gauging Shira's relative position off the cast of his shadow, Sokaro twisted around, throwing his fist in Shira's general direction with all of his might.

"What the FUCK did I say?!"

[cut_em_open]

Shira's hit missed and what greeted him instead of the sight of a staggering Sokaro was a breath-taking pain in his chest and the cracking of bones. The blow was hard enough - easily with the full strength of a gigantic, muscular man like this against his own heavily injured and weakened body - to throw him off his feet, let him slide back on the ground and come to a dead stop when the force behind the attack rolled him on his stomach. He was lying motionless for just a second, head spinning and disorientated before a cracking coughing fit brought his head up sharply, leaning on his forearm with his shoulders raised and his face towards the ground, spraying the floor with red while his fingernails clawed and broke against the tiles. That had definitely broken something inside him.

"Fuckin' bastard," he managed to choke between raspy coughs and swallowing blood. Finally, he lifted his head and stared at Sokaro with surprisingly clear and awake eyes considering his condition, burning with a nameless, purest rage. "Fuckin' bastard, I'm gonna tear yer guts out!"

[pleasuresinpain]

"What the fuck is wrong with you kids?" Sokaro managed to ask after a moment or so of blank staring, shaking his head at the sheer sight of Shira. So obviously defeated and quite possibly hurt badly enough to die from it without medical attention and still egging on a man twice his size. "If you're that fucking eager to die, go do it somewhere in a gutter where filth like you belongs. You offend all of my senses trying to threaten me in that pathetic state," he spat at Shira, shifting so that he had Magatsu in his field of vision as well. After the cheap shot Shira had just pulled, Sokaro didn't trust the other one not to do something stupid and end up a smear of blood and shattered bones against the shower room wall.

Where Sokaro came from, even the proudest of the insufferably proud at least dropped their gaze once Sokaro had beaten them within an inch of their lives. These kids didn't seem to have any regard for their lives at all. Crossing over to Shira, Sokaro dropped to one knee and twisted his hand in Shira's hair, jerking his head back.

"Word of advice. When I give you a warning, that's a present. It is a gift from me to you, telling you how to avoid a world of pain," Sokaro informed him softly, voice almost mockingly calm. "In polite society, you shouldn't throw someone's present back into his face. Since we're all new here, I'm not going to break each of your cute little ribs to the tune of 'this little piggy', but you disrespect me again and I'll show you how much fun children's rhymes can be."

[twisteddoctor]

It was not surprising really, that the chaos created by the pair had caught the attention of the one of the doctors. Whether it was fortunate that said doctor was Muraki Kazutaka remained to be seen.

He had been in his office for just under an hour at that point, perusing the files of their newest additions. He had taken it upon himself to familiarize himself with the histories of those that admitting, looking for any... interesting tidbits of information. Any abnormalities in healing or lifespan automatically drawing his interest, of course.

Then, even Muraki could not ignore the distant sounds of fighting. Pausing, page still in hand, his mismatched eyes travelled to the open door, his expression blank. How... irritating.

Closing the file and tucking it away in the drawer of the desk, the silvery-haired man followed the sounds of noise until he came upon the bloodied hallway. His lip curling in distaste, the sight did nothing to deter him - he'd seen far more gruesome things, most of which caused by his own hand... However, the idea of breaking apart two patients who seemed so set on their own destruction...

The promise of the director of this accursed place, however, was enough to spur him into action.

It wasn't hard to find them, considering the gory breadcrumbs they had left in their wake. Standing framed by the doorway, he took a moment to coldly observe the scene, his visible eye narrowed. It would seem the larger of the three had taken control of the situation, however, it would not do to leave a patient to deal with this little... mishap.

"If you would kindly stop this instant," he said calmly, though there was no trace of question in his tone. It was not meant to be a request.