Fubuki vs. Mōri Takamoto

Sporting Event / Competition

The third day of the ill-fated Mōri Martial Arts Tournament began with a continuation of matches from the independent bracket. As such, Mōri Takamoto took to the field, followed shortly after by Fubuki, who arrived not a moment too late. Kikkawa no Myōkyū handled introductions, as Mōri Motonari still seemed weak and unable or unwilling to manage announcements for the day. With that, the match began.

Takamoto began by cautiously approaching her opponent. It was traditional of many oni to rush in with abandon, but the Mōri often displayed a more tempered, even approach to the art of battle. By the same token, Takamoto seemed intent on feeling her opponent out before committing to a melee. Fubuki, however, did not answer her approach in turn. Instead, the cold-eyed oni swung a massive hatchet around her in a circle, kicking up a storm of white flowers that still littered the arena floor, courtesy of Hashinara Yoshitakatomo's magic. Though some knew the flowers to be illusory, they still obscured vision well enough. For a few moments, at least, both fighters were partially obscured from the other. That weapon, too, was beginning to draw some comment from the oni-packed stands to the north.   After considering her opponent's move, Takamoto took a moment to ask a question that seemed to have been gnawing at her for some time. Why all the secrecy? Fubuki had joined the tournament unaffiliated, with no family name and no description of her* past or goals. The enigma in question did answer the question, but only mouthed her* reply. Obscured by the flowering storm, Takamoto wasn't able to discern what words had been intended. Fortunately, with her* mouth so obscured, Fubuki was able to speak freely. This time, she* only stated that, like everyone, she* was allowed her secrets. Takamoto seemed unsatisfied with such a vague response, but did not pursue it any further. Instead, she stepped forward and engaged the warrior within the whirling petals.   The crash of their blades brought forth a rippling sound that spread out through the entire stadium. To the west, in the Hashinara stands, Umbriel let out an eightfold exclamation of surprise. The Seven-Branched Sword, entrusted to her by Ryūzaki Sanosuke, had reacted to the sound of metal striking metal, and apparently reforged itself. It was tougher now, more solid than the materials of its make could account for. Pleased with this new revelation, the Daughter of Avatea did not hesitate in delivering the news to Sanosuke.   Back in the arena, the flowers around Fubuki were beginning to settle from their frenzied twirl. She* threw the axe into the air, allowing it (with a bit of magical assistance) to sail over Takamoto's head and bury in the ground beyond. As expected, the learned oni samurai did not discount the now-unwielded weapon as a threat. Forced to ward herself from attacks on her front and to be wary of the blade at her back, her defenses became that much less effective. Fubuki punched, scoring a light hit that was summarily absorbed by Takamoto's armor. Following up on the strike, she* recalled Kintoki's Hatchet from beyond her opponent, twirling it blade-first through Takamoto and into her* grip once more. That, too, produced only a glancing slice. While most oni's resilient skin would not yield to such a blow, however, Takamoto came away with a telling wound. Kintoki's Hatchet, it seemed, would not be turned away from its purpose of slaying her kind.   The battle was not yet done. Takamoto had purposefully stayed her attack and now took advantage of her superior speed to unleash a relentless barrage of attacks. Fubuki managed to block the first three, but a trio more came in their wake. With these strikes, Takamoto's blade burst into crackling electricity, an elemental assault which bypassed most of her opponent's defenses. Once, twice, and three times, Fubuki was struck. The third would have been fatal against any creature not so twisted by the Matsumoto's dark magicks. With her * leg severed at the thigh and blood oozing from a further pair of deep wounds, Fubuki seemed done for. Calmly, somehow without losing her balance, she* reached down and picked up the severed leg from the ground. As she* placed it to the severed stump, Takamoto could only watch in horrified awe as the flesh around the wound sealed itself instantly.   Fubuki's other wounds continued to gush blood as they too healed, albeit at a slower pace. To hasten things along, she* produced a Convalescence Custard, baked for her* by a certain magical patisserie chef. A bitten-off chunk of the dessert was enough to close those cuts and, with a telling blow that showed little of the debilitation she'd* suffered just moments before, Fubuki cut Takamoto down with the giant hatchet. The crowd exploded as the Mōri Clan's eldest daughter hit the dusty floor. Some bones were broken, but it was the pain from a collection of deadly axe wounds that had truly knocked the light out of her eyes. Kikkawa no Myōkyū called an end to the match and summoned a pair of priestesses to take her adoptive daughter's body to the infirmary. Before they could arrive, however, Fubuki unceremoniously stuffed the rest of the custard into her* fallen opponent's mouth.   An uncomfortable sound was clearly audible in the ensuing silence as Takamoto's bones righted themselves. Now fully healed by the pastry's magical properties, she was able to stagger to her feet, accepting an offered hand from Fubuki. Takamoto could only express her frustrations that she hadn't quite been able to end it, but put great respect in her opponent's skill. She asked Fubuki to consider a rematch sometime in the future, when the daughter of Mōri had more time to improve herself. Fubuki nodded and bowed in turn, then the two split on friendly terms, each returning to their customary seats in the stands.