"Kosuke? Is that really you?" Ikkei asked, squinting a bit as he took the boy's appearance in.
"Of course it is, Ikkei. I see you don't look much different at all." Kosuke replied in a softer, almost malicious tone.
"Heh, I can't say the same for you. You really grew well."
Kosuke Jin was someone of a sturdy, thinner frame with light muscle and maximum tone. He had a wild head of spiky black hair that shot out in all directions in a large poof. His face resembled his mother more, and as a result, he had a colder, sharper expression through his cheekbones, jawline, and eyes. His eyes themselves weren't exactly black, but more of a dark purple.
He wore black gi pants and had an exposed uncovered chest, showing off his build.
"Thanks...whatever that means. I don't intend to go easy on you because we are family...I plan to destroy you all the same...hehe." Kosuke said, practically hissing his words like a snake. Ikkei couldn't help but feel off around him, like he was an entirely different person now.
"Alright then, guess I have to give it my all then too. Bring it on!"
The proctor instructed the two to their own spots on the mat, then prepared them.
"You will have ten minutes once the match commences to either knock out, force a surrender, or tie with your opponent. Killing and fatal wounds are not allowed. Fight to the best of your abilities. Clear?" The proctor asked. Both Ikkei and Kosuke nodded.
"Alright...Ready...."
Kosuke took fighting stance as he drew a blade from the sheath behind him on his waist, similarly to how Ikkei carried his sword. It was a silver katana with a black hilt. He took note of how it was slightly shorter than standard length, and how that could be used against him. Ikkei drew his sword in return, holding the blade with it's sheath still on like nothing was wrong.
"Oh good...you brought the Kagemori blade. You're just making my job easier..." Kosuke bragged.
"Just because I can't draw this thing, doesn't mean I can't still win. Believe me when I say I have some tricks up my sleeve!" Ikkei declared proudly.
"Well, let's just see about that."
"BEGIN!"
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Fujiko had been standing a little longer than ten minutes, and was already wondering if Ikkei had been fighting already. Half of the gym had been blocked off from before, and all that could be seen from her angle was all the other samurai that hadn't been assigned an opponent yet. Just then, as she neared the front of her group, a proctor pointed her out and pulled her forward.
"Fujiko Shimazu? Right this way, your opponent has been selected and is ready."
With some nerves but a mostly optimistic head, Fujiko strutted forward onto the floor, taking note of all the battles occurring around her. Students were fighting with intense ferocity, as if bloodlust had overcame each and every one of them.
This only determined the girl even more, as she knew everyone around her was taking this exam with as much seriousness as possible. When she finally arrived at the mat, she was unsure of who her opponent actually was.
"Fujiko, this is your opponent, Hiroki Hitonaka, samurai of the Hitonaka clan. You are free to shake hands and interact before we begin." The proctor instructed.
"Why not, I'm one for formalities. Hello. I'm Hiroki." The boy extended his hand forward. Fujiko immediately began to scan him for any sort of suspicious behavior or ulterior motives. From his calm expression, all she could tell was that he actually wanted to shake the hand of his opponent. Fujiko accepted this offer and returned the favor firmly.
Hiroki was a taller boy with bright orange hair with tones of darker orange towards the back of his head. His eyes matched this stunningly with a vibrant shade of orange that seemed to change tone depending on the lighting. He had lighter skin and a slimmer build, but a rather soft face complimenting all of his other features. He didn't immediately strike someone as a warrior, as Fujiko felt he was almost too visually unique to truly put himself out as such.
"Shouldn't you be modeling for clothing brands or something?" The girl said with a snappy but playful tone.
"Heh, that might not be a bad idea if I don't win this..." The boy said casually. He didn't seem very threatening at all, compared to the other students fighting around them. The way he spoke and carried himself was far too tame for Fujiko's liking. But then, like flicking on a light switch, the boy changed demeanor completely. His expression changed completely as he stared Fujiko down coldly, drawing the katana at his hip.
The sword he carried was thicker and heavier than many others, but retained the same shape as a typical katana. From blade to hilt, the entire sword was coated in a deep red color, except for the guard, which was a slick jet black. There was no grip on the handle of the sword itself, so it seemed as if it could easily slip out of the user's hand.
"As if. My ambitions would never let me lose this fight, let alone give up the life as a warrior to become a model." Hiroki growled, taking on an entire new persona with his guard up and sword ready.
Fujiko didn't take his threat to win lightly, and responded with her own sharp tongue.
"That's a shame. When you lose, you won't have a good face to model with anyways...after I claw it up, that is." Fujiko threw the big red hoodie she wore off to reveal a red color school uniform, matching her skirt. On the backside of her hands, two red and silver modules rested. With a flick, long shiny blades shaped like claws sprang out with a intimidating "Shik!" sound.
"Fighters ready....."
Fujiko took a low, hunching stance with the intention to pounce as soon as the clearance was given.
"FIGHT!"
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Yozama Hazzard always draw looks wherever he went. Popular with the girls for his western influenced biker style, many often found his clothing choices and mode of transportation foreign and wild, which appealed to the whole "Bad boy" or "Delinquent" attraction. Girls all around the gym were staring and pointing at the boy with blushed faces, whispering to their friends with giggles strewn about. Yozama was never shy to catch onto this and respond with a charismatic wink, accompanied by his trademark toothy smile.
It wasn't long until he had reached the front of his own line, and he was admitted to enter the fighting area and meet his opponent.
"Man, what's a guy gotta do to get a good fight around here!? HEY! IKKEI! WHERE THE HELL ARE YA!?" The boy shouted.
"Your opponent is right this way, Mr. Mitsugiri. Please follow me." The staff member instructed. Like a shark that smelled blood, Yozama flipped around and instantly grabbed the man by his collar, raising him high above the ground.
"Did you just call me Mitsugiri!?" Yozama snarled, his voice and expression filled with sudden rage.
"I'm sorry, sir! That's just the surname you provided on your application!"
"The name's HAZZARD, GOT IT!?"
"OF COURSE, MR. HAZZARD! PLEASE LET ME DOWN!"
With a half assed flick, Yozama tossed the man back down to the ground, walking away without a care in the world. As he approached the mat he was assigned to, the wrathful attitude he had before was completely gone, as if he had never been angered in the first place. He was back to his cheery, loud self.
When he finally got a good glimpse at his opponent, Yozama was surprised to find not only would he be fighting a girl, but one he found attractive almost instantly.
"Hubba hubba. What are you doin here, sweet thing? Come to see a real man kick some ass?" Yozama flirted confidently, tossing a gumball in his mouth from his jacket pocket.
The girl simply continued to stand expressionless, maintaining her still and calm composure. She was only slightly smaller than Yozama, and very similar in style to him. She too wore all black, accompanied by the purple shirt she wore under her short black jacket, cut off at the abdomen level. Like Yozama, the two wore black boots and tight black pants, but she lacked any belt or chains like the biker.
She had short dark purple hair that didn't go past her shoulders, and had beautiful vibrant purple eyes that stared into Yozama's infinitely. Her face and skin were soft enough to melt someone upon first glance, of which it took on a slightly darker tone, but not much beyond the norm of most Japanese people. The most notable part of her appearance was the violet colored snake tattoos coiling around both of her arms. Her sleeves were rolled up just enough to expose her forearms, of which they stopped at her wrists.
Yozama took this all in with a respectful glance, then spoke up,
"Not much of a talker, huh? I like that. Quiet girls got a lot more mystery to em." Yozama said smoothly, chewing his gum as quietly and mindfully as possible.
"This is your opponent. If you don't want to shake hands, we can commence the fight now."
Yozama, eager to get a better glimpse at the girl's tattoos, extended his hand out with a warmer, less toothy grin and a cocked eyebrow.
"You're Yozama Hazzard, correct?" The girl said sternly, lacking any sort of emotion or tone in her voice. She maintained her stoic expression and stance, showing no signs of her returning the gesture.
"That's right. I'm famous in these parts, ya know."
"Yes. You and your biker gang beat up targets assigned to you by contractors for money."
"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds pretty bad. I'd consider myself to be in the field of waste management.. I only take down the guys that deserve it. Real scum of the city. I'm no hero baby...but I can be yours."
"I'm here to fight. Not flirt. Let's begin." She snapped.
"Not even a name? Sheesh. Feisty one, aren't ya?"
"That doesn't matter. A sleazebag like yourself would forget it anyways."
Yozama had an excited smile all over his face as he took fighting stance.
"Whatever you say, baby. Promise I won't rough ya up too much." Yozama laughed, dancing in place with his fists up. The girl simply raised her forearms forward in an attacking stance.
"Ready....BEGIN!"