Takaharu's hand had reached out and punched Keitan in his face before he even knew what he was doing. The pain of Keitan's square jaw against his fist snapped him back to reality - a frightening reality. "I-I-" Takaharu's lips trembled, his words sputtering from them. It was full powered from Takaharu, but the Celebration dragonlord's face had barely even budged. The kin's eyes swirled in fear at his actions, yet, Keitan's jewel green eyes stared off blankly, as if he too was registering what just happened. Takaharu could see the gears turning in his head, one by one, each cog connecting to another, then --
WHAM
Takaharu had been blown back, sent flying from the yokai he had been riding upon. The wind had been knocked out of him and his head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it.
"I'm not a very violent dragonlord," Keitan shouted from a distance. Takaharu's body shook as he attempted to recover from the vicious hit he received. He coughed and gagged. Blue blood coating the pearlescent white, translucent ground underneath him. Takaharu's fingers touched his cheek, then rubbed his nose and lips, where he discovered the origin of the spewing blood.
"What.. Just happened..?"
Keitan had already appeared before him, traveling at lightning speed. He crouched before Takaharu, using his sharp, clawed nails to tilt the dragonkin's head up to him. Takaharu winced in pain. Keitan's sharp teeth shined through as he grinned with joy at seeing that pain.
"After all, I am a party dragonlord. But that doesn't mean I don't know how to handle disrespect." Keitan's nostrils emitted billowing smoke from them as he leaned in close to Takaharu's face. He coughed and choked on it, then quickly began to gasp as he was strangled by a single hand by Keitan. Takaharu immediately began to wrestle against his aggressor, but Keitan rose to his full height, easily having the young kin dangle from his powerful clawed hand. "You have been getting influenced in the worst sort of ways by that no good brother of yours, haven't you?"
Takaharu wriggled and writhed. Kicking at Keitan's solid stomach, it felt like he had pure iron armor covering it. He was beginning to lose his breath. Gasping, Takaharu released his own claws and began attempting to slash at Keitan's arm that led to the hand taking his young, faint life. Even in his fit of fighting for his life, Keitan smacked each attempt of attack away like someone swatting a pesky mosquito. Keitan green eyes narrowed, his playful fanged grin turning into a frown. A hateful look. If he wasn't strangling him, Takaharu could have died just from the simple glare he was giving. "Don't worry. I'll make sure to break that trait you've picked up."
Keitan's free hand snatched both of Takaharu's fighting, wild-wailing hands, and with a tight squeeze, Takaharu began to feel every single bone in them crack and break. Takaharu wheezed out a groan of pain, his eyes rolling back going white and his feet spasming everywhere recklessly. Blood and drool began to spill out over Keitan's hand that choked him, a look of imminent disgust coming over the assailant. At this rate, Takaharu will die. He needed to think of something fast, there was something he COULD do, couldn't he?
The dragonlord let Takaharu's shattered hands go, angling his claws in a way of a knife, as Takaharu's vision started going in and out he could barely make out Keitan's eyes locking with his. The folds over his green eyes pulled away, revealing the sparkles at the sight of life being squeezed so tenderly, so juicily from Takaharu. He licked his lips as he aimed his sharp, dagger set of nails at the center of his forehead.
'That's right! There was Kikuyo...! But.. To call on her...'
A sudden recollection. A powerful memory he thought he'd never have to pull from his closet of hidden worries. Of what to do in case the worst of worst happened to him.
.
.
.
.
Mitsuaki and he had just finished witnessing the farewell of their father. There wasn't even a body for them to bury, so everyone had just threw a simple festival for their father instead. It was on a hot, warm night. The demon parade that occurred put the one he witnessed here in this foreign realm to shame. While everyone ate and drank, cried, cheered, and danced, Mitsuaki and him were forced to sit around the shrine that held the massive portrait of their evanescent father. Takaharu remember seeing just how sad his brother look, and most importantly - how scared he was. They were considerably younger at that time, Mitsuaki's present long hair was short and pulled up into a ponytail with braids wrapped in ribbons resembling their father's scale colors.
Everyone passed by giving both their condolences, gifts, and their congratulations.
A young boy had just become inheritor to a mighty powerful throne. Yet despite all the smiles, even at his young, naive age at that time, Takaharu could see the envious and jealous looks behind their slitted eyes. His hand had reached out, quickly grasping his older brother's into his and he held it tightly - warmly. Squeezing it reassuringly. Mitsuaki's shoulders dropped, his stressed face mildly relaxed. A low, 'thank you' whispered out between his barely moving lips. Before they knew it, the festival had come to an end. The mikos and priests had been returned to the mortal realm, the demon parade scattered back to their domains, and the dragonlords, with their kins, flown back to their caverns and lands.
All except one.
"Congratulations." A flat, monotone voice congratulated them.
The two of them had already risen to their feet, Takaharu heard the stranger actually behind him, as he was beginning to collect and arrange the gifts for horse back to be carried to their home. Mitsuaki was mainly approached and his older brother had swiftly called him to his side, a call Takaharu didn't wait to answer.
When his eyes first laid upon him, Takaharu understood why his brother called for him. The figure was ominous feeling and looking. They were dressed for death - unlike everyone else who dressed for celebration. He was clearly a dragonlord, but dressed darkly and dreary. Obsidian black robes tied with a crimson sash. He wore a long, sparkling silver silk ribbon that looped around his arms then draped across his shoulder. The ribbon dragged behind his long, billowing robes that made him look as if he floated across the ground. His skin was the palest of any dragon he had ever seen with grey to black scales that coated and danced up his neck, face, ears, chest and more. His lanky, tall, slender frame gave Takaharu the creeps and the way his grey to black, straight hair that cupped his face almost like a veil danced down past his shoulders, blew in the hot night. Sending chills up his spin.
Takaharu instinctively slipped his hands into Mitsuaki who squeezed his hand back.
"A gift from your father in his absence." His voice sounded like the whispers of ghosts, but his cold, near white colored slitted eyes looked upon them with sympathy and compassion. He raised his thin, long black nailed finger and bent it so softly, so quietly, it barely looked like it even moved. Immediately a dragon kin had appeared from beneath his near endless trailing veil and robe, it matched its dragon lord near exact - except the abscense of red was replaced with dreary greys. It looked so small compared to its lord, but it was at the same exact height as Takaharu, meaning it too had to be considerably young. A crate, much larger than the dragon kin it was being carried by rushed forward towards the siblings without missing a beat.