"If one door closes and another door opens, chances are your house is haunted." — Tanya Masse
Emerging high in the celestial realm, moisture coalesced with ethereal grace. Gradually, its bonds intensified, reaching a threshold where the burden became unbearable, and it succumbed to gravity's irresistible pull. Descending from the heavens, raindrops pelted the black sea, generating delicate ripples that playfully interfered with the incoming waves.
Despite its best efforts to withstand the relentless assault of the rain, the waves continued to crash against the towering wooden pylon that emerged defiantly from the seabed.
Atop the sturdy support, a tall and lanky man donned a long grey trench coat. The coat, coated with protective oil, diligently fulfilled its duty, shielding most of his body from the downpour, save for his auburn brown hair. The cascading water gradually saturated his strands, causing the once smooth hair to transform into frizzy tangles, particularly at the tips.
With a stroke of his neatly trimmed beard, his piercing blue eyes locked onto the figure standing atop a nearby post. The rain continued to pour down as a man with vibrant magenta hair, tightly pulled back into a resolute ponytail, stood on one foot. The tip of his other foot touched the top of the pylon.
Their gazes locked each other, an unspoken challenge reverberating between them. The anticipation swelled, as if the very elements held their breath, preparing for the imminent clash that seemed inevitable.
The man with magenta-colored hair stood amidst the tumultuous rain, his white shirt billowing open and hanging loosely around his waist. Each raindrop assaulted his vibrant tattoos and traced its path along the scars that marred his chest and right arm, creating a captivating mosaic of colors and stories. His scarred hands, weathered from battle's past, rested firmly on the hilt of a curved sword, snugly sheathed within a dark blue belt.
The tattooed man's voice rose above the cacophony of rain, he said, "You can't abandon the Four Corners Crew, Indigo."
Indigo, undeterred by the downpour, met his gaze, and his facial features stiffened.
"Respectfully, Brother Mizuiro, I made it clear last year that if this season starts with me sidelined, undermining our team, I'm walking away."
The sky grew ominously darker, and the rain transformed from gentle droplets into relentless shelling pellets.
"Our allegiance lies with the Code, which demands our unwavering obedience to the Azul Council," Mizuiro said.
Indigo, his determination unyielding, retorted with a touch of defiance, replied, "The council's desires revolve around seeking validation through popularity contests and groveling for corporate sponsorships."
He unbuttoned his trench coat and began to dig around in his pants pocket. Mizuiro slid his hand down his sword and pressed a switch near the guard. It unlocked with a click. The sword inched out revealing a sliver of polished steel from the base of the blade.
A brilliant flash of light tore through the darkened sky, casting an ethereal glow, swiftly followed by a resounding crack of thunder that reverberated through the air.
Mizuiro's eyes narrowed, his voice carrying a mix of disappointment and resolve.
"So, you have chosen the path of betrayal," he declared, pressing his sword outward slightly with his thumb, an unspoken threat in his gesture.
Indigo, undeterred, stood tall, his voice laced with determination.
"I remain loyal to Team Blue, but I have found a different house to fight under," he affirmed, his words resonating with more conviction.
In response, Mizuiro drew his sword, the blade glistening as it held its position, pointed down toward the turbulent waves. Its length stretched out, seemingly reaching for the very essence of the ocean.
Indigo swiftly retrieved a fist-sized metallic cylinder, its ends adorned with a knob and a cotter pin. With a confident push on the knob, the cylinder expanded into a gleaming metallic staff, poised he held the staff up.
"I will make you bleed," Mizuiro said.
"You can try…" Indigo said.
With a swift motion, Mizuiro reached behind his back, retrieving an hourglass concealed from view. Indigo mirrored his actions, producing his hourglass from an unseen location. In a synchronized display, they simultaneously tossed their hourglasses into the air, and their devices merged.
As the two hourglasses merged, a remarkable transformation ensued. The combined hourglass expanded in size, radiating a vibrant, luminous blue glow that illuminated the surrounding area with an otherworldly brilliance.
"Three minutes on the clock," he declared, his words accompanied by the steady descent of sand filling the top glass.
The countdown began in an instant. Numbers materialized within the hourglass, steadily ticking away the remaining time. The display flickered with intensity, each passing second accentuated by the diminishing digits: 4...3...2...1...FIGHT!
The sand cascaded from the summit to the base. Mizuiro sprinted over the water towards Indigo, his blade skimming the surface of the waves. Suddenly, another bolt of lightning crackled in proximity.
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