Private Tales The Wasp and The Orchid

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Jirou

The Numb Exorcist
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Jirou traveled about a days time with Wakasugi Touma by his side before they both reached another quaint town. The ronin entered the village with a kind welcome from the passersby they'd met. Actually, everyone seemed to be very nice to both of them despite the fact that they'd never seen them before. It was refreshing from the last encounter. Also a bit strange. Jirou clutched the handle of his cane sword tight as he walked forward into this new place.

He stopped once they reached the marketplace of the town and turned to Touma. "I'm going to try and stock up on some provisions. You're welcome to join me if you'd like but I shouldn't take too long." Jirou's eyes began to wander. He felt as if he was seeing the same faces as he did entering the town. Not that that should bother him too much, the town wasn't exactly large. Even still, what felt like the same faces were again smiling and waving at him. He got an eerie chill down his spine.

The exorcist walked over to a fruit vendor and cleared his throat. "Do you carry mangos and apples in this region? I'm looking to stock up for a journey ahead of me."

"Yes sir, indeed I do!"
The vendor replied with a creepily wide smile. He pulled up a sack and began to fill it with said fruits and handed it to Jirou. As the ronin took the bag from the vendor, he thanked him simply.

"Yes sir, you're indeed welcome!" The vendor replied. Something was gravely amiss. This much the warrior could tell.
 
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It had been so long since Touma had traveled with a warrior of similar repute. They carried themselves so similarly, their differences known only to themselves, given general appearance they went with. The closest people in recent memory to traveling with such people were...similar, yet different. Plus, they were much more animated in their demeanor. Still, if nothing else, traveling with this man made things all the more serious...and for once, Touma had somthing bigger to focus on.

They had traveled to a small town after their initial encounter, which was seemed to have went by in a flurry. Arriving at the next town took a bit of time, but it seemed to have given Touma enough time to think on their predicament. Right now, they needed information if they were going to act; particularly, the hierarchy regarding this particular Taichi.

Maybe he was still deep in thought when Jirou had asked, because Touma gave a half-hazard "uh-hu" to Jirou, not exactly in the full mind as to what his fellow ronin had just said.

As Jirou went off to retrieve whatever it was he had said, Touma took a moment to retreat from the crowed, finding himself leaning against a wall not to far from his current travel companion's location. Touma was still in thought, but like Jirou, he started to notice various people...looking at him. Not a passing glance, more along the lines of...starring. It was this kind of presence that snapped him out his thoughts in the first place...as the bladesmen began observe the market closely...eyes soon drifting back onto Jirou...
 
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After his odd conversation he wandered back to Touma as his eyes shifted. He stood next to his fellow ronin in an almost mirror image were they not so vastly different looking. "This town. It feels strange does it not? I can't put my finger on it." He spoke quietly so others would not hear. Though it didn't seem to matter considering how many eyes were already on them. Again, all smiling faces.

His next plan was to find somewhere that they may be able to rest but was beginning to think that staying here for too long may actually prove to be problematic. He scanned the area intently, wanting to know so badly what was happening right now. When he peered over to a bench nearby it was solidified. Two men who looked EXACTLY the same as one another. Age, hair, clothing. Both staring at him and Touma with the eeriest grins. He regained his posture.

"I think we should leave." And began to take the lead towards one of the towns exits. As he approached the city's wooden doors a figure stood at the front of it. A robed figure in a smiling ghosts mask. A fan in each hand. Clearly staring at the two of them, as were all the other citizens who stopped moving and faced them.

Jirou gripped his swords hilt tight. He could not know what was to happen next.
 
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Jirou wasn't intuition wasn't too off, at least that was what Touma thought as he looked about. Sure, there might have been coincidences that explained things, but Touma didn't hold his breath; it rarely, if every, was a case of coincidences.

But like one of his straw hat wearing friends would love to spout: This may be an opportunity.

"Perhaps...but..." Touma whisper, his eyes meeting those looking at them with somthing that could only be described as a "death glare", hands shifting on the grip of his weapon. "...if this is the doing of this Emerald organization...we may have a chance of gaining awareness of our situation...gain some actionable intelligence...shine light on the shadows."

Touma was speaking like a...samurai, again....it almost surprised himself when the words fell out of his mouth, it had been so long...but the pieces were there. To route out a shiniobi was never an easy feat, but part of the reason they could be so terrifying was their reliance on the ambiguity. Shine a light closely upon, and you see the cracks in their formation, ripe for exploration.

The hard part was pinning down these bastards, a feat in of itself that served to their advantage.

"You may be right that we ought to get out of here before our enemies encircle us...but, if your confident with your skills at the blade, we may yet leap into their jaws and break their teeth...and we can see what we can find out..."
 
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He appreciated Touma. His presence, and his confidence. It reminded him of days when he was stronger. They didn't feel that far away. Jirou truly believed it was this organization specifically that had him in such dire straits. It was pathetic. He felt pathetic. His palm sweating against the hilt of his cane sword. The figure in the ghost mask not moving.

The citizens seemed to start to diminish in numbers. The ones who remained were also standing still. "I believe we may be standing on their tongues as we speak." The buildings began to look more dilapidated and much, much older. The road in town started to show cracks not there before and the citizens changed too.

There was about twenty to thirty of the denizens left. They were no longer citizens however. They were shinobi. All of them bearing a large emerald on their dark kimonos. The figure in the ghost mask did not change however. It waved its fans upwards and let out a loud laugh.

"Did you miss my tricks, Orchid?" The figure spoke. An arrogant male voice rang from it. That's when it came to him.

"Rin, Worldsplitter." Jirou spoke aloud. "Touma. The man with the fans guarded by my old associates is an illusion mage. It is likely that the numbers of soldiers we see is lower than the reality, but don't assume that. Be careful. I know he also has a bodyguard that I cannot see now. That is troublesome for he is Rin's muscle. He will be the biggest issue here when he appears."

Jirou drew his sword and smiled. "Rin, it's been far too long you spineless wretch. Turning a ghost town into a trap would have worked much better had you taken me by surprise. Pity."

Rin laughed once more and stroke a pose with his fans. "No more drivel. Kill the orchid. Kill the red headed one too."

With his command, the shinobi began to charge.
 
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It was annoying, but not entirely unpredictable. In fact, Touma might have been more surprised if they're assailants didn't send for reinforcements. This Jirou must really have been valuable/dangerous if this disgraced shogun was dedicating this much resources...no matter...

"Any man that covets such a ridiculous name as Worldsplitter hides his insecurity behind a bombastic mask...least one peers to closely, to see him riddled with deficiencies....how fitting his art be that of deception..." It might have been rich for those words to come out of Touma's mouth, but even with what dishonors that he held, he choose to walk with his name, somthing this one was comfortable forgoing.

But perhaps one could have expected nothing less of a fighter that used subterfuge, to gain the advantage at all cause. Pragmatic in it's nature, Touma would grant you...as he slide his upper torso to the side, a hand under the hilt of his sheathed weapon in such a instinctual fashion...his eyes once more covered by his hair...but his focus was on those around him.

"Let us see what you hide behind yours..." Touma muttered as he took a deep breath. The ronin would counter the oncoming onslaught as best he could...he knew how this class of warrior faught, even with magic...there was ways of slicing through the ambiguity and cutting deep into what was the flesh...
 
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With a flash of wrist the blade in his cane could breathe again and in seconds was clashing with the short sword of a shinobi that had launched at him. His feet were pushed back into the dirt by the force. More were coming. The crowd was split again. Half towards he and half towards Touma. How funny it was that history loved to repeat itself.

He could barely believe that Taichi would send Rin and his entire entourage after him. It was either opportunistic or the shogun was again sending a message. He wouldn't know the answer until he saw the whites of the bastards eyes again. Jirou shifted the blade he was paired with downward and swung his blade to sever both of the Emerald shinobi's hands off. He tripped the warrior with a quick hook of his foot and turned around to face several other assailants.

There was five facing him. Two charged simultaneously, one was swinging a chain to catch him off guard. He couldn't over think it. His thrust his blade into the first reckless opponent, and fell to his own hubris. An illusion. It dissipated into a cloudy image and hindered his vision a bit. He was still swift enough to catch his second attacker. His hand caught the wrist of the assassin before his dagger could meet Jirou's flesh.

Not fast enough however, as the chain user was no illusion. The chain sent forth and wrapped around Jirou's sword and yanked it from his clutches.

This would be challenging. It'd been a long time since his life felt in danger. He smiled, even. Something was coming back to him.
 
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No matter how many they sent after Touma, it was almost certain that it would not be enough.
As the splinter group approached, they're speed little to phase the red haired ronin. Instead, his feet began moving to their rythum, matching pace as he drew his blade, rushing forward to meet the new onslaught. There was very little hesistation in his movements, no discouragement from the numbers. An every present idea was all that was there: Beating those whom stood in front.

Almost symmetrically, two other challengers rushed Touma, eager to meet in a clash of metal as Touma raised his weapon to counter. One cling, two cling, and the their steal deflected off of Touma's weapon. Taking advantage of their weapon's disposition, Touma brought his weapon around in a cresant before slicing through horizontally through both men.

What should have spewed blood instead threw up smoke, somthing similar to what Jirou experinced, as the men disappeared into an illusionary cloud that seemed to quickly surround Touma's line of sight. Touma's eyes narrowed at the cheap trick, his mind racing to prediction as the smoke like substance scattered.

Yet another breath later, one of the assailants flew forward in the air in a reckless assault. The ronin reacted, pulling back and cutting into his torso, before digging in his heels. As the assailant flew forward, Touma reversed his momentum and took a step forward, slamming not his blade but the hilt into his opponent'was chest. The combined momentum of Touma's swing and the opponent's speed sent the assailant flying, somersaulting into the air before crashing into the ground.
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Yet no sooner did he dispatch this particular assistant, another one came swinging. Touma would end up clashing with this one for a few strokes more, yielding ground as his opponent brought forth his flurry of strokes. But such fighting styles prioritized the quantity of strikes over quality, and after but a moment, Touma could see through his pattern. Touma only needed one stroke, taking the opportunity in the gaps of his enemy and slicing through...

Another illusion...the tone of the battle was being set....as Touma took a step back to take in his surroundings. In the time he had dispatched so few men, it seemed more had turned up to fill in their ranks. Weather they were illusions...or real...they're was only one way to find out, and that was through the stroke of the blade.
 
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There came two more. The chain user taunting him with his own blade whole as the others came down on him through the vision disturbance as it began to fade. One of the warriors bearing a naginata came down from the smoke hard towards Jirou. The ronin deftly lifted his foot and stomped hard down on the blade of the long weapon causing the shinobi to stumble forward into him. The other behind him lunged his katana towards Jirou at an opportune moment.

Jirou knocked the stumbling shinobi's head with a solid elbow forcing him to block the katana's path with his own flesh. The blade pierced through the enemy's stomach, where Jirou promptly swung him around and removed it by its hilt, re-arming himself. He cut down the second warrior with ease and continued his path onward towards the one who wielded the chain.

Jirou weaved in and out of whips from the chain as he proceeded towards him. With the enemy's last attempt Jirou caught the chain and pulled the man's face downward into his knee, knocking him out cold. He traded his improvised weapon for the one he'd lost.

As he turned to look for Touma, his original fear had come true.

A man of extreme stature and muscle wearing no shirt and a demon mask gripped Jirou by his collar.

"Oni." The ronin spoke solemnly before the enormous man threw him hard into one of the buildings of the ghost town. Rin's bodyguard had finally shown himself.

Jirou was barely able to stand up before the man was upon him again. Punching his head into the rubble beneath. The exorcist spewed blood from his mouth as Oni gave him room to stand up and actually face him. He stood up bleeding from his mouth and wielding his sword, prepared to face this monster of a man.
 
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Now that was somthing new. Touma spared a glance just as what looked like one of the higher ranking grunts came out of nowhere, just as he shifted his body to allow a blade to pass by, smacking it's user in retaliation, watching as his attacker proofed back into smoke.

This might be a slight inconvenience, the ronin thought as he brought his blade to his center and gripped onto it with two hands. He'd had to dispatch those in front of him first before he could refocus his attention towards those still poised in front of him, as they came rushing forward once again. A vertical stroke, a diagonal one, and two more fell to the ground. This didn't seem to deter the rest, which suited Touma fine...as he took a couple of steps forward to plunge his katana stright through one of the men with his blade raised...as the man fell away into cloud, it revealed the man behind struck punctured in the same spot...falling to the ground as Touma abruptly removed his weapon. Another then another rushed, it was becoming a bit tiresome at this point, as the ronin side-stepped and parry, launching his own attack forward to strike dust from one and blood from the other.

It was then Jirou entered his vision from behind, flying into the building of a nearby wall. Looking behind him, the swordsmen could infer what had happened. Taking the momentary reprive, the red haired ronin quickly struck the ground, kicking up a substantial amount of dirt that scattered all over the remaining enemies.

With his opponents momentarily stunned, Touma abruptly turned about and sprinted at Oni, whom left his back open.

As the bladesmen closed, he could see Jirou rising, bloodied and battered, but still standing back-up. Wasting no time, the red-haired ronin rushed forward, leaping onto a nearby table and using it as a spring board to leap further into the air. As he sailed through, the swordsmen reversed the grip on his blade, bringing the point of the saber to bear stright towards the back of this Oni...

Yet before Touma could make impact, the big man suddenly swung around, making contact with the red haired ronin. It was only so much he could do to bring his sword up to block, as there was a split secound pause before Touma was launched to the side by the attack.

The bladesmen didn't go flying as far as Jirou, flying into the ground and sliding along it with the momentum. Yet it was only for a few brief moments, as the red haired ronin used the momentum over and back onto his feet, hands clawing at the ground as he came to a halt with his blade raised behind him.

Now that was a surprise...as Touma looked up through the strands of hair now covering parts of his face. Though he wasn't looking at the big man...instead, looking at Jirou...tilting his head a bit, as if to ask if he had a plan...
 
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The man had countered Touma as well. Something Jirou was beginning to think impossible. Oni was going to be problematic. Though against both of them his odds of survival were low. The ronin knew this. He was regaining his skill through all this trial. He'd have to thank Ueno Taichi before he took his head. The thought put an arrogant smile on Jirou's face. He gripped his sword tight and assumed stance, raising the blade with his hands to meet his eye line in a vertical formation.

His eyes met Touma's and he motioned softly at the rubble around them. The environment would be their best bet against this behemoth. While he was powerful, that left him unstable. Though fear struck the ronin's eyes as he noticed something hurling towards Touma's path. A fan thrown by Rin himself with terrifying speed from his fellow ronin's blind spot, followed by the final marches of Emerald shinobi.

"TOUMA!" He cried out in warning. As he did, he'd let his guard down for his friends sake. Such a usable weakness against him. Oni gripped Jirou by the throat and slammed him into the ground. He coughed blood up to his teeth as Oni tossed him aside once more. The ronin barely manage to twist and catch himself from hitting his head. Blood dripping from his mouth he held his blade in one hand and pointed it at Oni.

If they intended this much to keep them separated, so be it. The beast of a man started swinging wildly at Jirou. The exorcist was able to evade it easily but finding an opening would be its own battle.
 
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Troublesome indeed...it was at least the third time Touma had thought about it. This was no doubt strong, but he also had the reflexes to match a smaller opponent....Yet it seems his rank as an underline meant that as intimidating as he seemed, there was somthing holding him back from being a superior...what that weakness was? They were about to find out.

Crouching low, Touma rushed forward once again, this time approaching from the flank. Now was not the time for reckless abandon on the enemy, but calculated strikes...particularly to as a means to test out the waters...and relive some pressure from his comrade.

Moving somthing of a crescent angle, the red headed ronin sprinted at a horizontal line to Oni. His stroke was in motion before he even came close to the big man, striking forward into somthing of a blur. The dark blur swished forward, smelling brush past the big man as Touma struck at his legs. But the bladesmen was far from finished, as he disengaged from his blur and abruptly halted, before shooting upwards at an acute angle. As Touma flew, he sent forward a flurry of sword strokes towards his upper torso more rapidly then he had been moving before. It might have been enough for the big man to deflect, but as Touma landed, he used his landing momentum to quickly roll out of the way of the big man's counter grasp.

The attack seemed almost pointless on the surface, as none of those were anywhere near fatal blows. But perhaps that was the point, for Touma had struck at the man's vital scene; an attack to his leg, three to his arm and two to his head. All that time, the red haired ronin had been observing, watching his movements to discreen a pattern...in order to drive home his weakness...even as he stood to face the beast of a man...
 
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Confidence. Decisiveness. Those two things were what separate he and Touma's ability. Touma was unafraid to act and with an unclouded mind. Too many things kept Jirou from being an ample warrior again. Though his abilities felt they were returning he was still nothing like he was during his time with Emerald Kiss. If it weren't for his team up with the red headed ronin, he may well be dead.

He watched Touma's flurry decimate the top layer of Oni's skin. Jirou was able to gather himself from repetitive dodging thanks to his friends actions. Oni was heavy. Meaning he was not as stable as most yet he still had movement that was difficult to break through. They'd be slashing for upwards of twenty minutes before any cuts began to make a dent. Sword to his skin felt like cutting bedrock.

Though one thing caught Jirou's eye. That was how often the man was quick to counter. Meaning he was predictable in that case. That was leverage if nothing else. Jirou lowered his sword and charged, blood dripping from his face still. He made a large horizontal slash across Oni's lower stomach. Just as he'd notioned, the gargantuan immediately went to bash Jirou into the ground. This in mind, the ronin deftly followed the trails of wind behind the punch and let it breeze just passed him.

He pierced his sword straight through his mask puncturing Oni's left eye. The giant roared in agony and begun swinging wildly. His perception of depth now hindered permanently, leaving him much less dangerous. "May you find peace in your other senses." Jirou spoke softly while easily evading the attacks. His sword then went back up and cut through the other eye.

He was left a blind battering ram. Swinging to hit two opponents he'd never connect with. Jirou felt tremendous guilt for what he'd done, but it was done. Oni would no longer be a threat to them. His focus then reverted to the remaining few of Emerald Kiss and a visibly worried Rin. He stepped back into the street to face them.

He looked dead at Rin, treating the others as an obstacle to run passed. He spit blood onto the ground as Rin began to flee the scene. Jirou dashed towards him blade raised. The assassins attempted to halt him but were effortlessly deflected and ignored, Jirou's stride uninterrupted.