Round 1, Match 8:

TheManicWolf, with his Master: Jury, and Servant: Ordvee (Assassin)

vs.

SanjiandSerea, with her Master: Shuuhei Takeda, and Servant: Misaki Yoshida (Lancer)

Voting for this match ended at July 10, 11:59 PM EST. Please PM your votes to RAOSC Manager-chan. You may only vote for one writer per match.

*Both writers' entries are posted in one chapter.

TheManicWolf's entry:

Round 1 Piece: Jury's POV (Birth)

"We're after the Holy Grail, remember?"

Ordvee's words dissipate into the stale air confined by the stuffy Shinkansen cabin. Looking out the rear seat window, my eyes are consumed by the early sunshine. It's a weird feeling, y'know. Staring towards the horizon really brings about a sense of – emptiness. Though at the same time the sky's golden egg, nurtured between the clouds makes you feel more hopeful, somehow.

"Who were the targets you talked about?" I ask. "Misaki and who else?"

"Shuuhei and Misaki," she replies. "They're our targets."

She coughs, and joins me to face the window in this unorthodox ensemble: both of us drowning in sunlight.

Twenty minutes into our journey and not a word is spoken. I shuffle in my seat, with its teasing itchy fabric. Lovely. Looking down the aisle, the train is littered with restless feet. From behind, there's the whang of an opening window; salt-laden air singes your nostrils. And all the while a faint whirr surrounds the vessel, massaging my ears. I guess that's the beauty of the Shinkansen: high-speed rail, minimal racket. The frame of the carriage might experience the odd shake or two, but really the experience is quite – serene. Although the musty scent of leather really gets to you after a while; you're obligated to a comatose-esque slumber with such lethargic confinement.

Finally I start something off: "How exactly were you assigned to this war, Ordvee? Did Mr. Manager keep tabs on you or something?"

With the question floating around, a silence brews among us.

But after some time: "I stumbled upon the Mage Association a few years. Well – it was more like they stumbled upon me. You may be aware of an organisation known as the KGB, right? Well, I started working for them around the time of the U2 Crisis. Y'know, the Paris Summit incident and all that. I ended up working in England as a remote – well, distant group away from the so-called motherland."

On the table in front, Ordvee picks up a glass of water. For a moment she observes dregs of her saliva drifting about inside. Yucky stuff.

And she continues: "I ended up disbanding from them. Obviously if they found out about that, I wouldn't really be here would I? The KGB like the ol' Gestapo aren't exactly on the list of 'most conspicuous police force'."

"How do you look so young?" I interject.

No response, as expected. Stupid question really, but oh well.

"Carrying on," she says, ignoring my previous comment, "the KGB probably would have taken me. In other words: 'silenced' me. However, I'm still here now and really…the reason for that was (and is) the Mage Association. Somehow they kept tabs on me, and realised I had potential to be used as a 'servant', according to them. And since hearing upon what they deem a master recently, i.e. you, I'm now in your hands."

"You're still under the Mage Association?" I ask.

"Of course."

In my hands I cradle a mocha latte: yummy stuff. We'd gotten off around quarter to noon, took a taxi to Akaki's city centre and ended up here; for now, we're idling about in this reserved café. I'd say my expectations of this place were virtually unknown, considering the name has never crept up before. There's an Aomori up north, but no Akaki to the west.

Though what occurred to me was its stark contrast to Osaka's dingy quarter. Of course you'd imagine a bustling, metropolitan area to be thriving with dodgy back alleys, along with a red light district swallowed up by corporate sky towers – or perhaps hiding behind abandoned building sites. But none of that came to mind, really. In fact, one word to sum up a first impression would be pristine. The city itself at a glance seemed rather balanced, with its fair share of skyscrapers and home-grown vendors selling produce at markets. The society itself too, at a glance, seemed to be in perfect equilibrium. Walking around were suit-clad men; some had phones in hand, briefcases in the other; some strode about, others kept in line with the rest of passers-by. And then there were the homeless, the teens with bohemian hairdos, the sharp-faced ladies. All sorts of people.

But now I'm here: at an offbeat café. There's just something so different about this place compared to the rest of the city. The air is full of this layback attitude; people seem too quite, to the point where you'd suppose they'd found desolation.

Although opposite me is Ordvee, who ironically brings about a sense of normality to my situation. She reminds me why I'm here: to fight some war. A war that's abstract to the rest of humanity. Oh, what fun.

"You don't want to drink anything?" I ask.

"I'm not here to drink."

Looking at her, she curves her hair around her ear. For some reason she's absorbed by the coffee table, retaining a fixation towards it. Musing about something, perhaps. For not one second do her eyes move away.

And yet the thought of her age grows in my mind. Despite being a Cold War collaborator, becoming a perpetrator of all sorts in the 60s…the bare youth she possesses today seems to challenge my own.

"Maybe an Americano later on," Ordvee suggests, "but not now."

For the first time she smiles, looking up to me. A wavering smile, though it contains purity somewhat. Honesty lingers, perhaps.

And then I hear it: Art Tatum's 'Yesterdays'. With such poignant clarity, it's emitted from speakers overhead filling the room with virtual, heavy cigarette smoke. The images in your mind clouds all pragmatic decisions, trapping you in a state of emotional chaos. There's Mr. Tatum himself, striding across the piano though not in a grandiose manner; there's the audience, all with refined tastes from all around. Scary.

"You like this song, huh?" Somehow, Ordvee's noticed me indulging myself in Art's track. Perceptive – though I guess the way I'm staring at the ceiling is giving it away. Almost like a cat looking at its reflection, I'm truly possessed.

"It's a classic," I reply. "Sometimes it hits you at just the right time. And you're off."

Looking around the room, somehow the atmosphere has earned a sense of regularity. Only now does the café's interior seem to fit in with the rest of Akaki. It's balanced.

Nothing much has happened yet. We're still in the café, with Ordvee succumbing to caffeinated-cravings and ordering an Americano.

"Why are we staying here?" I ask. "I thought we were just stopping to get a drink or something. I wasn't expecting us to stay here all afternoon – save for evening time."

Ordvee nudges her head towards the direction across the street. Outside there's a multitude of buildings, with a few cars dispersed on the roads. Though now she points towards one particular hotel.

"That's where they'll be," Ordvee says. "According to Mr. Manager, that's where Mr Shuuhei and Miss Misaki are heading. Somehow they were compelled to join this war, and are on ferry inbound. Don't know how long it'll take: maybe an hour or two. But what I know is that they set off today, and that they'll arrive in Akaki today."

"When do we kill them?" I blurt out rather absentmindedly. By impulse, my eyes dart around the café. No one seemed perturbed, with constant nonchalance rooted in everyone's being.

Control. Though the urges are rising at the mention of their names, the names of those that I will personally slaughter either alone or with Ordvee's aid, I must…control. Control myself, control myself.

As if some form of consolation, Ordvee clasps her hands around mine.

"You're an eager and enthusiastic man. And I respect that, I guess. But now is not the time to get your blood running. Don't sharpen your knives, polish your shoes or load your gun just yet. Wait."

Again, Ordvee poses a smile. Though this time it's withered, as if her undeniable youthful image has somehow dissolved. Really, she seems to have a different aura to before.

"You gave off the killer look when I first met you, Jury," Ordvee says. "I've had my fair share of murderers in my life – myself included, of course. All of us have the ability to keep low profiles, have a rather collective composure about nearly everything. It's weird, y'know. It seems to flow with all of us, for some reason. However you, Jury, are a rarity."

She pauses to look out the window, gazing upon the hotel again. Shuuhei and Misaki: victims of psychopathy. Poor things.

"Do I seem too enthusiastic to kill?" I interrupt.

"You do. And that's what makes you a rare breed. Everyone has grizzly tendencies now and then, but you seem to have honed your urges like some sort of weapon. Honestly, it's terrifying. Though at the same time it's amazing. Somehow you're completely sane and insane at the same time."

"You found out that just by looking at me?" I ask.

"Of course not. Mr. Manager told me about you."

With a laugh she brushes off her former comment.

"Here's a photo of them."

Ordvee hands me a Polaroid, hosting two idiosyncrasies. They're a weird couple on the face of it. But weird or not, they're certainly underdogs in this death match.

"Apparently they don't know what we look like, since Mr. Manager hasn't shared any information to the rest of the association yet. Guess that's an advantage," Ordvee says.

I respond with a nod, hiding my displeasure of this waiting game. They aren't showing up, are they?

Ordvee's POV (Trial)

For a while I've been faffing about with Jury: my so-called master. He's an odd fellow, to say the least; that theory's been fully established with his yearning for murder. An odd fellow indeed.

Though what's been haunting my mind lately are our targets. They're no-shows. With it being on the verge of five pm, the golden hues of the sky have dimmed ever so slightly. The hotel opposite us is bathed in a reddish glow; birds are beginning to roost; clambering footsteps are loud enough to break eardrums. Here I am, sipping away at the bittersweet tang of my Americano. Jury's suggestion was a good one, and I never expected an insatiable thirst to come about.

But still no Shuuhei. No Misaki.

"I'm going out for a bit," I tell Jury. "Don't leave the café, alright? Stay put."

A nod of approval and I'm out the door.

It's grotesque. Truly something that shouldn't witnessed by anyone. But still, it's happening right now. After ten minutes or so of mindless wandering, I peer down a remote alleyway. Cars are scarce here, but for some reason there's a growth in dog-walking pensioners and beanie-sporting cigarette smokers.

And to my eyes I see the incident: the squelching of blood audibly echoes. In simple terms, a man's been stabbed. Many times in fact. Though I've seen my fair share of brutality (there's a myriad of monstrosities you witness first-hand as an assassin), this death seems to stick to me. Just like gum to the roof of your mouth.

It's grotesque, truly grotesque. It's something that shouldn't be witnessed by anyone.

But it doesn't faze me. No, not really.

At the other end of the alleyway, a crowd's melded leaving the killer trapped. So much for subtlety. And as expected, a blitz of sirens encroaches from all directions; loud mumbling on the other side slices through you; a black cat knocks over a dustbin. Time to leave.

I'm estimating it's been around half an hour now. Jury's probably drilling his head in with boredom. Although, he could be fixed in a trance; maybe he's savouring the sound of his favourite tracks. Maybe.

"Milord, what did you inquire upon our accommodation as of yet?"

After taking a break on a stray bench, the voice pierces my ears. My daze is over. With such a high pitch and at such a high intensity, it's sure to say that anyone nearby heard that. The voice's content itself seemed comprised of squeals: rather childish, rather innocent. A young girl.

It's a voice I've never heard of before. And oh – she's humming a tune.

Compelled by such a melody, I'm drawn towards it. To kill time is my excuse: the targets aren't in sight. It's about five-thirty.

Tuning in, I walk about in blatant, haphazard fashion. I'm a threat to passers-by allured by the song. There are the odd bumps, the parroting 'sorry's, the 'watch where you're going's. Words like slag and bitch slip in now and then. And all the while the Akaki mission is flung to back my mind.

But then I catch up to it. Well – not really it, but them. There you are.

They really are carbon copies, aren't they? The way they're dressed, to the way they're acting really fits the photo description. A snug match, almost on an eerie scale.

"Misaki…where are we heading for? What hotel?" Shuuhei asks.

Misaki, sensing the in-your-face anxiety in his voice takes a soft grip of his wrist.

"Milord, we are heading for what is described as The Pearl Vineyard. It is said to be a rather exquisite establishment, renowned for its excellent service and its Pearl King Suite. Albeit we shall veer more towards an economical deposit, with a single room for two."

At the phrase 'for two', Shuuhei blushes as if faced with a plethora of pokey prostitutes. Basically his mind's in the gutter.

"A double bed?" he asks, stuttering on 'double'.

To further enhance the melodrama effect, Misaki bats her eyelids. Replying, she answers back: "No, dear sire."

Sire, poker-red flushing and attempts at archaic dialect: my definition of cringe-worthy. What pushovers.

However, catching this infamous duo wasn't easy. Before catching sight of my glare, I morph into other passers-by. And only when in touching distance do I interject: "The Pearl Vineyard?"

As you'd expect, both of them are startled by my presence. I'd be too if a random stranger slipped into your conversation.

"The Pearl Vineyard," Misaki parrots, with her ever-present squeaks.

"Milord – that is where our destination lies!"

Shuuhei doesn't respond. His silence is trampled upon by the masses of footsteps: boots, stiletto heels, basketball shoes. Misaki's words soon after die away at the tumult of turbulent news reporters at that far back alley. Guess the killing involved someone important. Maybe a politician, maybe a most wanted criminal, maybe someone from the royal family. Either way, it's not my problem. Police sirens are inescapable.

"I can take you there," I say without thinking.

The background noise persists, until eventually: "You can?" Shuuhei's tone is rather neutral, which dazzles me. He's not akin to the Shuuhei before: anxiety boy, buff but blushes. Instead he's pulling a smirk as if to express his chagrin to my upfront-ness. Perhaps that's the case.

"I can," I reply. "Of course I can."

Shuuhei turns to Misaki: "And what do you think? Should we tag along with her?"

For a while she stares at Shuuhei, as if looking straight through him. Despite being a cutesy, frail-looking girl, her expressionless gaze seems to slice through Shuuhei's foundations.

And he blushes.

"Milord, I do believe consulting with this lady would be most rewarding for us."

Regaining his composure, Shuuhei lets out a sigh.

"Sure. We'll go with you," he concludes. "But tell us your name first, alright?"

"I'm Samantha," I lie.

They most muster a smile at the name. Forced in an overt manner, but smiles all around nonetheless.

"I'm Kazuto and she's Hollie." They seem to know what a lying game is too. Although it's evident they have no idea that I'm aware of their true identities. They've delved down the deplorable road of incognito, but I guess they still have some grain of manipulation. Not as dumb as they thought they were, putting it like that.

Though they're still dead. I can picture it now. Maybe I'll pierce through their bodies; their hearts are on skewers, roasting over the fire. Probably an image Jury is revelling in right now. Or perhaps a blunt blade to the neck. Incision after incision, the fragrance of blood will fill the room ever so slowly. Terrific.

Fresh meat is on the way. Get the butcher knife already.

Traversing across a sea of pedestrians didn't end up to be too problematic. Not too bad, really. In fact, it was rather enjoyable. With six pm in full bloom, the aroma of brewing miso soup and yakitori sauce permeated through the air. Smelled delicious. Mixed with the odd twenty-degree humidity, it's close to a sweltering heat. But it's bearable.

"I guess we owe you one," Shuuhei says.

Now we're outside the café, opposite The Pearl Vineyard. I flick a greenfly off my jacket; it falls to the ground. Dead.

"No problem," I say.

"Milady," Misaki intervenes. "Do reside with us for small talk in our room. It would be honourable, and a veritable option for us to treat you."

Stilted speech: it's only to be expected from the lady stuck in Shakespearian England.

Although this does bring about an opportunity to strike. A step closer to slit necks and drained corpses. Lovely stuff. Jury will be pleased to hear that for sure; enhanced blood lust can only act as a helping hand.

"Well, I wouldn't mind getting to know the two of you," I say. "But first of all, let me just a get friend of mine."

I edge towards the café door. "He's in there. So just wait a second."

"We've got them. It's time. And before you know it, the waiting game will be over. Done. So be happy; get that coffee-stained smile going and start polishing your shoes, sharpening your knives…whatever order that was."

Jury seems to stare at me, reflecting my former blank expression. Fair do's.

But then: "Wonderful."

"Here's my friend, Thornley." Don't know why 'Thornley' came to mind, but it was the first thing that I thought of just then. Weird.

"So you'll be taking us up?" I continue.

Now, Shuuhei and Misaki seem somewhat distant to us. Which is ironic, considering that they're two steps away. But for some reason an intangible force starts to brew between the couple. Something daunting, something disturbing. Almost like their scheming somehow, though that would come off as bizarre considering Jury and I's identities are concealed. Relatively concealed, anyway.

"Benevolent ones," Misaki says. Sounds pompous but again I'm reminded of her offbeat speech. "I must find sustenance at a local bazaar, for my stomach yearns for it.

Great. Obvious vulnerability. Is this really a death wish of some sort? Or possibly – a trap? But again that's too obvious to be lured into.

"Milord, would you entertain our guests whilst I search for the aforementioned nourishment? That would put my heart to rest, I assure you."

"But surely I should stay with yo–"

Misaki raises her hand in the end. Its swiftness almost mimics that of a naïve schoolgirl. That said, she practically has a schoolgirl-ish mentality.

"Let me go, Milord. Before the sky terraforms to darkness, let me go."

Shuuhei seems to be building impatience. His body is jittering; his eyes are swollen red. His apprehension is clear, and as crisp as Americano's aftertaste.

"We just got here. How'd you expect to find a store of any kind?"

And now I slot myself into conversation: "I can help you get there."

With inhuman reaction, Shuuhei is on the verge of clutching my wrist. More angst, again.

"That's not necessary, is it?"

"But milord, as you once said yourself – my knowledge upon this location is rather fresh. And I must say that my ignorance would only cause more distress."

She's right about ignorance, let me tell you.

"I trust Samantha. Milord, her soul seems to be glazed with kindness."

On the outside, I can only throw out a smile. But inside I wince. 'Glazed with kindness.' Glazed? With extra sprinkles too?

Jury's POV (Verdict)

Yesterday was a success. Ordvee somehow persuaded Shuuhei to accompany Misaki on her venture to a grocery store. Of course the journey wouldn't normally be treacherous, being as mundane as it sounded. But as expected, earlier this morning the newspapers came up with a startling headline: "Woman's remains found in bin." And what an advantage the previous murder that day turned out to be. Really – a proper lifesaver. Ordvee says the deed wasn't too much of a difficulty. Lurking amongst the outskirts of the city brought about an easy kill. Groceries were bought: some bonbons, some biscuits. But without a head I guess it's difficult to eat stuff. Poor Misaki: no teeth to chew, to grind or to swallow. Perfect molars, perfect incisors, canines – all to waste.

And it's a shame too. Till now, she's seemingly unidentifiable. Her wacky look does her no justice either for the police force finding her true identity. Forensics claims nothing to who she really is. 'Hollie's' existence is palpable and clear, yet abstract and hazy.

Looking opposite me, Ordvee's sipping at an Americano like the one she ordered the other day. And staring out the window lies The Pearl Vineyard: taped over; it's cordoned off, being ostracised from its fellow buildings. TV crew vans are parked outside, with police cars lined in unison by the pavement.

"The head of Hollie Yoshida, along with her body was found lying in a dumpster last night. Forensics state on how her heart was carved out of her chest."

I guess Misaki got the usual treatment from Ordvee. You know, with the soul glazed with kindness and all.

TheManicWolf's entry end.

SanjiandSerea's entry:

The duo had finally procured a small, abandoned temple as a base of operations. It truly was a pinnacle of Japanese architecture with it's red, wood pagoda roof and matching walls. It only stood a story high and was deeply hidden in the outskirts of Akaki within the woods. Misaki followed Shuuhei to the entrance, the wooden sliding door had cobwebs in the corner. He began to push on the heavy door and it barely budged in response to his efforts. Misaki stood in front of him and pushed it slightly. The door practically flew open.

If that's not emasculating, I don't know what is.

The smell of dust assaulted the pair and the moonlight filtered into the abandoned hovel. Shuuhei glanced around a small foyer that forked in two ways; a small door stood in the middle. He checked the small door, a small Japanese style bathroom greeted his eyes. He then checked what was on the left side of the fork. A sliding door greeted his view. He yanked this door open with surprising ease. A nice all encompassing Japanese style room with eight tatami mats. He checked what was on the other end of the fork. A mirror image.

Not bad. I doubt this place has any electricity so I'm going to have to find a place to charge my phone tomorrow. I need more information on this war. For now though I'll need rest.

"Misaki, which room would you like?" Shuuhei asked cordially.

"Milord, this one would advise we share a room, to protect from one of us being ambushed, indeed she would," Misaki replied.

He sighed a little. "If you're sure it's for the sake of strategy I'll put up with it."

Misaki nodded dutifully. Shuuhei tossed the small duffle bag on the ground and examined the room further. He opened a small closet and found a dusty futon, which he casually chucked on the floor.

"Here you go, Misaki you can get some sleep," Shuuhei offered.

"What of thee, milord? Where shalt thou rest?" Misaki asked in concern.

He dug out a sizeable blanket and placed it down. Shuuhei laid down atop the blanket. He could feel Misaki's gaze on his back.

"I'll be fine, futons get too stuffy for my tastes anyway," Shuuhei stated casually.

Soon the two of them went to sleep in their makeshift home. Unbeknownst to them a pair of hazel eyes watched them from the branches of the trees. She shifted slightly on her spot and folded her arms.

So those are my opponents? A little high school boy and his girlfriend? Don't you worry attacking people in their sleep ain't really my style. I should get back to Jury now.

The brunette leapt from the branches and her jacket fluttered slightly in the air. She leapt through the air with amazing agility never missing with her footing. The woman's powerful thighs enhanced her jumping abilities making her able to leap incredible distances. It didn't take her long to return to her base of operations. A small, wooden restaurant came into view, its lights were all dimmed; obviously closed at this late hour. A tiny balcony overlooked the little family style restaurant, she poised herself below the balcony,crouched low then leapt upwards with all the power in her legs. She landed softly and opened a small door.

A teensy, sparsely furnished living room greeted her gaze. A small couch, an armchair and a 90s fatback TV sat precariously atop a small end table.

She rapped her knuckles against the hardwood wall and waited. From around the corner came a tallish looking man in dark Levi's and a bright colored T-shirt which was branded with BRAZIL in the country's bold colors.

"So Ordvee, was it? Did you find anything interesting on your little midnight stroll?" Jury asked.

"Yeah, apparently our competition is a pair of Japanese looking teenagers. Shouldn't be anything to worry about," Ordvee replied.

"Still we shouldn't underestimate our opponents, so, er how do you like to deal with enemies? Are you a little more straightforward or more subtle?" He questioned.

"I prefer to ambush enemies. Once they leave their base I'll find a spot where I can kill them fast," she said.

Jury stood around awkwardly for a few moment unsure of what to say next.

"Well good night I suppose," Jury said awkwardly.

Ordvee chuckled lowly, "Yeah sweet dreams and all that."

Early morning sunshine filtered into the old shrine, filling it with stifling heat. Shuuhei sat up from his makeshift bed coated in a thin layer of glanced over at Misaki, her eyes were still closed, her chest rose and fell, Asleep still. He pinched at his shirt pulling it away from his skin.

I had to pick a place with no AC huh? Lemme see if this place has running water.

Shuuhei quickly shuffled to the small restroom he had seen last night and twisted the faucet. Nothing. He ambled over to the little soaking tub and tested its faucet as well. Again he struck out. Shuuhei placed a hand to his chin and tapped his finger against his mouth in thought. He quickly exited the shrine and looked around the back of the building. A tiny well was in the backyard he quickly walked towards and looked down it. There seemed to be water there. He lowered the small bucket, filled it and raised it back up. Shuuhei took a small sip of it and smiled.

Well at least this place isn't a complete blow out. I'll get Misaki up and see if I can go find some food. Power too.

He walked back inside and into the little makeshift bedroom. Shuuhei shook on her shoulder, the girl groaned slightly and rolled onto her side. He shook her again.

"Nnn. M-Milord what ails thee? Why doest thou try to awaken this one?" Misaki asked groggily.

The shinigami sat up slowly and the heavy quilt dropped from her chest, her face seemed sweaty as well.

"We're going into town to get some food and resources. I'd leave you to sleep here but with the war started I don't wanna leave you on your own," Shuuhei explained.

The pair soon exited and began the walk into town. Whilst walking down the street in Akaki Shuuhei noted no-one giving Misaki odd looks over her hair or choice of dress. As if she were a common everyday girl. He also noted a lot of Akaki seemed to be under construction. Many times the two passed high scaffolding, traffic cones and bright orange warning signs. Shuuhei used the GPS function on his phone to find a decent restaurant section in Akaki. A building the two approached was going under construction. A tall scaffolding tower with building supplies on it loomed over the two ominously.

Misaki looked up at the structure with her mouth slightly agape in awe. Atop the tower were long metal poles, bricks, mortar, cans of paint, which seemed precariously close to the edge and other sharp tools.

Shuuhei reacted on just instinct and pushed Misaki forward as quickly as he could. The paint can hit Shuuhei hard on the foot. Bright red paint splattered on part of his pant legs and shoe.

"Hey Misaki are you ok? Holy crap that was weird," He said.

Misaki leaned hard against one of the poles of the scaffolding holding it up. She panted slightly and Shuuhei walked closer to her. On closer inspection one of her swaying sleeves on her kimono was torn slightly. Blood seeped from out of her arm that was leaning against the metal pole. Shuuhei's eyes grew wide and he pulled her up close to him. A long nail covered in blood was exposed.

Oh shit!

Misaki looked about on the verge of tears as she gasped a little. The wound had already begun to close thanks to her regeneration power.

"M-Misaki, God, I'm so so-sorry I didn't mean to hurt you alright I-" Shuuhei rambled frantically.

"Shuuhei-sama, this one is alright, she has had many worse wounds than this, despair not," Misaki reassured.

"Dammit! But I'm your master I'm supposed to protect you not hurt you, especially when we haven't even fought anyone yet," He said in dejection.

"Hey, have you ever considered announcing the fact that you're a master in broad daylight might not be the brightest of ideas?" A feminine voice spoke.

A brunette in a blue beret appeared on top of the scaffolding from out of nowhere. She looked down on the pair and they glared back. An ominous type of aura emanated around her silhouette which set her apart from the people Shuuhei had seen thus far.

"So it wouldn't be a far stretch to call you a master or a servant?" Shuuhei asked pointedly.

"What was your first clue, genius?" She retorted.

He growled under his breath and grit his teeth.

"Alright, I'm going to guess your of the Assassin class. I couldn't feel any presence from you until you decided to go for that sneak attack. So another assumption would be that your master has to be close by as well," He said analytically.

"Are you going to talk all day or are we gonna duke it out?" She asked nonchalantly.

Misaki stepped forward in front of Shuuhei protectively and put her arm out in front of him. She glared up at the other woman and a large, dark, circular mass appeared next to the shinigami's outstretched arm. The shadowy circle grew wider and longer taking on the shape of a polearm. Misaki yanked on the poll and a large curved blade burst from the end, The shinigami twirled it high over her head elegantly, as if to subtly demonstrate her skill.

"If thou threatens the master of this one again, this one shall silence thee, wench," Misaki snarled protectively.

She pointed her scythe up towards the brunette menacingly. Ordvee's expression was stern and unimpressed. Her arms were crossed over her chest she breathed up on the fringe the that was exposed under her beret.

"Ooh how cute, you're going to let your girlfriend do the fighting for you, you're a real manly man ain't cha?" Ordvee taunted. "If you think you're the only one with summoning powers you're gravely mistaken,"

The brunette uncrossed her arms and snapped her fingers. Misaki waited and Shuuhei stepped back from his servant. After a few moments of patience the sounds of buzzing filled the air. Shuuhei felt something brush up against his pant leg and looked down in disgust. A line of fire ants had brushed against his leg, a small precession of scorpions had followed some of their insect brethren.

"What the hell?" Shuuhei asked.

He squashed some of the unsavory insects below his foot and sneered. Shuuhei's eyes then drifted upward a dark cloud had appeared around his opponent. The cloud shifted around changing shape oddly.

Are those…?

Wasps, hornets and locusts swarmed around Ordvee almost protectively. She pointed one of her fingers at Misaki. The large swarm instantly dove down at her and she instantly put her hands up in the shape of an 'X' in front of her face. The armada of fire ants and scorpions passed Shuuhei and headed straight for Misaki. The locusts dug their teeth into Misaki's legs, the hornets and wasps stung at her arms. The scorpions and ants assisted their winged comrades stinging and biting with all their strength.

The skin on Misaki's flesh raised up with red boils that oozed blood and pus out of her once gorgeous skin. She bit down hard on her lower lip as her regeneration power forced all of toxins out of her skin. Soiled looking blood slipped down her limbs onto the cement. Tears welled up in her eyes from the intense pain and her body shook slightly. Her flesh had already healed back up entirely as if she hadn't taken a hit in the first place.

Why are they just attacking Misaki does she not perceive me as a threat?

"Is that the epitome of thine might?" Misaki growled lowly. "Dissatisfying."

An intense dark aura began to swirl around Misaki and her scythe. The insects immediately retreated away from her flying and crawling back to their nests. Once the pests had evacuated the area Misaki dropped onto her knee as if to bow and punched the metal scaffolding. The tower wobbled slightly and emitted a resounding clang. A few small tools rained down near Misaki.

Ordvee leapt down from the tower and somersaulted gracefully before landing on her feet.

"Yeesh, why do you talk like an actor in a Shakespearean play? If you've got make a point why not make it fast?" Ordvee asked tauntingly.

Misaki tossed her hair almost arrogantly over her shoulder and poised her scythe high over head. She only glared at her enemy. The once thin dark aura had grown thicker and swirled faster around her.

"If you're trying to intimidate someone with that technique of yours try it on my master. I've seen a hell of a lot worse in my years." The brunette huffed.

Her hand twitched by one of many pockets on her jacket.

"Thine master?" Misaki half snarled.

"Oh, you know the guy who's about to decapitate your master?" Ordvee smirked.

Misaki's eyes darted over to Shuuhei. Indeed there was a man poised over her master with a knife about to strike.

"MILORD!" Misaki cried.

Shuuhei jumped to the side when she shouted and he dodged the slash of a knife. He backed closer to the scaffolding and he desperately began to search for a weapon he could defend himself with. Shuuhei picked up a chunk of cracked brick and tossed it up and down in preparation.

"My you're pretty perceptive, man. It's a damn shame one of us has to die. I'd like to see which one of us is the better puzzle solver." Jury chuckled lightly.

Ordvee took advantage of the opportunity and stabbed at Misaki's back with a dagger. She plunged it deep into her flesh. Misaki howled in agony and in retaliation swung her scythe's pole into Ordvee's side. The other woman hardly flinched and slapped at Misaki's ribs with a hard edged boomerang. The shinigami kicked violently at Ordvee and flipped her scythe over so the blade was near the brunette's face then swung it.

Ordvee casually leaned back with amazing agility as the scythe passed over her head. Her beret had been sliced in half.

"Your moves are way too obvious can't ya tell? You ain't the first pole-arm wielder I've fought," Ordvee taunted.

Misaki glared at her enemy hatefully and prepared to attack again.

Shuuhei waited for another attack he kept flipping the brick chunk in his hand as if he were demonstrating his coordination.

"What're you waiting for why didn't you attack my any earlier?" Shuuhei asked.

"I didn't have a reason to. I'm not going to exert myself early on without a good reason," Jury replied.

With that Shuuhei chucked the piece of brick at him and watched him easily evade it.

"Is that a good enough reason to attack me?"

Shuuhei instantly searched for another makeshift weapon. Not much was in his range his eyes darted around in desperation. He glanced upwards, the metal poles atop the scaffolding looked tempting, but too far out of reach. Shuuhei grabbed a pair of hand trowels and spun them trying to get a feel for them.

I must look ridiculous fighting with spare construction tools. If only I could reach those pi-

His hazel eyes grew wide as a strategy started to brew in his brain. Out of nowhere Jury charged at Shuuhei and slashed at him. Shuuhei leapt back and dodged it with relative ease.

"Don't go getting any smart ideas about using the pipes on the tower alright?" Jury ordered.

"H-How the hell did you guess my strategy my like that?" Shuuhei barked.

"It was pretty easy, you kept looking up longingly like that and if I were in a fight I'd want a longer weapon if my opponent had a knife. Those poles are awfully long aren't they? Reading my enemy is as easy for me as playing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star in C major. Next time don't be so blatant while scoping place out," Jury analyzed.

This time Shuuhei went on the offensive and lunged at Jury. Jury parried the trowel with his knife. Shuuhei spun his other trowel and jabbed it at Jury's face. Jury easily blocked the second strike with as much dexterity as he blocked the first strike. Jury sharply pulled his arm back and slashed at Shuuhei before he could react. He cleanly sliced into Shuuhei's upper arm. Shuuhei hissed in pain but within a split second grabbed Jury's arm before he could retract it. Shuuhei put all his strength into his arms and held Jury's arm as still as he could. He then mercilessly rammed his kneecap into Jury's stomach. In his ears was a symphony of violence; Jury wheezed in pain, metal on metal clanging from the two girl's fight and varying swears were exchanged.

Both of the two women fought ferociously Ordvee had some tears on her "I 3 dancing" shirt and a few bruises on her shapely thighs. Misaki's kimono had been torn in places from her opponents strikes, a mixture of dried blood and sweat had formed on her brow. Ordvee's hand hovered over a pocket on her belt this time. With an incredible burst of speed Misaki pulled her scythe apart into twin kama. She stabbed into the pocket Ordvee reached for. A large cloud of thick vapor rushed at Misaki's face and the shinigami's vision was heavily impaired. Misaki crossed her arms over her chest and braced herself. A punch flew from the right and hit Misaki in the jaw. She let out a scream of pain. Misaki braced herself further with her vision so heavily impaired.

A flurry of kicks and punches rained down on Misaki who tried to remain strong.

"What's the matter can't fight back? All talk no action? Are your moves all flash no bang? Or are you getting turned on by getting the shit beat out of ya?!"

Every question of Ordvee's was punctuated by either a kick or punch. Misaki's inner fury boiled over and with the last question she actually caught Ordvee's punch. She dug her fingers into Ordvee's knuckles with a loud crack.

"Does thine mouth ever silence, wench?!" Misaki screamed.

Misaki cocked her arm back and slammed her fist as hard as she could into Ordvee's nose which sent Ordvee reeling.

"Ordvee, keep quiet or that girl will kill you!" Jury shouted.

"No shit, I can at least see that!" Ordvee snapped back.

That's it!

The vapor slowly dissipated from the arena. Shuuhei ran close to a certain spot near the scaffolding. He whistled sharply to get Misaki attention.

"Misaki you have to use one of those smoke things again!" Shuuhei shouted.

"M-Milord?"

"Just do it!"

Misaki ran at Ordvee again and slashed at another pocket on her belt. Her guess was correct as once again vapor was released. Once this happened Shuuhei whistled loudly. Misaki ran over to her master, she could almost sense his presence and he could sense hers. Once she was close he whispered something to her..

Jury immediately felt something ominous and ran over to Ordvee as well. A metallic clang rang out through the area. As the vapor began to clear again Jury looked upwards. The scaffolding was crashing towards them. All sorts of tools rained down including the long pipes from before as well as varying other objects. The pipes were aimed straight for Ordvee. Jury tackled Ordvee protectively and landed on top of her. He looked over his shoulder and Misaki stood there with her scythe poised.

"I told your master not to use those pipes, I could practically see that attack from a mile away," Jury scoffed.

Shuuhei charged out from out of what was left of the smoke with something metal stowed in his arms. He ran with all his strength and threw red paint directly into Jury's face. The red paint made contact with his eyes and Jury screamed in agony. He reflexively dug his hands hard into Ordvee keeping her pinned.

"Did you see that coming, asshole?!" Shuuhei screamed triumphantly.

Misaki's eyes widened at what he had done.

"M-Milord," Misaki squeaked .

"Misaki, kill them now! Hurry!"

"But-"

"PLEASE!" Shuuhei shouted.

"Milord, this is dishonorable!" She protested.

Ordvee began to struggle from Jury's weakened grip.

"Misaki, I'll use a command seal if I have to. She'll kill us both if you don't!" He demanded.

Misaki swallowed hard and charged with all her speed then drove her scythe deep into Jury's back. She hesitated then lengthened her scythe's blade farther and it dove into Ordvee's chest and only missed her heart by millimeters.

"Please forgive this one," Misaki pleaded.

Jury looked down in despair at his servant.

"Ordvee, I'm so sorry I let you down," He coughed out.

"Shut up, don't talk like that you hear?!" Ordvee yelled through the pain.

"Please be quiet or you won't be able to hear it," Jury pleaded between coughs.

"Hear what you dumb-ass?!"

Jury chuckled a little and caressed Ordvee's cheek.

"It's L-Liebestraum being pl-played in the b-b-best A flat major I've ever heard, can't you hear it, Ordvee? It's so b-b-b-beautiful," Jury gasped out.

Ordvee shut her eyes which had welled up with tears, she grasped her master's hand. She watched the precious life slip out Jury's eyes and felt her own body fading away.

"Y-Yes I can hear it. Liebestraum. Always was one of my favorite pieces."

Ordvee held onto her master for as long as she could.

Misaki and Shuuhei trembled as they watched the two die together in despair.

SanjiandSerea's entry end.