An Unlikely Duo Begins; Chasing the bigger fish!

[EriChar]

Feet sliding across the floor as wood flurried around them, a pair clad in the dark armour of kendo dashed back and forth on their heels, slipping and sliding around the floor with a speed and grace that made it look like they were skaters on top of ice, their feet seemingly to propel them while never leaving the ground. The room silent except for the swipes and clashes of their body, as both parties felt the dew of perspiration dampen their backs, neither seemed to let up an inch, weapons wheeling around and shaking as they tried to take the point from one another.
I’m keeping up more easily now… Dark eyes as sharp as a hawks watching the motions and reactions of her opponent, the shorter of the pair looked through the grill is she watched her foe, her confidence with a sword having slowly increased in the time she had spent here. Feminine features that were dark and hinted with rich shades of violet, the woman beneath the helmet might not have ordinary seemed as fierce a warrior as she now displayed, but appearances could be deceiving. Arriving a pauper with nowhere else to go, or rather, nowhere close enough she could reach, the feminine fighter had found that the land she had stopped in reminded her greatly of her home, which was no surprise. Like herself, the settlers who founded this land had been from the same place as the woman who weaved warily with her weapon; the country of Wano. However, also like the people here, the battling beauty also had not returned to the place she had been born in a long time, having been detained entirely too long with other things.

Fighting her way out of slavery a few months before, while the woman had for so long yearned for freedom she had found her first steps into a world she had not seen since a young girl intimidating, and for some reason had found herself falling by chance into a realm not too distant from her home. Dance Island, a ‘seed’ of Wano country seemed to have been exactly the kind of place she needed to recover her strength after ten years of slavery, and steadily the woman had found a way to stand up again. Days and weeks turning into months, the former slave found herself falling in love with this realm, and cherished nothing more so than the dojo in which she now sparred with its master. Kind people were those who ran it, the Shinen family made up of Yosuke and Hinata, the duo seemed to have taken some measure of pity on the lost young woman and brought her home with them. Having been living in Wano up until only a few years before this day, the master and his daughter were perhaps acquainted with the name that was carried by the woman, and felt obligated to her help her. In actuality, the dark eyed girl had not had the heart to question the motives for their aid, welcoming it so much that she would never question it. To this sword-bearing girl, these were kind people she was indebted to, and that was good enough.

There! Though moved by their kindness enough that she would readily lay her life down for these people, the humble girl was not so without integrity that she would treat this ‘duel’ with anything less than the utmost respect, so as the opportunity presented itself to her for a clean strike, she quickly took it. While some might have considered this merely training, the warrior woman was more than accustomed with the concepts of kendo duels and the nature of her opponent, and knew too well that carrying her blows would earn her far more dishonour than harming him, for both of them. The master of the Shuryuu Shinen-Ryu was not the type to abide pity in battle, nor someone who needed it, his swordplay of such a high standard that the girl he battled felt in awe of his skill, and eagerly sought a chance to earn his respect. Shinai in hand, as her opponent stumbled slightly and lost his centre, the girl wasted no time in pushing him back with the lower portion of her blade, and then snapping the tip back down squarely on his head; a loud crack born from her hit.

“Ippon!” The family’s daughter standing at the side of the ring with her arm raised, beaming with what looked like pride as she declared a clean hit, she winked toward the woman fighter and knelt back down, letting the two fighters reflect on their one point duel with a smirking silence.
“I’ll say; that was a good hit, Shiroyama-san.” Helm removed to show the strong features of the tall master, the female fighter known as ‘Shiroyama’ watched as Shinen Yosuke bowed to her politely, then raised back up to mop his moist brow with a towel, smiling with satisfaction from their fight. He was a tall man with a broadly bearded face, his brown hair beginning to cede to whiteness around his ears, but still an imposing man. Heavy breathed, after all their duels the woman had found herself wondering how strong he had been in younger years, assuming her capability to keep up was more down to an advancing age than anything, humbling the skills she had built in her years at the arena.

“My current degree of skill is only due to your guidance.” Humbly returning the compliment with no real taste for keeping it, Shiroyama bowed her body back to the sensei and unfastened her own helmet, revealing the almost black locks that she trimmed not long after her arrival here. Her words, however, were not flattery. Having been humiliated by the outcome of a disappointing battle in her escape from slavery, while the woman had escaped with her life, the small amount of pride she had built in her body and what it could do had taken a serious knock. Coaxed back into battle slowly, even in a scenario more for sparring, this amazing sword master had helped her to regain her confidence with a sword, and even better her skills. A move or two inferred from the man, as well as some all-around guidance, the girl raised in the soaring arena saw her skills now as rather sloppy compared to that of this man, and could only hope to match him one day.

“Ha ha, it was great, Yoko! You’ve gotten a lot stronger!” The girl named Hinata at the sidelines, waving and cheering her on in a way that seemed to defy the silky robe she wore, the samurai girl felt herself smile softly and give her a nod, giving a hair of recognition to her improvement.

“My sword still needs a lot of work though…” The sweet smile of Hinata reminding her someone she had lost in her escape, Yoko couldn’t help but feel this ‘victory’ was perhaps a little bit bittersweet. While she was happy to have finally earned her first clean hit on the master of Shuryuu Shinen-Ryu, she couldn’t help but lament the fact that she didn’t have her current level of ability back then.

“Heh, in that case, I can’t wait to see it when it’s finished!” Dashing onto the dojo floor when her father had begun to leave it, the exuberant Shinen daughter seemed to be irrepressibly cheerful, slamming a heavy hand on the back of the swordswoman’s armour with a pat to encourage her.A sweet girl, really, it was largely down to the chocolate haired fellow female that Yoko now seemed to have recovered her strength. Like the sunlight shining on a closed bud, the golden robes certainly seemed to fit Hinata as she shone with pride in her friend, and so too did Yoko; glad to have finally found a fellow femme that she could feel close to. Nodding at a suggestion to get cleaned up, the girl with deeply indigo locks followed her new friend out of the dojo, wondering if it would be OK to stay here forever…

SPOILER: Click to show

Shiroyama Yoko - 47258f
Shinen Yosuke - ffe684
Shinen Hinata - fff14a

[Vio]

The varying tones of chitchat lingering in the air, along with the mild scents of sake and other brews, the tavern seemed rather busy despite it being well within working hours. That said, as deep sea-coloured eyes analysed the activities of the bar, it was apparent that the majority of the patrons were not necessarily locals. Indeed, many seemed to be from neighbouring islands about the South Blue, having landed here for what could only be the surprisingly cheap ales.
"Heh. Can't blame 'em, this is some good sake!" Taking a quick sip of his own beverage, he spoke quietly in praise of the fine flavour and excellent value. However, it was not the alcohol he was here for, unlike the other men who loitered about the place. Seated at the far end of the bar, away from the drunken babbling of the merry men, Malcolm Stark took a second look at the papers laid out before him. Wanted posters. A handful of bounties associated with the South Blue, amongst others, to which the fisherman had taken an interest. Amounts varied, but, there was one that had caught his eye in particular.

Shiroyama 'Sensual Samurai' Yoko. Worth thirty-eight-and-a-half million beri... Looking over the poster, Mister Stark took another sip of his drink, making sure to take note of the features of his potential catch. Dark haired, dark eyed and fair skinned. Unfortunately, her skills were an unknown quantity. Her deeds? She had been responsible for overthrowing a country, in conjunction with the Revolutionary Army. But, this bounty hunter knew all to well that the price on their head does not necessarily measure the strength they possess.If I go after her, then she'll be the biggest bounty I've ever tried for. I'd better be careful, though. She might be stronger than her bounty says. Eyes scanning the poster once more, Malcolm gathered up the others and stashed them inside his bag of fishing accessories. A decision had to be made, but he knew that, as a fisherman, one should never attempt to catch a fish if they are uncertain of how to do so. Staring at the woman's picture, not to mention the hefty sum that her head was worth, he took up his cup and downed the last of his sake.

"That was a great drink!" Reaching into his pocket as the bar owner approached, the bronzed bounty hunter drew out some cash; having paid in advance for his sake, after such a good drink he was in a generous mood, deciding to give a little extra. Handing over the tip, as the female bartender accepted his payment with a smile, she could not help but notice the poster that lay on the counter between them. Narrow eyes made a quick analysis of the face on the poster before returning to meet Malcolm's own.
"Thank you, Sir. Hmmm, I see, a bounty hunter are you?" Her voice quietening as she spoke, Jumonji Hiroko questioned the fisherman of his reasons for being on Dance Island in perhaps the most indirect way possible. Still, her hunch was bang on the money, so to speak. Looking up at her, for a brief moment Malcolm glanced to the closest drunkard, keeping his wits about him. Still, they did not seem to make pirate material, none were armed with any sort of weapon as far as he could see. Looking back to the barkeep, he gave a short nod in response.

"Hmmm. Well, as long as you don't cause any trouble..." Taking up the empty sake cup, the middle-aged woman's narrow brown eyes made a quick sweep of the vicinity, lingering for a moment upon a group of rather noisy gentlemen in the back. Apparently, she knew all too well what kinds of customers attended her own bar, and even Stark himself could not help but feel an air of authority from her.
"There's been a few patrons in here recently. I overheard them mention a woman that matched the description of that poster. Seems she has been spending her time at the Shinen Dojo." Useful information to be sure, Malcolm took in every word that Miss Jumonji muttered. Normally he was not one for gossip and rumours, but in this case the information could be a good lead on his potential prey.
"May I ask where I can find this Dojo?" Quietly inquiring as Hiroko stashed the tip away, the grizzled hunter had made up his mind. If the rumours were true, and he had a good feeling that they were, then his next catch would be Shiroyama Yoko. The barkeeper looked at him for a moment before speaking in her usual tone, almost as if the conversation had never actually happened.

"The Shinen Dojo is a couple of miles west of here, out in the farmlands. There's a main road that leads to Sakemura. Follow that and the Dojo itself is on the left. You can't miss it." Her back now turned, the owner of the bar spoke over her shoulder as she rinsed and cleaned a few glasses and cups. With new information, Malcolm pocketed the wanted poster of the 'Sensual Samurai' and took up his things. Over his shoulder he hauled the white fabric roll which concealed his spear and fishing rod, making sure that the rest of his fishing equipment was present before standing up and walking towards the exit. "Thanks."

[EriChar]

That was a hard fight… Body aching from the battle she had just undergone, the muscles of the girl from Wano stung from exertion, the adrenaline and endorphins having worn off and left her with a slight soreness in her body from the ‘workout’ she’d just done. Stripped down to only the kimono she had worn underneath her armour for the bout, Shiroyama Yoko dabbed at her neck and chest with a moist towel, a bowl of water in front of herself as she cleaned the clamminess that her sparring had left on her skin. The room she had been granted in her stay as a ‘guest’ of the Dojo just like what she had lived in at home, the furnishings of the country in which she was born were calming, and the swordswoman found a subtle appreciation for such simple decorations and paper thin walls that had been lacking in the dirty darkness of the Soaring Arena cells. It was part of what had made her stay here so welcoming and frankly, wonderful, and also a reason she felt a little hesitant to leave. There were a great many things to get caught up on, but in this wonderful adventure known as ‘freedom’ the escapee could certainly see herself getting caught up living a simple life such as this.

It seems that I look a little for it, though… Flannel drawn down from her collar to show the lines of her body beneath the open robe she wore, Yoko returned the washcloth to its bowl and for a moment peered into the mirror resting behind it, admiring the new lines that seemed to have been formed in her white flesh, and sliding the gown from her shoulders to get a better look. Naked aside from underwear and a band of linen wrapped around her none too modest bust, the Samurai showed almost every inch of her ‘sensuality’ as her eyes looked over her nearly naked form; muscles looking tighter and more toned than they ever had, with slight ripples in her abdomen and shoulders.
I’m beginning to look like a warrior… Eyes still on the mirror as she turned and look at the muscles at her back as well, Miss Shiroyama couldn’t help but feel a small sentiment of satisfaction at what she saw, her entire frame more chiselled and powerfully looking than it ever had before. Some may place their faith in muscles that looked like balloons, but long ago the former gladiator had found that strength condensed into a smaller form was far more effective than adding mass; the smaller one was, the harder they were to hit.

Smirking to herself and scanning the room, the girl on her own slipped across to the small stand by her bed and picked up the sole katana that sat on it, stroking the weapon’s hilt before drawing the blade slowly and looking at the shining metal beneath like some sort of work of art.
It’s a good sword, if a common one… Saya and Tsuka wrapped in blue, the girl twisted the weapon into a battle ready pose, glancing toward the mirror a little childishly to see how she looked with the weapon in her hand.
Not bad, but I’d still prefer to have a second… The other katana that Yoko had used being ‘sacrificed’ in her escape to freedom, while the new ‘body’ this girl had been built in trying to adapt to a single sword style, she still felt rather vulnerable with only one weapon in her hands. As funny as it was, despite the new level of strength and the new skills she learned, combat still seemed a little awkward with only one weapon in her hands; she’d gotten too used to the luxury of two. For so many years she had fought off foes with two swords that when thinking about battle with one, the Shiroyama girl felt a little naked, like she was lacking some sort of clothing or something.

I should probably get dressed… Thoughts of her exposure with only one weapon reminding the scantily clad woman of her current state of undress, she flicked the weapon back into her sheath and propped it back onto the stand, and set about clothing herself. The sweet girl that she was, Hinata had seemed to have stopped by while Yoko had took her armour off and left behind some clothes for the day; another ‘custom’ yukata to help its wearer feel more functional. Almost identical to an ordinary yukata from the waist up, the silky iris coloured material was much shorter in the skirt, with its length only going midway down the thigh rather than reaching the ankles in the common example. Worn with a pair of tight and dark shorts, the flowing arms and unrestricted skirt allowed one to move around freely and still look like a graceful Wano girl, or at least; that was what the maker seemed to intend.

She’s improving… Scooping up the short gown and looking it over, the fellow woman of Wano couldn’t help but offer a small smile of pride at what she saw, her new robe looking every bit the tailor made item that anything bought in a shop could. While the early efforts had been a little crude and awkward in places, with the ‘sensual samurai’ acting as a model and guinea pig, the design had been refined and the girls skill had steadily improved to create something that was entirely her own. Longing for the land in which she hailed from, and loathing the attempts of locals to mimic it with crude garments which she wore in the arena, this form of outfit was perfect for our heroine; it had evolved into just the sort of outfit she needed.
Black shorts slipped on and the gown wrapped around her with a speed that most foreigners would find impossible, Shiroyama Yoko stepped through the sliding door to her room in thick tabi socks, eager to seek the fashion designer and compliment the work that she had been given…

[Vio]

Now strolling down the dirt road, Malcolm Stark could not help but appreciate the sunny weather that currently affected the island. From what he knew, the weather was quite uniform here on Dance Island, switching between warm and sunny, to mild and rainy; the perfect balance for farming. In every direction, fields of rice were visible, endless farmland in which a key component of the the finest Sake was grown. Certainly, the crops looked healthy and vibrant, as far as he could tell. Malcolm was not exactly knowledgeable in farming.

The barkeeper said the Dojo was a little further up. Quietly observing, appreciating the soft but distinctive calls of small birds, the bronzed bounty hunter scanned the left side of the road, eyes searching the fields for signs of his target. It was surprising how peaceful it was, in the endless plains of rice, all his sea-coloured eyes could spy were the bodies of farmers tending to their crop. It was a far cry from the rather more aggressive and suffocating city environment of Minatsuki Town, and he honestly found it rather soothing, a much more serene surrounding in comparison to the bars and streets of the port town.

That must be the Dojo. His pace quickening, Mister Stark's straw sandals beat upon the dirt path as his vision locked onto the approaching structure. Majestic it was, constructed in the midst of nothing but farmland and wilderness, defined by neatly tended trees and its traditional appearance. It looked the part, certainly, and it reminded him of the schools of his home island, albeit more fanciful.
"Ki-ki-ki-ki." A sudden sound from behind caught the attention of the fisherman, sharply halting before swivelling about on one foot to try and find the source. A little off the path, the familiar form of a fox stood on all fours, looking up at him with unusually narrow eyes. Staring at the bushy-tailed mammal for a second or two, realising that he was in no immediate danger, the grizzled hunter turned back around and continued with his original heading. Still, he could hear the soft patter of paws on the dusty road behind him.

Must be one of those Giggling Foxes. Ignoring the repetitive barks and yaps of the unusual pursuer, Malcolm now approached the entrance of the Dojo, taking note of the sign on the archway. It was very tidy, clearly well kept by the people who owned it, though it did seem a little on the quiet side. That said, the middle of nowhere was perhaps not the most ideal place to build a Dojo, though it seemed that the owners did well enough to keep the place maintained. As he walked through into the courtyard, he made a quick glance towards his curious companion, the fox seemed to wait just beyond the entrance as if some unseen energy was holding it back. Still, the creature was not about to be quiet any time soon, and it continued its 'laughter' in a rather teasing manner.

"Ah, good afternoon, sir!" Attention captured, Stark looked towards the new and far less irritating source of sound; standing just outside of the main building, a tall man of strong appearance bore a welcoming smile upon his face. A deep brown beard upon his face, his hair neat, yet beginning to grey, Malcolm could only assume that this gentleman was the master of the Dojo. Dressed in more traditional garb, befitting of the backdrop, the bearded swordsman calmly approached, with the bounty hunter also moving to meet him.
"Welcome to the Shinen Dojo, I'm Shinen Yosuke, owner of this establishment." Bowing slightly in greeting, the ageing swordsman held out a large hand in greeted, to which Malcolm accepting. Yosuke's firm grip was definitely that of a master of the blade, the spear wielder could feel the strength flowing from his palm as they shook hands. "Why is it that you've come here today, may I ask?"

"The name's Malcolm Stark. Sorry to disappoint, but, I'm not here to enrol." Introductions complete, the bounty hunter watched the face of Master Yosuke, but not a single ounce of disappointment was portrayed upon the greying visage of the swordsman. He probably felt it, but, it seemed he was great enough a man to not show it, and that in itself put Stark at ease.
"Oh? Well, that's fine then. Still, what brought you here, Malcolm-san?" Somewhat unused to being referred to by an honorific, the sea-eyed man took a moment to recall what such phrases meant, his mind eventually settling when he remembered that it was the polite way of addressing others. His face kept straight, despite the ever present smile on the face of his conversation partner, Malcolm prepared to answer.
"Eh. Actually, I'm looking for someone. You haven't seen this woman, have you?" Reaching into the pocket of his trousers, the bounty hunter withdrew the folded parchment upon which the wanted posted had been printed, handing it to the smiling swordsman. As Master Yosuke took the paper, he unfolded it gently, the poster itself making hardly a sound as his fingers guided it into an open position. Eyes settled upon the image printed, as well as on the value listed beneath...

[EriChar]

“Oh, wow, Yoko… You look so beautiful!” Finding Hinata waiting outside the room like a child eagerly awaiting a gift, as the girl from the hosting house seemed to jiggle in excitement and gush with compliments, the woman once known as the ‘sensual samurai’ could only feel her face redden from such words. The jeers, blows and blades toughening the body of this lovely looking youngster so that she felt she could endure almost anything, the girl had not been ‘conditioned’ against compliments and found herself rather red faced even in the most polite of praise. In the time since she was a seven year old girl in the country of Wa, it felt like she hadn’t had anyone laud her looks, and retained the modest mind-set of a child when thinking about her own aesthetics. While she was able to look around herself and see the beauty in other women or breath-taking scenery, there seemed like something of a deficit of esteem in regard to how she felt about her own attractiveness, reacting like any shy woman of Wano when someone applauded her image.

“I-It’s more your needlework than anything, Hina-san…” Cheeks full of blush and looking down at herself with a small smile hidden, the girl diffidently returned the acclaim that was offered to her friend, suspecting that the lion’s share of her good looks born from the finely tailored ensemble she wore, merely highlighting any minor amount of inherent appeal. While this was perhaps true to an extent, and the mix of the exotic design and short skirt highlighted its wearer’s appearance, there was nothing ‘minor’ about the looks of the Shiroyama girl. An ivory doll with ebony locks, while the warrior woman preferred functionality and styled herself thus, the fact that she seemed to graceful and elegant in that preference was purely because of her natural beauty. Hair cut short enough to look rather ‘boyish’ had she not been so intrinsically striking, the silky locks of the samurai hung from her head like elegant ribbons of rich and dark indigo, her eyes appearing like deep wells of colour beneath bangs swept from one side to another stylishly. Large chested and with a slender waist, the obi around her middle saw a her bust and hips bloom out from her middle, and delicate limbs hung delectably from the mid-thigh hem of her robe, deceptively slim despite the strength packed into them.

“Heh, I did work hard, but it’s you, Yoko! You’re far prettier than you give yourself credit for…” Pouting playfully when her compliment rebounded, the ever supportive Hina puffed her cheeks up and tried to more earnestly demonstrate her opinion to the friend that had been made, apparently unhappy that the swordswoman was always so resistant to accepting accolades about her appearance.
“Come, I’m sure father will agree!” The younger and livelier girls fingers slipping under the sleeve of Shiroyama and towing her along, Yosuke’s daughter seemed adamant about settling the matter of the guests attractiveness once and for all, stomping her way from the bedroom and toward the dojo.

“E-Eh? I’m sure Shinen-sama has better things to do than fuss over girls…” Face reddening as she felt reluctant to take such an issue to the man of the dojo whom she respected so, Yoko raised a verbal protest but never the less followed the towing motion of her friend, never once thinking of using the near-inhuman strength she possessed to resist the pull she endured. Almost as if she was two different people between her battle persona and that around her friends, while the samurai was strong and close to lacking in sympathy when she fought, around friends the dark haired damsel seemed to slip into a far less dominant persona. Like she had regressed a decade back to the little girl she had been on Wano, being towed around by her parents and brothers, rather than taking independent steps on her own. This soft and sweet side of her was a rare and stark contrast to the lioness who had become an arena champion, and was something that Shiroyama only showed to those she had warmed up to, with the rest of the world receiving a far more distant reception. The Shinen family had melted the iciness around her heat enough to find a place within it, and the usually so strict young woman couldn’t help but show leniency where they were concerned.

“He better not have, or he’ll be in trouble!” The friend she had made burning with zeal and showing every inch of the girl who had inherited the matriarchal role, the swordswoman couldn’t help but give a small and silent giggle as she followed Hinata, admiring the boldness with which the other girl seemed to compose herself. When she wanted to be, Yosuke’s daughter could be quite the bossy and boisterous little madam, and while at first Yoko had been mortified by how she dealt with the honoured matriarch, the endearing qualities of this girl had turned that horror into amusement. While the Shiroyama daughter may well not have treated to her own father in this manner, had he been alive now, there was something kind of cute about the lack of formality between the Shinen family. Her own ‘clan’ used to a more austere lifestyle, it was somewhat liberating to know that another revered family of her homeland were less strict in their manners, and allowed the swordswoman to feel a little less tense when around them. For sure, ‘lady’ Hinata of Dance Island was not the type to follow any man three steps behind obediently, and that helped the former slave feel more comfortable with her own less than courtly developments.

“Hey, Tousan, what do you thi-“ As the daughter heard her father’s words and moved to the dojo’s doorway, the train of thought she had and the words created trailed off in mid-sentence when she saw he had another ‘guest’ with him. Not shy but at the same time perhaps retaining a little of her manners from Wano to not be so boisterous in front of a visitor, Hinata seemed to quieten down and alongside Yoko scan the stranger to see why he was here, neither having picked up enough about the conversation to have a clue as to this brown haired man’s purpose.
“Is he a new student, perhaps?” Feeling her friend release her hand as she peered through the doorway at this new visitant, from behind the back of Miss Shinen and her father, Yoko scanned what she could see of the man who had arrived this afternoon to the dojo, and felt a little unnerved by what she saw.

“I don’t think so…” Able to see his face clearly enough to catch a glimpse into the sea green eyes for a moment, the girl who had sought refuge recognised the almost indistinguishable intent that could be read in his eyes with worry. A familiar sight for one who had spent so much time fighting in her young life, the man’s eyes were not the empty windows of a student or tourist, but rather something more grim. Without a doubt, from the looks of the edge this man seemed to give off with his eyes, whoever he happened to be was a fighter, and he this hadn’t been his first port of call for battle. Those eyes, just like Yoko’s, had seen the horror of conflict, and they certainly didn’t look like they’d arrived only to ask for direction…

[Vio]

For what seemed like ages, the sea-coloured eyes of Malcolm Stark watched the master swordsman as he looked over the poster. In the opinion of the fisherman, Master Yosuke seemed unnervingly calm about the situation, perhaps he had never seen such a woman before? If so, that meant that the rumours he had heard from the barkeeper had been false, or at the very least inaccurate. Fortunately, Malcolm was the patient type, more than willing to wait until the most opportune moments. The Giggling Fox was still there, but remained silent in the presence of the Dojo's master, as if the respect his aura demanded spread not just to his students, but to the native wildlife as well. Truly, an inspiring man to meet.

"I have seen her. In fact, Shiroyama-san is a student of mine, as of present. She has been training here for a few months, now!" Speaking so politely, a smile remaining on his face, Mister Stark found it odd that such an honourable man as this would be willing to train a wanted criminal. In a sense, or at least from the World Government's perspective, that would make him an accomplice. However, the only thing the grizzled hunter ever got from them was the reward for turning in bounties; he did not dictate the law as they did, merely followed it closely enough to avoid trouble.
He knew, didn't he. He knew he had a criminal under his roof this whole time, but he didn't do a thing about it? Odd. Silently questioning the practises of Shinen Yosuke, the brown-haired bounty hunter could not help but feel as if he was being watched. A quick scan of the Dojo grounds with his eyes turned up nothing at first, though a second scan soon found two pairs of eyes peering at him from a doorway. He dismissed it at first, though before he could get a second look, the Dojo master spoke again.

"She has come a long way since she started training here. Still, I knew that this day would come. One cannot escape the law forever, now, can they?" Accepting the fate of his student, the smiling swordsman handed the open posted back to the bounty hunter, which Malcolm accepted with a polite nod. He really could not get over how calm he seemed, a bounty hunter on his doorstep, targeting one of his own students no less, yet he maintained a soft smile and betrayed no emotions. Impossible to read, perhaps the ultimate skill of a swordsman. Being able to read your opponent without them predicting your actions was a weapon in its own right, and a devastating one at that.

"Do you know where she is now?" An up front question, Stark wanted to know exactly where this 'fish' was lurking so that he could close up the net. As prepared as he was, he still felt a little wary. He had no idea of the potential possessed by his quarry, and the fact that she had been studying under a swordsman such as Yosuke for several months added to that sense of worry. He calmed himself with a deep breath.
"Yes, she is here. I shall fetch her, if you would be so kind as to wait? You have my word, I shall bring her to you." Bowing slightly, the swordsman straightened again, his dark eyes keeping contact with the sea green hues of the fisherman. There was the nagging feeling in the back of his mind that, perhaps, the 'Sensual Samurai' would make a break for it as soon as she heard of his presence. At the same time, as much as he wanted to make sure such an escape was not made, Malcolm dared not betray the trust of the Dojo's head. If Miss Shiroyama had been trained by him, there was no way that the bounty hunter stood a chance against his blade.

"Ah, Hinata, there you are! Well, I see Shiroyama-san is with you?" Spying his own daughter in the doorway, Master Shinen spoke with mixed degrees of formality and closeness. Mister Stark watched and waited, remaining silent, but observing. He could see the likeness of father and daughter, but the other set of eyes drew his attention away. He recognised their hue, the face to which they belonged. He remained silent and still, betraying not a single ounce of his hesitation, for he knew that taking in a bounty would always require effort. No wanted person would turn themselves in voluntarily, not as long as they could evade the 'justice' that they apparently deserved.
Shiroyama 'Sensual Samurai' Yoko. The net is closing in. Watching, the bounty hunter could not help but identify the look in the dark eyes of his prey. He had a feeling she already knew what was coming, too. The eyes in the poster may have looked them same, but they certainly felt different; that was always the case, however. There was no substitute for meeting face to face, especially for Malcolm, whose own eyes had once spied a terrifying sight that no man could describe. A cold shiver ran down the length of his spine at the thought, but purpose snapped him out of it. Right now, he had a catch to focus on, and he was not about to dredge up the past and let this one off the hook.

[EriChar]

“Tousan… Who is this man?” Lingering in the hallway of the Shinen Dojo, it was clear to Yoko that whatever cheery atmosphere had abounded around them was now decidedly broken. The daughter of the house enquiring as to his identity, her more brazen nature managing to secure the query before the swordswoman could clarify her unease, the dark haired girl let her fingers slip from her friends hand, taking a step closer to the door and ready to protect Hinata should this man get out of hand.
I think these carefree days have come to an end, regretfully… A pang of sadness striking the heart string of Miss Shiroyama, in only a few seconds she found that the world seemed to have suddenly changed, the easy times of the Shinen hospitality being heaved aside to make way for an almost indescribable feeling of tension in the air. This feeling, the heavy weight of the space around them, was a familiar one for the former slave, even if unwelcome. Like electricity was crackling through the atmosphere, and a storm about to break out at any moment, the samurai girl knew already that whatever happened today would likely lead to her life changing again. It was a painful moment, since the ex-gladiator had slowly started to see herself staying in this place, in this life, forever; but the universe seemed to have other plans.

“Ah, perhaps it would be better let him state his name and intent to Shiroyama-san herself, since it regards her…?” The hallway quiet until the houses master spoke, as a knot born of sadness and disappointment furrowed the woman’s brow, she nodded and recognised her worries.
Of course it involves myself… Knowing ever since she achieved her freedom that a day like this was due, but hoping it would be delayed enough so that she would have left these people in peace, inwardly the warrior woman cursed herself for lingering here and putting this family in danger. The Shinen’s were kind and seemed to love her like a long lost daughter and sister, but she had been naïve to think that she could linger around and expect what she had done not to catch up with her. After all, with the ‘grandeur’ and lacking legality of her escape, no doubt there would be those who sought to oppose her in this world.

“What’s the meaning of this? What do you want with Yoko, huh?” The Shinen daughter now sparking up with all of her defiant nature, no doubt defensive of a friend that had been made in these few months, the arena champion wanted to smile as she felt the love with which she was held, a feeling she hadn’t experienced for a very long time. Not since that fateful last battle of her fathers had she ever felt like someone else was looking after her, watching over her, and it was a nice comfort. Hinata was a sweet girl, and incredibly fierce when she put her mind to it, to the degree that Yoko had never wanted to entertain the prospect of having her as a foe. The answer to the question, was however, already guessed by dojo’s guest.

No doubt the Queen or Clavos would have sent someone after me… Ciudadela was a country filled with proud people, and they were sure to see what she had done as an affront to the Queendom, and acted accordingly. Unconscious toward the ends of her escape, Yoko was not aware that the ‘authority’ of that land had been overturned by riotous civilians and rambunctious revolutionaries, and still expected the country to function as it had. The girl knew she had started something, but guessed it had ended quickly and not become so large as to award a high bounty on her head for her involvement. While the hunter, as well the houses master, were aware that she was now a wanted woman by the law, Miss Shiroyama herself was not, and simply assumed this was more an assassination, or attempt to reclaim some lost sense of virtue or honour. As far as the darker headed girl from Wano was concerned, there was no criminality in what she had done, in fact, it was undoing the crime of slavery before, but not everyone would see it that way. The sad fact was that the world was a very distant place from ideal, and while some might try and make it more like it should be, it was a battle that was long from a conclusion, and still corruption and apathy ruled the lands. If one was wealthy and powerful enough, law meant nothing, and as much as it might be denied, equality was of no precedence to those in control. The world was harsh, and it was those with the least of anything who felt the torrent of torment the most, Shiroyama Yoko included.

“I understand. I knew this day would come eventually.” Softly resting her palm on the shoulder of her female friend to reassure her and stepping forward, with a slight bow of politeness to the master, the girl who grew up a gladiator moved between the man and her borrowed ‘family’ to signify herself as the target. Shiroyama Yoko was a woman with strong integrity, and she was not about to hide behind the backs of others to protect her own skin, regardless of the foe…

[Vio]

Patiently standing there at the Dojo entrance, Malcolm Stark watched and waited for events to unfold. He could not risk a direct challenge, not here, especially in the presence of a master swordsman and his daughter. The bounty hunter was not even sure that he could take on Shiroyama Yoko herself, perhaps feeling apprehensive about his endeavours so far. Keeping a straight face, appearing cool and calm on the outside, he listened as he observed. All was quiet, save for the speech of the Dojo head and his rather vocal daughter. Not even the yapping of the Giggling Fox persisted, though he was sure that the pesky pursuer was not going to leave any time soon.

Seems she doesn't exactly want to fight... Watching the reactions of the 'Sensual Samurai', the sea coloured hues of the grizzled fisherman took heed of the furrowing brow. It struck him as odd that a woman with such a bounty on her head would show such disappointment at the prospect of a duel, though perhaps her past was more troubled than her appearance let on. If anything, the aggression seemed to be emanating more from the master's daughter than the wanted criminal.
"What’s the meaning of this? What do you want with Yoko, huh?" Such ferocity from the Shinen daughter, Stark found himself actually wanting to take a step back from the untamed beast that was Hinata. She was far more unruly than her father, more demanding in a sense that she was bold and brazen in her actions. It reminded him of his own Nakama, the fishermen with which he used to sail all those years ago. When pirates had attacked their fishing vessel, those very men had stood together like brothers. Each had watched the others' backs, and together they had overcome the odds. Sure inspiring teamwork and determination had made their impact upon Malcolm, though he retained a degree of caution about him. Unfortunately, he could not predict the wild sea that was the world as well as his father and crew, and that had made him more cautious. Still, as the demand was barked, he retained his composure, his exterior somewhat 'lukewarm'.

This girl seems a lot more bark than bite. But, she is the daughter of a master swordsman. I'm not going to lie to her, though. His own eyes meeting those of Hinata, the fisherman felt the discipline of a warrior behind the windows of the ferocious femme's soul. Maybe she had not seen the horrors of conflict like himself and Miss Shiroyama, but the fact was that her will was impressive. If Yoko had indeed spent the past few months here at the Dojo, then it was more than likely that the two girls had formed a close bond; a sisterhood whose strength was nigh unbreakable, even in the direst of circumstances.
"I'm Malcolm Stark... Shiroyama Yoko, I've come here seeking your head." While his usual methods would lie in stealth and ambush, the chances of such ploys being successfully had already proven themselves non-existent. From presence alone, Mister Stark was outnumbered by at least two to one, though he had a suspicion that the Dojo head would only interfere where absolutely necessary. An honourable man he appeared to be, and as a swordsman there was no doubt he would avoid interrupting an honest duel. Besides that, the confines of the Dojo itself were perhaps the least ideal grounds upon which to fight. In unfamiliar waters, the spear user had been given no chance to scout the area and learn its layout, thus unable to establish features of the environment that he could use to his advantage.

"I understand. I knew this day would come eventually." Watching as the dark haired damsel stepped forwards, offering reassurance to her apparent sister, Malcolm himself felt a cold compassion from the figure of Shiroyama Yoko. The 'Sensual Samurai' was clearly no ruthless killer, or at least not showing it, and that made the bronzed huntsman give a subtle raise of the eyebrow. Of all the bounties he had pursued so far, this swordswoman was different in so many regards; a woman with a bounty higher than any of his previous catches, yet one who also seemed far less hungry for violence. Indeed, the price on her head in no way measured the enigmatic and elegant samurai's spirit. She was an entirely different game compared to the pirates and bandits that he had turned in, and his gut now told him that this would be no ordinary catch.

[EriChar]

“I have no intention of readily giving up my head to you, however…” Accepting her fate to be battled, Shiroyama Yoko calmly addressed the man who would be her captor or assassin, the distant manner in which she usually kept her emotions proving invaluable in times of stress. When confronted with an attacker, the ‘Sensual Samurai’ was rarely the type to lose her cool and instead acted with restraint and thought. Those who sprinted into a fight also ran into ruin, and if there was to be some loss this day, the young woman who had escaped Ciudadela did not wish for it to be felt by her hosts.

“This dojo and the family that run it have been good to me, and I would not wish to repay their kindness with the rudeness of allowing a battle and bloodshed to unfold on their doorstep.” Speaking honestly but rationally, even with the visage of the collected combatant, Yoko had trouble properly cleansing all of her feeling away, a throb of sadness showing pangs of passion she couldn’t quite quell. It was as much because of this that the girl did not want to fight here. Not only would the dojo suffer both in body and reputation if a duel occurred right outside it, the observation of these people would weigh heavily on the warrior woman. Whilst she had no qualms about conducting her fights in front of crowds of strangers, the knowledge that Yosuke and Hinata were watching, and possibly even being pushed into the battle was a heavy weight to carry on this young woman’s shoulders. With herself already ‘burdened’ by the lack of a second sword, fighting with another handicap would tie her hands even further and rob any sort of integrity that the fight may have held. If she was to go down in a duel, Yoko wanted herself to fight as hard as she could beforehand, to keep her honour intact as best she could. This is what she had learned, from the great and horrid teachers of Wano and Ciudadela; battles were not business to take lightly.

“With that in mind, I preach to any sense of honour that you might have that you allow us to conduct our duel in a place less hazardous to this island’s inhabitants.” Hoping to appeal to a sense of sympathy or decency that this man might have had left, the lack of knowledge that Yoko had of her opponent was supported in this matter by a simple fact; he had sought her peacefully. Some seemingly less scrupulous hunters might have simply cut their way into the Shinen abode to catch the woman off guard, and at the very least that implied this man had a hair of concern for the safety of innocents. Either that or it was a matter of high pride, and doubtless someone confident enough in their own skills that they would face every challenge head one, would feel a sense of loss if the uninvolved suffered as a result of their lack of skill.
“There’s a clearing not too far away that should suffice; it’s off the beaten track and we shouldn’t be interrupted.” Recalling a locale less than a mile away that she had chosen as sufficiently ‘out of the way’ that she could practice some less than safe arts with some assurance of safety, with a polite bow to the man’s acquiescence to her request, the tall shoes of Miss Shiroyama were slipped onto her feet and the girl was ready for the off, if not for the lack of one item.

“Ah, Hinata-san. Carelessly, I have left my sword in my room, and I would not wish to turn my nose up at this hunter’s civility and dash to get it myself. As to return his courtesy, would you object to fetching my weapon?” Partially wanting to remain so that she could keep an eye on the new ‘guest’, the swordswoman was cautious enough to realize that suddenly dropping back into the house would no doubt cause suspicion and confusion. It would be perceived as easy for her to ‘dash out the back’ and escape from him under the pretence of such a move, and since this Malcolm Stark was at least an honourable enough a man to afford her the chance to move the sight of their battle, she did not wish to show him any lacking decorum in doing such an act. While loathed to rely on this household again, Shiroyama thought that it was perhaps better in this case to take this course of action, and so the former gladiator was pleased when her yellow-wearing friend returned with blade in hand.

“Be careful, Yocchan…” No small degree of worry in the girl’s voice as the sword was passed over to her, the samurai couldn’t help but give an appreciative smile as she received her armament, touched that the girl was so worried about her. The shining ray of companionship shining like a light between these two girls, if ever the darker haired of the two needed a reason to survive what lay ahead, this was it. Wanting to hug her friend in the same manner that the daughter of the house had imparted so many times during her stay, the guest thought better of it in this circumstance and instead softly placed her palm on the mitt of the other Miss; squeezing gently to reassure her. Yoko had fought with everything she had to get to the to the point in her life where she had people close enough to let jewels of worry build in their eyes for her sake, and now that she had it, the battler wasn’t about to let go with any less effort.

“Do not worry, Hinata; it is not my intention to die today.” Smiling softly and then bowing to the master, Shiroyama Yoko tucked her blade into the obi at her waist and moved from the Dojo, the inspiration she had found fuelling her confidence more than ever before. Whatever this day and the hunter it had brought had to throw at her, she wasn’t going down without giving her opponents the fight of their life…

[Vio]

Whatever happened in her past, there's no doubt that it affected her. She's so calm about this... In the serene silence of the Dojo grounds, Malcolm Stark's sea coloured eyes met with the darker hues of Shiroyama Yoko. Soon, these two would be locked in combat, possibly even a fight to the death, but for now it was simply a case of understanding. All of her actions indicated apprehension, yet at the same time she stepped forth so willingly to meet fate head on. Certainly, the 'Sensual Samurai' had impressed the brown-haired man already, yet their weapons had yet to met in battle. Her conviction was intimidating, almost.

"I have no intention of readily giving up my head to you. However, this dojo and the family that run it have been good to me, and I would not wish to repay their kindness with the rudeness of allowing a battle and bloodshed to unfold on their doorstep." Narrowing his eyes subtly, the grizzled hunter could not help but admire his upcoming opponent; the honour and discipline expressed by the master swordsman was mirrored, if not exceeded, by that of Miss Shiroyama. Willing to put herself in harms way, Yoko's desire to repay the family that had taken her in was somewhat reminiscent of Malcolm himself. He had done what he could back then, but it had not been enough. Now it seemed as if the swordswoman was stepping in his own shoes.

"With that in mind, I preach to any sense of honour that you might have that you allow us to conduct our duel in a place less hazardous to this island’s inhabitants." A slow nod signified an agreement, though perhaps the gesture itself was a little too subtle. There was an unusual degree of trust in the words of the dark-haired damsel, as if she expected him to accept. In truth, she was right. If anything, Mister Stark was not one for collateral, much preferring the quick capture of his prey over prolonged fights. Strong he may have been, but he was no rampaging bull. Like the fisherman he was, when he had his eye on a catch, the small fry were of no use. Catching a fish for the sake of it was not his idea of fishing, and the same applied to his career as a bounty hunter.
"If that's what you want... I'm not gonna object." Calm and ready, Malcolm accepted the proposition, knowing that this 'fish' was going to honour her word. Still, after detailing the whereabouts of their chosen field, Miss Shiroyama upheld her honourable ways. Rather than go and fetch her own blade, she politely asked her 'sister', Shinen Hinata, to do so for her. For a short while, the silence was suffocating, but soon the Shinen daughter made her return, blade in hand.

I don't know what to expect... A bounty as high as hers doesn't seem to fit with her personality. What did she do to get such a price on her head? ...Don't lose focus, Malcolm. Keep your cool. Silently conversing with his thoughts as Miss Shinen and Miss Shiroyama exchanged reassurances, the bronzed hunter was beginning to feel that something was amiss. The reason for a target's bounty was usually something he did not care for, but the enigmatic woman that was now escorting him to their chosen battleground did not seem the type to fight against the laws of the world. Still, Stark's concentration was now focusing on the duel that lay ahead, keeping his distance as he trailed behind the 'Sensual Samurai', out of a mixture of caution and respect.

SPOILER: Click to show

I was lacking muse for this post, but, it'll do.

[EriChar]

This land can be quite lovely… A cautious eye cast back to the man who followed her while her hand rested on the guard of her blade, as she warily tried to ensure he didn’t blindside her as they marched slowly off the beaten track, as the soon to be duelling duo drew closer to the ‘secret spot she had found, Shiroyama Yoko couldn’t help but notice the beauty of the scenery. Suddenly far more prominent than it had ever been before, the girl wondered if her suddenly more keen senses were because she wanted to take as much in before she risked her life, or because her body was so honed to battle that it was now firing on cylinders she rarely used when her life wasn’t in danger. Either way, even the humble trees and patches of grass seemed lovely; a fertile world that seemed to grow as much in a month as most places got in a year.
At least when the storms are at bay… Recalling the many times that heavy, thunderous rain had made her body quiver, it was of no small comfort that today was rather bright and sunny, the radical weather patterns favouring her in the battle to come and not inflicting what she dreaded the most. Terrified of the crash and flash that black clouds brought, the dark haired woman did not greatly ‘fancy’ her chances when the weather turned, unable to focus on much of anything when the weather broke other than her own anxiety.

“It isn’t much farther ahead.” Head turning slightly back as the trees began to gradually thin, it felt a strange sentiment to offer ‘reassurance’ to someone who might very well be her executioner, the young woman finding her brows rolling as she mused over the instinctual action.
His weapon may prove to be less than ideal to overcome… Noting what looked to be a pole arm strapped to the man’s back, partially obscured by his body and a wrap of fabric, before the battle had even begun Yoko knew that she would surrender the ‘reach’ to her foe. Swords were good, but no matter how long they may be, spears and naginata always seemed to reach further, affording their wielder just those extra few benefits that a foot or two in a fight could bring. Swords, of course, had their own advantages, but it was small wonder that your infantryman favoured the pike over the blade, as they could be tossed around with effect by any amateur. Obviously, this man was far from a novice with his weapon as well, and while the woman wondered just how much combat experience he actually had, it was probably at the very least enough to let him and his reach challenge her katana on equal ground.

Though, he does seem rather peaceful, for an assassin… While learning long ago not to judge a book by the cover she saw, the girl from Wano couldn’t help but observe that the man seeking her head was far from what she had ever expected upon realizing retribution may follow her. Anticipating a brawling blood hound or chancer looking to make a quick buck, this man didn’t seem much like he was someone who killed others for a living, and if he did, his composure seemed like he was far from the type to accept work from someone as ruthless and unhinged as Queen Olympia. It was possible that he might ‘change’ when blades were drawn, as in the arena this gladiator had seen the passive turn around on the spot and become far less peaceful when fighting for their goal, but the samurai still found herself wondering what lay beneath this man’s surface.
Still waters run deep, as they say… Reflecting that from what she had seen this ‘Malcolm Stark’ hadn’t showed himself to be terribly dissimilar from herself, and the girl found herself whimsically wondering if there was anything he feared as much as she did the clash of Fuujin and Raijin. Even if this man was to be her destroyer, and she very much didn’t want that to be the case, there was an odd sense of possible kinship she felt toward him.

“It would seem we have arrived, Malcolm Stark.” The woods opening up to a small clearing tucked away from any line of sight, the body of Yoko turned and in her twist, lost all feeling of sentiment on her face. The area around them containing only the backs of trees and grass that grew between ankle and knee height in random patches, being only about fifty feet across and the right size to let people ‘unleash’ their skills without harming too much in the vicinity. While not a huge area, it was the best spot for practice that Yoko had found, and wouldn’t leave the local farmers counting the cost of their battle in rice paddies.
“I’m sure that words will not deter you from your intent, and so I shall not waste my time preaching to you.” Exhaling slowly in a controlled sigh as she slowly unsheathed her weapon and drew the shining steel from her hip, the eyes of the samurai never left the shape of her opponent, ready to act at a moment’s notice if need be. More than accustomed to the manner of duels thanks to her time in the soaring arena, the reflexes of the swordswoman were sharp enough that she could quickly react to an attack from even the short distance that separated them.

“Let us both do battle in a manner that keeps our honour, regardless of the victor.” Blade brought across her right with both hands on the hilt, Yoko saw the gleam of its blade next to her eye as she assumed the single sword stance taught to her by Shinen Yosuke. Shiroyama Yoko was ready for this fight, and anything that this man and his spear could throw at her…

[Vio]

Following the enigmatic femme that was Shiroyama Yoko, Malcolm Stark continued to catch the eyes of the 'Sensual Samurai' whenever she looked back at him. Clearly, she was being cautious, perhaps sizing him up as well. The way she held herself indicated readiness, the fingers of a delicate hand gently lay upon the hilt of her weapon, ready to draw should he attempt a surprise attack. Indeed, Stark himself found his left hand resting upon the handle of the fillet knife that was held by his belt; the easiest available weapon to draw if his quarry turned and tried to strike him down. Not that a knife would do much good against a sword, mind you, but caution was ripe between the duellists and neither was giving an inch in terms of vulnerability. For either party it seemed that one wrong move could result in death, and neither was willing to give the other that chance. Not yet.

"It isn't much farther ahead." Apparently assuring him as to the proximity of their battle, the bronzed bounty hunter made a quick sweep of the vicinity with sea-coloured eyes. Far from the rice paddies that covered most of the landscape, the two were now within the quiet wilderness of Dance Island, far from the crowded towns in which most forms of business took place. Trees everywhere, it was only now that the forestation began to clear away and reveal what would become their chosen stage.
Somehow I didn't think she'd be leading me into a trap. She really fits the stereotype of Wano... Finally establishing what he assumed was the place of birth of the dark-haired damsel, Malcolm at least had heard stories of that renowned place in the sea known as the New World. Men and women from that country were supposed to possess an immense degree of honour and dignity, never willing to disgraces themselves or their people for any means whatsoever. That description fit Yoko perfectly, though why she was here in the South Blue, far from her native country, was a mystery.

"It would seem we have arrived, Malcolm Stark." Now the trees had cleared away, a natural glade having formed amongst the untamed wilds of the island. Within it, lush grasses of variable heights grew. The occasional flower also made its presence known, but otherwise the clearing was a void in the dense woodland that encompassed it. The perfect battlefield for a duel such as this, less than twenty metres in diameter, one would not have to run far to reach a nearby tree. However, it was clear that this fight would be one of close quarters.
"I'm sure that words will not deter you from your intent, and so I shall not waste my time preaching to you. Let us both do battle in a manner that keeps our honour, regardless of the victor." A moderate distance kept between swordswoman and himself, the grizzled fisherman gave a firm nod of agreement. The flash of steel catching his attention as the sunlight from above reflected off the clean edge of Miss Shiroyama's katana, Malcolm simply took a deep breath. Removing the satchel from his side, he stepped back a little and rested his belongings beside the roots of the nearest tree. Unstrapping the fabric wrapping that rested across his back, the hunter kept a wary eye upon his opponent as she took on a stance befitting of any samurai.

Heh. She's more prepared for this than any man. It bugs me a little, but, I made up my mind. And, I know this won't be an easy fight. Fully aware of the dangers of conflict, while such issues would not normally faze him, the woman before him was unlike any of his previous bounties. The way she held her blade emphasized her proficiency with her weapon of choice and, considering she had been training under the head of the Shinen Dojo, it was obvious she would have only gotten stronger since the bounty had been issued. Fishing rod rested against the tree beside his belongings, Mister Stark hesitated for a moment before drawing the knife from his belt and placing it with the rest of his equipment. The 'Sensual Samurai' possessed only one weapon, and a spear already bested the sword in a contest of reach.

"Alright. Ready when you are. I don't plan on losing, though. And, please, just call me Malcolm." He could feel the determination emanating from the elegant form of his opponent. The look in her eyes, the tone in her voice. It all pointed to what would be his toughest opponent yet. The blade of his weapon now revealed, the steel edge glinted in the sunlight as he twirled the spear in his hands, allowing it to rest with the tip pointed towards his foe. The weight of the weapon resting in his left hand, while his right gripped the tail tightly, Malcolm's eyes locked with those of the Wano woman. The gap between them was short, weapons primed and willing to clash. Heart pounding in his chest, the anticipation itself was overwhelming, and he was failing to suppress it.

It doesn't seem as if she's going to make the first move... Analysing the somewhat defensive stance of his opponent, it was the grizzled bounty hunter who opted for the first strike. The shaft of his spear twisting in his rough hands, the spearman launched a heavy sweeping blow. The weight of the spear, while not great, was augmented by the momentum born of strong arms and body movements. His form twisting, the sharpened head of the spear soon found itself slicing through the air, whistling as the blade split the breeze that blew against it. From Malcolm's left the weapon was swung, as much force behind it as possible in an attempt to break through Miss Shiroyama's guard.

[EriChar]

That’s no weapon for show… The sunlight highlighting the honed edge of her foes polearm, Shiroyama Yoko could not say she was looking forward to the idea of the spear her opponent held biting into her body, the sheer kinetic force with which it’s tip could be cast being enough to cleave her flesh, without whatever strength it’s wielder could throw behind it. The wind around them whipping up, it was almost as if nature sensed the battle about to begin and sent a squall down to cast it into motion, sounding a silent pistol to signal the start of the ‘competition’. The glinting tip of the metal head was thrown first into battle from the right of the Samurai, screaming through the air toward her and covering the small ground between their bodies in almost no time, but not quite quick enough. The swordswoman’s own weapon having a lot less distance to cover, the right hand of Yoko held her blade high and angled it down, steadying her defence against a hard strike with her left paw pressed close to the tip, the back of her katana as blunt as any iron bar and doing no harm.
It’s heavy… Groaning slightly under the strain of parrying such a powerful strike, as her opponent hit her, Miss Shiroyama had to show some respect if only for the brute force with which he could throw his weapon around. No slouch in physical strength herself, and having honed her skills to fend off the attacks of the dojo’s master in the recent weeks and months, none the less the girl struggled to defend herself even from the opening blow, taking much of her body’s power to simply force the pointed pole backward and away from her.

Now I can get inside his guard… Knowing that she could have slipped under the strike with far less ease, the girl was not stupid when it came to fighting, and the guard she put up formed the first stage of an instinctive plan. Spears had the advantage in reach, but they were heavier and slower than a sword in the strikes, and took that extra fraction of a second to deploy. Their length an advantage when their foe was outside it, inside was the reverse; katana had sharpness running all the way to the tip, but a spear was simply a stick once one had gotten past the fierce steel at its end. Springing forward from her hips and heels, as the iron-ended stave was knocked only inches away, Yoko wasted no time in launching her counterstrike. Feet curling around as she twirled along the body of her opponent’s ‘branch’, the fleet-footed fighter made for a killing blow from the start, far too practiced in battle to ‘mess around’ with playful strikes at anywhere other than her foes body. Sword swept into her turn and coming upward, the razor sharp length of curved and cured steel arced through the air and aimed for the jugular of this hunter, showing little remorse for his death. It was neither kind nor effective to fight in any other way, and if the girl knew if she didn’t show such resolve for the fight, one or both of them would suffer more than they had to.

Blessed not only with a spear arm, are we? The silver she slung passing harmlessly through the open air, the swordswoman was forced again to pass some respect on to the head-hunter she fought, his own nimble feet managing to kick him out of the blade’s way before the bite of her weapon could bear down on him.
If only I had my second sword… Tongue clicking subtly as her foe evade the first swing she took at him, mentally, the girl restrained herself from wheeling her other hand around, expecting it to be carrying a second blade despite not actually owning one. Fighting art honed with dual katana, while the time in the dojo had settled her to be able to competently operate with a lone blade, the ingrained instinct of the woman still seemed to year for one in each hand, and the restraint of this desire made her feel uncomfortable. Like a man trying to move around by hopping, or bird trying to fly with only one wing, Yoko felt like she was only ‘half’ of what she could be with only her lone blade, and as much as she tried to fight the feeling, she could not help missing her second sword that broke in her escape. Penniless, and unable to feed herself let alone purchase a second arm to replace it, while she had been offered both the funds and the user of a second weapon by the Shinen, she had refused. Finally independent, Miss Shiroyama was loathed to depend on hand-outs, and instead decided to adapt her style until she could come onto a second katana to use. However, principles weren’t going to save her life in this scenario, action was.

Momentum carried through the blade and keeping the woman twirling for a step more, as her enemy settled himself away from her and back into the ‘range’ of a spear, the dancing Samurai wished to waste no time in moving back into realms of her own advantage. Facing him head on and drawing her sword back to her side, the girl ran the fingers of her right hand a few inches down twisted at her waist, sword drawn back like the arrow of an archer and pointed straight at the heart of the hunter. Spring coiled as far back as her body and time would allow, with another explosive leap, the toes of the dark haired girl send her straight at Mr Stark while her shoulder rammed her blade forward. Range increased by the change of her grip, the girl had added an inch or two to her reach as she tried to ‘skewer’ her enemy, the tip of her weapon fired forward through her arm like any bow could carry it, ready to make a kebab of the man in it’s path…

[Vio]

She blocked it... Fully aware that such a predictable move could easily be defended against, even Malcolm Stark found himself impressed by the physical strength that his opposition displayed. With speed and endurance, the 'Sensual Samurai' had defended against a heavy blow, the shudder of the impact itself travelling down the length of the polearm with the sound of metal upon metal. His own tool of combat repelled, he was given little time to react to the approaching counterattack. The woman from Wano springing forwards light a mountain hare, the flicker of sharpened steel whipped about her as she turned her fluid motion into a ferocious strike.
Back! With only a fraction of a second to make a decision, the combination of instinct and experience drove Malcolm's own legs into action. Toned from years of swimming in the currents of the North Blue, the hunter's heels propelled him backwards just enough to evade a slicing strike that would have otherwise proven fatal. Clearly no amateur, the warrior woman's intent had been made clear; kill or be killed, the simple rules of nature. While his spear had claimed many a life, the simple weapon had never once taken the life out of a sapient being. The lives of fishes had been stolen by its sharpened tip, but for all the blood it had tasted as its edge cut into flesh, not a single one of his 'victims' had been slain. After all, there was nothing better than a fresh catch.

Damn. That was fast. Startled by the immense speed which his adversary had just displayed, Mister Stark counted himself fortunate that his reflexes were as honed as the edge of Yoko's sword. Had he been any slower, the bite of cold steel in his neck would have been the last thing he ever truly felt; not the most pleasant of sensations. Catching another deep breath as he drew in his spear to retaliate, the grizzled predator once more found himself under attack, the sting of a purple hornet about to pierce his chest. Whatever past this woman possessed, she was clearly a killer when it counted.
Another killing strike... Outmatched in speed, the fisherman forced the shaft of his weapon before him, fingers loosing the spear and guiding it into a circular motion. Like the arms of a windmill, the weapon twirled before him as if attempting to blow his quarry away. A defensive technique, the butt of the spear found its target; the side of the katana. Forcing the thrust off course as the two weapons hissed against each other's metallic flesh, the 'shark' made his move.

A katana is not as effective at stabbing as it is at cutting, but that's where a spear excels! As Miss Shiroyama's blade swung off to the side, the bronzed bounty hunter adjusted the angle at which his spear spun, lining it up with both hands before firing forwards. Retaliating with his own thrusting attack, Stark aimed not for the heart of his prey, but rather for the shoulder. Not one to kill a person, Malcolm often found that debilitating his catch was the more 'humane' method of dealing with a fellow sapient. Bringing in a live catch, both in fishing and in head-hunting, tended to rake in a greater profit. It seemed a waste of energy to keep an animal alive only to kill it later, and those with a bounty on their heads were often for the chop anyway. Times changed, and in the past two years they had done so greatly.
Strong and fast. I guess her training at the Shinen Dojo helped with that... As the shrill ring of colliding metal once more reverberated through the air, the sea-coloured hues of the polearm user watched as his intended target evaded his attack through a mix of swordplay and footwork. Neither had landed a blow so far, and the longer the battle dragged on, the less likely it was that he would succeed in netting the biggest fish he had ever fought.

Right into the 'Surging Tides', Mareas Creciente... A subtle grin forming upon his face, Malcolm grabbed the opportunity as it presented itself to him. Withdrawing his spear with a sharp pull, the fisherman began a series of rapid spear thrusts. Arms functioning like the pistons of a steam train, with each quick thrust of the polearm he pulled it back again; a relentless assault that could keep a foe on the defensive. Driving forwards, unsure of whether or not his lighter attacks were landing or not, his only hope was to keep the swordswoman back so that her blade could not connect with his flesh.

[EriChar]

Still not enough…? The whirling spear within this man’s hand denying her strike, Shiroyama Yoko groaned with the strain as she felt her momentum carry her across, stepping with a slight stumble since the thrusting manoeuvre had left her body already at the limit of her reach. Blade batted away by the simple momentum of the turning shaft, for all the power of her body that she had launched into her strike, the deflection now sent her movement sprawling away from danger for her opponent; a counter strike timed well enough that it made the girl’s own attack her enemy.
That’s where the spear’s advantage comes into play… Having to stretch herself so in order to achieve comparable ‘reach’, the polearm of the man let him strike at her without such a significant burden, allowing this man a much larger ‘territory’ than she was granted herself. While the sword was quicker and better at slicing, spears ruled the roost with thrusts, and the sheer kinetic force with which it could be spun also gave the long weapon an advantage in power.

It will certainly be a struggle to overcome such a weapon… Breathing with a little heaviness, as the samurai girl returned to a strong stance, she had no time to weight up her options for further attacking methods, quickly finding herself now being the one to be turned into a kebab, and moving her blade across to force the strike away. Blade grinding against the shaft of the spear, Miss Shiroyama felt the sting of discomfort in her shoulder at the spear glanced across her body and bit through her elegant garment, separating the cloth and leaving a shallow cut in the skin beneath.
That could have been a lot worse… Jaw clenching as she shrugged off the flesh wound, the fighting girl did not fail to notice that the minor degree of her injury was not entirely down to her own defence. Experienced enough in near of a decade of combat to know where strikes would land when flung, Yoko saw that the angle with which Malcolm Stark had thrown his spear aimed to gore her shoulder rather than somewhere more serious. Had that heavy weapon been thrown more at the centre of her mass, the woman might not have escaped with such a weak wound.

He doesn’t seem to be aiming for my life with such a blow… A little confused as she tried to guess the meaning behind reluctance to kill of the man she saw previously as an ‘assassin’, the dark haired Miss had little time to muse over the details of this man’s intent, as all too soon she was facing more attacks. Blade brought up in what may have been initially a vain attempt to deflect a second thrusting strike, to the surprise of the swordswoman, she found this move much easier to push away.
That was… Light? The strength she could muster behind her katana managing to turn away the first thrust, Yoko soon realized why she had such ease with this particular technique when another spear seemed to follow in short fashion. Barraged by light strikes, the move she now faced was not a sprinting strike but rather a softer and longer ‘marathon’ of blows, designed to overwhelm the woman rather than break her with any one attack.
It’s like facing a squad of men with pikes... None of the individual strikes of this strong man’s spear capable of breaking her defence, the sheer volume of rapid-paced thrusts made it seem to the samurai like she was facing off against a wall of thrusts, as if battling a group of spear arms rather than just one.

I won’t last long against such an offence…! Knowing eventually either her reflexive returns or sword arm would tire and give out, Miss Shiroyama was forced into a temporary withdrawal by the technique of her enemy, cradling one of the strikes into a soft roll backward to put some distance between them and pull her body out of the reach of that spear tip.
It’s like two steps forward and three back! Hissing through her breath in frustration, force outside of not only the opponent’s attack range but also her own, she had to give the subtlest of respectful nods to Malcolm Stark for his ability, being able to pressure the woman and completely close down her attack. Further away than even his spear could reach, there was little chance of the daito that the girl carried reaching him. Not confident enough in employing the ‘Tobu Zangeki’ with a lone blade with enough force or precision to make much difference, as the blade wielding girl paced to the side warily with her weapon in front, she looked around for options to combat this man.

I suppose my only option is to fight power with power… Usually preferring more subtlety and grace in her movements, the growing desperation of the samurai’s situation made her identify at least one advantage their battle had drawn them closer to. Pushed back by his attacks to the edge of the tree line, Yoko now stood only a handful of meters away from a tall tree sprawling above, which she could potentially use to her advantage. While retreat was not the most prideful of actions in a fight, this former gladiator held little regard for such macho standpoints and quickly found her fleet feet speeding for the treeline, perhaps looking as if she was about to flee the battle; but she wasn’t.
Feet digging into the tall tree in front of her rather than around, with tree climbing skills even legendary shinobi might envy, the samurai scaled the bark like a climbing cat and in a matter of seconds had sped her way several feet above the head height of her opponent. Climbing her way into the sky, as the girl felt the momentum of her run begin to wain and toes begin to slip, the greediness of gravity wanting to pull her back to the earth, she kicked off the tree and allowed herself to be pulled down with more force than the pull could muster on its own. Body twisting as she fell, like a whip Yoko lashed the blade in her hand downward, straight at the skull of her foe and ready to split him in two with the sheer falling force with which she struck. This move was not her own, it was a borrowed one from the Shinen school, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and the ‘Hiryuu Tsuisen’ was certainly the type of power move needed to combat break through any strong wall…