Colosseum - Round 2 - Strazio Rockwell vs Kakashi Hatake

[Kakashi Hatake]

Panic.

The silver-maned shinobi could not remember when he had last felt the icy grip of alarm slither up his spine and ensnare his throat. Truthfully, it had been many years since he truly had any such a feeling. He had vowed to kill off emotion years ago, as many shinobi were wont to do in their lives as human weapons. For Kakashi, however, this choice had been made before even his first mission, upon finding his father prostrate in a pool of his own blood, kunai in hand. As years passed and his loved ones fell before his eyes, one by one, emotions were caged. Drained of remorse or concern, he became less a human and more akin to the blade he carried. He was a tool, existing purely to end lives.

As he raised himself unsteadily to his feet, the scarecrow felt the rapid pounding of his heart against his ribs. His hands shook as blood dripped from his scalp, dribbling down his cheeks and soaking into the cloth mask that obscured his mouth and nose. The pulsating sensation and nigh-blinding pain around his left eye told him the socket had been shattered by the mage’s assault; his visual prowess would be useless from here-on out. He cautiously raised a gloved hand to the injury, only to withdraw it quickly as the redoubled agony of contact nearly brought him to his knees. Breaths came rapid and shallow as yet more broken bones announced their presence, bringing with them their own brand of suffering. Kakashi was unsure if the shards protruding from his face were porcelain or bone; he lacked the time and the tolerance to find out. Poetically, his bone shield lay shattered some feet away.

The sadistic sorcerer eyed the shinobi from a few meters away, a savage smile carved into his contorted countenance. Though he had lost much incendiary ichor following the ninja’s savage strike, he stood firm, equal parts amusement and ire mixing behind his eyes. Hatake and Rockwell had left the safety of the elevated platforms, the latter having dragged the duo into the sea of caustic chemicals the ninja had noted earlier. As luck would have it, the two had landed upon a colossal metallic ‘wing’ of some futuristic spacecraft, sparing them the struggle of drowning in liquid poison. Somewhat less fortuitously, as the sharingan-wielder noticed, their landing area was itself at least partially submerged in the toxic tide, the wardrobe of each warring man soaked thoroughly in contagion as they prepared to clash once more. Kakashi could already feel the effects of the miasma that wafted from the sludge’s surface, his nausea multiplying as his skin began to burn under what remained of his clothing.

Strazio let loose a ghastly cackle, blood spraying from his lips. “I’m familiar wif pain, let’s see how YOU handle ith!” Without another word he took off, his boots splashing recklessly through the knee-deep chemical bath.

For an instant the ninja froze, terror holding him fast. His opponent seemed possessed, bent on destroying the shinobi at the cost of his own life. Whatever motivation the man had to bear down on Hatake despite his body’s imminent failure, he could not comprehend. Would the ninja die here, thrashed about by this madman before succumbing to the mauve miasma they were steeped in? Omni had promised rebirth, though Kakashi hardly had reason to trust the notion, ridiculous as it was. He knew not the mad god’s intentions nor his motivations, only that he had been taken from Konoha and plopped into an entirely new world. A world, he had been told, that served as a second chance to many. Kakashi finally felt the weight of these words as he stared down his imminent doom. A second chance… A chance to make amends with himself. To perhaps make good on his promise to Obito, in his own way.

“Too eathy!” Rockwell snarled, cocking back a crackling clasp. “You’re done!”

At the last moment the shinobi twisted his shoulders, the sorcerer’s savage strike catching him square on the bicep. The sharingan-wielder felt his arm dislocate as he was sent skipping across the toxic sea, coming to a stop just beside a familiar-looking cudgel. Kakashi clambered laboriously to his feet, grasping at the burning baton as he stood. He was battered, bleeding and poisoned, but he was far from through.

“What do you say we wrap this up,” he mocked, raising his weapon. “I’ve got a mission to complete.”