Drunken master (solo)

Although he had promised to practice more, Arawn started to frequent a tavern in Rukongai in his free time. It was actually more like a bar, but it was located in one of the nicer districts east of Seriteri. He wasn’t as foolish to venture into the outer districts. There his shinigami robes wouldn’t protect him, they would make him a target. Arawn wasn’t a drinking at the bar, he just enjoyed the atmosphere. There were decent people that came here; he had become one of the regulars. They did serve some tasty food to go along with their drink, and he had become hooked. It was midday, but the place had a decent crowd already most had circled the bar and laughing. The shingami decided to take a table rather than maneuver between all the people. He wasn’t the only shinigami here, but they didn’t approach him. Some gave a courtesy wave, but once they found he was part of squad 12 they generally didn’t approach him. The people would smile him regardless, having a shinigami around was like having a police on call. It kept people from acting violent. Most the people that came in wanted only a quick drink, no many came in during the day to drink into oblivion.

Arawn sat at the wooden table, it had enough chairs to fit at least six people. He couldn’t think of six people he’s invite to lunch. Some of the people in squad 12 had weird tastes in food. Some things they ate looked much like the remains after an autopsy. Needless to say it was hard to eat around them. The waitress walked up and was about to place his order when a commotion came from the busy bar. He turned his head just in time to see a shinigami go flying into the wall. The body impacted and tore a hole into the wood. The crowd at the bar thinned, as more people were knocked away. Shouts of surprise became shouts of anger, as others rushed forward to the bar. They too were repelled and unconscious in a matter of seconds, Arawn stood and walked forward as the waitress ran to hide. The tavern patrons fell away as two other shinigami advanced. Arawn came up behind them, his hand on his weapon. The parted crowd showed the assailant not to be a brutish fellow, but a teetering old man. Arawn questioned how such a man tossed those people around. The other two shinigami were less curious, and less cautious.

“Stand down old man, we don’t want to hurt you!” bellowed the first shinigami. The oldman staggered, and cocked his head to the side. He seemed drunk,. He caught his long gray beard and stroked it. The old man chuckled. The people he had floor groaned and moved themselves from the area. “I said stand down!”
The other man grunted, “Bakudo…” The words stopped in his throat, the man hand vanished and appeared in front of him. A fist lodged in the other man’s belly, the first man’s eyes were as wide as Arawn’s. The second shinigami collapsed to the ground and the first man reacted with a swung his blade. Again the old man’s speed was amazing, but this time his body didn’t vanish. The frail hands became a flurry of movement, the sword flew from the shinigami’s hands and embedded itself into the bar. The shinigami was too shocked to respond, he stared blankly at his empty hands. The old man grabbed the empty hand, pulled, and then twisted the arm yanking the man forward slamming into the barstool. The man released the now unconscious man, and looked at Arawn and chuckled.
“I guess you’re the last one then ,eh?” He stroked his beard as he spoke. Arawn’s hand released his sword his eyed the fallen bodies of the other shinigami. A sword wasn’t about to do him any good, but since he finally spoke he might be reasoned with.
“I am, but I rather not fight.” Arawn stammered, “I don’t have any reason to.”
The old man raised an eyebrow “Not even to avenge your comrades? How cruel perhaps I was too kind in sparing you.” Arawn mentally palmed his forehead, he had hoped by showing no concern he might get the man to leave him alone, instead it only angered him.

The old man brought his leg up and kicked from the right, he raised his arm in defense. He had expected a powerful blow, like the one that had sent the man into the wall, but the kick hit against the raised forearm and bounced off. The old man chuckled, he had already was throwing a punch from the left side. Again Arawn defended himself with his arm, but sudden chill hit him. He dodged backwards and away. The old man was smiling broadly. His arm still extended in a punch.
“Well done boy.” he cackled. He retracted the arm and this time he punched the bar. The wooden counter exploded into shards. His held up his undamaged fist.
“Holy sh….” The old man hopped forward aiming another strike at his head, Arawn moved as quick as possible to avoid the blow and fell backwards over a table. He rolled over the table and to the floor and quickly got to his feet the old man was still advancing grinning eat to ear.

He knew he couldn’t let one of those punches hit him, and running wasn’t an option when the man was standing between him and the tavern’s only exit. The windows were small square portals, it would take too much time to squeeze through them. From the way he moved getting by his wouldn’t be easy. That left him only two options; fight or die. This was ridiculous, what was with this old man?
“I don’t want to fight you!” He screamed as the man moved closer, desperation filling him. He has seen how fast the man moved, he needed to get him to lower his guard.
“But I want to fight you.” the old man retorted and threw another punch. Arawn only moved his head this time, rather than avoiding the strike completely, he stepped forward to counter with his own punch. The older man caught the punch against the palm of his hand, and grasped the closed fist. As desperately as he tried to pull the hand back he could not. The man never stopped smiling. With one arm he flung a surprised Arawn over his shoulder and into the already broken bar. Arawn landed on his back and crashed through the already weakened wood. It was painful, but he remained conscious. He righted himself and looked up, but the old man hadn’t moved. It was if he was waiting for him to get back up. Perhaps he should use his weapon, he thought to himself. At that time he noticed his weapon was absent, his short flight might have dislodged the sheath from his shoulder. Just as well, he had a feeling this man wouldn’t be going so easy on him if he did brandish his sword.

The whole situation was too strange. What did this man really want? He wasn’t targeting only shinigami, since he fought some of the local patrons. He was obviously not drunk. As fast as he was he wasn’t trying to run, but at that speed he probably didn’t have too. As strong as he was not a single person was dead, so he wasn’t trying to kill anyone. He wanted to subdue him and get answers, but any attack he made would be countered. The only shot would be a counter, but his last one had failed miserably. If he could predict his moves he might be able to strike back. But how? In a flash he remembered how the shinigami had fallen before he could cast a spell. The man had been hit hard enough to knock the wind out of him, nothing as destructive as the punch that destroyed the bar. If he braced his stomach could he manage to survive and counter. The elderly man waved his hand, beckoning Arawn to attack. It looked like he was tired of waiting.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I want to drag this out.” Arawn raised his arm and pointed his index finger at the man. “Disintegrate, you black dog of Rondanini!! Look upon yourself with horror and tear out your own throat. Bakudo #10 Hōrin!” He had gone through the trouble of reciting a rather long chant. But he didn’t expect to get past the first two syllables. The man didn’t budge, what seemed odd. True he hadn’t summoned any teriyaki to cast, but even then one would think the man would prevent him from even trying. He either knew about kido, or he knew he was bluffing. Both were very disturbing thoughts.
“You’re either very bad at this, or you’re not trying.” With that said the man vanished, Arawn braced his stomach muscles, but was instead struck from behind. He fell forward and slid on the floor. He rolled over and stood to launch a kick at the man’s head. The old man ducked the kick and went into a leg sweep, Arawn fell to the floor on his back. Before he could stand the other man stood above him his arm posed to strike. Again he felt the tickle in the back of his head, he needed to avoid the strike. He rolled to the side just as the fist obliterated the floor where his head had been. In desperation he kicked up at the man, but he hopped away before it could connect. Standing quickly the man beckoned him forward once again. With a sigh Arawn charged forward. Leading with a right jab, his left came in with a hook. The man didn’t grab his hand like before, but slapped the strikes away like swatting a fly. Arawn had expected as much, and had launched a front kick at the man’s chest. As his foot rose, the man’s foot intercepted it. All Arawn could do was to press his feeble assault. Another number of jabs, a feint, and then into a spinning reverse elbow. Each was blocked or avoided with complete ease, by the mysterious man. He tried another low kick, then a hooking kick at his face, the man just swayed right out of it’s reach. He gave up on kick, and tried to focus on a barrage of punches. Powerful as the kicks were they were not as fast; he was trying just to make it past the man’s iron defense. Left jab, right hook, right jab, left cross, left uppercut, high right chop, low left thrust, Arawn threw everything he could think of from every angle he could manage. His arms awkwardly tried to combine the complex motions of each strike into continuous dance. The man smiled and laughed. Nothing made it past the other man’s hands. The two men moved about the empty bar what seemed like an hour, but was only a matter of minutes. Finally what adrenaline that had aided Arawn gave out, his breathing labored, and his arms felt like lead and fell limply to his sides. In comparison the old man looked perfectly fine. There was a sudden commotion outside, people shouting. Someone had alerted the other shinigami; reinforcements had arrived. Arawn smiled “Finally.” he muttered, his throat felt rough. He fell to his knees exhausted. But relieved that back up was here. The door flew open and several shinigami stood in the doorway. “You there stay were you are, we’ve come to take you into custody!”
“So this was your plan?” spoke the elderly man, he looked down at Arawn, his back to the door. “You didn’t win.” A look of disdain on his face.
“Yeah,” Arawn says nodding his head , “I didn’t really lose either. But if you were fighting for real, do you think I could have won?” The disappointment vanishes for a second from his face with smile. And then like that he’s gone without a trace. The men in the doorway rush in to assist the kneeing Arawn.