Artemis_Fowl:
Cherry blossom petals swirled throughout the courtyard as a gentle northern zephyr coursed through. At that moment, the entire world could have been at peace. When the gods above were content and the men below paused in their selfish fights, the air carried with it a sense of calm. The courtyard was lined with these cherry blossoms. One tree every ten feet or so, five rows in total. It was an odd scene, no doubt, but it was home to the ancient one who went by the name of Armand. At that very moment, Armand happened to be pacing through the courtyard, his hands clasped gently behind his back as his head tilted to look up towards the skies. The day was coming to an end and the sun was setting. Even the clouds that littered throughout the celestial sky were beautiful; various hues of pink, red and orange melted together in gentle swirls, painting the world above better than any mortal artist could have hoped to do. Armand inhaled deeply, enjoying the crisp, clean air. The most recent storm stole away with the pollution and the dirt that seemed to be everywhere and for once, the air was clean. Even the birds were out, chirping away in their singsong voices. He smiled then, his steps taking him in a slow walk around the perimeter of the trees. If anything were to happen that day, it would not be an act of violence. Armand was sure of this. In fact, if there were to be a fight or a war or anything like it, he knew in that very instant that it would be a work of art; a dance; a show for the gods.
Masashi:
Amidst the beauty of the courtyard, the tranquil veteran responsible for the child injury was pacing in solitude. The petals gently slid in the breezes that carried their fuchsia bodies across the canvas painted on the day of quite a personal conflict. While Armand observed the sky, Masashi simply appeared. A pinch of desire and the world subjugated to his very movements, he was where he wished to be. His upper body was bare and littered in scars which served as a reminder of his previous days of battle, those days he had barely survived with his life. Rather than immediately arming himself, Masashi spun around upon his right heel and faced the direction of Armand whom was exactly twenty meters away. The one thing that could be denounced as beautiful about him were his emerald eyes that held vast wonder in their depths. Masashi was indeed in peace, and the cherry blossoms that fluttered from above only loosened the mood slowly. The fists by his side were unclenched and Masashi only offered a bow, no words spoken for the one before him. It would be time to begin, but Masashi wasn't there to merely assassinate Armand. No, he was there to duel him in a battle to defeat. Not only for the honor of his family, or for his son, but for himself and his own will to win.
Artemis_Fowl:
A moment passed in silence as Armand kept his eyes on the sky above before he slowly lowered his gaze to the one who bowed before him. He recognized him as Masashi instantly, but that didn't bother him much. He knew the time would come when they would have to duel once more. His lips twitched into a half-smile as he bowed himself, his gaze sliding to the ground in front of him. He stayed like that for a moment, knowing the boy wouldn't attempt to harm him with an unfair attack. He wasn't here for such tactics, that of which Armand was sure. Instead, he simply picked up a fallen petal and straightened up as he brushed his thumb over the smooth material. His eyes were focused in on it, his head tilted. "Only in times of silence can one feel the true power, young one. Once you take in the world around you and see past the flaws that we as humans inflicted upon it to see it's true beauty, you can truely prosper. This I know; this I will share." He smiled then, blowing gently on the petal before he tossed it back up and watched it float away as if it had wings of its own. The petal would carry on endlessly, of course. It was a small bit of magic that Armand did. However, he did not know where it would go. The petal would remain in it's lively, colourful state as it floated across the seas and lands, unharmed by all that may attempt to inflict it. It was a small gift to nature -- a small gift to the world. "You can never give a better gift than what I have given to the world now. Minute yet powerful as time passes." He smiled a bit before he brushed his hair back and tucked it behind his ears to keep it out of his golden optics. "Well then. You didn't come here to talk to an old man, I think." With that, Armand simply winked a childish wink and waited for what was to come.
Masashi:
Millennium had been devoted to hone the proper mastery of its use, the Art of Wind. Utilizing 'form' and 'strength' to invoke sharp cutting winds, training had begun several years ago by waving a wind to quell candle flames and it only progress as time went on. Eventually he had been able to swing a leg or poke from a finger that would carry a flying blade of air capable of slicing through steel through its manipulation. With proper mastery, every strike including even blade clashing would generate the piercing Kazegan. The blunt Kazegan, on the contrary, was created to deal impact crushing damage with extended impact radius. Regardless, digressing from the battle, had he not trained hard enough prior to the showcase of its true skills, his muscles may have been ripped and thrown through the meat grinder to be torn to shreds. Regardless, from flicking his index finger alone, a bullet of wind cut the distance that yawned between both Masashi and Armand at an alarming rate. In the moment of its firing, the left hand crossed over his scathed stomach and the arrogant smile across his face began to show. All synonymous and in one fluid dance, his right foot taking a single step forward followed.
Artemis_Fowl:
Armand simply smiled even more so than before as he saw his opponent's movements. He was trained in the art of manipulating wind as well -- perhaps even better than Masashi, but nobody could tell for sure. Despite the speed of the attack, Armand was able to practically see the very air itself coming towards him at a very slow speed due to years and years of training in this very art form. If that wasn't enough, the cherry blossoms that coursed through the courtyard suddenly being pushed away from each other was a sure sign. Armand spun on his heels in a complete circle, his wrist twisted in front of him as his other hand went behind him before he stepped forward quickly, his movements blinding. The wrist that was in front of him thrust out, his fingers bent, the tips pressed against his hand so that his palm was facing his opponent. With this movement, he sent a gust aiming to simply null out the advancing attack, colliding them before he spun again, using the movement to take him forward and to his left as he spun his other hand out and thrust once more, sending a stronger gust to knock Masashi off balance, his first hand sliding behind his back in the same manner, After this simple attack, he crouched very slightly, watching the opponent as he held his readied stance. The dance has started. Who would prove to be the true master?
Masashi:
The art of the bushido. Quite famous, as well as the swordsmanship which fell under those who were said to follow the ways of the blade. Of the many legends to rise and fall, Masashi's name was not mentioned. However, he was just as good as any of them. The gust of wind was in the form of a cylinder from his sighs, spiraling in a direct path towards him. The right foot that had tapped the ground then heaved him forth, and his body literally bolted through the wind. A lightning strike, before he could be heard... he had already acted. A linear direct stab using the blade Murakumo, the katana of his daisho set, a blade aimed to penetrate his chest and to stab through his body. Meanwhile the right hand only twitched, its fingertips glimmering along its nails. Masashi was rather impressed by Armand's manipulation of wind, so much that he had almost suspected him to be Creed... they were so much alike.
Artemis_Fowl:
Parents taught their children at a very young age that if they gave they would receive sevenfold of what they gave. This very saying seemed to come to Armand then. When he blew on the petal and released it, he gave it a slight bit of energy, or what some would call, ether. The full power of ether remained a mystery, even to Armand, but what he did know was that it grew stronger as nature shared it. Now, the ether he used wasn't for anything "far out", but it would be enough, he hoped. The ether spread with the gusts created by the movements and manipulation as well as the natural breeze and clung to the other petals that swirled around. By the time that his opponent moved with his blinding speeds, the petals were coated and un-noticed by him. As he moved forward, the petals matched his speed and shot forward at him from all angles with razor-sharp edges, aiming to cut through him at multiple points as Armand tapped from the ground quickly and allowed the gusts to lift him as if he were weightless above his opponent and behind him, a good fifteen feet or so away -- safe to watch the onslaught of the petals.
Masashi stopped replying after that.