Jailed.
Barred from the world.
The only thing near him was of rotten, moldy bread and dirty, roach-infested water. His stomach felt hollow every second, twisting and turning as it demands for food, almost trying to digest itself. His ribs were visible, his heart struggling to pump blood and keep him alive. Despite such desperate times, he refused to eat. He refused to drink. He refused to let him take such things if it meant living underneath the roof that was his enemy. Clatters and clanks of chains and pipes, guards that would be bored and decide to open up cells, just to drag out whoever was imprisoned and beat them senseless. No struggle, no begging. The life they had in them before was drained away, almost smoldered into mere embers of what they once were. The man watched as he'd see such torment, how with such treatment and conditions, they never bothered to have hope and continue living. They chose instead to die in silence, in passing.
His eyes closed as he'd let Death take him away.
His eyes opened and brought him back when he felt the hollow holes around his neck.
His life flashed before him, or at least the most notable parts of it. Panting, gasping, struggling to get proper air with the wounds he endured, he'd take his time to catch himself and get up. Small glints were visible in trying to shoot him while he's down, yet Bronx merely jumped off, letting him get an eagle eye's view. To make sure she wasn't spotted, Koina used the cloak she carried with for her disguise to be tossed in the air, rolling down under to the sign, hiding behind it, a masquerade from her appearance using the very cloth on her back. While confused, Bronx took that very cloak as a chance, letting the wounds slowly return, taking it and wrapping it around his neck to act as a bandage. Finally able to breathe, he'd wince as he'd felt such pain he never thought was possible. Not since before, when he was captured and left for dead. "You're still alive? I knew you were resilient, but I'd never thought it be this strong." Volvo asked, as he'd feel his arms properly burned, a sign that his attack worked.
Bronx stumbled his way back down, keeping watch for the other three to try and attack, now that he knew he was surrounded. "When you have nothing else left to live for, you tend to keep pushing on by spite alone." A small joke, but one that held truth. His eyes has shown the weariness of his own war, of which Volvo would set up one of his cores, even as he'd wince and recoil in pain, watching the Cores became too hot to properly handle, damaging him whenever he would attempt to use it. A Phoenix core, with its own small flames quickly reaching and tending to the wound in Bronx's chest, the small singes slowly setting into ash. In a way, the Sniper was relieved, albeit shocked that his opponent would give such care, even after being put against such a corner. "Why would you..."
"When one does such ceremonies, is it not right to tend to whoever is involved? When one is participating in letting in a guest, is it not right to show hospitality? When I face someone, it is by my right they are treated in case of unfair play or misdemeanors they found when given the experience they wanted to have. I treat my opponents like a Guest. In such ceremonies, such Guests are to be treated with respect. I care less what happens to me." His explanation widened the Sniper's eyes. The Gentle Giant's selflessness nearly reminded him of his own humanity, or at least the one he had before. To see it still prosper, it almost brought a tear to his eye. He'd be forced to wipe it away, knowing he still has to snuff such a life away. "Have you not been given this type of care before...?" His question was met with a solemn nod as Bronx looked towards him, reloading his bullet.
"When I was captured by enemy forces, I was given hell. Only the Devil was there to take me out. In return, I am forced to be his weapon, to give out that hell to others... regardless if they deserve it or not. King was the one who took me in and gave me the same care you gave. To think someone else would have his level of humility."
"You don't seem to be a weapon to me."
Bronx chuckled as he'd pull the trigger, continuing his conversation casually as he'd try to shoot at his target, watching the man parry bullet after bullet, keeping his pace and using Hummingbird to increase it when available. "Believe me... I'm damn certain I ain't human either."
As the shots came, Volvo knew that his main method to counter has now been unusable. Should he attempt to use his cores to block the shots again, he would be forced to endure the heated pain afterwards, slowly killing him in the process, or worse, leaving him vulnerable for an easy shot. To say he was running low on options was an understatement, as the lasers practically neutered his one chance to fight back properly. In a way, he can't help but give praise to the sniper for exploiting such a weakness and leaving him with no further paths. His cores began to light up, as he'd began to give his chant. A small hum, a hymn, a lullaby, as if he was tending to his children for the last time.
"ねんねんころりよ おころりよ."
"ぼうやはよい子だ ねんねしな."
"ぼうやのお守りは どこへ行った."
"あの山こえて 里へ行った."
Each core began to visualize the birds, slowly swirling around him, the area slowly turning into an Ukiyo-e painting. The walls slowly battered, one side acting as the leaves, the other as the mortar and pestle. Bronx watched as his song slowly made the leaves pummeled away, the area around him turning into a boiling water. Was this his Final Gambit? Why was it to the Tea Ceremony and not to his own birds. It wasn't until he looked back that he saw what they really were.
Leaves.
Each one slowly becoming into a plant, battered away, allowing it to mimic the birds that fly, allowing them to be serviced into the broth.
"里のみやげに 何もろうた."
"でんでん太鼓に 笙の笛."
"Core Magic... Sen No Rikyu..."