"Heh, too long, no see, eh, Taro," Fistman drawled, his voice dripping with mockery as he noticed Taro's Reibone blocking his initial strike. His scarred face twisted with slight disappointment, though intrigue flickered in his eyes. "You use your Reibone to block now? Well, that's quite disappointing. Always thought you were more of a brawler."
"Sorry, I couldn't get a shitty smile off that face again," Taro shot back, grinning through gritted teeth. "What are you gonna do—land another super-fast punch to my head and start spouting some 'understanding' shit?" His grip tightened on the Reibone, the metal cool against his palm.
Fistman pressed forward with his fist, the air crackling with his intensity. "You were far too weak to do anything back then, Taro. Mexus must've been feeding you some pretty insane amounts of dogshit if you thought you'd beat a Drenor—me, no less—in my own goddamn field. I oughta kick your ass right here where you stand. After all, nothing's changed—you're still the same person, same weakling."
Taro shoved his Reibone forward, the blade trembling with his anger. "Shut the hell up! What exactly do you know about me? I'm not weak, and sure as hell not the same guy I was before!"
Fistman pulled back his fist and stepped closer, his wild hair brushing Taro's forehead as he loomed, his voice dropping to a low, deep growl. "Actions speak far louder than words." His eyes burned with ferocity, locking onto Taro's.
"Don't you worry your scarred ass," Taro fired back, matching his stare with equal fire. "There'll be a lot of action between you and me soon enough."
"If it really has, why haven't you done shit yet?" Fistman taunted, circling him like a predator, his boots crunching debris. "I mean, I threw a blow—aren't you obligated to give me one back? Unless you're scared, that is." He stopped, stepping back into Taro's face. "A scared, frail little dog."
Taro's chest swelled, his eyes narrowing with furious intent, his fist clenching as if ready to swing—when Kazuishi darted between them, her hands raised to separate the two.
"Fistman, Taro, please—both of you, stop!" she snapped, her voice cutting through the tension. "No fighting—you're both better than such trivialities. You shouldn't be doing this type of thing."
Fistman brushed her hand off with a scoff, his grin returning. "Nah, I don't think I am, and I know that dog over there is the same."
"Don't call me a dog again," Taro warned, his voice dead serious, his Reibone still raised.
Fistman leaned in slowly, his breath hot. "And what are you gonna do if I don't? Gonna bite me? Ruf, ruf… haha!"
Taro grunted, his muscles tensing to move, but Fistman raised a hand to intervene—only for Kazuishi to step in, pushing Fistman back with a firm shove. "Please stop, Fistman. We didn't come here looking for a fight—we came looking for a squad to join."
"A squad?" Fistman spat, turning away with a tch. "Forget it. I wouldn't let guys like that in anyway."
"Guys like me? What the hell does that mean?" Taro demanded, his intensity lingering, his knuckles whitening on the Reibone.
Fistman turned back, pointing slowly at Taro's hand where the Reibone rested. "That… your sword."
"My Reibone?" Taro lifted it, staring at the blade, confusion mixing with his anger as he wondered what Fistman meant.
"Swords, Reibones, whatever the hell you guys call them—I hate 'em," Fistman growled, stepping closer. "You all think you need a weapon, especially swords, for combat, and it pisses me off. If someone's got a Reibone in my squad, it's either a glove, brass knuckles, or at least something fist-related. If it's not—go fuck yourself. But if you're really dedicated, some guys swore never to use their swords with me. I admire their courage to ditch those Reibones." His smile flickered briefly, then died. "But you? Automatically defending with it? Sure, great instincts—good for you. But the thing is… you did it with your Reibone. You're far too gone to even have a chance."
Fistman turned and started walking away, his footsteps heavy on the cracked nexus ground. Taro stood silent, his jaw tight, but Kazuishi spoke up quickly. "We'd still like to at least see it."
Fistman paused, slowly turning his head, his scarred profile sharp against the smoke. "Hmph, fine then. Suit yourselves."
Taro remained still, words caught in his throat, but Kazuishi grabbed his arm. "Come on, let's go." The two of them walked together, the nexus hum returning as the tension lingered in the air.