Cocky Attack on Titan Face Claim DESTROYED with Swords and Logic! You won't believe what happens next!

Ai Masuyo vs Koyuki Sanada

Match Type: Traditional Japanese Weapons Match (Wooden)

Attire: Traditional Japanese Clothing

Rules:

Both combatants are to fight in a traditional Japanese room with twin racks of weapons on either side of the room.

Combatants are to choose one or more weapons to do battle with.

In the event a combatant is disarmed or their weapon is broken, the fight continues even as a new weapon is being retrieved.

Combatants are allowed to switch out weapons but are discouraged to do so as it is a pussy move and they will be laughed at and called names by a choir of imaginary mean kids.

Physical grappling is allowed but only as a means to position for weapon attacks.

The fight ends when one combatant is unable to continue after a 10-count or verbal submission.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spoiler:

When it came to a fight like this, punctuality meant a lot to Koyuki Sanada

Not because it was professional; she didn't give a rat's ass about how she came across to an opponent she was going to smear across the arena.

Not because she hated keeping people waiting; one of the few lasting joys in life was to leave people hanging, to passively remind them that their time was worth far less than yours.

Not because she saw it as some kind of arbitrary measurement of inherent worth; early or late, she was going to get the job done.

No, no, she was here early to get the lay of the land. Every arena had its nuance. Even the small differences in the boundaries of cage and ring meant a massive adjustment in how and where the fight would be taken. In a room like this with hard walls, too many pillars to pivot around, and a hardwood floor with only a thin carpet as an ineffective cushion? Even more adjustments. Still, she vastly preferred it to fighting inside a ring. The soft boundaries of the ropes pissed her off. If there's an opening, it was made to be exploited, and the ropes had two big holes in between each other to shove one nice, warm body through a 3-foot drop onto solid concrete.

More importantly, she was here to survey the arsenal before she committed to one.

Spoiler:

Dressed in a white patterned kimono with a black obi, Koyuki slipped out of her red slippers as she entered the room, with only her tabi separating her feet from the hardwood floor. The smell of the whole place was off. All minty wood, no sweat. New and unused. All fresh aesthetics without the subtle history of battle that should accompany such a place. Sad. She was going to have to work extra hard to gouge some personality into the place.

After a brief survey of the room, Koyuki went straight for the weapons rack on the far right of the room. At a first glance, the options were acceptable. Her favored Naginata wasn't there, but the were a wide assortment of wooden variants of the old weapons: bo, katana, tanto, wakizashi, kutte... she squinted at a few of the odder choices. Was that a baseball bat? What the hell was she going to be using a wooden shuriken for? She ran her fingers through the entire rack, savoring the feel of flesh on quality wood. All Japanese loquat. Momentum had not spared any expense, she would give them that.

She picked up a bo, twirled it over her head, and brought it down forcefully in a leading stance, her hands gripping the shaft tightly. Was this what she would use? The reach was undeniable, but it wasn't a fight if she fought evasively from a distance, picking off an opponent outside the boundaries of battle. The tanto presented the opposite problem: no reach. The kutte was barely a weapon, but then again, this was all just her whiling away the time. She knew what weapon she was going to settle on from the moment she accepted this fight, even if she briefly entertained the idea of switching up.

She was going for the Katana. She was going for the Katana because Ai Masuyo was 100% going for the Katana, and when there was as much history and bad blood as there was between Koyuki Sanada and Ai Masuyo, she had no option but to confront her on even ground. This was to be a battle of honor.

And it would be Koyuki's greatest honor to smash her brains out across red oak floor.

She kneeled on one end of the room, her bokken placed diagonally in front of her, and waited.

One: Set your heart ablaze.

Masuyo felt like it was those first days all over again. She had to repeat those words to herself again and again inside of her mind. The first tenet she ever learned of the Path of Ai.

Before she found MMA, before her determination to become strong, before she realized her center through aikido, there was a time when the Demon of Shibuya didn’t know what she was truly capable of. That was when doubt weighed heavy on her mind. When the notion of fighting made her fingertips tremble.

Right now, there was nothing of the sort. Masuyo donned her uniform and walked through the halls with an unchanging grin slashed across one side of her face. She saw the door waiting for her at the end. The fire flickering in her heart and the trembling in her fingers all born from the uncertainty that came ahead of her. Her bare feet graced the wooden floorboards with pride in every step. There was purpose in the air tonight. What gave her the resolve in her eyes? Why wouldn’t her body stop tingling? Simple.

Koyuki Sanada.

It didn’t surprise her. Masuyo knew she would come to AFW eventually. Some small part of her had kept that in the back of her mind all this time from the very first day she had stepped into the ring for her first match. She just never expected it to be in this arena. In a fight that was blistering with cruel nostalgia.

Masuyo slid the wooden doors open and stepped through to the tatami floor on the other side. She faced the kimono-clad figure knelt on the other side of the room and bent forward her hands at her side with a deep bow. Masuy took another step forward, as if crossing some imaginary line. Then, all of a sudden, Mausyo gave her opponent a wide smile and raised a hand high to greet her. "Yo, Koko! Been a while!"

Masuyo Ai, Disciple:

Her eyes went from the woman on the floor to the next object of her fascination. Or objects, rather. The aikido girl walked over the weapon rack her side, inspecting the array of practice weaponry at her disposal. It seemed like Koyuki had already made her choice with the katana. The smart choice would be for Masuyo to grab a weapon that could properly counter it, but also felt comfortable to use. A spear or naginata. That would be the wise choice. But that was the things about a certain dojo disciple. Her mind said one thing…

...but her spirit yelled even louder for another. The Demon's smile seemed to intensify as she grabbed a katana from the wall and turned to walk back to the center of the room. She came to a stop before Koyuki, facing her straight on as she knelt down and placed her sword diagonally in front of her. The two sat in a perfect mirror of the other's posture, yet the different attitudes written on their faces may as well have been the distance from heaven and earth.

“Your hair has gotten pretty long.”

Two: The fire fades. The candle is extinguished. The heart sings its last beat. Even stars die. 物の哀れ, もののあはれ, for all things come to an end.

If Koyuki were a mind reader and she was the pansy type, that would have been her rebuttal. And even though she wasn't a telepath, she had something even better to pry into the mind of Ai Masuyo: Thirteen bloody years suffering that obnoxious bundle of energy. They had met in girlhood when Mother had sent her away from Osaka to be raised in dirty, angry Shibuya, and Ai Masuyo had been a constant thorn in her side since then. A vague memory recalled them playing by Shibuya river and Ai Masuyo encountering some giant rock and making up some parable about "How the true stone wouldn't bow in the face of the oncoming tide" or some bloody nonsense and Koyuki couldn't recall how she responded but in hindsight? She should have dashed her head against that big, fat rock and held her under till she croaked.

It would have been a much more disciplined childhood without Ai Masuyo.

... A much more boring childhood.

Which could have been a good thing! This was the woman who dragged her into being a cheerleader. A bastardized American sport adopted by Japanese zoomers with dwindling cultural identity.

... Okay, that afterschool chapter wasn't so bad either. She felt like a whore, but it was a great study in social dynamics, the importance of morale, and surprising physical exertion. It was a lot of skill and commitment dedicated to nothing, but it was skill and commitment nonetheless.

Whatever. The past didn't matter. She was here for a fight (and she so desperately needed one in the face of an unwanted peace) and whatever else Ai Masuyo was, a hard fight she could give.

Ai Masuyo entered, radiant and sunny as ever. As if in sync, Koyuki stood up and bowed right at the same time that Ai bowed, their heads almost touching each other as they dipped low. She was loathed to say it, but there was a warm comfort in finally fighting someone who knew basic etiquette. Anyone who offered her a handshake in Japan before a fight was someone who was going to have an especially bad time. She took a step forward. Whatever imaginary line that was there for Ai was also apparently there for her, and Koyuki beat her to the first word across that boundary of Japanese etiquette.

"Don't you fuckin' dare call me Koko-"

"Yo, Koko! Been a while!"

For every inch that Ai Masuyo's smile widened, Koyuki's scowl deepened accordingly. She raised a fist, but by the time it had reached Ai Masuyo's eye level, only her middle finger was extended. They called Ai Masuyo the Demon of Shibuya, when they should have named her Jester instead.

"Pick your shit before I die of old age." she said. She was not going to be dragged into Ai Masuyo's orbit today. She was here to get her fight jollies off, and that was what she was going to do.

And with that, she went back down onto her knees, letting Ai Masuyo choose her weapon. Thankfully, it didn't take long. One way or another, she was going for the katana. Her opponent stood in front of her, knelt down, and placed her katana right in front of hers.... and then they stared. It wasn't the ugly, intense staredown she had expected it to be.... it felt more like a childish staring contest between two children. She didn't like it but she couldn't look away.

Okay, this was throwing her waaaaay off her game.

"Yes, Ai Masuyo, that is what happens to hair when time passes," Koyuki said irritably. The small talk. Always the small talk. So much endless fuckin' chatter about nothing. Did she want to talk about shoes and handbags too? "You've put on weight. Eating your wares, chef?"

It wasn't time to strike yet. They would both know when they could draw blades against each other, but now was not that moment.... which left her at the social mercy of Ai Masuyo, the Demon of Shibuya, a woman who had made it her personal mission to stand against everything she had worked for as the local leading Yakuza Captain over the past 2 years in Tokyo-

And paradoxically, and she would never admit it even in her mind, her best friend.

Impatient? Trying to kill her with looks alone?

Yep. This is Koko.

It was kind of impressive how many emotions she could just by looking into Koyuki's eyes. That was the trick. The yakuza woman wanted to display confidence, composure, and indifference. That tepid demeanor that her particular haunt had trademarked. Masuyo had learned long ago the secret to looking past all of that. With Koyuki it was easier than most. There was the advantage of being able to reminisce and remember.

The Shibuya girl's mind was wandering back to that early memory of high school. Masuyo walked into class for the first time as a second-year and the first thing her eyes noticed was the mysterious girl with straight bangs and raven hair staring out the window. The tranquil stillness of her pondering gaze cast a subtle aura about the classroom. Masuyo found herself looking past her circle of friends from the previous year coming to greet her and staring at the serene figure caught in the sunlight with her elbow resting on the windowsill. Eventually, Koko caught her gaze out of the corner of her eye and craned her neck an inch to meet her from across the room. Masuyo paused for a moment, unsure of what to do until the obvious struck her on the forehead. She smiled and waved to her.

Koyuki frowned back and threw up her middle finger.

Masuyo was raised to believe that all worldly things were transitory. It was nice to know that some things never really changed.

It was a similar look Masuyo noticed as she knelt down before her rival in a kimono. Koyuki’s eyes looked a bit more focused than usual and she couldn’t help but notice a second katana across from her. The yakuza captain wasn’t interested in half-measures and she didn’t sound like she was in the mood to play. That was the best part for Masuyo. She was always in for a fight when it came to her.

"Oh, you noticed huh? I’ve been training real hard ever since my last match. Some of us just can’t afford to slow down." Masuyo flexed her arm for confirmation and couldn't help letting a chuckle slip-free as Koyuki’s words repeated themselves in her head. Her tone hadn't changed at all. Considering how far their paths had diverged, how many injustices lay between them, she didn't expect to feel this nostalgia. All they were missing were their kendo uniforms. "How's the yakuza been? Still collecting unemployment?"

She legitimately had no idea what a “yakuza” daily affairs were like. It had been some time since they'd last seen each other. Not since that thing That 'thing' where Masuyo knocked out three yakuza toughs at once after their failed attempt to muscle in on Granny Oba's sweet dumpling shop and sent them packing to their boss? That boss had attempted to make strides in her district for months now. That 'boss' that happened to be Koyuki.

Masuyo couldn't imagine why she would be unhappy to see her.

For any other high-ranking Yakuza Captain not named Koyuki Sanada, the problem that was Ai Masuyo would have been beneath their paygrade. She was a minor turf problem in the residential Shibuya districts where her Colgomerate's investments were centered around real estate. It wasn't even the part of Shibuya that really mattered for revenue.... but it mattered. Were those boys supposed to heckle an old woman for protection money? No, they were stupid and greedy and didn't have the wits to find a better venture to line their pockets beyond a broke grandmother. Did Ai Masuyo's actions demand a response? Absolutely... but not by her. That was what delegation was for.

Was Koyuki still going to do this?

Hell yes.

She had 99 problems and Ai Masuyo was the only one she could physically beat into submission. No Business Management, no bribery, no real estate, no turf negotiations, no politicians, no dirty police, no answering phones, no compromises, no nothing that made the life of the modern Yakuza such a tedious white-collar existence. Just a good ol' fashioned sword war until she beat Ai Masuyo into the dirt. Trial by champion, the way all things should have been done in a society that didn't reward keeping your nose down and being a good little cog.

And Ai Masuyo might have been a lot of annoying things, but she always brought her A-game. This would be a fight.

"I'm saying you've gotten fat." Koyuki said, unimpressed by her biceps. She did not even dignify the second sentence with a response. "And both parties will honor the terms of this duel. If you win, Maruyamachō is off-limits for racketeering, and I will personally go down and apologize to Oba for the inconvenience caused. But if I win..." Koyuki let the corner of her mouth rise ever so slightly. "No more of your clowning there. Stay a civilian. No more vulgar disruptions.

A small bet for a small reward for either side. Maruyamachō was a small-time Shibuya district with no significance. Real estate acquisition would go a bit slower without soldiers harassing the locals into selling and driving property prices down, but that was always the crude approach. There were other ways. As tempted as Koyuki was to make a bigger wager, she was the 2nd-highest ranking Yakuza in Tokyo... but she had still had a boss lurking behind her, and that boss had bosses back in Kansai. She could not wager the Colgomerate's interests on fickle duels, nor would she be allowed to.

They were already looking at her funny for this, but she could afford minor eccentricity with her excellent record.

"Right then..." Koyuki said, reaching for her wooden katana on the floor. The moment her hand gripped the handle, she would all too suddenly lash out with her blade in a lightning flourish, carrying through an arc that would seek to slash Ai Masuyo from hip to shoulder as she stood up.

Did she start wearing eyeliner? Her eyes looked darker than usual.

Lack of sleep? Maybe just the lighting?

Masuyo squinted a little bit to find out for herself. It took a good second, but her money was on ‘no’. Two years was a long time to go between visits. It shouldn’t have been all that big of a surprise if she’d lost her luster a bit here or there. Especially if she was missing out on sleep.

Oops. She wasn’t paying attention.

Whenever Koyuki decided to start talking about territory and boundaries, Masuyo found it best to simply detach herself from the idea altogether. It wasn’t like she could follow any of it in the first place. Tokyo wasn’t a series of drawn-up lines and markers. It was people. A culture. Life as boundless as the clear blue sky. That one, clear fact was something she and Koko never agreed on. They existed in separate worlds and Shibuya was a thin bridge of neon light that connected the two of them through a hectic present and into the winding future.

It wasn’t hard for her to see through Koyuki’s ice-cold gaze and rigid brows. She had known them for most of her life, after all. What Masuyo Ai did see was the flash of anticipation, the boiling excitement that Koyuki wanted to unleash as she had time and time again. The strikes of wooden blades crashed and snapped against her ears. Memories of sweat and bruises that reawakened the shining past before her eyes. It filled her heart with wonderful days and brightened her smile even further even as Koyuki’s glower seemed to deepen.

Masuyo’s eyes kept to her rival even as the yakuza reached for her sword. She was trying to figure out exactly what was going on in that head, why she even wanted these terms for a duel. If Koyuki was this bored, she could easily find her on the streets, or outside of her restaurant. Friction would have been less of a hassle. The payment would have been more satisfying for someone like her too. The only reason Masuyo could think of...

Koyuki missed her.

A violent clash struck the space between them in the next instant. When the gust of wind parted, Masuyo’s sword was suddenly in her right hand. A swift motion had stopped the path of her rival’s sword when it was only inches shy of a clean cut across the aikido prodigy’s chest. All the while, Masuyo hadn’t moved from her seat on the floor, her legs still tucked beneath her against the floor as she locked eyes with her first friend.

"Yeah, I hear ya. Money is pretty tight for me too these days." Masuyo shoved her sword into Koyuki, forcing her back far enough for Masuyo to safely leap backward a comfortable distance. She would bring her sword upright and grip it tightly with both hands, entering her stance with a smile and a keen eye on her adversary. Then, all of a sudden, her face perked up. "Oh! I know! The restaurant still needs an evening cook if you're interested! Whaddya say? All the gyoza you could ask for! I bet I could even make you my pupil!"

Masuyo flashed her trademark grin with a chuckle behind closed eyes. She was being totally serious.

Both the longevity of their pseudo-friendship and Koyuki's frustrations with it could be attributed to one single factor:

Ai Masuyo never listened.

Unless the message was sent via a punch to the face, of course.

And she was reminded of that fact once again when Ai Masuyo opened her big fat mouth and basically disregarded every single word she had just said. One part misguided idealism, one part ignorance, one part being dumb as a brick, the ramen chef lived in a reality that was both oddly similar to her own, and yet so drastically different. Traditionalism and patriotism were two things they could agree on... their respective methods towards both ends they could not. Okay no, that wasn't even accurate. To disagree with what Koyuki Sanada was doing, Ai Masuyo needed to first know what Koyuki Sanada was doing, a task that she seemed completely ill-suited for.

She would never admit it to Ai Masuyo, but she was both aghast and humiliated that the sum total of her friend's idea of what she did with her life was harassing old women for pocket change, and she didn't trust Ai Masuyo at all to extrapolate that harassing old women for pocket change was an unfeasibly unsustainable business because they. Had. No. Money.

By the gods, she was starting to sound like Annabelle. Their mutual friend was a whiney, neurotic jew of a woman, and interactions with Ai Masuyo was turning her into exactly that: a giant-nosed corporate stooge hunching over expense sheets.

Fuck it, this was too much thought over a woman who had none. She was just gonna beat the shit out of her. Wasn't even going to dignify her response with an answer.

Her diagonal cut was intercepted and parried, and then Ai Masuyo pressed the bladelock forward, forcing her back just enough to establish some distance. Koyuki's earlier grimace slowly retreated as she breathed all her hate, her annoyance, her frustrations out with her last breath. This wasn't a street fight or a brawl. Kendo was meditative; purposeful, each designated stroke a calculated decision. She was clouding this duel with her interpersonal problems. She stood up, her blade held over her head with both hands, a stark contrast to Ai Masuyo's more neutral stance-

And stared. Ai Masuyo grinned. Koyuki Sanada gave her nothing. They stood in that position for a second, two seconds, three seconds, tension building, waiting for that silent gong to go off.

And then it did.

Koyuki took a tentative step forward, then a second one. The third took her into a charge and an overhead strike crashing down onto Ai Masuyo's guard.

She really thought the gyoza would have got her. It was a good offer, honestly made. Maybe tutelage just wasn't something Koko was after right now.

It made perfect sense on paper. The only people Masuyo had known longer than Koko were her parents. More than half of that time together was in a fight. Some of the best fights of her life. Was there anyone else that knew their strengths and weaknesses better than each other? Maybe Anna, but who knew what she was up to these days?

Oh, well. There was always tomorrow.

Despite the unmistakable grin on her face, Masuyo’s intensity hadn’t wavered in the slightest as a long silent moment carried over the room. The Demon had only a second to read her rival’s face and understand her intent. For most people, that scowling visage would be unreadable, casting a singular intent for annihilation. She said it was to settle terms and keep Masuyo from causing a ruckus in their district, but there were informal ways to handle that. Koko had freely enjoyed alternative solutions in the past; ambushes, diversions, midnight negotiations with a couple of bruisers at her back. Each one was more fun than the last. This, however, was different. It was tense. It was personal.

It was just like old times.

Downward vertical slash.

Being able to read and react were too separate things. Koko’s "slashes" were more like strokes of turbulent wind. ‘Restraint’ was a foregone concept in her style. She’d seen her win matches with a single stroke in full kit. It wouldn't be a mistake to think an oni was dwelling around somewhere in that body, feeding her power in every strike. Masuyo could just about imagine what that would do to her without a helmet on.

Masuyo swung her sword skyward and parried the blow with a sidestep, moving to round her rival’s guard. Just as quickly her sword would recoil and attempt a counter blow to the right shoulder. She would move to take a step back after her attempt, recovering her distance and assuming her stance once again. "Ooh, I forgot. You're a takoyaki person, aren't you?"

Koyuki Sanada was not, in fact, a takoyaki person.

Wasn't a gyoza person either. Unagi? Nope. Sashimi? Absolutely not. Yakitori? Yuckytori. Tempura? Selectively. If Koyuki didn't know better, she might have been saddened (and angered. Mostly angered) at the fact that her friend couldn't actually remember what she could and couldn't eat - but she did know better, and she knew Ai Masuyo was legitimately too stupid to know that a Shinto Vegan couldn't eat takoyaki. She probably thought octopi were fair game or some braindead nonsense she conjured up in her head. All those years eating just soba and meatless ramen and oden in front of Ai Masuyo, and she probably thought Koyuki was a picky eater.

Which she was but that was besides the point.

You know what else was besides the point?

Kendo. Kendo was only incidental to what they were actually because actual kendo was a shallow, watered-down mockery of an actual duel to the death between warring samurai. "Traditional" had slowly morphed into a prejudicial term. Karate was traditional. Judo was traditional. Aikido was traditional - and they were all neutered relics of what once was. Kendo was the same; the martial way of the sword reduced to point fighting and armored kits so nobody would nurse anything more than a boo-boo in the morning. A killing art was reduced to rigid recreation and a nonsensical point system in a time where the sword meant nothing.

That was not the victory condition of this duel between them. There were no points. They would stop only when one of them stopped, and so when Ai Masuyo parried her downward slash, circled around and lashed out with her own blade, Koyuki was more than ready to take a blow to deliver a blow. The blade smashed against her right shoulder with a painful jolt, but Koyuki was already in motion. She discarded her double-hand stance and the sword went to her left hand alone, anticipated the calculated retreat that Ai Masuyo frequently disappointed her with, and pursued just as Ai Masuyo retreated, whipping her blade sideways in a wild diagonal swing intended to catch her on the waist, way below where her guard when she reset.

Tako fuckin' Yaki.

Their afternoons were never quiet. From one moment of silence came the sound of cracking thunder as their swords clashed like twin bolts of lightning. The kendo hall had a life and energy like no other when it was just her and Koko. All those years ago seemed so close and the familiarity came to her in echoes.

The vibrations Masuyo felt along her sword were the same as back then, but tempered with age and experience. They tingled to her bones and numbed the fingertips, resonating echoes through her blood in a sensation that couldn't help but force an upward curl of her lips. Her sword began to hum. She felt it shaking even as she carried on with her counterstrike. Even when her slash cracked against Koko's shoulder and before she could see the slash cutting across her midsection.

The Demon winced and slammed her hilt down to break the blade away as she leapt back. Masuyo raised her sword steadily in front of her with one hand, guarding the distance while her other went to her side. The damage stung and throbbed on her ribs like mad. Koko was as fast as ever.

"Nice!" Masuyo gripped with both hands and lunged at her rival, raising her sword high over her head. A strong, heavy stomp forward would summon the full weight of her weapon in a downward cut towards Koyuki's head, threatening to split her down the middle. Whatever contact she made, Masuyo wouldn't be satisfied with one. She would use the recoil to raise the sword high again before she took another mighty stomp and battered her guard again with an equally powerful overhead strike.

Through the clash of her twin strikes, over the span of the single second it would take for both of them to land, Koko might just catch a glimpse of the Demon smiling straight at her.