Breakneck Pride | Killing Games
@kurcda
Ever since the Killing Game started, Arakita was determined to get face-to-face with this Kuroda Yukinari that everyone was betting on. It certainly pissed him off that so many people were betting on a fucking Russko instead of him. Surely, there had been a Japanese guy in the top ranking as well -- but said Japanese was not Yasutomo and that meant war.
Killing people wasn’t a hard task to him -- at first, it felt weird and off-putting, but eventually he didn’t think too much about it. Quite the contrary, he started adorning his bat with needles, slamming them into the head of the bat as he used it almost like a sledgehammer, so the metal parts would stick out as crooked as possible, causing extra damage to anyone who was unlucky enough to be in the way.
Part of him wasn’t all too thrilled about the death or the money ---- he just wanted to defeat the person who dared to rank above him. All he had to say to that was that it was evident how people would favour others over him -- he was not a people pleaser and everyone could tell by the way he carried himself, by the way he spoke and acted. He never won the popularity polls -- but either way, he’d always find a way to show people that he didn’t need their support or caring in order to achieve something.
Lurking around the worn down buildings, the ruins and parts of concrete walls piled up, he looked around for that obnoxious white-haired boy -- eventually spotting him near the harbour in plain sight; was he being stupid? He was not even attempting to cover his ass and instead made an obvious invite to attack him? And people voted for that guy? Disgusting.
“Oi...” Calling out to the man, he had no intention to ambush him like a coward, he swung his blood-splattered and needle-covered bat over his shoulder as he approached the man closer. “Kurrrroda, right? Quite the Japanese name for A Russko...” Wiping his mouth and chin due to the humidity-induced sweat dripping down, he cocked his head to the side. “I was waiting to beat you the fuck up into a useless pulp; regaining my pride and the bet money that was put onto your head.” The concept of provocation was merely so he could see the other’s reaction and how he’d react; he wanted to understand his method before he’d attack him. Yasutomo was smart enough to know that he had no room to underestimate an opponent, let alone acting out of rash and brute anger.