Means to an end; self desputed victories.

[Yatagarasu]

The moon rise high above the dimly lit sky, as the wicked crescent figure portrays a sadistic half witted smile. A quite eventful night for the Witch of which had thus far proven to be a slight annoyance an accomplishment all the same. Having taken upon the Celestial form before, he were as of now arising from his what seemed to be gaseous form. Taking on the aura once more, the black smoke like figure begins to close inward to form a humanoid like being. Before taking on a full physical form. Having bearing a full black pants with trench coat, the only non black clothing were his plain white t. Under the said beautiful night, a sudden bursts of winds decided to take their holdings, as the clothes of the young boy seemingly float with a certain dignity.

As the wind continues to blow, sand picks up from the floor surface, revealing the dunes of the desert plains that seemed to stretch on for an eternity. In the vast sands surrounding him, the man however stands still not moving an inch from his position. Reaching out his hands as if to make a solid motion, halfway from retrieving ones arm from the jacket he pauses. With a sudden seconds time, his smile had vanished leaving a blank poker face. Instead all that remained was a near emotionless look, as he recall the last time he had been in this desert. The memory of his now lost Rival, Liam the Demon Hunter. A self proclaimed human , who had the abilities of a legendary weapon , being recognised as part of the DWMA. He were not a Meister however, for his weapon were not a humanoid, a simple sword of legends to be foretold. Thinking back, he knew that sword far too well, the injuries it had inflicted on both Yata, and a few of his enemies the same. He could not help but to ponder on their last confrontation in this very desert, right before the entrance of the Witch City.

Days earlier, in the very desert he stands in

The time had been slightly different, in these moments the wind had not been settled, yet far from it. A large cloud cover's the desert, practically blocking out the dun as it darkens the surrounding area. A sand storms had took its holding, making it difficult for the ordinary person to see. Within this envirement two men stood facing one another. With weapons ready, it were almost like the two had been frozen in time, just staring one another down. The opposing man to Yata wore a tank top, and bottom cloak like pants, that fluttered in the wind like a wild beast. His posture were however unlike his baggy clothing, statute and powerful bounding, showing no emotion to the horrible climate. With his sword drawn and in a battle ready position, he simply gazed at the Witch with a killing intent.

The very essence put off from the two seem to give off a chill within the air, as Yatagarasu raises his left hand in preperation for what would soon come. A rod of darkness begins to form, as a blackened scythe seems to appear in that of his grips. Letting in fall through the sand, the blade of the staff comes to a rest, as the edge of the pole rests on the shoulder and back of the Witch. Waiting just a split second more, the young man before this Witch pulls his arm up in a twitch, rotating his blade in one complete circle. Instant, the sand storm around them in a 75 foot radious stops, as grains plummet to the ground. Looking closely, it were as if the sand storm continued around the two in all directions, yet they appeared to be in a calm of the storm. The sheer force and power of his sword in one rotation had manipulated the air, forcing the winds of high amplititude around them to cease. With the distractions now out of the wait, in one swift movement, Yata kicks his foot back, striking the blade of his scythe. It suddenly launches, as he slides it from his shoulder, tightly gripping it and taking off into a sprint. The two were now advancing towards one another with incredible speeds. Behind that of the Witch were a rising aura of darkness, and that of the Swordsman dust kicking up in mass amounts, from the sheer force of his steps and speed.

[Yatagarasu]

Heaven and earth moved beneath the power of the rebellious age known as these two. A utter stop in life, as if to deem a moment of silence to the very battle of the two rivals. Nearing in upon each other, one could have told the very existence of their well being put behind the effort of this single blow. At this moment in time, these two had now been fighting for what had seemed like ages. Only having stopped upon finally agreeing that there were only one true way to find a winner. This decision, was to put it all into one last attack, one of great power non the less. As the two got closer, the power of their attacks raced behind them , literally tearing the ground beneath them as sand flies into the air. Keeping an eye upon one another, it were time for the moment of truth. Flashing in an instant, the time comes that the two both swing their weapons, passing one another.

In the time that the two pass each other, all goes silent to Yatagarasu however. What had it been, where this truly the end to him? No it was something else that had claimed his hearing, not adrenaline. Astonishment at what he had just felt, and seen with his own eyes. Stopping, a mere step from each other, their backs face one another. Seconds of silence occur, as Yata looks into the beautiful moon. I never took time to recognise the moon's beauty, you know? He were accepting what had just occured, as he looks down only to see blood splatter. Covered across his body, the crimson red falls slowly.

Closing his eyes, he begins to clench his fist, without even beginning to turn around. "How could you dare dishonor us both, but using Mineuchi" (Mineuchi : A technique in which the wielder turns the blade around, striking with the blunt side. ) Upon his body, wore a red color indeed, but bathed in the blood of his own enemy. A sad victory, in which his opponent had practically commited his own death. Keeping his head down, it were obvious his enemy knew his actions. Doubt were in his mind, that he were going to lose, but his enemy knew for a fact. Yata won only because he were given victory.

In the background the sound of a thud is heard, as the man hits the ground, blood filling the sand, as a slight chuckle is heard from his blood filling lungs. Your just a small fry, aren't you, what good is killing the rookie? A slight smile is on the face of Yatagarasu, as he turns around. Looking down upon the man, the two warriors meet eyes, as the slow and inevitable death begins to approach the swordsman. "Liam, legendary swordsman, I am indebt.." "Cut that bullshit, I owe you my life, blah blah. Aint no one got time for that, if I wanted your life I would have taken it. I want to see a witch that can respect a meister, not a coward who is indebted to a meister. Stopping his self, Yata simply shakes his head, knowing of al lthe times these two fought what the result were going to be. He had grown up a Rival to this man, and today they decided that the true warrior prevail, his mission being the death of the other likewise. Yata knew that Liam were the better warrior , so why spare him? Did Liam expect the same in return, had he been a horrible Rival and friend? "I see that look , of regret, it is good that you did not stop that attack. It were a test to see if you would hold back, had you held back that would mean you are not ready to be a witch. How could I let my own brother become a true witch in this world before being ready? I hated the thought of letting you in the first place, but I must assure your were fit for the job. Holding back the inevitable tears, the dieing man holds up his sword with the last bit of strength he had left, only for Yata to nod taking the legendary blade of sorts.

Snapping back to reality, the sands wait, as Yata raise his head fro mthe memory. Arm outstretched, he looks down, at the sword still attached to his side, an everlasting reminder of what had only came to be true. It were no legendary sword, but a curse to always give him that memory of before.