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Requiem of Destruction (1x1 with DarkMudkip)

A small amount of blood trickled down from Motochika’s throat, the very tip of the blades pressed to his flesh. He growled lowly at Motochika, then pulled his weapons back, breathing heavily as he returned to Akihime’s side.
 
He let out a soft rumbling noise, almost like a tiger, nuzzling against her hand.
Motochika’s heart and skin began to hurt, feeling like his heart was starting to seize up, was it Nana?
 
Nana hung limply from the metal hook above th entrance of the arena, still without her clothes and covered in gashes that mirrored Motochika’s her head hung limp, and she showed no signs of life, the pain in Motochika’s chest fading.
 
"No. No! Nana!!" He looked for anything he could use to climb up to her, the weapon rack having some daggers that he grabbed and stabbed into the stone of the building. Not even a quarter of the way up and the steel broke, causing him to fall on his ass. "Nana..."
 
From his position on th ground, Motochika could see Nana’s eyes; they were wide open in agony, glazed over with death. Again, she looked dried out and frail, her golden scales cracked in places across her body.
 
"Get her some water! Please, she needs water!" Motochika called to Akihime. Akihime made a thoughtful noise.
"Yes, you're right, she needs something..." She said and Motochika looked relieved, "I'll have a bucket sent out soon."
"Thank you..." Motochika muttered, "Thank you so much..."
 
Soon a servant with a bucket of water made his way out, eyes downcast as he moved over to where Nana hung, and flung the water on her. It was no more than a wineglass full of water, but it did the trick. Nana took in a painful breath of air, light returning to her eyes.
 
Nana was shaking once more, her unfocused eyes slowly moving to look at him. ”Hurts...” Was all she was able to force into his mind, closing her eyes slowly.
 
She let out a ragged breath, barely able to nod, closing her eyes to reserve what very little strength she had left.
 
He looked and saw Akihime had left and Motochika moved to find more water for Nana. He got a bucket of water and moved back to his wife, "Close your eyes, Nana.." He said gently.
 
She obliged, closing her eyes as he had asked, it was about the only thing she could do in her weakened state.
 
Motochika used all his strength to swing the bucket and toss the water up high enough to reach Nana. It connected with her chest and splashed all over her body, soaking her and her hair.
 
Nana couldn’t help but gasp in relief, the feeling of water over her dry skin better than anything she’d ever felt. ”Thank you...”
 
She gave a small nod, her only solace would be the cool night times and Motochika, for the rest of the time being, she would have to endure.
 
When Motochika was forced back to his cell, he sat contemplating all night; even when he slept, he was conjuring ways to get him and his wife out. He worried for Ren, not having seen the boy since the capture. Did Akihime have him killed? No, she liked getting a few uses out of the things she toyed with.
 
Days upon days would pass, and everyday brought Motochika new opponents before Motochika, both warriors and monsters, it didn’t matter. With every opponent he struck down, he was granted fresh water, which most of he would use to keep Nana from drying out completely, but the days were starting to grow hotter as they moved into summer, and soon it took more and more water to keep her from dying.
 
Motochika sacrificed all his water to keep Nana from suffering too much. He kept his eye on all guard routines whenever he was taken to the arena, getting ready to start the break out and get back the Fugaku and get out of Osaka.
 
At noon that day, when Akihime always came down to see the fights, Motochika’s next oppennet entered the ring. It wasn’t on his own two feet however, for the boy before him had to be dragged into the arena, barely able to stand once let go, actually falling to his knees as a blade was tossed into the sand in front of him. The pink haired lad was familiar, only marred skin setting him apart from the young man Motochika knew as Ren.
 
Ren seemed to go stiff at Motochika’s voice, and without an ounce of grace, he scrambled to his feet, only to fall again to his knees. It was clear he hadn’t been spending his days in luxury, filthy as a pig and covered in heavy bruises and shallow cuts. One eye was swollen so badly he couldn’t open it even a bit, and his hands were red and swollen, his knuckles in particular; had they been dislocated?
“C-Cap’n..!” Tears leaked from even his swollen eye, despair and fear in his other. “I sorry... I’m so sorry... I was wrong..!” He could hardly speak over his split lip.
 
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