Morgan Drakewing yays, heading to the last known residence of a certain "Omitsu Saga" in the Japanese suburbs, using a skeleton key to open the door, free hand resting on something bound on his belt.
Dragon Doll is nowhere to be seen, but the wooden beams of the porch make a subtle creak and the door proves to be unlocked, opening to an austerely decorated room with no furniture, only weapons and oni masks hung on the walls. A hallway leads toward the back and another open door into a garden beyond.
Morgan Drakewing walks slowly, his red glowing eyes scanning the Spartan surroundings. Yep, this was Yumi's place alright. He remembered one of those masks on the mantle, a gold oni mask, with an eastern dragon on the right cheek, western dragon on the left. They had bought that when they were still...tight. He notes the door to the garden, following the trail.
Dragon Doll does not look up from the bonsai tree she is binding as he approaches, kneeling in flowing red silk, her cruel fingers continuing to torture the miniature tree with the attention to detail that her Master Shinji taught her as a child, skill whereby pain and suffering shape the grotesque the sapling will become when it blossoms.
Morgan Drakewing sees Yumi's back, but is not so naive to think he is sneaking up on her. He could see the outlines of the tattoo on her back, half covered by the silks, remembering her telling him the story of it. He stands, unwrapping his own katana, unfastening it from his belt, holding it still in the scabbard.
Dragon Doll grins, almost more of a grimace really, as her fingers work, twisting and tightening, pushing little limbs near their breaking points. "Morgan, you come seek death?”
Morgan Drakewing stands steady, adjusting his trenchcoat. "I come seeking you, my love. Death no longer stops me." He looks to the bonsai tree. "It seems like I have kept you waiting for a while. My apologies."
Dragon Doll appears to finish with the tortured little tree, cruel smile coming to cherry lips as she turns, the whip of jet black hair causing a shower of blossoms to flutter about her as she rises. "I... rooted... here. Only death... stop Yumi."
Morgan Drakewing draws his katana, albeit a bit dramatically, other hand holding the scabbard in a blocking position. "It is better that the fate of a dragon blood is decided by another dragon blood. I will not insult you by asking you to surrender yourself without a fight."
Dragon Doll lets the red silk with the flower print fall from her body like rusty water from a broken pipe, flowing over flesh sculpted as diligently as any bonsai tree, spilling to the ground at her bare feet, still fluttering blossoms settling to the still rippling waves there. "Yumi not armed." Her hairless naked flesh testifies.
Morgan Drakewing gazes over Yumi, noting the truth of her statement. "So I see." He steps aside, not letting up his guard even for a minute. "I will not strike until you get yours."
Dragon Doll smirks and raises a brow at this as the image of the dragon tattoo peaks over her shoulder, slithering across her breasts and down between her legs as she struts past, watching him from a twitching powerful glute as she enters the traditional house on the outskirts of Kyoto. "How say? You funeral."
Morgan Drakewing watches her. "I owe myself at least to keep fair odds, unlike the odds you left your sister Molly." A bit below the belt, true, but it had to be addressed at least as he walks behind the nude shinobi.
Dragon Doll walks confidently down the hall into the room full of weapons and takes a katana and a belt of throwing knives from the wall. She puts her foot up on the wall as she straps the knives to her thigh, the resulting tight press of pussy lips distracting from the tight-lipped response. "Master Shinji require test. Molly live. Yumi respect Molly."
Morgan Drakewing tilts his head, inquisitively. "A test?" It seems like a reasonable explanation, but still, he had thought there was some sort of animosity between the two that had boiled over with the framing incident. "That's all it was?"
Dragon Doll laughs out loud as she unsheaths her katana and strikes in one sweeping motion aimed to open Morgan up from shoulder to thigh, knees flexing as she finishes in a crouch, her reply still echoing off the walls. "Hai!"
Morgan Drakewing deftly brings his scabbard up, the blade glancing off the wrapped metal as he backsteps, making a slash of his own towards her legs. "Does Molly know? She still looks as if you had betrayed her trust..."
Dragon Doll's own sheath deflects the strike at her legs, the coiling of her dragon evident in the bulging muscles of the arm holding it as she rises and backs away, settling into a stance and discarding the sheath to adopt a two-handed grip. "Molly understand."
Morgan Drakewing circles about her, eyes keeping to hers, though he did find them wandering to the nude body every now and then. It was quite effective, he hated to admit. "Then why is it you only seek death now? Why choose to set yourself against the other Dolls? I don't believe this was all Master Shinji's doing."
Dragon Doll steps in and attempts to deliver an overhand pull strike, shoulder rippling with green scales. "Death seek Yumi!"
Morgan Drakewing growls, dropping the scabbard now, taking the two hand grip this time, spending more time parrying and deflecting the wild blows of the ninja's flashing blade. He sees a small opening, trying to give a kick to the outside of her knee, as if to buckle it.
Dragon Doll dips a bit lower and takes the blow on her powerful thigh, a wet smack on already sweaty but unmoving firm flesh. She takes advantage of this instant to parry his blade over head, keen edge slicing through the flip of long dark ponytail as she counters with a side kick to his midsection, dragon uncoiling along inner thigh as the leg extends.
Morgan Drakewing staggers back, the swords scraping loudly as he withdraws, rolling away, taking a lower stance, blade diagonal in front of his body, now watching for the inevitable throwing knife attack, grunting to regain the bit of breath he had lost.
Dragon Doll indeed has blades between each of her fingers and lets them fly as he staggers back, tiny daggers aimed at chest, neck and temple.
Morgan Drakewing deflects and dodges as best he can, but he still catches two of the knives, one thudding into his left shoulder, the other into his left thigh, inches from his crotch. He howls in pain, gripping the latter knife, trying his best to yank it out quickly as it would affect his movement.
Dragon Doll does not waste the opportunity, dashing forward in a pitter patter of barefeet, beads of sweat spraying from the tips of oscillating breasts, trailing keen edge cleaving a line in the floor at her side before she brings it upwards toward his crotch in a sweeping diagonal strike, seemingly intent on cleaving him in half.
Morgan Drakewing brings his blade up just at the last second, one hand on the handle, the other along the back of his blade, straining his muscles, pushing against Yumi's strong strike, hands shaking, teeth gritting, on one knee. Yet there is a sense of calmness in his eyes, one of resignation, the same look he had took during their first fight.
Dragon Doll grins as sparks fly where keen edges meet and grind against one another. She presses close, weapons pinned between them, her sweaty flesh having a faintly alluring smell like some sort of sensual bath oil, the exhale from cherry lips warm like a breath of spring, the fingers reaching to her thigh for a knife to stick up under his ribs cold, that look of resignation in his eyes reflected in her own.
Morgan Drakewing growls, suddenly collapsing onto his back, pushing the swords aside as his hand grips at her thigh, making to twist one of the knives inward, trying to give her a proper cut before she has a chance to land the coup de grace. Her scent, her feel, it had all come back to him...the desire he had for her...the desire he STILL has for her...
Dragon Doll lets the katanas clatter away on the wooden floor as she straddles him. She squeals in pain as she is stabbed with one of her own blades, but the squeals sound almost orgasmic as her thighs tighten in a death grip about him and the press of her body drives the blade in her hand ever deeper toward his very heart.
Morgan Drakewing winces, feeling the blade in his shoulder drive deeper, gripping at Yumi's thigh, feeling the hot blood smear over his fingertips, other hand to her wrist, his breath short, frantic, hissing between his clenched teeth, looking into her eyes. “I've...missed you, Yumi...”
Dragon Doll does not stop her assault, grinding, gyrating hips trying to crush his loins between them. Turgid nipples poke at his chest like throwing stars as the dragon flows across them to her shoulder and into the arm that matches strength with him. "Yumi can not love. Must kill." She rides him as if death throes are orgasmic to her.
Morgan Drakewing brings the hand from her thigh to her hip, squeezing as his thumb presses at the inside of her knife wrist. "You are wrong, Yumi...you have loved before. Do not think of yourself as only a weapon. You are a beautiful woman as well. Sensei's training has not taken that away from you..."
Dragon Doll's hand comes off the knife being pressed to his heart. Pain radiates from her eyes as she look down into his. "Yumi fail." She collapses against him, a warm wet press of blood, sweat and yes... tears.
Morgan Drakewing draws the knife away from Yumi's hand, shoulder and thigh still bleeding as takes her close in an embrace, face pressed against her neck, quiet, panting.
Dragon Doll sobs quietly for a few seconds, her chest heaving against his. Then she rolls aside, tears streaming as she gets to her knees and reaches for the katana lying there on the floor.
Morgan Drakewing is quick to stop her from taking the sword, on his knees in front of her, taking her in for a long, deep, long-overdue kiss. "No...Yumi...you have not disgraced yourself...not in my eyes..."
Dragon Doll grimaces as his lips press to her pouting ones. She shakes her head and pushes him away, rising to get a cloth to clean the sword. She wipes it down meticulously and oils the cold steel before returning it to its sheath. Naked and glistening she walks to him with head down. "Yumi fail. Molly pass." She hands the weapon to him. "It is hers now."
Morgan Drakewing takes the blade, standing. "I will let her know." He finally grips the knife in his shoulder, pulling it out. "And what will you do?"
Dragon Doll stares vacantly. "Tank you." She bows her head and shuffles back from him with tiny submissive steps, leaving a trail of wet red prints on the floor. "Yumi dead." She looks up and those eyes focus on a tanto on the wall.
Morgan Drakewing steps in front of his ex-lover, shaking his head. "You are bound to honor, Yumi...I understand that now...but it is not your decision on how you are to die. The dragon of the east must only succumb to its counterpart, not by its own hand. It is proper balance...yin and yang..."
Dragon Doll raises a brow, then nods. She goes to her knees, undoes her ponytail and tosses the long silky black mane aside to reveal the back of her pretty neck, feeling the dragon inside knotting itself in the pit of her bowels.
Morgan Drakewing keeps a hand to Yumi's cheek, making sure she does not break eye contact with him. "And besides, with you gone...who's going to keep a mischievous western dragon like me in line with the girls back home, huh? I don't think Kei would be impaling me through the stomach if I got too fresh." He sits.
Dragon Doll trembles as if reduced to nothing but a poor little girl shivering as she watches her mother murdered before her eyes, unable to find the strength to fight. Her head remains down as she is drawn into her new master's arms and carried across the hall.