The Manji Dance
Category: Soul Calibur
Summary: *Soul Calibur Yoshi* Yoshimitsu has a rather unusual request to make of Talim after he saves her from a group of bandits [YoshiTalim oneshot]
Hello and Welcome to my humble story. This is one of my fics from Fanfiction that I feel deserves the right to live here in this Website since no one really Hearts Yoshi on FF.net. So sit back and enjoy my attempt at a never before seen pairing of Yoshimitsu/Talim. Once I post this up, I'll put my YoshiTalim drabbles of 'Tonfa And Katana' as well.
And yes, the start seem very Talimish but I tried to get Yoshi in as quickly as possible.
Talim stretched out in front of the roaring fire and surveyed her surroundings with a quiet sense of ease. Her padded sandals were resting a few feet away from the fire in order to dry, spare set of clothes hanging up on the branch of a nearby tree; swaying lightly in the cool breeze of the twilight. A small boiler teapot hung above the fire, heating the water inside. Her tent was pitched to perfection; arching in slopes of dark green material and tied together with sturdy poles and thick ropes. Her faithful blades lay beside her sleeping futons, the sharp edges wrapped with a soft animal hide to keep them from rusting during the night. It was a routine that she did every night and slept with her blades besides her pillow, like always. Creatures of the night chirped merrily to one another, enjoying the night?s privilege of fewer predators.
. ..Somewhere nearby, a stream splashing against rocks shattered the silence of the ever quiet forest. The scene was almost picture perfect.
Almost being the key word.
As Talim reached around for her pack, the sudden snapping of a twig alerted the young priestess that she was not alone. Foolishly her hands made for her elbow blades, only to find them laying a good few feet away from her, and bundled up with thick brown cord.
Run my child, there is danger afoot came the cry of the wind. Talim puzzled for a moment, the second costing her greatly.
They were on her before she could even utter a cry for help as a group of five or six bandits rampaged through her campsite, destroying and tearing everything within their greasy grasp. The flash of a burning white blade slashed her tent and the foot of another sent her pack flying sky high. One tipped over her boiler of hot water and Instinctively, Talim rolled into the dirt from the open fire, weaving through the wreckage. She aimed for her weapons, sure of herself that if she could reach them, she would stand a good chance running them off.
However, the mauling marauders had other ideas. One of the bandits intercepted her movements and caught her delicate arm with his gloved hand, crushing her forearm with his vice-like grip. Biting her lower lip, Talim tugging fiercely against his iron seize, her fear becoming apparent on her features before she could stop herself. She had heard tales from other girls of previous villages about groups of bandits; men and woman alike who raided camp sites and terrorised campers who were not fortunate enough to have any weapons.
'Please, let go of me!' Talim regretted her words immediately, realising how meek her voice sounded. After all, she was in no position to demand anything. The bandit must have found something highly amusing about her for he and his comrades, now making themselves comfortable in her camp site, laughed cruelly at her.
'You're not going anywhere little girl. Not until we?ve through with you. Right boys??' More suggestive jeering was thrown at her rapidly paling face, causing a feeling of disgust and the venomous feeling of hatred - an emotion that she was not comfortable with to wash over her. Torrents of wind rushed through the open trees, reacting to the feeling of the priestess and a cocktail of emotions swirled within her.
Gritting her teeth in determination, Talim pivoted on her heel and used her waist to gain momentum. Her gloveless fist formed into a palm strike and she proceeded to land it in his face with supreme dexterity. 'Strike!' Though it turned into more of a slap, it still found its large target. His head had a typical knee jerk reaction, whipping backwards and allowing Talim to wriggle from his grasp. Her sudden display of power stunned the group of thugs in silenced.
Talim darted towards her weapons with renewed vigour, only to find herself suddenly trapped by another two of the bandits. The larger of the two whipped around her, slid his thick arms underneath his armpits and hoisted her off the ground like she was a sack of rice. With her dark hair flying everywhere, the young girl struggled for all she was worth; thrashing angrily against her muscled prison.
'Little wench. You?ll pay for that', he cursed, stomping towards the struggling girl. Vertigo claimed her head, courtesy of her flailing and Talim felt sick as she watched the situation spiral out of control faster than a hurricane. The heaving leader of the group glowered at her from behind his scarf and Talim couldn?t help but wince. Her energy was depleted completely and she found herself feeling utterly helpless. Terror began to build within her tiny body and it caused her to tremble. The bandit raised a gloved fist, intending to punish the young girl for her antics.
'Thou should never raise a hand to a defenceless lady' Came the voice of a newcomer, completely mesmerising and elegant in its own right. Talim looked for the source of the strange and whimsical voice, and with the sight that greeted her eyes, there was no way she could have missed him perched upon the weapon he wielded. Such a feat couldn?t be possible but there he was, balancing with the grace and sophistication of a grasshopper (like he had been there the entire time)
The costume he wore was like a slap in the mouth to ones senses. His permanently grinning and almost demonic headgear and mask, made from beautiful curves and elegant contours carved into wood, was painted with bright colours and varnished to give it a glossy gleam. His outrageous attire had no word by which to describe it as and a refined and elegant flag rose from upon his back. Stranger than his ever cheerful mask and his ensemble was his right arm ? It was made entirely out of ever turning, ever moving cogs of wood.
Was such a feat possible? Was his father a tree? Talim would have let out a cry of surprise had she not been in such a predicament.
Clearly, the marauders were unimpressed at his sudden appearance as well for the leader reared his ugly head towards the masked stranger. 'Bugger off, we're busy or we will beat you to death with that funky arm of yours' he snorted at the masked stranger. It was only then Talim noticed the red lights where his eyes should have been gleam brightly.
What was this man? Was he a demon? A vengeful spirit perhaps?
Talim had little time to ponder as the masked man released a pitched cry from his chest and bounded from his position upon his sword to a defensive stance across the campsite. The bandits leapt to their feet, attempting to close in on the masked stranger. However, he stood his ground against the dirty rabble.
'Despicable creatures, have thou no shame? Intending to take advantage of an innocent maiden who has not harmed you is a deed that will not go unpunished' The stranger stated, and his mask turned slightly, tilted to the right with a playful curiosity; like he was trying to get a better look at her.
'Have they harmed you young maiden?' Talim was jerked roughly from her musings and when she opened her mouth to speak, no words could be formed. Nothing she could say would accurately describe how she was feeling. For all her trouble, she only succeeded in making herself look like a gaping goldfish.
'We'll harm you in a minute if you don't get lost freak' barked the largest and ugliest bandit. Of course he would be in charge.
When Yoshimitsu received no reply from the young girl, he was sure they had already done something untoward to her. Perhaps he was too late to help her. No, she had been struggling for all she was worth moments before he had arrived. Even at a distance, that desperate will to survive burning in her large brown eyes was not a sight he could forget easily. When he first arrived on the scene, his eyes were greeted with the sight of a barely legal girl thrashing violently against her captors. Seeing her desperate with that look of horror painted across her pixie like face made him want to drive his blade into the hearts of all those who dare to harm her.
He raised his wooden fist and clenched it determinately.
Every one of them would pay.
He would make sure of that.
In a flash of colour, the fist of Yoshimitsu landed itself at the base of an unfortunate marauders neck. He had no time to cry out and tumbled swiftly to the ground, followed by another of his brothers-at-arms. Completely stunned their companions neither moved nor blinked, unsure of what to do.
It was just the distraction Talim needed.
Throwing her head backwards, Talim knocked against the nose of a completely stunned bandit with enough force to draw blood. A startled cry from behind her alerted the priestess that she had hit her target. The man let go of her and Talim tumbled to the ground.
Instantly, Yoshimitsu was at her side like some sort of twisted guardian angel. His arms shot out and hooked themselves around the blubbering green marauders body. His glowing eyes caught Talim's and she understood what he was about to do. She darted out of the way just in time before the form of Yoshimitsu threw the bandit sky high. The said bandit, for all his muscles, was tossed aside easily by a man half his height. And probably half his weight. The bandits scrambled to one side of the campsite, dragging their fallen comrades with them and letting off a stream of curses towards the masked man.
Finally, the blade came out from its sheath and Yoshimitsu pointed it in the general direction of the mauraders.
'Leave this place. Lest you wish to meet an untimely death by the blade of my sword' he remarked in a chipper tone though every word on his sentence was serious. Talim was completely gobsmacked and her face openly displayed her cocktail of emotions.
With tails set firmly between their legs, the marauders left the wreckage of the campsite; practically falling over themselves to escape the wrath of the demon and cursing him all the while. Talim imagined a grin of victory plastered under the stranger.
'Are thou hurt fair maiden?' the hero asked gently, extending his gloved hand towards the young girl. Completely numb with awe, Talim nodded and accepted his hand without hesitation. The ninja pulled her swiftly to her feet, traces of overwhelming tenderness in his actions. Talim shook herself off and glanced around her now pitiful excuse for a campsite, sighing heavily before turning her attention back to the comforting but eccentric masked man.
'Yes sir, if it wasn't for you, I would be....' Talim paused, unable to even imagine what horrors she might have faced if he had not shown up in time. Obviously, the merry stranger shared the same thought for his mechanical fisted together tightly.
'Oh I merely played my part' Talim looked at him squarely in the eye.
'Who are you sir? Why did you save me? I do not mean to sound ungrateful but I'd like to know why you would go out of your way to help me, a complete stranger?
'I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more is none?' Talim tilted her head to the side cutely, unable to make sense of the words she was hearing. A healthy chuckled rumbled from the depths of the mask and suddenly the masked man bowed to her.
'And with that, thy must say it is a very good honour to meet you and you may call me Yoshimitsu' He responded in his whimsical and preppy voice, practically striking a pose. Although his words made no sense to her, Talim felt the corners of her mouth pluck up; forming a small smile upon her lips.
'And you, young damsel, who am I speaking to?' Yoshimitsu asked, his voice dancing with merriment. Talim felt her cheeks redden for a moment, and kicked the ground nervously. The masked man almost chuckled at the adorable reddening of her cheeks.
'I-I'm Talim' the wind priestess uttered out, her fingers fidgeting at her sides. A mirthful laugh erupted from the depth of the mask and the red glow of his eyes twinkled kindly.
'Talim thou say? Tis a beautiful name for a beautiful girl', the masked man remarked though his tone suggested he was recalling a distant memory. Caught off guard completely and unsure how to respond, Talim felt her face grow rapidly hot for the second time in less than sixty seconds.
'Thank you Yoshimitsu sir. And thank you for helping me. I wish there was some way I could repay you for your kindness', Talim evaded tactfully, trying to change the subject. What Talim didn't realise was that she had only made things worse for herself.
Beneath the mask, Yoshimitsu could barely suppress a grin under his prison of cold porcelain and wood.
The grin on his mask seemed more noticeably now to the young priestess as Yoshimitsu practically jumped on the spot, like he had been waiting for her to ask.
'I require nought from you, fair maiden Talim, but a kiss for this humble hero.'
Poor Talim nearly died on the spot. There was no way he could be serious. But the way he said it, his words rang with genuine intentions. In those few seconds of silence, Talim?s face turned at least ten different shades of red. Her reaction must have amused the ninja for a joyful chuckle rumbled from the sword swinger.
'A-a-are you serious?' Darn that bothersome stutter. Her foolish habitat only succeeded in making her six years her junior. Yoshimitsu somehow cocked his masked head to the side and Talim could only imagine what his face expression must have been.
'If it makes you uncomfortable sweet lady, do not fret, I shall take my leave now. Farewell and keep safe', Yoshimitsu declared loudly and before she could protest, he was suddenly a good five feet away her; his posture was that if he had been standing there the entire time.
A lump caught painfully in her throat at the thought of him abandoning her, and she shook her head with disbelief. Since when did she need protection?
She couldn't fully comprehend what she was about to do. Only that it felt, in some strange way, like the right thing to do.
'Please! Wait!' Talim called and approached the masked man. The hero halted in his tracks and turned around to face her. Wind rustled through the branches of the trees, reaching down to run its wintery fingers through the wind priestess's fine dark locks. It seemed to be edging her on gently, calming the storm of her mind and allowing its priestess to achieve absolute focus. She swallowed her anxiety and smiled gently at her hero.
'Thank you', She chirped as her gloveless hand reached up to grip his helmet, her pulse quickening with every passing second; now an almost deafening roar compared to earlier. Close enough now to hear his breathing through his mask, Talim swore she heard his breath catch in his throat as her fingers touched the side of his mask.
Silence overtook them both, lingering in the air for a few moments before they both heard him take his next breath before the depths of the mask suddenly stilled. A tiny hand found its way onto the cold porcelain cheek, resting there for a moment. Compared to Yoshimitsu's huge form, Talim was tiny so the gentle giant leaned down slightly as the Priestess stood up on her dainty tiptoes.
A heartfelt kiss landed upon the cold forehead of
Yoshimitsu's mask and Talim felt a surge of indescribable warmth from the contact. It felt good; better than a hot soak after a battle, a full meal on an empty stomach or finding an oasis in the desert. No sound could be heard in that lonely forest besides from the rapid beating heart of Talim. She pulled back biting her lip, her entire face a shade of luminous red. Yoshimitsu was silent, asides from his breathing that rasped through his mask. It certainly wasn?t encouraging.
'Thank you young Talim', his voice barely above a whisper, raising his single flesh hand up to her face and ghosting over her features gently with gloved fingertips. Talim inhaled sharply and suppressed a shiver as Yoshimitsu's hand caressed her cheek gently. She forced herself to look up at him, heart in her throat while every fibre in her body screaming in objection. She raised her palm up towards his mask and began mimicking his movements; trailing a dainty fingertip over the contours of his ever grinning mask.