A Final Test [Saga]

Muramasa could be very… cruel, to some of his subordinates. Not without purpose mind. A lot of the people he found in his ranks were just pathetic little weasles, looking to get high on his unique blood, or children wanting to tantrum and rebel without true rhyme or reason, just because they believed that it was the more fun option. That wasn’t real anger. Not real fury. He worked them to the bone at times to ensure they showed a sense of devotion for the few releases he granted. It was the closest he could bring them to the catharsis of true rage…

Luzia though… she was a separate case. He’d seen real fury in Luzia, she just wasn’t quite ready to tap into it yet. Not truly. They’d had their lessons, he’d taught her to fight and how to better utilize her quirk. She had turned it into art, and a crude weapon… he was slowly teaching her to meld the two. Like a fine katana, a true blend of bloodshed and majesty in a single form. As such he treated her well in turn. Their little hideaway was hardly a place of many pleasures but he found ways to keep her entertained, as did she in turn find ways to keep herself entertained with the disciples he offered to her service.

Today he was looking to truly push her. While Luzia had done well under him, learning how to utilize her quirk, he still felt it was difficult to bring out her inner fury. That rage that had nearly brought his makeshift coliseum to ruins. As such, he had aligned himself with a rather unique man that had done his troops well in the past. The self proclaimed ‘hero exposer’ Chesire. Not a big name by any means, but Muramasa appreciated his goals. To expose the inner nature of people, show them a mirror that could tell no lies… Muramasa had seen this help many of his men ascend… and as many of them fall.

He wished to watch Luzia see herself… and ascend above what she now is.

Sitting in his makeshift ‘throne’, a patchwork of couches and metalwork at the edge of the coliseum, like caeser looking over his gladiators, he drummed his fingers together patiently as Luzia made her arrival, smirking as she offered a cheeky quip to Chesire. Her confidence was growing. Certainly. But confidence was not what he wished to find in her.

“Glad you could make it, my dear neon fury.” He rose to a full stand. Chesire behind his mask seemed mildly unimpressed just in how he held himself. “In a sense you are correct. You will be facing Chesire’s quirk. I assume you have seen him face my men before, no?” He asked, wanting to know if Luzia’s hazy sense of perception had ever truly taken in what Chesire was capable of. To the untrained eye Chesire just made off color imitations of people that were hell bent on destroying the original… but there was more to it than that.

(Chesire is blonde under the mask just letting ya know)

Muramasa briefly smirked at how she stood a little straighter at being addressed. While he admired her fury, her need to seek approval was, in it’s own way, delightfully endearing. She truly wanted some form of respect from him it seemed rather than just trying to climb the ladder like so many of his other little members. Chesire was not so impressed. He was always distrusting, always thinking how people acted was some big façade in most cases, so why bother taking anyone at face value. Muramasa however similar seemed a little frustrated that Luzia’s perception of Chesire’s quirk was so simple… but it was quickly quelled. He would store that frustration for something worth a true release of his fury. Afterall Chesire’s time was valuable, and he didn’t exactly expect more of Luzia’s perceptiveness. They were still working on her addictions afterall…

“Something like that.” Chesire interrupted the silence with, but he wouldn’t give the game away unless Muramasa told him to, shifting a little to stand more between Luzia and Muramasa on his throne, snapping his fingers (his gloves designed to allow such) and leaning back on a foggy mirror that formed in the air behind his hips, just using it like a hovering seat for a moment. If Luzia tried, she wouldn’t be able to see a clear reflection in this one. “I’m not really your opponent though. I mean by all means, I’d love to see you in action. You’re quick and light on your feat and I need interesting foes to keep my own skills honed… but. Your sole job is to fight my quirk. That’s all muramasa wants.”

Muramasa shifted in his seat, and with his deep commanding voice, he spoke simply. “Indeed.”

Chesire shot a smirk over his shoulder that seemed clear even through his mask, before turning his masked face back to Luzia, shifting off the mirror as it shattered and faded into nothing behind him, dusting off his hands against one another, before reaching forward, holding a ‘ready to snap’ pose with his fingers infront of her face. “So, when I summon my mirror, you stare directly into the eyes of your reflection. Ready?”

He was half tempted to snap and just force her to stare into the mirror he’d make that instant, but it was typically best with Muramasa and his lot not to act in a way that could piss them off. They were all pretty much trained tantrummers, afterall.

Chesire snapped his fingers when she confirmed she was ready, and a thin mirror pain was summoned between them, and Chesire slowly backed away. Expecting her to look directly into her reflections eyes he was given more time than he expected to retreat, reaching the edge of the arena before he could feel his quirk truly activate, curious to see what would haopen as he crossed his arms and watched.

As Luzia observed her reflection, it would only be when she looked into her own eyes that anything seemed out of place. Her fingertips pressed against the fake mirror , the touch of it's cold surface seeming natural... for a fleeting moment. As she met her eyes, the vibrant red she gazed back into turned into a bright pink, her pupils grew sharp and cold, and the soft smile she held turned into an oddly... fearful scowel. The touch of the mirror shifted against hers, and fingers brushed past Luzia's, between hers, intertwining as her reflections hand clasped hers. The mirror between them shattered and the reflection of Luzia now stood before her, shoving her to the ground and grasping at her shoulder, still desperately clinging to her hand as she tried to pin her true self.

"G-give it to me!" She desperately pleaded as she pinned her true self, clawing at the shoulder of her outfit now as she pinned her other hand down into the dirt covered ground of the coliseum. Her expression was desperate, her skin slightly paler, as were her other features. Her vibrant red eyes were replaced with an equally vibrant pink, but her bright hair was faded into a shade that could almost be called white if you weren't able to easily tell colors apart. She panted and peladed in her words as she tried to almost rip the outfit from Luzia's shoulders. She wore the same one of course... however it didn't fit. It sagged in hr shoulders and her chest and hips, draped over her like a child playing dress up in their mothers clothes. it wasn't big, the reflection was just smaller, more frail and... malnourished. It was what Luzia had once looked like before she found kindness in the acts of other villains around her.

"G-give it to me! Please! J-just please-!" She reared back her hand and it was clear she was no longer aiming for the dress as a neon aura coated her hand, flowing over her fingertips and sharpening the edges of her nails with a paler palette of Neon than Luzia's own vibrant choices. Where Luzia was a burst of color, this clone was more akin to the aurora borealis, softer, faded shades that could blend well with a night sky. "GIVE ME IT!" She slammed her hand down, aiming to strike against Luzia's face directly, a terror in her own features, a desperation, as she attempted to take the original's life with a sense of urgency, as if her life depended on slaying the true Luzia infront of her as quickly as she could.

Muramasa and Chesire were silent, at least for now. They just watched and observed, both the clone, and Luzia's reaction to her. She was clearly in some state of shock and Muramasa had examined her enough at this point to see the hints of anger... but moreso that fear. That look in her eyes when he had first saw her in person. When he had subjected her to his man's illusions. Chesire was hardly impressed. If anything from what little he knew of Luzia he wasn't surprised how his clone had manifested. He didn't have perfect information but... he'd seen his own routine enough. He pegged this clone from the get go and while it may have some intricacies that would escape him, he had a rough idea of the form it had taken.

As the clone felt her hand dig into the concrete, she hissed through her teeth, shooting her eyes to the original. DL (dark Luzia) didn't even remove her hand, raising up the other, ready to criss cross her own arms solely to strike again when she felt a sharp pain in her side, knocked to the side and rolling in the dirt. It seemed to cling to her unnaturally. Almost like she attracted dirt. As if the nice, refined clothing she wore was bound by fate to be ruined by filth. As she rose to her knees she looked over herself, panicing and breathing faster as she noticed this, ruffling her hair in both her hands as she whined and pleaded. "No no no no no no no! NO! NO NO NO! Stop! I was so pretty! I was so close! They almost loved me!" She threw her head up from her hands and rose to her feat, pathetic streams of tears flowing down her cheeks as she grit her teeth in a look that... it seemed to be going for anger, but it still solely expressed a snese of desperation and fear.

"JUST GIVE IT TO ME! ITS NOT EVEN YOURS! YOU KNOW ITS NOT YOURS! J-just let me have it!" She slapped her chest and dragged her nails down her clothes... they tore far too easily. Nothing was exposed but it furthered that the fine outfit was made from cheap, easily ruined fabrics as they hung more loosely around her in their tattered state. "The attention! The love! The fame! The adoration! The clothes the touch the appreciation! NONE OF IT BELONGS TO YOU SO WHY CAN'T I JUST HAVE IT!?!??!"

Chesire clicked his tongue behind his mask, pushing his shoulders off the wall and casually walking about the two as they stared eachother down, linging his arms behind his back under his cloak, the tattered red fabric falling around him. "She's you. How you see yourself... my quirk isn't perfect, but it takes what a person sees in themselves and... amplifies it. Gives it form. I prefer to use this to show everyone what a hero is really like but..." He gestured to Muramasa idly. "He likes to see what makes you all tick... make you beat your own pathetic selves by burying it under a layer of rage."

Muramasa made a noise at Chesire's assumption of this. It seemed close, but Chesire was missing the point in his eyes... that wasn't all he desired. It was a positive result perhaps, but not the whole story.

"Mmm... and, well..." He gestured to the panting clone, barely restraining herself as she too was taking in her existance in a way. "This is the you you see. Truly see. When you're not hyped on endorphins, when you're not feeling pampered and prissy. When you truly feel calm. Sober. And you look at yourself... that's what you see. A desperate girl cloying for every scrap of attention she can... even if she has to kill to get it."

"...He's right." The dark clone whimpered out, a manic little chuckle leaving her. "He's right... I just want their eyes...I-I mean I'm here... I'm the real you and... they're still watching YOU. IM WHAT THEY WANTED TO SEE AND THEY STILL ONLY CARE ABOUT YOU! SO GIVE IT TO ME!" She rared her hand back, the aurora of Neon burning around her arm before bursting out as she thrust her palm ahead, a burning beam of Neon cutting upward across the colesum, a scorch mark trailing from the center of the floor, up along the walls and to the ceiling as the frail Luzia barely handled her own recoil.

“That is what you WISH to be. What you desire to see in yourself.”

Muramasa spoke, and his voice, without generating an echo, seemed to radiate through every inch of the room about them. His cheek resting against his fist slowly rose to a more firm position as he straightened his back against his makeshift throne. His gaze seemed to intimidate even the dark clone out of it’s one track mind. Her hazy pink gaze looking up to Muramasa with fear, seeming to lower to all fours… as if Muramasa’s gaze alone was a weight on her shoulders. Chesire however was cheeky enough to at least throw a quip in.

“What? Stealing my job of the grand explanation there boss?”

Naught more than a light grunt of annoyance was aimed in the cheeky feline’s direction, his eyes shifting back to the true Luzia as he spoke. “When you look in the mirror you see what you desire. You see a girl strong enough to take what she wants.” He pushed against the arms of his throne, rising to his full height. “You wish to see the beauty that you long for others to see in you.” He took hefty steps down from his raised throne, to the edge of the coloseum, paw like hands grasping the rusty metal railing surrounding his arena. “You exaggerate every speck of attention you get because you crave it so much. Every eye must be on you, because the moment people look away… your worth fades away. By the second.”

He flippantly flicked his wrist in the direction of the dark Luzia, who timidly rose up just a little as she knew she was being addressed. “But this? This is who you know yourself to be. The you that is buried under self told lies and years of self escape. And now she is before you. The Luzia of today given physical form.”

His weight and presence was magnified as he leaned over the railing of his coloseum, resting his weight into the creasing metal, as his words flowed with a harsh tone. Like a parent scolding a child. Both demeaning her existance… but only because he saw what they COULD be.

“Show me you can be more.”

The fake Luzia’s heart was pounding… even with her limited intellect as a single minded clone, she gathered enough. It was her death that would prove the ‘real’ luzia’s worth to Muramasa… so if… if she killed the real one.. she’d doubly prove herself right!? M-maybe she’d get to stay! Get to be… more! Get the attention! The looks! The strength! Her nails dragged down her cheeks as her eyes sharpened and an eerie string of giggles flowed from her throat. The calmer shades of neon bubbled in the air around her, swaying like a bulging aura, before a burst of light burned the ground around her, launching herself at the true Luzia and flipping her legs ahead of the rest of her body, curled inward and ready to land a double flying kick into the true Luzia’s chest.

“YOU CAN’T BE MORE THAN ME! I’M ALL YOU ARE!”

Watching the doubt and fear and questions filling Luzia... Muramasa was dissapointed in himself for expecting more. He knew the potential Luzia had. The fury she could hold if she could just focus it into something. Here he had given her a target he thought might finally be worthy of it. Played to her weaknesses. Given her attention and someone to please. Himself. And yet still here she was... without a hope. As the fake Luzia landed her blow, Muramasa pushed from the railing, begining to climb the steps back towads his throne. Chesire in turn metaphorically rolled up his sleeves, stepping closer to the fight, ready to re-tract his quirk and leave Luzia to the mercy of Muramasa's own punishments... even Chesire knew that fate could be far worse than anything his quirk could muster.

A sharp call from the true Luzia as she bounded back to her feet, and Chesire's hand, ready to snap it's fingers, froze in midair. Muramsa stopped halfway to his throne, his gaze shifting over his shoulder to observe the battle once again. The Fake Luzia, briefly filled with a battle frenzy landed on her own feet, scrambling for purchase in the diry of the arena as she found her foot, heavy breaths escaping her as Luzia called out to her with such rage.

Chesire's Hand Withdrew.

Fear filled the eyes of the Clone.

A faint smile graced Muramasa's face.

"S-shut up whore! You really think you're more than me!? MORE THAN YOURSELF!? Everybody hates us! WE HATE US! We always want to be more but we never can and it's all because we-!"

And that was all she wrote. One pounding blow to the face, then another, and another and another until they blended together like a sea of Neon, Luzia's fury matched only by her speed and surprising precision as each blow seemed to ricochet her into the path of the next, a final strike finally sending the fake Luzia tumbling backwads, her face cut and burned nad bloodie. Her features still recognizeable as Luzia's thanks to the quirks nature, but she looked more desperate than ever before as she frantically worked her way to her feet. Neon wrapped around the arm hidden within her cloak, and with a cry of frustration she thrust but a single blow to the true Luzia's dozen. just wanting one hit. One scratch on the original that would allow her to feel like she truly was one in the same. That this perfect girl before her was nothing but a lie that painted over her. THE REAL LUZIA!

She missed. Why was she so fast!? She was winning before! She pounced on her she kicked her. The 'real' Luzia was so stunned by her moments ago that she couldn't even compete but now she was grabbing her and tossing her to the ground. She bounced against her own shoulder blades as they crashed into the earth, the air knocked from her lungs and pain filling her eyes before Luzia pinned her further, adding pressure to her shattered joints, whimpering as she desperately kicked and squirmed, trying to get free as best she could but to barely any avail. It was only when their foreheads met that D-Luzia, out of some sense of connection or... perhaps more likely just fear, quietened down, her breaths still frantic but forcefully restrained as she took in Luzia's words.

Niso... she... how did she feel about Niso? How did she truly feel about him? She... she wasn't sure. The Real Luzia loved him. Missed him. Felt a mutual devotion to one another and yet... she left him. It was like a static fog in her mind. She couldn't process the truth behind 'Niso' as far as Luzia was concerned. Not at this moment. Not at the moment she was formed... maybe if she was ever brought to exist again she'd know but... not now.

"O-okay... you win..." She let out a harsh breath, tears streaming down the sides of her face as she lay on her back, whimpering as she lifted one of her arms with an immense struggle, clutching onto the shoulder of her real self and, with a flicker of odd hope beneath the pain and fear, tried to speak. "But just... I'm you... y-you admitted it... right?" She was still being quiet as Luzia had been for her. She knew this was a struggle for her real self but... as Luzia needed the world to see her self made lies, fake Luzia... she still needed to be acknowledged. "J-just say it... I'm you. I-I'm You. I'm you i'm you imyouimyouimyou!" She was starting to get louder even despite her restraint, and in a burst of motion despite the pain she clutched onto Luzia's shoulders with each hand.

"Y-you're gonna kill me so just SEE ME dammit"

it was a final plea of a desperate creature who was about to fade away... but as far as it was concerned. This was Luzia. The final plea such a girl would make on the edge of death. Just wanting to bury their memory into the mind of their killer...