[ yo man, being on the run from angry s&m robots is a horrible time to worry about personal space issues-- or so thinks tsurumaru, who's taking this whole 'running away from questionable robotic things with paddles' thing a little too well. presumably the lack of worry comes with the whole 'i'm a small sword in a big war against shady organizations that are trying to rewrite history with fanfiction' but it might just be that tsurumaru is just very, very used to pissing people off and laughing off the consequences. just another normal day, really, account for angry robots and move on.
that being said, he does appreciate the heads up to the left, and swiftly avoids that shady corridor on kaoru's advice, his sandalled feet dancing across the ground like the flapping of crane wings (or, you know, he's just running really fucking fast). it's just that straight ahead, the sound of police sirens blare, and yet another squad of bots cross their path to play antagonist to what would've been a scott-free escape.
but hey, it'd been going too well, anyway. resistance is unsurprising. tsurumaru's smile turns vicious. ]
Ah, hold on, please.
[ deftly, he shifts his grasp on kaoru so that his passenger can wrap their arms around his neck, freeing his right hand, which immediately draws a blade as white and gold as he is. his strides lengthen, two beats becomes three, and he unceremoniously smashes the face of his sandal into the first robot, skewers the second one, and then flips over the third one (ladies and gentlemen, we bring you the revised version of the princess bride, except there's a whole lot less inigo motoya and all the mooks are holding paddles) all the while keeping a firm grip around kaoru to prevent mufasa 2.0 from happening.
there are two more coming, but he's less worried about those and more concerned about where they run off to after the fact. a convenient hiding place, perhaps? ]
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that being said, he does appreciate the heads up to the left, and swiftly avoids that shady corridor on kaoru's advice, his sandalled feet dancing across the ground like the flapping of crane wings (or, you know, he's just running really fucking fast). it's just that straight ahead, the sound of police sirens blare, and yet another squad of bots cross their path to play antagonist to what would've been a scott-free escape.
but hey, it'd been going too well, anyway. resistance is unsurprising. tsurumaru's smile turns vicious. ]
Ah, hold on, please.
[ deftly, he shifts his grasp on kaoru so that his passenger can wrap their arms around his neck, freeing his right hand, which immediately draws a blade as white and gold as he is. his strides lengthen, two beats becomes three, and he unceremoniously smashes the face of his sandal into the first robot, skewers the second one, and then flips over the third one (ladies and gentlemen, we bring you the revised version of the princess bride, except there's a whole lot less inigo motoya and all the mooks are holding paddles) all the while keeping a firm grip around kaoru to prevent mufasa 2.0 from happening.
there are two more coming, but he's less worried about those and more concerned about where they run off to after the fact. a convenient hiding place, perhaps? ]