[Is he watching? He hopes. Too much care sinks into him now not to return his investments. Ice in its winter delivers its chills on a windstorm—dried frost sparkling across the dirt and caught in air as bits of diamond dust; thick ice spilling to pool and run and white shards raised and flames snuffed out. Each new step a pulse of ice; stone forms slowing once Quirk extends, ice-falls weighing on rock-shaped jaws and crackling joints and limbs snapping. His left palm raising as fingers lift—five discernable points of light emerging in golds on his fingertips—hot threads twining to lash as string, whipped flames scything through stone and frost to scatter monsters in it piece by piece. Bright-hot magma a thinned silk of flames; red heat rising with shouting and voice and calls of "Flashfreeze" and "Hell's Gate"; Flash Fist mimicked on flame-lit paws as hellcat's Ember and Flare Blitz.
And still, Onibi's eyeing the fiery pig with taunting, mocking amusement. A "heel-type" isn't especially kind—but then, it's friendlier rivalry than it's been when hellcat stops and shoots its grin, flashed fangs shimmering as it roars "words" back:] Let's see you crush more beasts than me! [The boy beside him slashing away, learned aggression slipping in place of any whispered, creeping, lingering doubts. He blinks off snow, lashes heavy and traced in frost and brushing his fringe damp and white-caped; crusts of ice restraining his jaw, soft words crumbling when he coughs up mist.]
No... [Shaking his head, iced side laced in a half-mask.] If I'm faster I can watch your fight...
[As if nothing better exists; bits of crystal trapped on skin and virtually sparkling at him—]
no subject
And still, Onibi's eyeing the fiery pig with taunting, mocking amusement. A "heel-type" isn't especially kind—but then, it's friendlier rivalry than it's been when hellcat stops and shoots its grin, flashed fangs shimmering as it roars "words" back:] Let's see you crush more beasts than me! [The boy beside him slashing away, learned aggression slipping in place of any whispered, creeping, lingering doubts. He blinks off snow, lashes heavy and traced in frost and brushing his fringe damp and white-caped; crusts of ice restraining his jaw, soft words crumbling when he coughs up mist.]
No... [Shaking his head, iced side laced in a half-mask.] If I'm faster I can watch your fight...
[As if nothing better exists; bits of crystal trapped on skin and virtually sparkling at him—]
I can't see you through the ice this way.