An Old Grudge

Walking down the sidewalk, Pika was completely bored, without anything to do, and decided that he may as well go someplace. Which is how he found himself walking down the streets of a not-so-random neighborhood. The thirteen year-old Pika found a rock on the ground, and gave it a kick, kicking it as he walked.

As pika made his way down the sidewalk a loud racket could be heard in an upcoming house. There was a bang! and the sound of breaking glass the door swung open and a person wearing his trademark black leather jacket and undead hollywood black shirt was thrown out. A gruff voice from inside the house yelled. " AND DON'T COME BACK!"

Pika watched as the door opened in one of the upcoming houses, and a boy was thrown out of the house. "Well that's awkward..." He commented to himself, continuing to walk down the sidewalk and looking at both the house and the boy. "Wonder what caused that." He continued to muse, as he started to come up to the kid that had been thrown out.

Zash picked himself up off the side walk and stuffed his hands into his jacket pockets. Flames blazed over his shoulders just dancing around in a fit behind him, he maybe would have burnt down his home if it wasn't for one guy down the side walk who saw his flames. Zash stopped and narrowed his eyes at him.

The first thing Pika noticed were the flames on Zash's shoulders, just kind of staying there. And not burning him. Of course the kid noticed Pika, and gave him some sort of glare. Pika stuck his own hands in his grey hoodie, and returned the glare to him. "I think you've got a condition there." He simply said in a neutral voice.

Zash put out the flames instantly as Pika mentioned them. " What condition? you must be seeing things punk." He answered back, Zash didn't feel quite as confident getting into a fight without his trusty katana even at the age of twelve as he was right now he was skilled at the thing. Zash hadn't even realized yet that a cut was on he side of his head and dripping blood all in his hair from his father slamming his head against a window moments ago in a drunken fit.

"Well, "punk", if the fire isn't a condition, then I think the bleeding from your head is a bit of a problem." Pika responded a bit sarcastically, pointing at Zash's head. Opposed to Zash, Pika was fine with getting into a fight anytime. He was always prepared, though this time he didn't have a katana, and any fight was considered more training.

Zash blinked and moved a hand to the side of his head he looked at his fingers they were covered with warm red liquid which Zash assumed to be blood. He glared at Pika again. " Oh so now you think your a tough guy telling me this little cut is a problem!?" Zash asked it was probably just the fact he was in a really bad mood after getting the tar beat out of him by his pops but he really didn't like the vibe from this guy right this instant. Zahs moved a hand to the cut flames blossomed across his hand and Zash swore loudly as his hand swiped across the cut and it was sealed by the intense heat along with burning a large portation of Zash's jet black hair.

"Well, what do you know? I guess I wasn't just seeing things before." Pika remarked, narrowing his eyes at Zash, and noticing the burned hair. "There are better ways of fixing that. That don't include burning off a patch of hair." He continued, smirking at him. As far as vibes went, Pika wasn't too fond of Zash either. He just seemed...off. And Pika didn't like it at all.

Zash quit pretending at this point with the fire it wasn't that much of a big thing if a random punk off the street knew, even if Zash had spent a large part of his life hiding the fact. " Maybe I didn't like the hair."He replied threw gritted teeth. " ever heard of spontaneous human combustion?" Zash threatened with a cocky grin.

"I have, but it's not spontaneous if there's a reason..." Pika said, reaching into his other pocket, his hand tensing up as it went in. "Or if someone else causes it." He continued, narrowing his eyes at the boy. In all honesty he had no idea why exactly they were fighting. Other then the fact that they seemed to already dislike each other.

weather or not there was a reason not liking Pika was more than enough for Zash. flames rushed up around Zash's arms and he let a stream of it free towards Pika's feet. He curled flames that sprouted from his other hand in the air to shape his own name: ZASH that floated in the air in front of him.

As soon as Zash sent the fire his way, Pika cartwheeled to his right, narrowly avoiding the blast. As he did so, he pulled his hand out of his pocket, bringing out a small metal rod, and clicking a button on it, making it extend into a large sized metal bo staff. "Nice name, pyro." He commented, holding his bo staff out in front of him.

" nice gymnastics." Zash commented back. Weapon on bare hands but then again Zash had fire so he supposed it was fair . Suddenly the Z in zash lashed out like a shuriken at Pika, the A whooshed like an arrow right on after it. Zash dropped into a runner's position as his flaming letters blazed forward.

Pika spun the staff as the flames came towards him, dispersing the fire for the most part. Luckily it wasn't too much, because if it was more he would have gotten a bitmore injured then some scorch marks on his gloves. Taking advantage of this, Pika dashed in towards Zash, swinging the staff horizontally towards him.