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Reyin Nova was not your typical arena pit fighter. He was young, fit, boyishly handsome and had no scars to speak of. His mannerisms at the arena were enough to show the crowd that he had never been in a similar situation before. Currently he was just staring at the crowd, standing smack dab in the center of the ring with his hands folded behind his head as he awaited the arrival of his opponent.

Reyin was just under six feet in height at five feet, eleven inches, and looked as though he weighed upwards of one hundred and eighty pounds. Due to his stance he couldn't help but show some of the muscle definition on his arms. It was impressive, but not exactly awe-inspiring. For all intents and purposes, Reyin looked like some Average Joe that was thrown into the tournament to boost people's confidence.

He had two visible weapons on his person. The longsword and its scabbard strapped to his back were the most noticeable and potentially threatening. Judging by the exposed hilt and the rather plain clothes Reyin was wearing, it was hard to imagine that the sword held any sort of special qualities. The second weapon, strapped to his belt and off on his left hip was in a leather sheathe. Judging by the hilt it looked to be a hunting knife of sort, but it was hard to tell with the blade being hidden. His shirt was stitched up in various places, with the most apparent changes made in the shoulders of the white tee, where some tanned leather was stitched into place for some semblance of armor. Reyin's pants were made of the same material, and were relatively tight fitting to allow for more comfortable movement. His shoes were just plain looking sneakers, so there wasn't much to worry about there.

So he stood there, in the same stance, just whistling to himself.

Reyin was pretty busy scanning the crowd, but a fat guy just staring holes through your chest was pretty hard to ignore. Reyin double-taked back to the guy, then froze in his tracks.

His face scrunched up slightly, obviously marked with a tinge of confusion. After all, who was this guy? And where did he get that hot dog?

"What the fu-"

Reyin took two short steps away from the fat guy, and then went back to looking around the crowd, all the while praying that the fat guy wasn't secretly asian.

Kuroha had arrived, no special entrance or anything. He had wasted enough time, and was far too late for this to go on any longer. He would come in running from the North enterance, a quarter out of breath, and still not to concious of his surroundings. Whether Reying knew it or not, he was at an advantage right now.

The samurai's appearance was much different than it had been in HoH, with newly silver plated hair, a very muscular physique, and a body slightly aged with the scars of battle. He balanced his Dragon Fang in one hand, using his shoulder as a focal point. He was ready enough for this to start. He looked forward...

"Reyin Nova?! That is you, correct"

He would address the young warrior at the center of the ring. It seemed as if he were a normal kid, eager to fight, but obviously trained and disciplined. This kid was going to be tough...

Pops? Thats a first...

The samurai smiled at Reyin's address and statement. It wasn't all too often Kuroha got to face such an enthusiastic and... "humorous" individual. He was sure that the fight would be interesting now.

"Heh, you kids these days, with your jokes an' all. This old warrior still has plenty in him."

He smirked again. The warrior at least wanted to keep this kid in a good mood. No sense in fighting someone who's been bored outta there mind already.

With a simple bow of his head, Kuroha would get himself into the circular ring, and place himself about three feet from the edge of the ring.

"I just hope you're ready kid. You're going to have a tough time getting through me. Just try your best!"

He'd raise his voice in order to be heard across the somewhat wide arena.


"Alright! Ladies and Gentlemen, our second fighter has finally arrived,"
The announcer would echo into the microphone...
"Fighters, I want a good clean fight. No cheap shots, and keep it entertaining.

Ladies and Gentlemen....

LETS GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLLE!!!!!!!!"

The crowds cheered for the two men in the arena. At this point, it didn't matter whoever won this match, because the crowd seemed pretty entertained by the two already.

"Eager minds..."

He would say, sliding his feet into position, shoulder lengths apart. His left hand would grasp towards the top of his blades scabbard, and his right hand would glide to its hilt. That was when Reying started his charge, his well-paced, very strong charge.

"....always eager minds."

Kuroha would scuttle forward, estimating his best for his opponents distance.

Eighteen.
Sixteen.
Thirteen.

Reyin kept creeping closer, and Kurohas movements would stop short. His hand would tighten around Dragon Fangs hilt...

Ten.
Seven.
Five.

He was just about in range. Kuroha would take a final scoot forward, this time leading with his rear foot, sliding the left leg up behind the right, before stepping forward with his right and drawing out his blade halfway. He was not ready to attack, not yet.

It was because of this Kuroha did not strike. That, and he probab;y would've killed the old boy by total accident. He would put his weight forward on his right leg, and attempt to jump up and over the sliding Reyin. His slide just knicked the top of Kurohas foot, which would force him into a front flip over him. He'd put out his right shoulder, so he could land into a safe roll. No sense in getting hurt just yet.

And so, Kuroha would alnd into his roll, and recover on one knee. Alright, so far so good.

He'd right himself, and immediately turn around. With a quick few steps forward, Kuroha would launch his right foot outwards, just as Reyin would start turning to face him (if he did so). If the kick connected, Reyin would find himself quite winded with a Di-block sandal to the solar plexus, or somewhere in that area...