Under and Over It cont. [Daichi/Closed]

"Listen, I know that little fuck pisses you off, alright." He felt the hand on his back and knew what was coming. This was every time she'd told him not to fight off the guy who had laughed at her or spilt her drink at a party; this was every time the salesman at the store had tried to overprice a computer component or even check out her ass. It was just every time he turned around the corner with some stupid piece of shit in a headlock and she was waiting around so they could have a cigarette before heading back home. It wasn't a matter of principle or a matter of honour; it was just a matter of adrenaline and testosterone, he wanted a fight. "But you can't just go punching every entity you see here."

He rotated his shoulder, and in a single fluid movement, shrugged away her hand, not taking his eye off the crouched weasel-thing - which had maintained its deep, snarling growl for a surprisingly long time. "Says fucking who?" He drew back some spittle into his mouth that had been waiting at the top of his throat, and expelled it at the ground - the little fox thing barely noticed, but, if not angry, would have registered it with clear sarcasm and distaste - and kept his teeth bared, his hackles raised, and his hungover, fragile, and utterly explosive aggression firmly in place. "I'm Daichi fucking Kumo, sis," Dai rose a hand and swept some sweat from his brow. "I do whatever the fuck I want and hit whoever the fuck pisses me off." A balled fist turned to an accusatory finger. "And this little shit has done just that."

For a moment, the weasel paused in its aggressive gyrations, looking with its incredulous, scar-dotted black-lined gaze up at the titan. "Give me a fucking break!" The pause turned from that into true exasperation; its paws fell limp and its claws hung at its side as it shuffled its legs back together - apparently ceasing any pretense of combat whatsoever - and shook its head, glaring unbelievably up at Daichi. "You're like a villain out of a fucking Rocky Balboa movie!" The weasel creature's claw fell first upon its own chest, then spun to settle upon his own. "We're supposed to be partners, shit-for-brains," The bulge on the boxer's head was growing. He locked eyes with his sister. It was for her precaution and her precaution alone he was delaying the inevitable second strike. "Y'know, help one another out, mutually beneficial, all of that shit?"

"These peo---" Vira paused, his sister skirting around his side to speak in that enchanting, quiet, yet oddly charismatic tone in his ear. Once angered he was not easily led; but sharing a bloodline and eighteen years with someone gave them a certain insight into your mannerisms and triggers that others didn't quite see at first glance. To most, Daichi was an angry thug, a plebeian colossus with fists like wrecking balls and a brain the size of a peanut. To Vira? She was his sibling; and he was a more complex machine than most could so much as conceptualise. "Things. They're different than us." No shit, Sherlock. The boxer still had his hands raised in his signature stance, eyes locked with the weasel-thing's, face screwed up and contorted with sweat and anger.

But it seemed even Vira had to try a little harder than that to break through the typical blanket of fury Daichi loved to drape around his shoulders. Anger was how he had made his bones in Shibuya; underground boxing paid well so long as you kept winning, and if he could keep harnessing his rage and frustration, he got two things. Money and reputation. The latter kept the former flowing free like a river. So he certainly wasn't letting the furry little shit letting him think he could be pushed around just yet. "Bite me, you scuzzy little fuck." The weasel momentarily, still scowling, folded down his two outer claws in an imaginative and somewhat humorous take on the human gesture of "flipping the bird". No-one laughed, however.

"In terms a retard would understand, they got superpowers, and they can fuck us up." For all the condescension and patronisation he thrashed wildly against at the hands of others - taking even simple mistakes as insults to his arguably diminished intelligence - Daichi never seemed to let it get to him from his sister. She was the one person who, no matter how much they had fought and thrashed as children, he could never bring himself to utterly despise and physically abhor as he did so many others. Rivalries were natural; they were both competitive and both now active in this... place, but the passionate hatred he bore in his soul for so many by his sheer nature had never, and would never apply to Vira. She could condescend to him as much as she wanted; he'd never see it. "Plus it would be a shame if you accidentally gave your partner premature brain damage."

Partner. That word kept coming around. Partner. He looked like a tenacious little fuck, even if he was irritating as all hell. Daichi was listening to the words his sister used; thinking about what he wanted. What he could get for this. Partners teamed up so things could be mutually beneficial for one another. The boxer knew exactly what he had to offer; the power to cut down anyone, human or otherwise - so he told himself - in their way. And what could this scrawny little weasel offer him? Did he have this power his sister was talking about? From what he could see, it just looked like a four-foot-nothing furball with a couple of sharp claws. And what was that? Big deal; if he could land a punch on this supposedly "powerful" being, what was to say he couldn't on the rest of them? But Vira had said they were partners; he trusted Vira. With a grumble, he lowered his hackles, shook his head, and pulled out another cigarette from the pack, lighting up again, having not gotten to actually smoke the first. "Alright, 'partner'," He spat the word with a certain reluctance. All things considered, he was used to being more of a... solo fighter. "What can you do, then?"

The "furball" shook his head in exasperation once more. "Look, kid, I'm not just some walking weapon," But as the creature looked up to the tamer he was condemned to have - just his luck - he realised that arguing for sentience would make no difference. Daichi Kumo would treat him like a weapon even if he was a human. So, it just meant he had to do the same. Tamers were catalysts for Digivolution. Maybe they could scratch each others' backs, even if they hadn't gotten off on the right foot. "I haven't pushed past Rookie yet." Walking up to the colossus, he scratched under his chin, and extended his hand - upwards, significantly. "Call me Barrigan. I'm a Gazimon." For now.

Gingerly and with a look of completely bewildered scrutiny, he looked first to Vira, then back down to Barrigan, before slowly extending his hand to take the creature's paw, who shook it with inflection and a goading stare. "That's great," Back to Vira. "I... think." He tilted his head and broke the shake; well, if nothing less, they had dispensed with the hostility, all thanks to her. Though Daichi didn't see it that way; he would have much rather kept pounding on this little thing to assert his dominance in their "partnership". Cooperation was for fools. "So we're partners and all, but..." He propped the aviators back up and sighed, slinking back down onto the seat, looking up at the pair of them, and tapping a short line of ash away from his cigarette, before shrugging. "...for what?" He hadn't really clocked anything - Daichi had never been renowned for his intelligence or his perceptive skill. Barrigan sighed, shook his head, and looked up to Vira. They were going to have to explain the full monty to her idiot brother.