Sometimes, Akito wondered if he was getting too big for his britches. His eyes soaked in the possibility of being great someday. He was the largest of his litter, didn’t have a disability, and already was growing accustomed to fighting predators. The eagerness that gnawed at his belly forced him out into the oaks that day. The pup wanted to bring home another pelt for his mother or if she didn’t want it, he would use it for his own bed. It wasn’t the thrill of the kill that got him. No, it was the ability to use his skills to help protect the pack that made him so fervently excited to seek out predators.

Thankfully, he was far from being an imbecile. He knew to keep away from the large ones for now. Any scent of tiger or grizzly and he would head the other way. Today though, as a winter storm drizzled water through the canopy, he caught a muddied scent of something just about the right size. Up until now, he had not yet seen the sleek coated creature, but today would be the day. Picking up his pace, he kept his nose low to the ground so that the wind and water would not allow the scent to escape him. Hurrying as fast as his too large puppy paws would let him, he leaped over a fallen tree and skirted around a bunch of bushes to spot the fossa lingering at the edge of a pond.

“You’re mine now,” Akito growled under his breath as he raced forward. Before the fossa could have time to react, the monochrome pup was lunging forward. Tilting his head down and tucking his chin to his chest, he rammed the fossa in the rib cage with his budding horns. Successfully knocking it down into the mud, he watched it skid a foot or so before hopping up and retaliating appropriately. Teeth shown, lips curled, a mighty hiss leaving its body as it lunged back and aimed to grab on to his shoulder.

"speech"

The thrill of the kill, the love for a hunt-- though it wasn't certain the boy was Viðarr's son by blood, that didn't matter. In the eyes of the gods, they were all his just the same. The pups were a gift, and he'd take them on with open arms. He lingered in Auster instead of going straight home, just in case they needed anything. It was hard to leave them in Tojo-kai, but he had hopes that his relationship with Hattori was on the mend. He would be back. He would always be back.

Typically respectful of borders, yes, but the shadow is drawn in by a small voice. One of his boys-- what did he have? Head lifting, Viðarr picked up a ground-eating jog to close the space between them. Akito seemed to be doing well, actually. Knocking the creature with his horns, watching it slam into the ground. The fossa was too close for comfort with the boy's shoulders. Viðarr grabbed the creature's heel, pulling backwards. He'd let Akito do most of the work, without getting seriously hurt. That would be ideal, in Viðarr's mind.

"Viðarr"

Akito was expecting the approach of the large Vidarr as the fossa came lunging for his shoulder. Unlike most pups, he was acutely aware of his surroundings. Though he was in the middle of fending off this vicious creature, his ears kept tabs. Flicking this way and that, he listened to those giant paws eat the ground up until teeth had latched on to a heel.

His parry had been a slight step backward. Body still positioned around his center, shoulders hunched and chest lowered as his own toes flexed into the dirt. While he would typically be displeased that someone was assisting him in taking down such a nefarious opponent, he would happily show his maybe-father how good he was already at fighting.

Letting out as deep of a growl as he could muster, he wasted no time. As the fossa squealed and snarled, thrashing back and forth as it attempted to grasp onto Vidarr’s leg for freedom, Akito lunged. His head darted out toward the fossa’s neck. Snap, his teeth latch on to a cheek. Pull away, skin coming with, blood washing over his teeth. Spitting out the remnants of hair, he inhales deeply and goes back. More precision this time, he skirts around and decides to go for the fossa’s armpit. Digging in, he holds on until the fossa decides to slow and give up.

"speech"

Viðarr would be pleased to report that the boy was doing well. He'd done a good job going for the neck, though the fossa was a wily little thing. They often were, from what he could tell. The creature snapped around, taking a moment to sink its teeth into the viking's leg. Though Viðarr flinched, he didn't let go. He didn't move, watching his son as he reacted. Watching as he re-adjusted his course, and reconsidered what he was trying to do. Even a little growl-- fierce, he would be... some day.

Akito went for the predator's armpit next. From where the boy stood, it likely made sense. Viðarr couldn't see quite that far around the little beast. "The throat, again. He is starting to be slow." The words are spoken clumsily around his mouthful of predator. They're a bit clumsy, as Viðarr's often are. The common tongue is still foreign to him, as he is to it. His jaw was starting to feel sore, something Viðarr would blame on the thrashing. That, and he'd probably need Tenshi to kiss clean the fossa bite, at the end of this. Before him, the fight between the boy and the predator wore on.

"Viðarr"

Akito would not give the fossa the satisfaction of winning. His determination to never lose would be greater than the fossa's determination to live. As he clings onto the animal's armpit, its blood and skin flossing between his teeth, his ears pick up Vidarr's clumsy words. The throat. His voice was different than Hattori's. Different than his nonexistent real father. Was the other guy actually his father if he was never around? Plus, from what Akito could see, Vidarr looked far more similar to him than Raijin. That was his name, right? Using the building disappoint he has for his birth father, Akito lets out a grunt of understanding.

Relinquishing his grasp on the fossa's armpit, he wastes no time. Barely a pull away, he keeps close quarters with the wily creature. Leaning out and then around, his jaws open wide and he latches on. Thanks to Vidarr's help (which he would not verbalize his gratitude for), the fossa was indeed slowing down. Making the opportunity to finalize the fight easier than he was expecting, Akito latches on. Sinking his sharp teeth into the fossa's neck, an artery is hit and blood begins to shoot out the sides of his mouth. The warmth and copper taste makes his tongue curl and his throat close up, but he does not let go. Not until the fossa is limp in their grasps.

Once the light is gone from the fossa's black eyes, Akito relents. He quickly drops the fossa and spits out whatever hair and grime is coating his tongue. Looking up at Vidarr, his head tilts lightly to the side. "Like that? He questions in a thick Japanese accent as he nods his chin in the direction of the dead predator.

"speech"

As the fossa grew limp, fought less, Víðarr released his grip on the creature's leg. He would let his son have the satisfaction of taking the creature down on his own. Let him have the final death throes, until finally, the carcass lay on the ground between them. A soft grin on his face, taking a step back. Watching the boy finish the creature off, letting the creature finally go all the way limp, deadweight in the boy's mouth. Yes, this is pride. He's proud of Akito, he can't help himself. Watching him dispatch the fossa was only the beginning.

"Yes, just like that." A glimmer in his icy blue gaze, Víðarr can't help but be proud as he looks the boy over. The fossa had taken a bite out of Akito, but it wasn't a bad one. No, he looks fine. Just fine, in Víðarr's eyes. "Come, you take a trophy from it." The viking strode over to the carcass of the predator, wiggling its mouth open, looking at the two rows of gleaming teeth. Holding it here and gesturing for his son to come, so they could pry one free.

"Viðarr"

The sting of the fossa bite does not bother him. His mother or sister will easily patch it up before it becomes infected. That was the nice thing about having healers for the family. There was never a reason to worry about injuries. Though he can tell his adrenaline is seeping away. The excitement, the thrill, the who thing began to ebb as he looked from the dead fossa on the ground up to Vidarr. Akito sees the sparkle in the giant's eyes and he wonders if his eyes will do the same someday. It is different from Hattori's gaze, something that makes him wonder. Would he be more like that of Tojo-Kai or more of Heidinn? Koi warrior or Viking warrior? He hears Erik speaking of it at times and often chooses to ignore it. Akito cares not for such trivial things. But now, as he stands before his maybe-father, he wonders.

Pulled from that thought as Vidarr moves to the fossa, Akito looks at his kill. A trophy? This is not something Hattori had ever suggested before, but Akito kind of likes the idea. His paws move before he is fully decided on this. He leans down, almost moving mechanically, as he reaches in and rips a canine from the fossa's mouth. Blood and gum hang from the tooth as he holds it up in his jaws to show Vidarr before setting it down near his paw. "Why do you take trophies?" Akito asks in a straightforward manner, chin tilted upright to look Vidarr straight in the eye. He cared not for beating around the bush.

"speech"