Jett learns the same lesson as all those League cadets. Hitoshi is nothing to the big dogs. Absolutely nothing. But he's a ruthless man, so often underestimated by the big dogs of the world. He lives in the moment, and in that, there is strength. There is no unnecessary reflection. There is no thought of tomorrow. No thought of his mother or the woman back home. In the saddest way a beast can manage, he has touched the formless void. He cackles like a madman and twists in the air. Twists the jagged, broken edge of his sword into the man. Grazing him. Leaving a love cut. Rending flesh.[break]
"Yer so stupid, Jett-chan!" He cuts and twirls away. Less a swordsman and more of an acrobat. Even in his ridiculous Rocket uniform, with its white boots and obnoxious gloves, he still moves with more grace than a man has any right to. It's like a dance for him - a dance that ends with one side drowning in a pool of their own blood. A game with the continued existence of the victor as the prize.[break]
"Gonna have to do better than this!! What the hell was that about wantin' to live t'see tomorrow? Huuuuuuh, Jet-chan?" The mad dog cackles.[break]
His mad Kleavor hefts his axes upwards. He follows the Gallade, hot on its trail, putting the gallant Pokemon onto the defensive. He twirls his blades in the air, giving him an air slash that would send anyone flying!