Ilya Dyatchkina (Iwazuma) vs Ayame Mizuki (TheDoctor)
"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to our Sophomores Final Match!"
Ayame stood in her corner of the ring with eyes closed, chin tucked to her chest. Her blue spandex top was stained navy down the middle with sweat from her previous matches. Perspiration, triggered by the massive amount of bodies in the arena, now dripped eagerly down her muscled, rippling midriff and was quickly absorbed by her black spandex shorts. More droplets trickled from where they ended at her upper thigh all the way down to her bare feet. The lengths of black hair that had escaped her high-set hair tie were now plastered across her forehead and neck, slivers of dark against skin flushed with warmth. Her hands, wrapped in tape and slightly-padded black fingerless gloves, tapped against her thighs absentmindedly as she drew in the roar of the crowd. Her bottom lip was still slightly swollen, split with a small splotch of blood as courtesy of her previous opponent. The healers wanted to fix it, but it was so minuscule that she refused their help.
The pain made her stronger anyway.
She had made certain not to deplete her energy too badly in her early rounds to save room for the quarter, semi, and final rounds, and she could even feel the slow digestion of carbohydrates converting to the aura she felt in the pit of her core. Match by match, she fought her way to the center stage, storing her enemy's blows and returning them tenfold in unforgiving knockouts. And with every victory she played her part, courteous and kind to the losers and congratulating them for a good match.
But that's all they were: losers. And now another loser stood in front of her, one that she planned to defeat from the very beginning. Ilya Dyatchkina, the four-armed freak, was destined to reach the final match, with her two extra appendages supporting her like crutches to the very end. Few students could stand up to her attacks, for they were simply too much for a standard fighter to withstand. Some called it unfair for her to participate in the tournaments, but they were all losers too.
Ayame was no loser. Ilya would fall to the ground in utter humiliation, just like the rest of them. That was the truest form of defeat.
One individual, however, stood out to her while she watched the freshman matches between her own fights. Ethan Walker was his name, an American with a wolfish attitude. He was mean, he was brutal, he was absolutely ruthless both socially and physically. His entire personality was repulsive by definition, which was clear in his cocky strut and abrasive body language. But most of all, he was fierce, animalistic, ferocious.
It was everything that Ayame wanted from her opponents. If only she were a Freshman again so she could crush him in the tournament. The spark of his defeat would shine so gloriously.
“In the red corner, B1 ranker Ayame Mizuki!”
Ayame’s sapphire eyes snapped open as the announcer introduced her, and they immediately widened in a happy smile as the crowd broke into shouts and applause. She raised her arm and waved to a few groups; a cluster of her fellow sophomore girlfriends screaming her name, a bundle of guys from upper and middle classes who all thought she fancied them, a group of Janissaries she frequently worked with against Imperials.
No family, no mother and father, of course. But that was okay. She smiled brightly at them all regardless, even throwing up a cheesy two-fingered peace sign next to her rosy cheeks at one of the camera crews.
As the crowd died down, she closed her eyes briefly and exhaled forcefully, shaking her head as she appeared to regain her focus. However, it was all part of the act. A cute, smiling, fun-filled girl who fought viciously was idolized by underclassmen and peers alike, for it permitted her to trump in all fields. Real victory was absolute dominance. Real victory was unbounded and limitless.
“And over in the blue corner…"
"Also rank B1, Ilya Dyatchkina!"
The Slovak girl, dressed in a simple black hoodie, flexed her arms viciously, her extra appendages shredding the purposely flimsy gear in a display that got the crowd screaming her name. She smiled to herself. This was the moment she was waiting for. After only a modest 7th place in the holiday tournament, she was ready. The final round was against another top contender, Ayame. She had done her homework; this girl used the opponent's energy against them. An extremely dangerous foe for sure.
And yet, she was still human. She still bruised. She still could be knocked unconscious. Ilya stretched all four arms behind her back, hearing a satisfying crack as she prepared herself for the final round of what was already quite the fun tournament. In three matches, Ilya had seen a B-3, a B-2, and another B-1. All of them fell to her unforgiving onslaught. Her muscles had been nearly completely exhausted, but the break before finals gave the healers enough time to replenish them close to full strength. She was chomping at the bit to finish this tournament off once and for all.
Her opponent was no slouch, and she could tell. The crowd might see Ayame merely focusing, but Ilya saw more in the subtleties of her expression. She was preparing herself for a challenge. Excellent. Ilya saw it upon herself to deliver that challenge. With her hoodie shredded, she sported a modified tank top that hugged her body, complete with matching camo shorts. Her fingers, normally taped together, were taped individually: A modification Ilya made herself headed into the final bouts, she had a hunch she would need to play different to her style to win this one. An adjustment she made gladly; she wasn't going to let her foe make a monkey out of her.
Even so, she was still a good sport about it all. She took two powerful strides forward, interrupting the competitor's focus with a tap on the shoulder, then one arm extended. "It takes a true strength to reach the finals. May it guide you in our bout." Ilya nodded, quietly shutting her eyes. "I respect this power you possess. But I am sorry to say...Táto aréna je váš koniec." Cryptic words spoken in her native tongue as she waited to see if she would honor her with a handshake.
Ayame turned with feigned surprise as Ilya got her attention, but a confident yet friendly smirk returned quickly afterwards. "Heh, I don't really know what that means, Ilya." Her eyes darted to the other girl's four arms, then to the one extended before her. Without hesitation, she grasped Ilya's hand with her own in a firm grip. "But hey, good luck, girl. Let's give them a good fight!"
She released the girl's hand and popped in her mouthguard, smiling at the other girl before turning her back to her and loosening her shoulders. As her arms flapped against her sides and she hopped on her toes, Ayame felt the beast in her chest roar in fury. She had never been more ready to battle, to demolish, to devour.
Taking two steps away and turning around, she rolled her neck to either side, stretching her trapezius back and forth. Two muffled thumps hailed from her fists pounding together, and she raised them up alongside her forehead with Ilya framed between her palms. Oh how badly she thirsted to crush her right then and there, but the judge still kept them at bay.
Her left foot stepped forward with toes pointed forward, right foot back and angled partially outward. Bouncing on the balls of her feet, she once again felt the beast claw at her insides. Just start the match already.
Her response to Ayame's ignorance of her language was a simple "Oh, do not worry. You will know soon enough." With a deathgrip for a handshake, Ilya was doing her best to show no weakness to her opponent. No opportunities to get through her defense. And Ilya had a hunch defense was going to be huge here.
Ilya strode back to her corner of the ring, waiting patiently. Ayame was a weird sort. Every word she spoke seemed to be either carefree or cheerful, but man, she had such a ferocity in battle. It would be quite pleasurable to crush her spirit.
She turned to Judge Weiss impatiently. "Ano? We can get started, yes?" She gripped the ropes with her arms, stretching them one last time as she prepared to demolish her opponent. This wasn't going to be a simple match, but it was one she could win. One that would make her the star her mother always knew she could be.
Weiss smiled to both competitors. "I want a good, clean finals match here, alright? If you're both ready, then let this finals match begin!" Weiss hopped back as the crowd roared. Ilya took her time leaving the corner, approaching Ayame with a slow, calculated stride. She didn't want to rush in and mess up; if prompted, she would make the first move, but even she knew it was best to see what the enemy was bringing to the party first.
Ayame took several quick steps forward as the match started, her opponent remaining as a target between her palms. As Ilya slowly approached as well, Ayame continued to bounce on the balls of her feet, staying only just away from the reach of the other girl. She circled her back and forth for a few moments, examining how her joints met her shoulders, how the four arms moved when she did, what was a guard and what was a hitter. She’d certainly never faced a four-armed opponent, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t prepared for it.
Let’s get started, then.
Her cutesy eyes now hardened in a focused stare, Ayame stepped within reach and let loose two quick test jabs with her left hand, each jab returning back to its guard before snapping forward again.
For a good ten, tense seconds, no fighter made a move. They carefully watched each other, eyes on the prize, searching for any weakness they could find. Ilya was primed to not show any at all. As Ayame seemed to get into the zone, Ilya felt her muscles tense, ready to react to anything.
The first move was testing the waters, a simple pair of left jabs. Her right arms moved into place, expertly blocking the strikes with ease. "My father hit me harder than that when I was a baby, yes?" Ilya beckoned with her top left hand, chuckling. "Let's just beat the shit out of each other, ano? It's what the crowd came to see." Gently berating her opponent, Ilya stepped into her next move, a right hook from her top arm, a mere test to see just what she would do. It was not packed with too much strength, so even a direct hit wouldn't give her TOO much...
She remained silent to Ilya's provokations. It certainly took more than that to get her worked up, and it wasn't even worth responding to her simple insults. We'll see who laughs when I knock you senseless, baka.
Ayame's riposte was simple. Raising and clenching her left arm so that her glove brushed just past her ear, she let the hook collide with the meat of her upper arm. As skin smacked against skin, she lowered the arm again, and she followed up with a cross from her right.
Ilya was not one to let things go at anyone's pace but her own, and as her attack was blocked, she decided to set exactly what the pace was. Rather than stop there, Ilya instead pressed the point, taking a step inward as Ayame threw her cross, dampening the blow with her top arm as a block. Her bottom arm, however, had other missions.
Using the momentum from the step, Ilya wasted no time in throwing a punch straight at her stomach, giving Ayame little time to react. She had made stronger men than Ayame puke if she hit it just right...just like that shot in the Semi-Pro. Why did she like bad movies so much? It was beyond her...and also pointless to think about.
Ayame instinctively flexed right before the impact, the punch colliding with her abdominal wall. A heavy grunt pushed past her mouthguard as the painful force rocketed through her torso, but she quickly collected it into her energy reserves. A punch to the gut, despite its strength, was not enough to halt her advance; she retaliated by raising her left knee and pivoting on her right leg, slamming a quick roundhouse kick for Ilya's side with the shin bone just above her foot, hardened and dense from years of kicking.
Ilya saw the kick incoming. She had a few options, but decided to go with the 'unrelenting' option. Refusing to give Ayame even an inch of space, she kept forcing her way forward, once again blocking the blow with half of her 'arm'senal. That one was definitely more powerful than a simple cross, though. Took her a moment to repel the attack before she continued to press the issue, ignoring the dull throbbing of new bruises beginning to form.
"I know your power...so I will just have to knock you out before you can hit me with it." Ilya drove home the point with a double hook, one aimed at the head, one aimed at the gut, both from her left side. There was no way to block them both easily, and if both hit...well, Ilya wouldn't mind a quick and easy finish.
The smirk on Ayame's face was clear well before her kick even landed. Whatever you say, freak.
Her left leg planted back on the ground quickly after her kick and her right knee rose. She simultaneously brushed her right hand past her ear, curling her arm back in a movement she used to block Ilya's previous hook. Both of Ilya's punches slammed into the meat of her thigh and upper arm with a ripple, blows that almost sent Ayame off balance. Once again she collected the force from the hits, but this time, combined with the force from her previous hit, she redistributed a third of it somewhere else...
To her fully-retracted left fist, level with her eyes.
Driving her raised right leg back and hopping slightly up with her left leg, she leaned forward and slammed her left fist directly for Ilya's head. Between the force of her momentum and the redistributed aura, it was certainly aimed to rattle her senses.
Damnit. A punch like that should have knocked her on her ass to have blocked it the only way she could have. But that wasn't what made Ilya's eyes widen. She thankfully had telegraphed her punch enough, giving her a brief moment to think.
When the leg came up, she had one chance. Rather than retract her punch, Ilya followed through, putting even more force into a push, sending her just enough off-balance. Not enough to miss...rather than her head, the punch struck her shoulder instead. There was plenty of muscle to at least cause less damage than a blow to the skull, but Ilya found herself staggering backwards, a yowl escaping from her as reverberations rippled through the bone. That one could have ended much, MUCH worse. It burned to move her arms to a degree...so that was her power. And she had a hunch it would get much worse.
Still. She was far from out of this fight. Ilya righted herself, a grin on her face. "You punch with the strength of four arms. But you do not have the defense of them." She allowed Ayame to make a move...or not. She would have time to recover more if she chose to be passive again.
Ayame hopped back as Ilya retracted after the blow, loosely wringing out her hand that she had just punched with. "I could shay the shame about you. Wooh! What a hit, huh?" Her words came out with a lisp through her mouthguard as she hopped back and forth to keep the blood rushing, her right shoulder and abdomen nothing short of smarting and bruising. But I've got much more than that, babe. "Thish ish gettin' fun!" She punched her two fists together several times. "Let'sh keep going, huh?"
After rolling her shoulders to loosen them up, she quickly tightened them again and raised her fists to her temples. She approached Ilya again, testing her again with a few quick jabs.
Here we go again. She had gotten just enough reaction out of her opponent for her burning to subside to a dull throb once again. Fantastic. Her right side was taking a pummeling today. No doubt her mother would be doting over her all summer long. Still. She had caused noticeable damage to Ayame in return, which brought a slight smile to her face. This one was still more than up in the air.
More than willing to honor Ayame's request, Ilya approached evenly, her top arms outstretched just a little bit. Just a bit so as not to scare her off, but she needed it to...
When Ayame went in for her jab, Ilya acted, ignoring them and letting them strike her in the head. They were testing jabs...not enough strength for anything devastating, but that was another blow to her right side. Of course. She growled at the impact, but pressed forward, wrapping her arms around her attacking target in a clinch, locking her foe's arms between the two combatants. She leaned in on Ayame, putting as much weight on her as possible. This was her favorite position...because she had all the control. With two arms still free, she locked, loaded...and unloaded a double-barreled shot at her sides. She didn't care if the arms got in the way...something was going to be hurting.
Ayame audibly growled as fists slammed into her sides, the impact on her right crashing into Ilya's previous point of impact. As she collected the energy, more than enough to replenish the aura she spent on her superman punch--perhaps even double--she forced her arms up, their skin slippery with sweat. When her hands pushed free on either side of Ilya's head, she clasped both hands, one on top of the other, at the back of Ilya's skull just between the top and the neck. Clenching both forearms around Ilya's neck by squeezing inward with her back and chest, Ayame pressed her elbows close together and pulled down, forcing Ilya's head to Ayame's neck in a classic Muay Thai clinch.
Control of the head meant control of the body. Ayame didn't even try to stop the smile that crept across her lips.
Using Ilya's weight that she pressed against her, Ayame wrenched her to the left side to disrupt her grapple, keeping the clinch around her neck. Immediately afterwards she pulled her back to the right and forcefully jerked her head downwards, directly into a right knee rising to meet it with a third of redistributed aura.
Grr.... She was dealing blows, but without a knockout, she was constantly letting Ayame back into the fight. Now she found her sight cut off as she was counter-clinched. And something told her that what was coming was not going to be good. She still had a moment to assess, to react to the situation. She still had two limbs. She could get out of this.
At the moment Ayame jerked her body, breaking her clinch and forcing Ilya's head off Ayame's shoulder, her lower arms shot up, forcing against Ayame's arms and halting the push downwards. Her knee failed to strike at the point of maximum damage, instead coming right at the very end. A much weaker blow that Ilya was sure Ayame wanted. And yet, she could still feel a SNAP as her nose broke, beginning to spill blood as it twisted out of shape. Burning pain on her face didn't blind Ilya; she had come too far to fail here.
Time for the counterstrike. Her hands gripped Ayame's wrists tightly, refusing to allow her full motion of her arms. She sent a silent thank you to her decision beforehand to tape each finger individually; without it, she would have had no chance at this grip. Slowly, she removed her head from the clinch while keeping her grip firm. "So I see." Her voice was skewed slightly, her broken nose in the way of speaking properly. Her right top arm flew forward at Ayame's exposed head as her lower arms yanked her forward, looking to repay her in kind for her busted nose.
Ouch.
Ayame's head whipped to right as Ilya's fist collide with her cheek, her vision dimming and head clouding momentarily. Between the force of Ilya's punch and her own body being yanked forward, the hit was almost enough to knock Ayame unconscious. The knuckles split the skin both outside and inside her cheek, the taste of blood overwhelming her mouth. She hoped beyond hope that all of her teeth were intact.
Absorbing the sizeable aura from the blow, she felt the beast inside of her churning in a fiery inferno. The amount of energy collected within her was approaching her threshold, and with the last punch she could feel a foreseeable physical limit. It was more than enough to end the fight, though, as long as she used it wisely.
You'll pay for that one, bitch
As her center of balance fell to the right, her previously raised right foot landed forward and slightly to the left of Ilya. Her body lowered and hunkered slighty with both of her wrists still held by Ilya, her weight mostly on her left leg as if to sweep out Ilya's legs with her right one. But upon regaining control of motion, her hips and torso immediately twisted counterclockwise and she shifted weight to her right leg, which straightened as she rose. The rotational and upward motion of her body combined with half of her collected aura, all of it concentrated in the point of her right elbow. Her wrist remained in Ilya's grip, but in their close proximity she twisted her arm up and over in an elbow strike across Ilya's cheek in one fluid motion.
What was she doing...? Ilya watched her motions post-punch with near curiosity. Was she going to try to sweep the leg? Hah! Ilya never skipped leg day. Her efforts would almost certainly be in vain. She practically wanted to laugh...good thing she didn't. A shifting of weight had her on her guard, but the flying elbow came almost out of left field. Ilya didn't have time to get a defense up, so she did the only thing she could, move her head with the motion of the blow.
Doing so spared her the knockout. The attack glanced off her jaw instead of a direct cheek punch. Normally it'd be nothing to worry about. But with the sheer force of the strike Ayame dealt, the crowd practically fell silent as a nasty SNAP arose as the elbow hit. That was her jaw. Ilya staggered backwards, her top two arms gripping onto Ayame's as well to keep her balance. It took a moment, but she slowly swiveled her head back to stare Ayame down.
What she would see was nothing less than a look that could silence a lion. Absolute fury bored down on the girl as the Slovak loosed an unearthly growl, the sound distorted now both from her nose and her busted jaw. Ilya wasn't out, but the pain had blinded her to nothing but anger and finishing the fight. She wasn't going to be able to take much more.
So it was time to drop this girl once and for all. With Ayame's arms still successfully locked by her lower arms, her top arms rose again, her body brimming with adrenaline that kept her standing. One, then the other forced themselves at the still-exposed head, a one-two punch from the boxer meant for nothing more than to drag what consciousness she had from her.
Ayame's teeth clenched against the mouthguard as Ilya recovered from the jaw break, genuinely shocked and more than a little irked that she still held onto her wrists, let alone her consciousness. How she retained her composure was beyond Ayame, but she could think about that when the fight was finished.
Or rather, when she finished the fight.
As Ilya's top fists rose again to pummel her head, Ayame took advantage of her positioning to Ilya's left by slightly bending her right knee, pivoting at the hip, and slam the knee with half of her remaining aura behind Ilya's thigh to disrupt her balance and send her punches wide. She simultaneously used her arms held tightly by the lower appendages to twist her torso clockwise, pushing Ilya's disrupted body back over her right leg. With the other girl tumbling backwards, Ayame felt the vicegrip over her wrists slacken and yanked her right arm free of her grip. Channeling her remaining aura through her arm, she pulled her fist up with her elbow eye, her fiery eyes briefly locking with Ilya's as she fell.
Nighty night, sweetheart.
Suddenly, a hand caught Ayame's forearm, halting her fist mere inches away from Ilya's already broken nose. She jerked her gaze up to the hulking figure of Judge Weiss, eyes blinking in surprise. "Ah...Judge Weiss?"
Judge Weiss nodded sternly at Ilya on the ground. "The match is over, Ms. Mizuki. Ilya is in no condition to continue fighting." There was a brief pause when whispering consumed the noise threshold of the arena, and finally Judge Weiss released Ayame's arm and waved over the healers to Ilya. When he turned back to Ayame, a smile broke across his face.
"And the winner is, Ayame Mizuki!"
Ayame broke into an open-mouthed smile and shouted ecstatically with the roaring crowd, popping out her mouthguard and pulling her fists to her chest. "Yes, yes, yes!" Giddy giggling shook her shoulders as she opened her arms wide to wave at the crowd, all hints of exhaustion banished from her mind. Letting her hands rest on her head and taking deep breaths, her eyes wide with excitement and enthusiasm, she slowly wiped the sweat from her forehead.
Heh. I knew it.
After addressing the flashing cameras for a few girlish victory poses, she slowly walked across the cluster of healers around Ilya with her hands on her hips. She spotted the girl's eyes from between two healers, a cutesy smile dimpling her cheeks as they made eye contact. Raising two fingers to her lips, she blew her a kiss over her shoulder as she approached the edge of the ring.
But the beast inside her roared in contentment.
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