Mission #34: The Return of the Past [Kiwi/Odango]

[BlacKitten]

Mission #34:

Participate in the underground fight club tournament on Eldoran Island. Of course there is no proof that such a fight club even exists. Along with the rumor is that recently there has been a Zoan user fighting in the tournament. So watch out, for the zoan user and the Marines on the island who have banned such events.

In the underworld, there existed an organization comprised of all kinds of heinous criminals; many of whom worked as assassins. Among that group, there was a loose-cannon, a man who goes around and picks fights on a whim. His savage nature made him untamable, killing even his own allies. It was said that the organization only kept him around for one and only reason: he was strong. Without its leash, the beast roamed about, seeking for only the strong ones to pounce at in a duel. He had first encountered this monster at the North Blue, but now he was back at the Grand Line, the most dangerous seas of all. The name of this man was unbeknownst even for him, but people called him The Berserker.

A white-haired man –appearing in his twenties- glanced with his elated yellow eyes and a wide mischievous but sinister grin on his face. No one had yet to quench his thirst for blood, but there was one individual who managed to make him wait. Someone who stood before him right here, right now, a boy who was marked off as his target to kill, he possessed a latent potential to grow stronger and stronger. He was a mere weakling when he first met him, but there was notable feature about him when he fought him long ago. The longer that child fought, the stronger he became. Each time that boy fell; he kept getting back up stronger and faster than before. It wasn’t before long until he was accustomed to his fighting style. The name of that boy was Pluto.

On this crescent-shaped island and beneath the crescent-shaped moon, the two of them glared each other down. The one with white-hair was pleased to see him while the one with black hair gave a sharp glare of alertness and seriousness reflected in his violet eyes. In the distant past, they had clashed twice; both skirmish ended inconclusively. There was always an external factor that got in their way from finishing their bout.

For months, Pluto had been hunted down be people like The Berserker; his life being threatened at every way he went. This time, the hunted had become the hunter. “I’m ending this once and for all. You’re too dangerous to be left unchecked,” his hands proceeded to clench into fists.

“Ah! Music to my ears, it sounds like you want to pick a fight with me. How uncharacteristic for someone who’s been keeping a low profile all this time,” reaching for the shaft of his scythe that hung on his back, his hand grasped onto as if preparing for a counterattack.

“It’s because of people like you that I’ve forced to keep a low profile. It isn’t as if I encounter powerful fighters on mere coincidences. There’s literally an entire organization of them actively aiming for my head. However, I’ve come to realize one thing. If I keep playing defensively, I’ll never win. For the past several months, I’ve trained myself to become stronger just as you wanted.”

“Heh! Indeed, even right now, I feel like I’m standing in front of some ferocious animal. You’re just like the bamboos that grow on this island, being able to grow up so darn fast. I, too, have realized something. What we’re lacking right now is a battlefield all to ourselves. The marines interrupted us the last time around. Even on this island, there are marines stationed near the port. But, here in Ran Town, we’re on the other side of the island. Even better, I’ve heard that there are weekly fighting tournaments around here.”

“And… you’re suggesting that we have our fight in one of those tournaments?”

“Legally speaking, they’re banned. In other words, the people hosting them will make sure that the marines won’t find out about it. They’ll handle the dirty work for us in order to set up the environment for our fight.”

“Huh… for someone who’s all muscles, you’re a lot smarter than you look. Fine then, we’ll settle this your way,” he decisively agreed as this also benefitted him as well. This gave him to freedom to take this man’s life without any trouble from the law enforcers. He didn’t expect to have their fight scheduled in such a manner as opposed to ambushes. Being able to plan ahead like this made this scythe-user a lot scarier, it was no longer that overwhelming strength that he had to be afraid of anymore. 

[odango]

”The entrance fee is ten thousand beri, you better put it on the desk, kid.” came a low, bulky voice from a closet-sized male who was hunching over a desk in a way that it seemed comical. His face showed lack of effort in terms of personal hygiene and you could clearly smell what he had eaten and that he might benefit from a bath. He was probably standing at about 6’4” and was the one who also filled the “brawn” duties for the tournament organizers. The bulk of flesh was dressed in worn down cargoes and a black wife-beater that had the words “Punches connect people”.

The hazel eyed brunette took in a deeper breath but regretted it half way. She could taste the saltiness of his smell in her mouth and the hair on the back of her head stood up. Still, not risking to show to much with her face, she silently shuffled on the spot, the old wooden boards moaning beneath her feet as she did so, and pulled out a roll of cash notes from the pouch strapped to her thigh. There were a lot of spectators to this action since she was, in fact, in a line to register for the opportunity to brawl. Even if someone from the other participants thought to pickpocket it, there was nothing else left besides needles. Also, Tsubaki was not that inexperienced anymore. The young hazel eyed justice seeker would be able to take care of herself as long as the action is humanly possible.

Her partially uncovered, frail-skinned hand finished the transaction by handing the roll of notes to the big guy and watching him count it over. She could take that moment to readjust her attire. This time, Tsubaki did not have her marine uniform, her gun and even not her Ryuuran. She only had a pouch of senbon on each leg. The reason for her choice of weapons was simple – her gun was Marine issue, even if someone had pried it from a dead soldier’s hand, it was still too obvious. The reason for leaving Ryuuran was also simple – she did not wish to be recognized. The katana was longer and quite specific visually. She could not risk being spotted outside of the tournament. She had to walk around the base later and god forbid – someone from the participants will recognize her with her weapons.

She proceeded to rearrange her mask, which was a fabric based and reached up over her lips and nose. The rest of her body was coated in black with similar fabric and surrounded her body tightly. However, there were protective layers over her chest, back, shoulders, forearms, thighs and shins. She had sturdy boots on, which seemed like they could be also very comfortable for running. All in all, she looked like a shinobi of some ancient time, not a Marine officer. She knew it, but hey – some people in this tournament were dressed up as clowns. Tsubaki figured that they would not care for appearances as long as they got their money.

*Honestly, there is a guy in diapers somewhere down the line. As long as no one knows who I am, it will be fine. Besides, all this doesn’t matter as long as I reach my goal.*

Her brows formed a light scowl and her eyes took on a glint of determination as she the thoughts strolled through her mind. There was a reason why she joined the tournament, why she went through the trouble of finding the tournament in the first place. There was something she had to settle and that required digging deep into the organization of this place. She did not just wish to make bets, she needed to get in to the behind scenes and see what was going on. It was either that or she couldn’t look at herself in the mirror anymore. While that seemed overly dramatic, she had given herself a promise. Now how could she ask someone else to trust her if she couldn’t even keep a promise to herself? The frown in her brow deepened for a slight second as she drew her gaze back to the man in front of her. It seemed that the bulky bald man had counted through the beri. He was surprisingly quick about it, to be honest.

”Fine, it’s all here. What name you going by?” The bulk asked and Tsubaki took a second to respond. Right. She needed a different name. In all the commotion, she had forgotten to decide on one. There was just one thing to do – act from the top of her head. Anything will do as long as it doesn’t give her away and still was not overly-clever. She disliked it when names were over-the top. It took away from evaluating anything objectively, really.

”Camille.” she responded after a few seconds of deliberation. The big guy just scribbled it down on the pad and paper he had in front of him and gave her a hand-written slip of paper with the number “24” on it. It seemed, the tournament was not going to be small. She knew, there were still some people behind her and probably more outside or just coming. If the rumors were true, these tournaments were quite popular.

”Fine, proceed through that door to the participant’s lounge.” the big man gave out in a care-free tone and raised his massive column of an arm to motion in the direction of an entrance way behind him. A bordeaux double-door entrance stood in the wall, no other indication about what might be in the room. She could feel her heart skipping a beat, yet she continued. There was something to be afraid of. While it was not yet, she felt like she had just sealed her faith in one way or another. Folding the piece of paper and slipping it in her pouch, the brunette started moving in the direction of the door, letting the man behind her take his turn with the big guy.

She reached the door and lifted her hand to pull down on the handle but found herself hesitate just before the action. Strange, because she had not planned to have second doubts. It was as if her body was trying to stop her. Perhaps, somewhere in the back of her head, she knew it was not a good idea, but then again – most of the best life lessons come from bad ideas, right?

The nineteen year old noble clenched her jaw and just let her hand fall on the handle, thus opening the door. After pulling the wooden barrier open, she entered the lounge. It was nothing too much out of the ordinary. There were a lot of benches. A couple rows of lockers with keys in the locks. Further were two doors, she guessed those were for the showers and toilets. The walls were in a grey color, yet actually painted, not pure concrete or plaster. The floors were wooden but one could see the change to tiles near the two doors on the other side of the spacious room. It was probably the size of a basketball court. On her right, after entering, the wall was partially removed. There was something that looked like an indoor balcony, which she suspected would overlook the arena down below.

Taking a few steps forward, she noticed that there was some chatter further off in the room. However, she did not feel like getting too close yet. Instead, she headed to the right, wishing to inspect the arena.

*It would be great if I wouldn’t die today… I feel like I’ll have teriyaki chicken if I live. Yes. I can afford the calories then.* It seemed, she really was quite nervous after all.

[BlacKitten]

“Hey! You!” A voice called out from behind the muscular brute with a tiger-striped tank-top, “What name are you going by for the tournament?” They stood on equal height, but the unfamiliar figure had a body more befitting of a body-builder than a fighter.

“HM?” The brute -whose arms were the size of a man’s thighs- leered at the white-haired man with an unimpressed glance, “Dale!” The bloke answered simply and blatantly as if conserving as much as energy as possible. Speaking seemed too much of a chore for him from his lazy facial expression.

“Huh!?” The scythe-wielder walked off, mumbling as if disappointed by the sound of that name.

Leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, Pluto had his eyes closed and minded his own business, but this was getting old. The Berserker must have asked nearly a dozen contestants by now for their names. Not all of the names were necessarily their authentic ones; all he cared about were the ones that were going to be in the used in the actual tournament. But why would someone like him care so much about it?

“What are you doing?” The raven-haired adolescent spoke up reluctantly.

The member of the organization shifted his eyes side to side to pinpoint his next prey to ask, “Isn’t it obvious? I’m trying to find a cool-sounding name.” Striding off, the scythe-wielder approached another fellow contestant, repeating the exact same procedure as before.

Sighing, Pluto closed his eyes, resting his mind. This… isn’t what I had in mind. It’s like we’re not even enemies for the time being. What’s going on here? His eyes widened immediately at the wail of body flying through the room before crashing into a wall. A cold sweat flowed down his neck as he blinked. In the distance, his supposed enemy stood there with a satisfied look on his face.

“W-what… are you doing?” He was now afraid to ask.

Holding up a piece of paper towards him, the grinning man showed his proof of now being an official participant of the fighting tournament. His number was fifteen. Many pairs of eyes darted straight at him; those who weren’t were likely staring at the hole in the wall that was plugged in by a torso with legs dangling off the ground.

“…,” Wilting his posture, the boy was tempted to palm himself in the face, “You… stole someone else’s number?” He could at least do so with a little bit more… subtlety.

“What’s with that disappointed tone? I have no money for this. What? Did you end up paying it in cash?” He spoke as if paying it upfront was for the weak.

“Well… with the bounties I’ve caught, the entrance fee is spare change for me.” The money he used originated from the pirate crew that was wiped out back in Amino Island with the aid of Scarlette.

“Ooo… I didn’t know you’re a bounty hunter,” he added on to their ‘friendly’ conversation.

“It was more… self-defense on my part. My assaulter just happened to have a bounty,” he corrected, never officially labeling himself as a bounty hunter. It wasn’t a conscious choice on his part, but it did happened to be a convenient source of income for him ever since he left his home island.

“Griamore! That is the name I’m going by in this tournament. I like the sound of it,” he bragged before proceeding to the waiting room where the more rule-abiding fighters dwelled in.

“I’m starting to get the picture to how this guy gets by in society,” Pluto murmured to himself before putting on a plain, white mask that resembled a cat’s face. He then proceeded to put on his hood from the black cloak he wore with loose, baggy sleeves. Hiding his appearance, contestant number thirty, followed into the room, being one of the last ones to register.

[odango]

*Quite a noisy bunch, aren’t they? she asked herself while calmly observing a pair of men making muscles of themselves next to each other.

It seemed it was a dominance thing. Like in the animal kingdom a peacock would compete with another peacock by trying to spread their tail feathers in a larger manner than the other. However, these battles of visual appearance were usually fought for a purpose – be it territory, a mate, food or anything of relevance. In the case of these humans, it seemed to be purely out of pride. Not even that, the two Alpha males were finding joy in senseless competition. Both of them were red by now. Tsubaki was still at a loss for their reasoning but she did admire the shades of red and blue they were turning. Now, you could count the veins popping out of them from a distance. All this being said - she could still not say anything about their self-awareness and intellect. While the hazel eyed teen did feel an urge to put both specimen under a rather dull category, she knew it would be ill-advised and ill-mannered. To her it seemed that the best strategy was to let your enemies think they have the upper hand. Just humoring the idea of both of the half-naked buffs actually being great tacticians was something deserving of awe, was it not? She couldn’t imagine the concentration it took to remain in character,

The two masculine men went at it and it looked like they might pop at some point in the efforts of bringing out all the shapes of their muscles. It seemed to come near the climax of their duel when one of them seemed to tense up, his eyes widened and while it didn’t look like it visually – you could see in his face that something changed. His face dropped from the red hue to a pale one and he did not avert his gaze from a single point far away, his line of view going right past Tsubaki’s shoulder. At first the girl did not know what exactly he was staring at and it caused some curiosity. It was odd. She hadn’t sensed anything odd behind her. Perhaps an intimidating contestant had entered the room? Curiously, the girl also looked back, over her shoulder. To her surprise, she met with an empty wall. There was nothing there. Nothing at all. Raising a brow at what the man had been staring back, she returned her gaze back to him. He was standing stiff, his knees still bent and the other man now just quizzically looking at him in a similar position.

The look of shock was still on the massive man’s face. His short blonde hair now looked even more light and since he was wearing black shorts, the contrast was overwhelming on the eyes. He looked quite comical and sinister. This man did not move for a moment. It did not seem like he was breathing, which got his comrade slightly worried. Then, suddenly, he just took off for the showers, not straightening up to walk, his knees still bent and his legs wide spread. He reminded of a lobster a little, really. This left an even more confused look on his muscle-popping partner’s face as the darker man just watched his friend go.

*You’re kidding, right? You have got to be kidding. Don’t tell me he just did what I think he did.*

At that moment she could not suppress the urge to land her face in her palm heavily. Well, accidents happen, but she had never expected to see something like that. The whole thing just took her by surprise. For a moment she got embarrassed for the person and defensively pulled her arms up in a cross over her chest and felt the urge to lean in, her eyes shut and head lowered. Tsubaki was trying hard to get those images out of her head - she even attempted shaking them out of her head.

*Ok, relax. Just focus on something else.* she commanded herself and stepped away to finally take a good look at the arena below. It was a ring shape arena with spectator stands around shaping a coliseum type. While it was not as big as outdoors arenas, it was quite amazing that something like this could operate underground. It also looked like some viewers were getting seated already. She couldn’t see anyone in particular. The lighting was mainly pointed at the now empty ring. The nineteen year old figured that was the idea. They did not want to be recognized as part of the live audience of an illegal event and this was a way to keep the betting public happy. It was possible the biggest merits were not from the pot money but from the bets. It seemed the audience was often very unlucky, which meant someone was aiding the organizer’s luck now and then… but she was not certain of the fact. As of yet there was still no proof for the brunette to show her fellow officers and give them a reason and the power to thoroughly investigate her claims. However, she did wonder why the Chief of Police had not gotten into the tournament before. His methods were rather radical but he did not seem to here like the corrupt type. Then again, he might not be the one to sanction such a “peaceful” approach as infiltration.

”So, this is where I might die, huh?” she let out under her breath in a humorous manner. The girl realized her job meant she could leave this plain any day, even if she worked as a janitor at G-8, where nothing ever happens. However, she figured this way she would get to do some good and pay back the men who dared hurt the others. She would find out who committed the crime against the Marines and she would prove that “accidents don’t just happen”. At least, not accidents like that.

”Hey, girly! You sure you didn’t mess up the venues? You don’t get to win for flashing someone but the public loves it, so go right ahead!” There was a new group of people who had just entered. Males all of them. The words from the group came only after a couple of wolf whistles. She had a feeling it might happen but paid it no mind. After all, as soon as another female walked in, their attention turned to her. It looked like she had broader shoulders than Tsubaki and was also dressed quite loosely. But they were about the same height. Men did quite outnumber the women in this competition, it seemed. While not uncommon, it was overwhelmingly obvious. They wouldn’t care what the woman looked like, such outbursts were usually meant for their friends’ amusement, anyway. It did not affect Tsubaki much, but she wasn’t exactly fine with it, either. After all, getting called out for your appearance while dressing uncommon to ones self was not enjoyable.

*I miss my oversized shirt…*

[BlacKitten]

The high-pitched, ear-piercing echo of the mic silenced the room momentarily as the attention of the audience and combatants shifted towards the elevated platform off to the distance from the ring. A middle-aged man stood as the announcer, but the sight of him caused the audience to clap and cheer for him without even having to say a word. They all knew who this man was. He was not just any ordinary man but a fighter, one who had claimed victory in this fight club several times in the past. Crowned champion in this underground tournaments several times, his name was known as Krit Dagur, the host of Eldoran Underground Fight Club.

“Huh? Is he famous or something? People are already applauding for him,” The Berserker gave a bewildered glare at the announcer who had yet to announce a single word to them.

“Who knows…,” the dark, hooded figure with the white mask expressed his lack of desire in wanting to know who that man was. As he strides off on his own, his speculation of being followed was then confirmed. Turning about, he pointed his index finger at the scythe-wielder, “Why are you following me!?”

“Look around ya,” the white-haired assassin spoke with a smug face, “I’m surrounded by weaklings. You’re the only one worthy of my time here. I’m not too fond of interacting with little ants.”

Even still, had this man forgotten that he had tried to kill him many times in the past? Had he forgotten that they were supposed to be enemies? Eliminating each other was their very own duty. The fact that they’re practically hanging out with each other made it awkward as if nothing from the past ever happened. “Aren’t we supposed to be enemies?” He grumbled.

“Haven’t ya heard the saying? Keep your friends close and your enemies closer!”

I hate to admit it, but that’s actually quite wise of him. Staying silent, he kept on walking, shifting his eyes behind the mask that always faced forward. That man might be right when he said that they were surrounded by inferior fighters. He didn’t make this judgment just by their appearances. It was merely due to the statistical chance of encountering those rare fighters that were on the same league as them in the early section of the Grand Line.

“Sheesh, you’re sooo anti-social!”

“Fellow citizens of Eldoran Island and travelers, there will be thirty-two fighters in this week’s tournament. Each fighter has been assigned a number and will be paired up randomly with an opponent,” Krit Dagur had spoken at last in his stern, low voice. The multi-time champion turned on a Visual Den Den Mushi, a special type of snail that can broadcast what it sees to large rectangular video screen up against the wall through its projection. What it projected was a simple binary tree with all sixteen pair ups of the thirty-two combatants. How the tournament will progress was now right in front of them.

“He-he! It’s your lucky day. It looks like we won’t be fighting each other for quite a while,” The Berserker muttered as he viewed the matchups.

“Let’s see here… looks like I’m up against number two,” Pluto didn’t bother searching the room for his opponent. He wasn’t all that enthusiastic about this event ever since his experience with the Battle Royale.

Among the audience, a young girl with black hair and violet eyes sat there, occasionally peeking at the cloaked figure from the distance.

[odango]

There it was – the matchup for the first round. “Nr. 24 VS Nr. 8” was first, the second was “Nr. 30 VS Nr. 2”. For the rest she honestly did not care. Were the names instead of the numbers, there would be something to take interest in. Admittedly, she was slightly interested who number eight was. Searching now made no use, since she would have to fight him or her in a minute.

”Ladies and Gentlemen! The first fight will be between a newcomer with the number twenty-four – Camille - and our veteran in this competition with the number eight – Hateful Joe!” the announcement went off and Tsubaki swallowed the lump in her throat. All of a sudden her throat had gone dry. The reality of her plan now slowly taking action was crashing down her. Hesitantly she took the first step towards the stairs down to the arena. She stepped down in a quite moderate pace but to her it felt a lot slower. The crowd started cheering yet she could only hear her own pulse banging in her ears like a war drum.

*Calm down. Breathe.*

This she told herself, actually forcing herself to take a deep breath. She felt the urge to shake from the stress and anticipation. She was moderately scared. Not from losing, from not being quick enough to react. Making her go first was something she had not thought about. Also, the girl did not have a large experience with tournaments. She had been in her fair share of fights but there was something about this particular one that made her nervous and she felt a cold sensation form in her stomach, which later turned to the feeling of having a void in her gut.

Tsubaki had now reached the arena and shortly stopped to pull her hair up in a bun, instead of a pony tail. Indeed, without rules, it was too much of a tease to give her opponent the opportunity to drag her around by a leash of her own hair. She didn’t think anything was below these contestants. Even if they were more honorable, it wouldn’t get worse from what she could imagine… hopefully.

”Give it up for the first lady in two weeks, you all!” the announcer called her out as the young marine, dressed in black stepped into the light of the arena. There was another wave of cheers and applause. Some wolf whistles from here and there. Also, she finally got to take a look at her opponent. For a veteran he was not as old as she thought. A man at about thirty years of age was standing in front of her with a brown leather jacket hung on him, left open so he could showcase his physique, probably. There was a scar on the upper left side of his chest – the place where most assume their heart is. It looked like a cut and a partial burn mark. The guy was standing at about six feet, his hair coal black and his complexion olive. He had a square jaw and a five o’clock shadow on him. Blue eyes hid underneath very expressive eyebrows. Surprisingly it didn’t look like his nose had been previously broken. Or it had always healed nicely, perhaps. He did not seem to have any weapons on him as far as she could see. The rest of his attire was just a pair of jeans and bare feet. Was he actually planning to fight with fists? Well, that might just be a relief.

”Get ready, contestants!”

Once again the announcer’s voice echoed through the arena and probably also the lounge area. She stepped a bit closer and stared her opponent right in the eye. What was his smug grin for? Was he underestimating her?

”I bet you’re quite pretty under the mask. How about I take it easy on you and in return, you show me some hospitality later?” He asked, a slight chuckle escaping his throat after it. To this Tsubaki just narrowed her eyes. He was obviously not worried at all, not to mention trying to get under her skin. Now she could let go of the void in her stomach because a rush of hard-headedness washed over it. She could visualize herself knocking him down already. The hazel eyed teen did not respond to his comment, she just dropped her shoulders and shifted one leg a little backwards, getting ready to expect his first strike.

The signal to start the fight rang out and nothing else mattered now. Not the cheers from the crowd, not the clear comments, not the commotion that was going on in the lounge. It all went silent. It was just her and her target. Be it the rush of adrenaline, but it seemed time had slowed down.

Joe didn’t strike first, but seeing as Tsubaki wasn’t going to rush in head first, he complied in a split second ”Well, if you insist I go first-“ The dark haired man gave out before dashing at her with admirable speed. She didn’t even notice him take off, honestly. He was just there in a second and she saw a roundhouse kick coming her way. The girl acted on her best first plan and absorbed the blow by choosing to guard with her arm and taking hold of the area right above his ankle with the other hand. While usually a stupid move, since this gave him the opportunity to launch a kick with his other leg at her head, which he also saw as the best opportunity, she had her own plan. Gripping hard on his toes with one hand and pulling them closer to his heel while still holding on firmly with her other hand, she forced his body to comply with the surge of pain of stretching his joints and bend into her movement, the other kick ending weak and missing her head by half a share. The young woman then quickly lifted one leg to mount his back while he was falling right next to her. There was no other way for him to stay in mid air and she could clearly predict his landing. However, as she was about to hook both his arms and legs with her own limbs and force him to the ground, she encountered something weird.

Tsubaki let go of him, letting the man fall done face-forward in the dirt and jumped back. Then she jumped back a bit more. She needed to understand what just happened. Hateful Joe had just made contact with the ground but she just took a closer look at her hands. At one point she had felt heat on her hands but it had actually started to hurt while holding on to his foot. There had been a sensation of getting lightly burned. There were no real injuries on her hands; one was just red and stung a bit. However, then she noticed that the metal plate on her forearm which she had used to guard against the first kick was different. It looked like it had melted a bit, even. What was up with this guy?

*What exactly was it?*

Hateful Joe was getting up at that point and now he didn’t hold that smug grin anymore. Covered in dirt, his hair messed up and spitting out the sand he had eaten by accident, he firstly proceeded to dust himself off, knowing very well his opponent was probably confused.

”There went your shot of a nice match with me, love. I admit it, I do enjoy feisty girls. However…” he took the pause to look at her, his blue eyes now glaring in a cold and sinister manner straight at the nineteen year old brunette.

”As much as I think you’re cute, I will make you beg me to knock you out.”

[BlacKitten]

The first pair of fighters was up on the stadium to start off the tournament. Contestant number twenty-four, Camille, was up against contestant number eight, the Hateful Joe.

“Ya wanna bet which one of those two would win?” The white-haired bystander questioned in some hopes of having some fun as he stood next to the analytical Pluto.

Without even diverting his eyes towards the fight, he declined, “You have no money to bet with, so no.” Even if money wasn’t the issue, betting wasn’t a habit he wanted to have. That included the betting system that most of the audience took part in. They each bet on who would win to add in on the suspense on the fight’s outcome since their invested money was on the line.

“Then, who do you think would win hypothetically?” He sneered as if the boy’s response would be more amusing than the fight itself.

“They’re both at such a low level of skill that it’s hard to tell,” the boy had almost forgotten what it was like for regular people with no superhuman strength to fight each other. These two contestants were still stuck at a human level. Neither of them had yet to reach the limits of what a human body can truly accomplish, and even if they do reach such a level, the savage-natured man besides him would still label them as weaklings for he had long since surpassed the limits of the human body. To the Berserker, it was like trying to guess which ant could beat the other ant. When two insignificant beings went at it with each other, it was hard to notice the differences between them.

But that wasn’t all there was to it. The lower the skill level, the harder it was to predict them. Beginners tended to have more variability due to how uncertain they were in what moves to use. They were more prone to mistakes and errors; flukes became more common. This brought a wide verity of factors to take into consideration, making it hard for even Pluto to access the fight that he was watching. Expert fighters knew what works and what doesn’t work, so they would stick to a stricter nature of combat than the beginners.

The brunette cladded in black attire had blocked that kick and proceeded to take the man to the ground. However, she retreated instead of going in for whatever she would’ve had in mind.

“What’s this? Is she chickening out? That was a golden opportunity to go in,” The Berserker complained.

“Hm? That’s weird. She managed to make him fall. So, why did she hesitate back there?”

[odango]

*What’s going on? Why does it feel like I got burned? I saw no flames. Could it be he can generate that much heat from his bare skin? Is it a weapon? A Devil Fruit power? Could I have imagined it?*

All of these questions flooded her mind at once as she watched the man slowly pull himself up. What would she do? Was it just a fluke? Perhaps she had imagined it… but if she had, how did the guard on her forearm get heated up to the point, a part of it deformed? The piece of her attire had finally cooled down enough for her to not be distracted by it. Something was definitely off. She just could not say exactly what it was. The next question was – did she need to understand it or could she win without this knowledge. Fear of the unknown was as common in living things as sawdust near a sawmill but maybe it didn’t have to be a deciding factor in her actions.

Her opponent Hateful Joe had threatened her and while Tsubaki was already a bit worried, she couldn’t say his words made her feel worse. In situations when encountered threats she usually did not believe them. The reason for this was not that she didn’t believe it was physically possible to fulfill them - she just did not trust the completion of such feats until they actually tried it or gave proof of their ability to go through with it. Then again, she was not certain. If her idea about him being able to produce heat was right, this battle might just go downhill for her from here. The teen had not heard rumors about this man as a long-term champion so there was a chance his abilities were not that colossal. Or was it that everybody else was just of a higher level all together?

”Tch, why does he talk so much?” she muttered while once again getting ready to anticipate an attack. Also, that last bit he said was mostly annoying rather than scary.

Soon, regaining his smug facial expression, the man lunged at her once more - this time with a punch to which Tsubaki avoided by shifting her weight. Next fallowed a kick, then another swing of his arm - soon, it grew into a barrage of attacks to which Tsubaki responded with completely dodging. It was strange, her movements were fluid, it seemed as she could move out of the way without breaking her line of movement and this just made her opponent more agitated.

*Perhaps, I can wait for him to tire out? * the thought crossed her mind as their violent dance continued but our young heroine could also see why that would be impossible. While her speed was greater, as it turns out, her ability to hold out for long was not as great. At their current pace, she could feel a bigger strain in her actions and she knew that in terms of concentration her effort was bigger than Joe dishing out blow after blow. Their distance being quite laughable, the blows she avoided turned into a great performance. The crowd was cheering, despite a small portion complaining of why she did not strike back. The truth was, she was hesitant about touching the man, not knowing if she might get burned or not.

Thus far their fight had gone in a steady pace. Tsubaki had thus avoided at least forty blows and, while it might have seemed formidable for most, she was feeling like her limit was approaching. She was getting sloppy. Punch after punch, kick after kick. Finally, after a long barrage, she failed to read his next movement and fell for his change of pace which resulted in a straight strike to her abdomen.

With a gasp, the hazel eyed marine was sent back a couple of feet and then she – herself – proceeded to take a good leap backwards to asses her wounds. Besides the pain of a jab to the gut, she could once again feel a burning sensation. When she looked down, she could see why. There was a fist-shaped imprint in the layer of armor over her torso and abdomen. It had even changed its shade to showcase the heat-inflicted damage. The hue soon faded but the effects stayed. It was unpleasant, to say the least. The hot metal was now pushing against her skin and she could feel the sting, which made her cringe. Her eyes shut for a bit, her body taken aback by the shock and the sheer uncomfortable feeling. This was the moment when her opponent had used the right moment. Tsubaki didn’t notice soon enough when a blow was coming to her cheek. He had once again gone with a kick from the side of her face. Be it luck or not, he hit her with the part of his leg which was covered with his jeans. While she escaped the burn, she still slid to the side, also greeting the dirt while at it.

She stopped quite a ways further – the result from a blow from an opponent heavier than her. It looked like he was basking in the accomplishment which was finally landing a couple of hits since he did not attack right after. Instead, he took his time while making his way over, his steps slow and heavy. Perhaps he as well was tiring out.

There was a ringing in her ears and she felt as if someone took the arena and shook it. Everything seemed hazy for a moment but still, she forced her arms to push up her upper body first and then the young woman picked herself up completely. Tsubaki could taste a sensation of iron in her mouth so she, after getting together her composure, briefly pulled down her mask. The brunette turned her head to the side and spit out the blood which had pooled in her mouth. It felt as if none of her teeth had suffered. A lucky blow, only the inside of her cheek was harmed. It would probably leave little to no marks because of the mask and the softer blow. A fluke in aiming from her opponent.

Pulling up her mask she glared back at Hateful Joe. The dark-head had an even bigger grin than before. It made her mad. A person enjoying the physical pain of others so openly was one of her pet peeves.

”Tsk, I’m ending this now”

The teen felt rage building up against the heat-using brute. She had figured his abilities were fighting-style related or else he would’ve dished out an attack much more severe. Also, she had planned to not use the next weapon for the first round but this fight had crushed her expectations – not like she had any of them from experience. Her blue-eyed opponent began lunging at her once more and this time she also took off in his direction. Her jaw clenched to help her ignore the pain, she ran towards him, pulling back her arm to obviously launch her fist against his. A stupid move, seeing as it would burn her hand, but before the impact she dropped down and let his whole figure fall over him while she would just barely slide past his legs. If looking closely, one would see her reach a hand in one of her senbon holsters fastened to her thighs as she dropped down.

…

After this supposed passing by, both of them came to a halt. Then, something odd happened. While Tsubaki got up, her opponent fell to the ground. There was no struggle. He just collapsed after what seemed a quite organic stopping of his movements. There were no screams. There were no extra movements – Hateful Joe just hit the ground.

There was a moment of silence. The crowd seemed confused. After a few moments had passed and the speculations started in the audience, it was clear that Camille’s opponent was not getting up.

”The winner: Camille!!!”

The verdict was clear and the hazel eyed contestant was free to leave the arena. She wished to leave. The fatigue was kicking in, but she still mustered up enough composure to glance over the crowd. There were a few shout outs of confusion but the crowd was mostly cheering. As she had thought, the view of the audience was worse from the arena as it was from the area dedicated to the participants. There was nothing left but to go back.

Straightening her posture, the girl gracefully left the arena and made her way back up to the lounge, ignoring any reactions from the crowd. It was not like she was above them, she was focusing more on the need to consume water and finally sit down. The stairs seemed much higher than anticipated and she only hoped there was enough time to regain her strength until the next round. Once she got up the stairs, keeping a slight hold of the railing just in case, she soon found the nearest place to sit down – right next to a cloaked figure with his face covered by a white cat’s mask. After sitting down on the nearest bench, the first thing she did was pull her hair loose. It was unreasonably hot under the mask and she could still taste blood in her mouth. Alas the option of taking the facial cover was not possible. While she had briefly removed it prior, she did not wish for anyone to recognize her on the street. She doubted that there was anyone who knew her and had watched the match. There might be a risk of her getting her cover blown, if that were the case.

[BlacKitten]

Ever since their first exchange of attacks, the brunette had played heavily on the defense. None of her opponent’s attacks seemed all that frightening, yet she stuck to a series of evasive maneuverers as if trying to stall some time. Dozens of attempts to strike her had been made; all of which were avoided by the agile female fighter. Given her speed, it wasn’t as though she was being utterly overwhelmed by the barrage of attacks. Pluto was more under the impression that the girl was being overly cautious.

As the fight was beginning to grow repetitive, the girl cladded in black was gradually losing stamina as her movements became sloppier than before. It should be obvious even for an amateur that she must attack for any hopes of winning. If it was a contest of stamina and endurance, she would most likely lose. Despite that, she reached a point where one of the relentless punches landed into her abdomen. A kick to her cheek had then hurled her into the ground.

Hateful Joe grew smug and cocky as he chose not to finish her while she was down. At this point, it may seem as if he had every right to be. His opponent was deprived of stamina to maintain the speed she had earlier, and he didn’t have to worry about any counterattacks thus far into this round. The brunette crawled back up, splitting blood after momentarily uncovering her mask.

The two contestants went at each other for their final attack, seeing as this match was nearing to an end quite soon. Both of them dashed towards each other, but the girl went low towards the ground after using a feint.

“It’s over!” The Berserker yawned before the Hateful Joe collapsed to the ground, motionlessly. Blinking a few times, he was bewildered, “The heck? What happened? Was he secretly out of gas and was hiding it the entire time?” The scythe-wielder hadn’t notice Joe’s movements having an significant decline in speed or power over the course of the countless of strikes that were thrown. “Hey,” his necked turned sharply towards the figure in the kitty mask, “Did you see what happened?”

“More or less,” Pluto said bluntly. “I didn’t notice it until just now, but that girl was actually armed.”

“Huh?” The white-haired man squinted towards Camille who was walking off the arena.

“This is my first time seeing it in action. She used needles that were kept in the holster at her thigh. Traditionally, a wielder can utilize them as throwing weapons or apply acupuncture to a patient or victim. Alternatively, assassins may coat them in poison, so it wouldn’t matter where it would be struck on the human body,” he merely knew the practice of needles but had never seen it used in combat before. He wasn’t entirely sure if it was related to an acupuncture point or poison, but to stop a man’s movements like that, that girl had some deadly skills.

The announcer prepared the audience for the next matchup, “Number thirty and number two, step right up!”

“My turn already, huh?” The shrouded figure sauntered off just as Camille had already passed by him to sit down.

“Oh? This should be interesting,” a wide grin of excitement grew on the Berserker’s face. At last, he would get to witness his prey in action. Despite having fought against him before, he expected the boy to be far more formidable than ever.

“…,” The announcer paused for a moment in hesitation, “The identity of number two… E-Edmund Shawcross!” The audience went silent temporarily before muttering and whispers flooded the atmosphere.

“Hmm?” A frowned look on his face made him question what all the commotion was about, “Never heard of him, who’s that?”

A man with glasses, who sat among the audience, muttered out as if reciting from a textbook, “Edmund Shawcross, a violent and nefarious criminal who had committed countless of murders. He’s a serial killer who committed horrid and unspeakable acts. How the hell did someone like him get into this competition?”

“That guy in the silly cat mask should just forfeit. At best, this’ll be a draw. And by that, I mean that Shawcross would be disqualified for killing whoever number thirty is.” This had been the expectation many people’s minds.

A large, seven-foot tall man stood on one end of the stadium with a cold, stone face. With a bulky, muscular build, his hands were exceptionally large with thick, meaty fingers as if he had spent his time crushing bones as a means to pass the time. Short, messy dark-brown hair, he wore a dull, grey, long-sleeve shirt and beige colored pants with a few patches of blood-stains on the sides. Needless to say, the blood probably belonged to someone else.

Krit Dagur broke through the mood by announcing the name of contestant number thirty, “Next, we have number thirty, the Blood Reaper.” The name referred to the cloaked figure with a hood shadowing his white mask. In the arena, his height was miniscule compared to his much larger opponent.

“Ho! So he ended up using that name,” the white-haired man said seriously to himself.

[odango]

She perked up for a moment. It might have been the exhaustion she felt but the young noble could’ve sworn she heard a familiar voice. Be it her extensive musical training, but she usually did not forgot voices – at least not voices of people with whom she had held conversations longer than a couple minutes. Just now she thought she heard someone she had met only once in a quite hectic event back when she was just a new recruit. Some time had passed but it had been quite a significant event so she would not mistake the voice – she was sure. Then again, it might have been her mind reminding her of other situations where she almost got beaten up.

*Right, like that person would have anything to do here. I think the lack of hydration is messing with my mind* she thought, mentally trying to master up some moisture in her mouth because right now it felt as if she was hosting a desert in her throat. The rough sensation made her frown and she leaned forward from her slouching position. This was not good. The mask was trying to kill her by dehydration and over-heating. There was only one option. She would head for the nearest source of water and the opportunity to remove her mask. Tsubaki was also starting to get more and more stares directed her way. Probably some of the others who watched the match were confused and now some thought she cheated or it was an act from Joe’s side. Some might just have felt intimidated for the time being. Whichever way it was, she did not enjoy the atmosphere and decided to change her location for a brief moment.

The brunette forced herself to stand up and made her way over to the restrooms. They were now calling for the next pairing. It seemed her opponent had been carried off already. By her calculations, he might stay out cold for a day. Usually she would not have done what she did but since there were no real rules besides not being allowed to kill your opponent, and she really wanted to advance further, the girl had indeed used a weapon how some might have speculated. While the black senbon holsters were not too visible, she had both loaded with fifty needles each. Now she had fourty-seven left. She had held on to the ones she used to leave little to no traces of her technique besides the puncture points. This was not because she was ashamed but because she hoped to use this trick again, if necessary.

*So they do have restrooms for both genders, good.*

The hazel eyed marine had expected there to be a co-ed one, since that would save money in the making. Even if it were that way, she would not have much problem with it, however, since she had only spotted three females (including herself), she guessed there would be less of a chance of her getting any company in there.
She opened the door and walked into a white-tiled room with three toilet stalls on one side of the room and three sinks across from them with a horizontally long mirror above them. There were a few hand towels left at the furthest sink and a bar of soap at each of them. In short – it was a typical restroom, nothing too fancy to it.

The young woman made her way to the mirror and took a good look at her reflection. It did not seem like her face had started to swell. She could not see any change of form. Her hands reached up to pull down the black fabric from her nose and lips. As she continued with the motion, finally setting her mouth free to consume oxygen in a more pleasant matter, she first spotted again the deformed forearm guard in her reflection. Tsubaki let her gaze travel from the mirror image to the authentic version right in front of her chest now. Only now did she really take a good look at the dent. She might have to give up the guard after the next round, depending on the damage… Next, she glanced back at herself in the mirror, this time her gaze locked on her abdomen. This was a way to take a genuinely good look at it. There was a clear fist-shaped imprint melted into her stomach. While the armor was dark, one could clearly see it if standing at a reasonable distance.

It was then that she once again realized she had it, that she noticed the nagging sensation of feeling more confined when taking a deep breath. It was now constricting her diaphragm in a manner not really harmful but more annoyingly distracting. This might cause her to lose focus when the next round came along.

*Well, I can’t remove it, I’ll have to leave my whole torso unprotected then and that is too much of a risk. I could take off part of it, but that will just end up messy as well.* What she meant by the last part was that the armor elements on her upper body consisted of linked fragments. It was not an unbendable piece covering her – that would limit her movement. However, she could not remove some to not feel unbalanced later. The weight distribution would be wrong and to her – every detail was important in this situation.

The young woman reached out to open the sink valve and proceed to pool water in her now bowl-forming palms before leaning down and splashing it in her face. Thus far, during the last hour, that had been the nicest thing she felt. She then proceeded to gather more liquid in her hands and sip in some, only to get moisture in her mouth and hopefully wash out the remaining blood before spitting it all out into the sink.

The water she spit out was tinted with her blood. It briefly reminded her of the evening she roamed the back of the volcano in her search for more purple hued bamboos from which she made the substance she coated half of her senbon with. While she was not an expert medicine maker, she had done her fair amount of research on herbs because of a healthy interest in all sorts of tea. In the end, it seemed her self-made serum had worked. She had also managed to hit a vein or an artery at the back of Joe’s knee without most people noticing… Come to think of it, she had done something quite formidable, if she could say so herself.

*Ok, time to go see what the other monsters are like.* She sighed heavily, resting her upper body weight on the side of the sink through her hands but soon straightened up once more. With one hand the young marine pulled her mask over half her face and headed out of the restroom.

[BlacKitten]

“Let the second match begin!” The voice of former champion triggered the start of the next match. There was only one question that weighed on people’s minds; how long will the masked fighter last? Their minds naturally correlated power to infamousness. If someone was abnormally strong or was causing havoc, the newspapers would inform them. That mentality was precisely why many pirates sought out for fame. A high bounty was often associated to strength.

Edmund Shawcross clenched his hands before releasing the tension, and he repeated that motion as if yearning to grab the flesh and bones of others in between his fingers. His face was blank from emotion, cold with stern brown eyes. “What a pity. You don’t look that strong to me, and the fighters from the first round were nothing short of a disappointment,” he spoke in a monotonous tone while walking nonchalantly towards his idle opponent who simply stood there like a statue. “Why do you not move?” He questioned as his foe wasn’t visibly shaking from fear. “Do you not know how to speak?” Halting his steps just a foot away from, the man stood in place, showing the disparity between their heights and body build.

“Very well, I’ll let the audience know what your screams sound like,” his eyes sharpened in an instant; fingers curled up as if ready to clench anything within sight. “ARUGH!” In a flash, his shorter opponent was suddenly standing several meters away. It wasn’t as if the masked figure had moved; it was him being hurled back through the air. There was an unexplainable sharp and heavy force that struck him in the solar plexus. Saliva and air were knocked straight out of his lungs. I didn’t see him budge an inch. It appears as though he didn’t move at all. His feet grazed the across the ground, summoning parallel trails of dust clouds as he came to a halt, still standing and stable.

What’s the matter with him? He was standing within range with such a wide opening. Did he think I wouldn’t strike him? Since he’s bigger than me, he should stand at least a meter away from him to land an effective attack on me. At such a close range, he can’t unleash his full strength without being jammed into me halfway through the extension of his arms.

Pluto stood motionlessly with his arms by his side. Feet were should-length apart; knees were subtly bent. He was facing square-on at his opponent with a relaxed posture, free of any tension.

Shawcross lunged forth with fists raised up on guard. Once he reached his optimal range of attack, a barrage of punches launched out through a multiple angles. Straight on jabs, hooks, uppercuts, downward strikes, he used a variety of them within a mere few seconds.

The cloaked figure remained standing his very spot, rapidly deflecting each attack to the side with a single arm blurring in front him. The amount of energy required to deflect each attack was a mere fraction of the opposing force itself. His one hand was guarding along his centerline, and anything that entered that line was immediately slapped aside with either his palm or forearm.

Among the myriad of assaults, only one of them stood out to contestant number thirty. His much larger opponent overextended his attack, no doubt in attempt to throw in even more weight behind his attack, but that silly logic didn’t work in the realm of martial arts. Shifting his weight towards one leg, Pluto pivoted on his heels to change his angle slightly as his gripped around the wrist of an incoming punch. It all happened suddenly, but his opponent soon found the world around him being flipped upside down.

Shawcross was momentarily off his feet, somehow in midair before crashing down onto his back, leaving a crater onto the ground behind where his opponent stood.

The principle was simple. Through a masterful level of timing, the masked figure unified his own strength with his opponent’s strength. That combined power conducted through a small spiral motion had enough power to flip the man himself and crash into the ground.The crater was only a testimony to how physically strong the large man was, but having strong muscles was completely different than knowing how to use one’s muscles.

I’m using such basic fighting strategies and tactics. This guy is really undisciplined as far as fighting goes.

[odango]

A figure emitted from the restrooms, her posture once again untypical for someone as tired as her. The young lady had her back straight, shoulders relaxed and her gaze seemed to go right through or above everyone. That being said, she did not seem stuck up. The young marine looked like she was not befitting of the place, she looked like a person whose resolve couldn’t be broken. It looked like whatever one would throw her way, she would stay above it. It was uncertain if such words described her inner feelings, of course.

Still carrying a couple of heat-inflicted dents on her armor, the brunette made her way to the side of the room, passing the lockers and some more contestants. Some of them were looking after her, their minds busy with the thoughts of what she did to acquire a win in her match. Alas, no one really confronted her about it. Nobody even asked or gave the impression they were about to ask. All of the ones interested just watched while their brain cooking up possible and, in Tsubaki’s opinion, absurd ideas.

”I guess it’s about to start, huh?” she said to herself while approaching a small crowd of contenders, all of them eagerly observing the next pairing enter the ring. Tsubaki was shorter than most of the others, standing at roughly five feet and nine inches, so she allowed herself to slip in-between the “cracks” formed by the others and reach the very edge – a railing separating them all from a one-way fall into the arena or the audience. She found herself next to one of the other female contestants – a taller lady with black shorts, a bright yellow tanktop and almost knee high combat boots. The woman was taller than Tsubaki by a head’s share and her body seemed very tone. One could not mistake her for anything else than a woman but her shape made the term “athletic” proud. The taller female had brown curls stretching down to her shoulders, her eyes were a green-ish grey and her complexion was darker, it looked like a mix of honey and milk-chocolate in terms of color. There was probably a better way to describe it, but these terms were the closest to Tsubaki’s mind, which was odd since she disliked sweets.

On her other side, further off, was a man with some space around him. No one wanted to stand too close because of his intimidating appearance, she guessed. He had white hair and something about his posture just screamed out “big ego” yet at the same time it felt as if he was also very strong. The hazel eyed marine knew it was wrong to judge someone by their appearance - and she really did want to see if his hair was a natural shade of white or he dyed it – but she couldn’t help one thought running through her head.

*I bet that one is anything but humble…*

As absurd as it might have been, she did feel guilty about thinking that soon after. She didn’t even know the person. What if the white haired man was actually a decent guy? She just labeled him based on his appearance. She was certain that some percent of the contestants had to be good people. Right, and there she went passing judgment. For a moment, Tsubaki felt ashamed about herself…

However, that thought dissolved as soon as some commotion started in the ring. She had noticed one of the figures moving closer to the others while in thought, but this was something weird. She couldn’t register the movement but the big guy was sent flying. Perhaps Shawcross had caused it himself? No, couldn’t be. It was frustrating. As curious as Tsubaki was, the thought of not finding out was something that would cause her soul to suffer. *Can’t they do a replay or something?* the brunette thought while leaning further, her upper half now slightly tilting over the railing. This slight change of distance made her think she would suddenly see everything that happened. Who were these people again? She missed the announcement, so the girl was lacking names to add to the figures. *Ah well, they will probably repeat the names at the end…*

As their fight continued, the girl in black took some time to better examine the two contestants. It looked like the big guy was experienced. At least, his attitude made her assume that way. He was quite tall. Or maybe – the other guy was very short and it made the buff man look taller in comparison. There was no real way to tell their exact height from her location.

When the big guy came at the cloaked guy again, she leaned forward even more, not blinking and just checking the cloak’s movements. She could see something. Mostly flashing between him and the bigger man. Either the cat-man was very, very fast or he was just fast but had more arms than any ordinary person was equipped with. Oh! What if it was a mere-man under the hood? That would explain the need to keep completely covered. Yes, perhaps he was part octopus, or squid? It would explain the strength, too.

*It’s either that or there is another inhumanly skilled human right there.* she figured, noting that such occurrences as inhumanly-strong humans had been popping up around the world even more and more. *Why is it a cat’s mask, thou? Is it a symbol for hunter? Or does this guy play with his food… perhaps it’s a thing about cats having nine lives? Then again, it might be random. I kind of want to know for sure now*

[BlacKitten]

Rolling onto his hands and knees, Shawcross crawled back to his feet before rubbing the back of his head from the impact. No matter how many times he replayed what just happened in his head, he couldn’t figure it out. This silent masked fighter was an enigma.

Pluto had swiveled on the spot to face his opponent upfront like before. As expected, his body is quite durable.

Pivoting on one foot, contestant number two swung out a swift kick only to have it evaded by the slight backwards tilt of his opponent’s head and torso, just barely enough to be out of range of his foot. Taking a half-step in, the momentum followed through with a quick jab that slipped past the target that merely leaned a bit off to the side.

Something isn’t right here. The man threw out a straight punch, and as his arm was deflected with a palm against his forearm, he followed through the same attack with his other hand. His second attack was deflected by that very same palm, pressed against his previously used arm, effectively pinning both limbs against his own body.

Trapping arms! Pulse! Without having to rewind his attack like most boxers would do, Pluto sank down a bit as he thrust forth his palm to shove his opponent away. His opponent merely stumbled back a few steps before returning back with an even greater amount of pressure.

Something is terribly wrong here. Reaching out, Shawcross grabbed ahold of that annoying hand his opponent has been all this time. As he charged forth, his momentum was gathered for one sneaky purpose: to head-butt his opponent and crack through that ridiculous mask of his.

While his wrist was grabbed, the hooded one merely collapsed his own arm, redirecting his opponent pushing force as he turned his waist and swung an elbow strike into the cheek. The blow greatly knocked the man’s face off course to the side as the body plummeted to the ground beside him.

Immediately pushing off the ground, the originally stone-cold face finally showed a bit of emotion, and that emotion was anger. It wasn’t because he was losing. He knew fully well that there would be those stronger than him. It wasn’t because he couldn’t land a single hit on this mystery fighter. The one thing that bugged him the most was the great humiliation he was receiving from number thirty’s non-verbal mockery. This boy didn’t have to say a single word in order to make fun of him. Ever since this round begun, this kitty-faced adversary hadn’t even moved from that single spot! To make it worse, he had been using only one arm to attack and defend, literally dealing with him single-handedly.

This bastard! He isn’t even taking me seriously! Lunging forth, Shawcross went from high to low as he squatted close the ground, rushing towards the boy’s legs. Let’s see you try and stop me with that one hand of yours!

Tch… so he noticed. Using a wrestler’s stance, he intends to uproot me with a takedown. Grabbing his opponent by the top of his skull, Pluto pulled the man’s head into him while shooting his knee straight out. He combined the energy of his opponent rushing into him with the energy of tugging his head into; all in the meantime, thrusting his knee outwards to ram into the man’s face.

It was indeed a risk. If a wrestler could endure this pain, he may proceed to grab his legs and take the fight to the floor. But, with this much force shaking into his brain, how much longer can this man stay conscious?

“ARUGH!” Falling flat on the ground, Shawcross brought his hands towards his bloody nose while rolling the heck away from opponent and onto his feet. Maintain his distance, he panted while recovering his stamina. If his enemy insisted on following this pattern, then he should be safe as long as he didn’t rush at him again. “Take that!” The man pointed at masked figure with his index finger, “I-I made you use your knee! Now that I’ve made you use two of your limbs; only two more to go! And then, I’ll make you budge from that single spot of yours!”

He’s… actually proud of that? Grappling moves would certainly force me to use more than one limb. Even against my little sister, it’s a nuisance to get out of a hold when I’m being clung onto. But… is this really the sort of fight he wants out of this?

[odango]

*Oh, wow. This is… wow. I’m going to lose the next round.*

She watched with half of her body now leaning over the railing. The black mask was covering her face so no one could see what her mouth was doing but at the time it was hanging a little ajar. She only thought situations like those were in fiction books or only high ranking officers got to see them while saving the world. This was amazing! Cat-man was beating the mountain-like man in a way she hadn’t imagined. He barely moved. It looked like his opponent was just bouncing off of him – as if the cat had some sort of impenetrable barrier around his body. If she hadn’t seen a couple of his movements, she might have thought that was the case. The young woman had already pondered what could be the reason behind cat-man’s skill. In the end she just figured he had to be of a different species or a truly, truly experienced fighter – one of those fighters you only hear rumors and bedtime stories about.

The mountain man went at him a few more times and Tsubaki slowly pulled back to a straight position. Did this man not learn? He would end up in the dirt again in a few moments. Besides that, he would probably lose a few teeth and sustain permanent facial structure change if continuing to use the same strategy.

*Oh, move, man! Try attacking two places at the same time, don’t be stubborn, mountain man!* She found herself cheering for the serial killer. While that might be shocking to a mind reader, it was just a manner of perspective. She had come back after the names were called and from where she was watching, the big guy had no chance of winning. Everybody likes to cheer for the underdog – it was how it worked in competitions. Also, she thought that the cat man – if he was indeed much more capable, as it seemed he was – should finish it soon. No matter who the big guy was, now he was desperate. It looked like his pride was being broken and this man viewed it like a calamity. The reason he kept going at the cloaked figure was purely out of a stubborn personality. Perhaps the cat really did not feel provoked enough to attack with his own initiative but she hoped all this was not purely torture of a weaker opponent.

*No matter the reasoning, that would be just vile.* she confirmed to herself, still watching as the match went on. There were a lot of mixed emotions about the fight within Tsubaki’s mind. She was wary of the place she was at, the event she was participating in and the people around her. While constantly reminding herself that there were probably some decent people around, she also knew there were many that were not. If honestly, she hated fighting someone. She hated causing someone pain. Ideally, people would be able to reach a compromise through some sort of verbal agreement and make all of their disputes go away. There was a sense of what was right and what was wrong. Even to a human without this moral compass, there should be ways to teach them about the rest of the world and how it works. Nothing should be decided by strength and it certainly would not be entertaining to watch two beings inflict pain on each other.

Alas, the marine soldier knew nothing would change in the world. Out of all the species, humans tended to be the cruelest and over the years they had even planted seeds of hate in other species. All humanoids shared the ability of unimaginable cruelty and at the same time – the ability to do great good. What sometimes baffled the girl was the fact some didn’t even want to be decent. Some actually enjoyed causing pain. So, seeing something similar did trigger a feeling of a bad taste in her mouth. One could not tell but the corners of her lips slid downward.

*I wonder how long the cat will keep this going…. Oh, what if it’s a girl after all?* she thought, her eyes still focused on the fight. She didn’t really mind if it took longer (the battle), she just was not a fan of unnecessary acts of cruelty. A good thing about the one-sided battle going on was her being able to imagine herself outmatching someone like that in the future. She could imagine herself with a justice coat, standing where Pluto was standing and doing what he was doing. Right, she would be very impressive. However, the girl did not know how she felt about wearing a suit. Perhaps she could keep the pants but not the jacket... Then again – she always acted more mature than her age, how about she would stick to something not so official after getting a justice coat and perhaps becoming lieutenant. No, that wouldn’t do as well, since it really is a very official job.

*Oh, get it together Tsubaki and focus! This person might wipe the floor with you next round – find anything you can use against the cat-person!* she reminded herself after having her thoughts once again trail away. The hazel eyed teen blamed it on her inner nervousness about the whole event. It was as if she was searching for chances to worry about something else, entirely.

[BlacKitten]

“Humph, this guy…,” The Berserker grinned as he watched his archenemy pummeling and throwing that man around like a ragdoll. That part did not surprise him in the least. What he didn’t expect was how cautious the masked fighter was. No doubt, Pluto must have known that he would be observed by people like him. As a consequence, that boy purposely placed a severe handicap on himself in order to conceal his potential. Standing in one spot and relying only on one arm to fight a big dude like him, the cloaked fighter cannot be analyzed. No observer can access his true strength when he was fighting in this manner. That masked figure was truly a talented and gifted individual as far as martial arts were concerned.

There were many reasons why Shawcross stood little to no chance at all in beating that boy, but if there was to be a number one reason, it was timing. Pluto’s choices of response were actually arguably bad. Realistically, his moves wouldn’t work the same on another skilled martial artist, but it was his absurd sense of timing that allowed him to grasp that split second to counterattack. Combined with his analytical prowess to access the weakness and openings, any mistake or flaw in an attack towards him would not go unpunished. The moment one hesitates –even just a little bit- meant a beating from that boy. Serial killer? Anyone with a knife can kill another living being; no training was required for that.

Shawcross may have superhuman strength and endurance, but that was all he possessed. To defeat someone like the Blood Reaper, one needed a force so strong that it can wipe him out in one go. Otherwise, he would just come back stronger than before.

Damn…! I can’t see it. I can’t see his limit. Is he as strong as me? Is he weaker than me? Or… is he stronger than me? This guy is tantalizing me.

Standing from a distance with his arms raised in a guarding pose, the renown criminal felt his breath becoming heavier and louder. His opponent made no sound whatsoever. It was like staring at his shadow. The moment he attacked was the moment he took damage. If he did nothing, neither did him. But, doing nothing wasn’t even an option. For this round to come to an end, he must figure out a way to take him down.

“I can use one arm and one leg now, right?” The cat-masked combatant asked for clarification.

“YOU CAN TALK!?”

“You sure are tough. I’d need to strike you several times to take you down if I can only use one arm,” Pluto complimented the man for his durability. “But, since you declared that I used my leg back there, I take it that I'll have to step it up a notch. If I’m allowed to use two limbs, then it should only take one move to end all of this.”

“What did you say?” The man furrowed his brows and tightened his fists.

“Don’t worry. I won’t move from this spot, so feel free to come at me at your full power. I’ve already got the gist of you can and can’t do.”

“Grr! One move, you say? Interesting…, I’d like to see you try,” Shawcross rampaged forth at full speed. Since his opponent would stay in that same spot, he didn’t have to worry about any fancy evasive footwork.

Does he not get it? This whole time, he’s been beating himself up. I’ve redirected his force against himself. But… what do you think would happen if I were to strike you with my own raw power? Let’s see here… how much would I need to hold back to not kill him? Given his bone and muscle density, I’d need to use almost all of my strength.

A devastating punch flew towards his way, aiming at his chest. Like before, Pluto deflected the attack, escorting the force aside as his grasped onto the man’s wrist. Through spiraling energy, he controlled the enemy’s force to contort the man’s arm. The key joint to control was the elbow. If the elbow was fully extended, then it could snap from hyperextension by an opposing a strike. Keeping the elbow bent was fundamental. However, by making the elbow jut outwards, one can apply leverage to the rest of the opponent’s body. Through simple joint manipulation, Pluto caused the man to lurch forward as he position the man’s arm from the side as if he was setting himself up to handcuff him.

Standing beside his enemy, the masked figure pivoted on his heels a tiny bit to angle himself towards the man. In an instant, two simultaneous strikes were unleashed: first, an elbow-drop to the man’s back and second, a knee strike from below that struck the man in the abdomen. Sandwiched between two powerful strikes, Shawcross was trapped. His body went limp as a mixture of saliva and blood coughed straight out of his mouth. A few of his lower ribs may have also cracked.

The thump of the motionless body silenced the room.

Contestant number thirty walked away from the spot with his quiet steps, striding back to where he was before.

As the fallen one remained unmoving even until now, the announcer declared the winner as the medics quickly rushed to the arena.