976 Posts
0 EP
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Total
19 Years
Female
"Yaksha"
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Jasmine Noir on Jun 3, 2018 5:50:55 GMT -4
We circle the walls and claw at the dirt
We growl from our guts and howl until it hurts As she stood in one of the many hallways of Yuuei, Jasmine balled her hands into fists. She was right in front of principal Kobayashi's door, her mind mulling over her choices going forward. No, she wasn't in any trouble, as surprising as it was. And no, she wasn't called over by the principal for anything in particular. It was rather her own choice. Jasmine had weighed her options after the several fights she had already been through ever since coming to Japan. Vespa. Maximillian. Yoruhi. All of those fights could have been ended more effectively, she realized. With less damage on her part, less fatigue, and more effective ways of using her quirk properly.
When she thought of the possible ways to improve her efficiency, Jasmine's thoughts had ultimately wandered towards the acquisition of a fighting style. She had looked into boxing, Muay Thai, karate, MMA, and all sorts of other traditions, but... none of them really fit into the type of fighter she envisioned herself as. She needed guidance and she didn't know where to get it.
And then she remembered the first PE class they had. It was a grueling series of drills followed up by some fun. It reminded her of what she imagined military training to be - she'd heard stories from some of her friends back in NYC who had been to boot camp and seen an actual battlefield... well, those who returned, anyway. The discipline had always interested her. The sort of... all-around training recruits received would work well as a foundation, she thought. And she felt like the principal was exactly the person to ask for something like that.
With that thought firmly in her head, Jasmine forced herself to swallow her pride. Her hand rising, she knocked on the door twice. |
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633 Posts
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Male
"Kinetic Activity"
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Daimon Darren on Jun 8, 2018 14:22:39 GMT -4
Sitting in a chair alone in an office was a familiar experience. Last time was in middle school. He was being told that if he kept not coming to class, he would have to be held back. “Why?” said the then-twelve -- his birthday was only a few days ago -- pre-adolescent. “My grades are good enough.”
“You can’t come to school whenever you please, young man.”
“Why? I have good enough grades and I don’t even come to school half the time. I should get some sort of award.” He crossed his arms, a cocky smile on his face. He was getting the hang of cocky smiles now. It made the school principal frown.
“What about when you get a job, young man? You’re gonna get fired if you don’t come to work in time.”
“What if I do my work in half the time?”
“Then you do more work. Your boss will appreciate it.”
“Why should I do more work than the others?”
The principal rubbed his temples. “You should stop asking questions and start working more, young man.”
The delinquent -- people were starting to call him that now -- chuckled. “That’s good advice for dumb people, maybe. I thought we were supposed to ask questions anyway.”
The principal sighed. He dealt with cases like this before in his long career as an educator, but this one was a piece of work. He glanced for a second at the kid’s blonde hair through his round glasses. Always the gaijins, he thought. “Young man, people who keep questioning everything instead of doing what they’re asked have trouble holding a job, you know.”
Young Darren scoffed. “The fuck that.” He had an accusatory look. “You keep calling me young man, but you treat me like a child. If them jobs are all like that, then fuck having a job!”
And now, he was in the same situation again. But now, he was 16, in his UA uniform, wearing his jacket for once, though his tie was nowhere to be seen, waiting alone in the principal’s office. Most people were calling him a delinquent now, and he proudly said so himself. Something about skipping class, again. He sighed. He thought it would be different in hero school, but clearly, he was wrong. At least, he was glad it wasn’t about the couple of out-of-school scuffles he’d got himself into.
Shit, I hope it's not about that, thought Darren.
There was a knock on the door. He turned his head curiously. “Who the f… Who’s that?” he said, holding the curse word. He got a feeling that swearing in front of this principle wouldn’t get him anywhere. He found it strange that he would knock on the door of his own office, though, so he expected someone else. Fuck it, he thought, let's go check. He got up from his chair and opened the door.
It was Blondie. What? "Blondie? The fuck you doing here?"
Maybe Blondie got herself in trouble, too. That’d be fun. She struck him as the type too, what with the American accent and her general demeanor. Darren knew nothing about her past, so he assumed she was an Army brat or something who got a taste for fending off kids that picked on her blonde hair with her quirk. He was familiar with the process and enjoyed it quite a bit in his the early days of his delinquency, too.
The thought made him smirk. “Got yourself in trouble too? Bet you’re the type,” he added, his smirk widening. In his experience, he was gonna be asked to help out around the school as ‘constructive punishment’. Blondie wasn’t his first choice, but at least he’d have company. |
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976 Posts
0 EP
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19 Years
Female
"Yaksha"
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Jasmine Noir on Jun 12, 2018 19:20:16 GMT -4
We circle the walls and claw at the dirt
We growl from our guts and howl until it hurts Why was she here?
This and many other questions had been gnawing at her ever since she received the call about Mike being murdered. Would it have been any different if she had stayed in New York? She would've been there with him. Maybe she could've saved him. Maybe she would've been able to change something about how the entire situation turned out. Heck, maybe she would've done enough good by now to the point that this never would've happened in the first place.
Instead, Jasmine was a whole ocean away. She was in Japan, seemingly the most peaceful place she had ever seen. Kids here had happy parents, loving parents, a roof over their heads. None of them knew what it was like to fight for everything you've ever had or, more often than not, lost. They had no idea what it was like. And she knew this. She knew she was different from the rest of the pack. She had seen things many of these kids only saw on the news. And the worst part of it all was that this type of environment was steadily making her become complacent.
She had begun getting used to it. A comfy dorm room with everything she'd ever wanted from a materialistic standpoint - furniture, an amazing shower, electronics, games, clothes... everything she and her friends had ever dreamed about in their moments of ignorant bliss was right at her fingertips. She even had a roommate cooking food for her! How amazing was that?
It wasn't. It was bullshit. All of it was utter fucking bullshit that just kept making her angry with herself.
This wasn't the environment Jasmine was meant to be in. Peace and quiet were never nouns that you could ever associate to the ferocious lioness' surroundings. She was always in the thick of it all, fighting against the tide of a hateful society so her friends could find some shelter from the unrelenting downpour of chaos. Jasmine felt like she didn't deserve any of what was given to her. She should've never made it this far. As far as she was concerned, she was never supposed to make it out of New York in the first place.
And now that she was here, she was at a grave impasse. She couldn't continue to trudge the sullen illusion of a path she'd been slowly walking. In her mind, a decision had to be made: would she stay, or would she leave? Her reasoning dictated that the odds were heavily leaning towards the latter of the two options. But her gut told her another story. It made Jasmine feel unsure of herself and her decisions as though she was incapable of deciding for herself - she utterly despised that feeling. She despised it so much to appease her - thus she found herself knocking on the door of the principal, looking for a reason to stay.
Yet when the one who opened the door was the person she expected last, the girl almost did a double-take. The roll of her eyes was so instinctual it likely came across as a natural reaction to the mere sight of Darren's face. His bullshit was coming at an especially bad time for the girl.
"Don't flatter yourself, I wouldn't have gotten caught," she said, her tone cold and practically venomous. Jasmine pushed her way past the other blond into the principal's office, pursing her lips together when she realized the man wasn't present. Slowly, she turned to the other teenager in the room, giving him a glance that all too vividly showed her disinterest in the shit that was about to leave his mouth, "Where's Principal Kobayashi?" |
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633 Posts
0 EP
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Male
"Kinetic Activity"
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Daimon Darren on Jun 18, 2018 12:46:39 GMT -4
He opened to door to a pensive Blondie. She quickly shifted to a bitchy Blondie with his comment. An extra bitchy Blondie, even. He felt the need to point it out loud after she pushed him out of the way to get in the principal’s office. “Shit, what’s gotten into you? You’re extra bitchy today.” She cut him short, asking for the principal. “He told me to wait here while he’s gone getting papers or something, now get the fuck out before you get us in trouble --”
“Get you in trouble for what, Daimon?” said a deeper, much more authoritative voice. Darren turned around. He knew who the voice belonged to, but now he needed to be apologetic. “Mr. Principal, I heard a knock so I opened it and Blond… Jasmine here pushed into your office.”
He made his best apologetic face. It wasn’t very convincing. After a sigh, Darren was told to stay and Jasmine to wait outside. Here comes the talk, thought the male blondie.
It was exactly how he expected it. He answered yes and yes here, thinking of how many times he had the same talk with school principals who were “worried about his attendance”. He wasn’t even trying to answer now, just to make it through as fast as possible.
The delinquent was snapped back to reality when the principal slammed his hands on the table. It was not a forceful slam, but enough to be heard faintly through the door.
“Your grades are tanking, young man, so wake up and listen to me closely. I heard about your first practical exams, and they’re not good. You do great in my class, as you do in heroics, your grades in history are surprisingly good, I guess English is a given considering your origins, but that’s about it. You’re tanking everything else. Those are not passing grades.”
The delinquent had a long sigh. He decided to answer honestly. “Well, I thought it would be different here. We’re training to fight, aren’t we? Why do I need math or Japanese? I thought it would be a sort of vocational school.” He stared at the older adult in the eye. He found it very difficult to maintain eye contact.
“This is a high school, and you need passing grades to get to the second year. If you don’t pass your classes, we will have to fail you. You might even get expelled if you keep on picking what classes you go to. This is your first warning, Darren.” The Darren in question raised his eyebrows. It was the first time he ever heard the principal call anyone by name. “Attend your classes. That will be all. Now get out of my office. As you’re well aware, I’ve got more work lined up right after you.” As Darren got up, he added: “Oh, and wait for me outside. You get a remedial class. You said you wanted to fight, didn’t you?” The principal smiled. It was never a good sign.
Something about the principal’s tone made even the rebellious Darren obey. On his way out, he simply spat a “Your turn” at Blondie before he sat down on one of the plastic chairs in the hall. He wondered what exactly this remedial class would consist of. |
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976 Posts
0 EP
EXP
Total
19 Years
Female
"Yaksha"
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Jasmine Noir on Jun 18, 2018 19:18:56 GMT -4
We circle the walls and claw at the dirt
We growl from our guts and howl until it hurts Jasmine's eyes narrowed as she glared at the other blond. The normally calm and collected Jasmine had been on edge this entire time, barely able to hold back the fire of sheer rage that had been swirling wild within her. Anger with her surroundings. Anger with her decisions. Anger with herself. That one simple statement by Darren which she could, normally, ignore, laugh and brush off, and even counter with a sarcastic reply was now enough to make her want to break the male's nose.
"That's none of your fucking business," she spat, venom as obvious as the crimson glow in her eyes. So many things were going so damn wrong in with her that she couldn't even begin to think of handling Darren's libido for bullshit. Frankly, at this point, the delinquent was nothing more than a fucking annoyance.
Before she could vent in one way or another, though, a voice rung out from behind the two fair-haired teenagers. Jasmine glanced at the principal with a little surprise, a faint feeling of gratitude prickling at the back of her head as a result of his timing. She really wasn't sure what she would've tried to do had the older male not arrived as soon as he did.
The fiery lioness had opened her mouth to speak but was very quickly asked to leave the principal's office and wait outside. Her eyes flared a dangerous crimson for a brief moment as a result, her twisted thought process making her think she was being treated like second fiddle. Yet she managed to use her better judgment and calm herself the fuck down; lashing out over something so stupid wasn't going to help anyone with anything. Thus, albeit dejected, Jasmine forced herself out of the room without a word.
Then again she didn't have to wait for long. The slam against what she assumed was the principal's desk told her that much. She didn't know if it was because of grades or what and, on some level, she was glad that her own grade average between all classes was pretty high up there.
Surely enough, Darren came walking out of the room looking even more troubled than she was. She could only nod at Darren when he let her in, somewhat curious about what the principal told the other blond.
As soon as she was inside, Jasmine closed the door behind her. She leveled the older man with her now lilac gaze, trying to collect her thoughts to properly explain herself, "I... I think I'll just get this over with and spit it out so I don't waste your time. Clearly you have other shi- stuff to deal with."
The Noir sat down in one of the chairs in front of the principal's desk and heaved out a tired breath, "What am I even doing here?" She asked, glancing at him, "You've seen my file. You know where I'm coming from. You know what I've had to do to survive and to protect the people I care about. I'd ask why you took me in knowing all of this, but I doubt you'd tell me." Jasmine took another moment to collect her thoughts, staying quiet for several brief seconds, "You've... you've heard about the quirk riots going around New York, right? Specifically, the recent one over the radioactive kid over in Brooklyn? Yeah, my friend, Michael, he... he was... killed... in that one. He was my best friend. He was like a brother to me. I've known him almost all my life and... and I can't help thinking that, had I been there, things would've been completely different."
Jasmine's voice, albeit forcefully composed, betrayed how difficult this was to talk about for her. She'd sigh every now and again, take a short pause, glance away from the principal. Her thoughts were a mess and it began showing whenever the blonde tripped over her own words.
"I've been in this place for more than a month now and... I feel like an outcast. Like this peaceful environment wants me out. And, frankly, every single fiber in my body is screaming at me to go back where the people I care about are. I feel like I can do more good there being Ember than I can here going to high school like the good little kid that I've never been nor ever will be."
"So... tell me, principal Kobayashi. Why am I here?" |
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Post by Principal Kobayashi Touma on Jun 20, 2018 23:08:46 GMT -4
The principal sighed when he was done with Darren. He saw his type before in the army. Adrenaline seekers, looking to enlist for the thrills, justifying their lust for danger by saying it was for a good cause. No, he corrected himself. Everyone in the armed forces was like this to some degree. Humans had a tendency for violence. It was an evolutionary necessity.
After sending the boy out, he quickly pulled Jasmine Noir’s file and speed-read through it to remind himself of the details. He was done by the time the American sat before him. He set down his file, invited her to tell him what was on her mind when she suggested he had other things to do. His voice was as calm and reassuring as he could manage. He wasn’t able to completely eliminate the rough edge his job had given it over the years. He was a lieutenant; shouting was part of his skillset.
When she told her story, he listened with a dead serious expression. One of the advantages of being as rigid as Principal Kobayashi was that it made one into a terrific listener. The black-suited, black-tied middle-aged man looked as if he was taking his student as seriously as if was telling him about an urgent matter of national security. His arms were crossed in front of his mouth, his elbows resting on the hardwood desk. His dark eyes were fixed to Jasmine’s own lilac ones.
When she was finished, he let his hand down on the table, still crossed. He paused for a second, maintaining his stare, before opening his mouth. “I am sorry for your loss. As for the reason of your presence here, it’s a very simple matter.”
“You were selected to take part of a program aiming to turn high-schooler into professional heroes by the time they graduate. I believe you have been through a few of my P.E. classes. You won’t find an education like this anywhere else.”
“You might believe it would be better for you to come back to the fray. To some sort of vigilante life. Get some hands-on experience, capture a few villains, help the neighborhood, win the acclaim of your old friends? Let me tell you one thing: no army will send recruits to war without basic training for a simple reason: they will get killed.”
“Let me ask you, Noir-san. What exactly do you believe you will be able to accomplish, working as a barely trained vigilante? You think you would be able to handle serious threats alone? Who would you call for backup if a coordinated group of villains attacked a large population center? Do you seriously think you alone would be able to save everyone?” His tone was a little harsher now.
“What if you hurt yourself, Jasmine? More importantly, what if you endanger someone else? Do you think those are the actions of a true hero?” |
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976 Posts
0 EP
EXP
Total
19 Years
Female
"Yaksha"
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Jasmine Noir on Jun 26, 2018 18:45:36 GMT -4
We circle the walls and claw at the dirt
We growl from our guts and howl until it hurts Even though she knew he made sense, that didn't ease Jasmine's mind one single bit. She knew that she needed training. That simple realization was made painfully obvious after her fights against Yoruuhi and Maximillian respectively. She had gone overboard in both fights. The blonde let her excitement get the better of her and got injured when she didn't need to be. In retrospect, there were plenty of more efficient ways to deal with both the fire and ice users. Heck, she was confident that if she had utilized her abilities to their fullest capabilities, she could've likely even taken them one-versus-two. Instead, the blonde let the urge for a fight overpower her drive to win. She through caution to the wind and simply attacked, underestimating both of her opponents and getting badly injured in the process.
And then there was the whole fiasco with Vespa, her hornets, and the thugs that she had been trying to avoid fighting because of all these damn rules tossed on top of her shoulders.
This environment made her feel like there were simply too many strings attached. It made the blonde feel like she was a caged lioness, unable to train and exercise her strength the way she wanted to. The door was open for her to leave - the principal made that abundantly clear. And had he not said his next words, Jasmine might have taken him up on his offer.
Training. That's what she wanted. That's what she came to Yuuei for in the first place. His simple words, while principal Kobayashi likely didn't meant them to, reminded her of the reason she came to Japan in the first place. It wasn't just a way out. It was her ticket to become stronger. To go through a metamorphosis and transform into someone who would be able to help the people that needed help... people who fought against the tide without a lifeboat. People who needed to be saved.
The conversation she had with G back in Tokyo flashed through her mind momentarily. She couldn't believe how ironic this situation now was. Several weeks ago she had preached about hope to a person who had lost all of it. At that point, Jasmine didn't think she could lose more. She had already lost so much... she thought nothing could be taken from her anymore. She was adamant that she was unable to lose any more hope - that what she had was her's. But now... now that she lost the person that was the closest thing to family to her, she realized how wrong she was. Now she was the one who was looking for hope - the person who had lost more than she thought was ever possible and was effectively grasping at straws.
Why was she doubting herself?
Despite his death... their deaths... wouldn't they have wanted her to keep pushing forward?
"Then..." Jasmine began, collecting her words carefully. She knew this environment wasn't good for her - it consistently kept dulling her fangs. She wasn't as alert as she once was. Her instincts had gone stale, fighting prowess slowly deteriorating into a shell of its former self. She needed something... anything to get her back to the way she once was. No, she needed to become better than the person she was yesterday. Because, otherwise, her stay here really was pointless.
"Principal?" She locked eyes with him, the determination shining through the pure and deep lilac orbs showing both wisdom and a fury to improve regardless of the challenges that stood in their way, "I need... help," she stated. "I can't keep sitting still. The curriculum you've prepared, I... it's not enough. I need more. I need training. Call me arrogant, but I can't keep doing the same thing as everybody else. I don't want to. These kids will undoubtedly become great heroes at their own pace but... I want to be the greatest. I want to be able to win in every situation that comes my way. I don't care how hard it is or under what kind of disadvantages I find myself in. I want to be strong. Strong enough to be able to help people. Any time. Any place." And, as she said this, the first idea popped into her head. It wasn't a solution - it wasn't even a fraction of what she wanted. But it was a start.
"I... the training you gave us on the first day. That was... military, right?" |
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Post by Principal Kobayashi Touma on Jul 29, 2018 10:40:10 GMT -4
Kobayashi Touma kept looking at the American girl in front of him with the same deeply serious look. At the same time, he was forming an opinion on her.
He had seen her type as well in the army. She was not lusting after violence the way Darren was; she was the type that felt imbued with a mission, who felt like she had to save everybody, and that if she couldn’t, it was because she was weak.
Weak was something Jasmine Noir clearly wasn’t, from his recollection of every PE class he had taught since the beginning of the year. She had confidence as well, perhaps too much of it.
The way she was asking for more training reminded the principal of his younger self. Ignoring her question, he took a deep inspiration and breathed out something that wasn’t quite a sigh, but somewhere close.
“This will be easier shown than explained. Get your P.E. uniform and come to the indoor training facilities in 0030,” he told her as he walked her to the door. He opened it to the sight of Darren recoiling, having obviously been listening with his ear stuck to the door. “Daimon-san, since you seem so eager to help, that goes for you too.” Truth be told, he planned on having the delinquent come from the beginning. Killing two birds with one stone and the like.
---
Exactly half an hour later, the principal showed up in front of the training facility and in front of the two teenagers waiting in front. Looking as serious as ever, he gestured for the pair to follow him.
He led them to a boxing ring. Darren loudly expressed his approval. The principal ignored him, told the both of them to gear up and jump in the ring.
“Jasmine, your objective is to land one hit on Darren. Darren, your objective is to not take that hit. One round. No Quirks. Box!” |
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633 Posts
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Male
"Kinetic Activity"
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Post by Daimon Darren on Jul 29, 2018 11:25:22 GMT -4
Indeed, Darren had been listening with his ear stuck to the door, and got surprised doing so. He blurted out a “Yes sir” that wasn’t even sarcastic, in spite of himself. For some reason, he found that he couldn’t talk to the principal the way he talked to every other adult. There was an air about the man that told the boy’s instincts it was a bad idea.
On his way to retrieve his uniform, he thought of what he had learned and how pissed Blondie would be that he learned it when he clearly wasn’t supposed to. He shrugged. It was not the first time he learned someone had a tragic background, after all -- delinquents tended to be delinquents for a reason, and he had met a lot of those.
So when he showed up in front of the building, seeing that Blondie was already there, he felt he had to say something. “Hum. Sorry ‘bout your buddy.” It was all the empathy Darren could manage. It might seem a remarkable effort on his part to show a semblance of decency, but the truth was that Darren wasn’t that much of an asshole. Just a bit. He was thankful when the principal came and wordlessly told them to follow him.
It was the first time any student entered that part of the building. It had been under construction until recently, but now it was open, and upon seeing the facilities, to Darren’s delight. It was a huge room with everything a martial artist could ever have a wet dream about.
On the north side of the room was a line of sandbags of various weights, shapes, and sizes. One corner was simply covered in tatamis. Another had two boxing rings in it, complete with platform, ropes and canvas, and an MMA octagon. Racks of boxing equipment, pads, jumping ropes, wooden swords, rubber knives and the likes adorned the walls, and finally another corner was dedicated to more esoteric types of training equipment, such as wooden mannequins, speed bags, double bags, and a computer-controlled rapid-fire tennis ball cannon.
UA was a school full of surprises, and so far, of pretty good surprises, Darren thought.
Kobayashi Touma was all about the classics, however, so they were lead -- ordered to come to the nearest ring and thrown a pair of gloves and a mouthguard. Darren happily bit the plastic bit and strapped on the leather gloves after wrapping his wrists and hands, something he was clearly used to, expertly weaving the wrap between his fingers and around his wrist in order to hold his bones together properly. Darren knew better than anyone else that punching things was a dangerous exercise in and of itself, regardless of whether or not the things hit back.
Then, they were ordered to get in the ring. Then, Darren was told that his objective was to not get hit for a full round. He grinned. Then, they were told to box, so he boxed.
As soon as he heard the signal, he stepped forward and let his left and fly towards Jasmine’s face, twice in a row. If he could land the cheap jabs, great; if not, it would focus her guard up. Right as he was pulling his arm from the second shot, he started circling the girl to the left.
Darren was a firm believer that offense was the best defense. If he was to avoid getting hit for three minutes, his experience told him, he would have to keep moving and keep her opponent from doing the same with a deluge of jabs. His facial expression was one of pure bliss and relief. Those were the kind of remedial classes he would have voluntarily taken. |
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976 Posts
0 EP
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19 Years
Female
"Yaksha"
Student-Rank Quirk:
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Post by Jasmine Noir on Jul 29, 2018 18:29:24 GMT -4
We circle the walls and claw at the dirt
We growl from our guts and howl until it hurts After having said her piece, Jaz stayed relatively quiet. Honestly the way the principal kept staring at her made her feel scrutinized. Almost as though he was staring through her, peering into the deepest parts of her that made her... her. On some level, it was even a little nerve wracking for the normally confident blonde. And yet she stared back defiantly, not about to bow her head to this simple gesture. She was adamant with her request; she needed to be a better fighter. A better hero... her past fights had proved that much.
Blinking in an almost too confused a fashion, Jaz quickly nodded as she watched the principal retreat to the door of his office. Only later did she realize that bush-for-brows was very likely listening to the whole conversation taking place. That made her scrunch her nose a little with annoyance. And yet, at the same time, she didn't particularly... care? It was whatever. Yeah. It happened. Big fucking whoop. People die all the time. He already knew anyway. There was no point in complaining.
Collecting herself, Jaz just did what she was told and went to the locker room.
-----
When she was on-site, she had hardly expected Darren to say a single thing. He... didn't seem the type, honestly. Nor did she want to hear anything from him, really. This wasn't any of her business and she hadn't expected him to try to level with her on any level at all. It was just the way things were. Though, when he did try to express empathy, she gave him a rather surprised glance. A short breath left her, a very brief smile tugging at her lips as her eyes had briefly turned melancholic.
"Thanks."
Moments later they were in the ring. She was told her objective was to hit Darren once. Was this some kind of joke? Was she being underestimated this much? Honestly it pissed her off a little. Or was this supposed to be some kind of test? She couldn't really tell. Nor did she care. Biting into the mouth guard and slipping into the gloves provided, the blonde lioness defaulted into the boxing stance she had been practicing. Left shoulder and foot forward, she raised her hands in front of her face, ready for a fight.
Darren attacked first, and Jaz instinctively kept her guard up, her forearms taking the jabs without much trouble. She had a fairly durable build which can take quite a bit of punishment. Something like a test jab was nothing compared to what she had already been through.
Watching Darren move, it was clear that he was going to proceed with offence. That was good. Jaz was normally someone who used her durability to her advantage. Taking a hit in favor of dishing out something much more punishing than she had received hadn't been a tactic that she never used. As such, the girl quickly began retaliating, trying to smash her left shoulder into Darren's chest. If that connected at all, she would chain that with a long swipe of her right fist, going straight for the male's jawline. |
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633 Posts
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"Kinetic Activity"
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Post by Daimon Darren on Jul 30, 2018 14:44:03 GMT -4
Darren’s probing jabs had the expected effect, as the girl put her forearms in front of her and absorbed them without much effort. This did not bother him at all. The blonde kid’s feet shuffled expertly on the canvas, the boxing shoes squeaking with every change of direction, his breathing even and timed with his movement.
Clearly, it wasn’t Darren’s first rodeo, or, well, round. He had been in quite a few boxing clubs in school and got kicked out of almost all of them when he decided to ‘practice outside the ring’, as he (unsuccessfully) tried to justify himself every time.
And lately, he found a gym that wouldn’t kick him out for doing so. The old man in the dinky Mustutafu gym had been a harder ass than all of his previous coaches' asses combined, and he had been steadily beating boxing into the delinquent. Today, it showed, and Darren found himself regretting the old man wasn’t here to see it. Darren loved being praised for his ability to kick ass and slap the shit outta little bitches.
He was unfazed when Jasmine came charging on him like a bull with her left shoulder. Like a bullfighter, he would check hook the aggressive blondie and dance out of harm’s way. The check hook was the latest technique the old man had taught him, and it proved useful, like everything the old man had taught Darren. In the words of the old man:
“Listen, kid. You’re quick, and you aren’t afraid of punches. Some say this is all you need to make a boxer, but all the footwork in the world isn’t worth shit in the corner. Listen here. This punch will get you out of jail if you play your cards right. When your opponent steps in on you to push you in the corner, throw a quick left hook. It doesn’t have to be strong, just get your glove in his face. Then, and this is the trick part, listen well. You’re gonna sweep out your back leg, one-eighty, and pivot on your front. You gotta time it right, if you’re too early you’ll get caught, and if you’re too late you’ll get hit.”
“Those are the same thing, old man,” commented Darren.
Regardless, he now attempted the move in his fight against Jasmine. As she charged in, he threw his left fist in an arc that would have been lazy if he wasn’t giving it of all his speed and none of his weight. To time the pivot correctly, his brain sent the nervous commands a fraction of a second before the glove was supposed to make contact, and Darren’s feet shuffled on the canvas once again.
A successful check hook switches the fighters’ positions, but Darren had been told -- yelled at -- at length to keep moving, and so he would keep on circling the other blonde and peppering her with light, snappy jabs. His face was adorned by a smile, as it often was, but it was one that miss Noir wasn’t likely to have seen before.
As opposed to his usual shit-eating grin, it was the sincere and a little impish smile of a boy playing his favorite game. He was relaxed, bouncing softly on the ball of his feet, his legs light and his knees like springs. To the trained eye, Darren's boxing was still quite rough, but the potential was clearly there.
On the side of th ring, the principal nodded silently, his arms crossed across his chest. So far, it was going like he expected it to go, but the American girl's strenth reserves ran deceptively deep. If Darren were to break his concentration, he thought, she might very well end it in one hit. |
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976 Posts
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19 Years
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"Yaksha"
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Post by Jasmine Noir on Jul 30, 2018 17:07:53 GMT -4
We circle the walls and claw at the dirt
We growl from our guts and howl until it hurts Jasmine's eyes had widened as her attack had been utterly intercepted and countered. Whatever she thought she'd try, all of it went out the window the second she realized that her attack had amounted to literally nothing. Rather, she had received a counter to her face, making her stagger very briefly before she was forced to take a step back. Quickly darting backwards a few feet, Jaz began hopping up and down at a controlled pace as she hugged her arms close to her face defensively, her eyes, as wild as they were focused, now analyzing Darren as her brain tried to figure out what the heck happened and how to deal with it.
Clearly this kid had some kind of training in him. Whether it be self-taught or actually trained, Darren didn't look like someone who was inexperienced when it came to boxing. Even if she wasn't trained, Jaz could tell; that footwork was something she couldn't yet mirror, and that, at the moment, was the defining factor between the two of them in the situation they were in. Were this a normal battle Jaz could've very likely overpowered him considering that her approach would've been very different. But in the here and now, Jaz was in his world, fighting on his turf with more than a few disadvantages weighing her down.
A small smirk crossed her lips; she couldn't say this wasn't exciting. Heck, it made her blood practically boil with anticipation. And she could tell that Darren was feeling it too. This wasn't their usual banter that often ended up devolving into nothing but shit talk. No, this was something more. Something the two of them shared on a level not many could understand. The thrill of a battle. The excitement one felt when they were about to push through the humanly instinct of fear whenever they were faced about to feel pain. It was practically invigorating.
Thinking quick, the blonde lioness weighed her options. As it stood, all she had to do was plant a singular punch on Darren. He was testing the waters - practically toying with her by trying to show off how apparently awesome he was. This was fine. Let him play his game. Let him trap himself. An opening would have to come eventually. An opening which she was sure she would be able to capitalize on and flip his world upside down.
Her smirk turning into a grin, Jaz motioned for Darren to come at her, "What? That all you got? That felt like a love tap, buddy." |
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Post by Daimon Darren on Jul 30, 2018 17:36:38 GMT -4
Darren answered Jasmine’s grin with the same smile he had been wearing and kept it through her little taunt. He said nothing. His face was a mask of happiness for one or two seconds. Then, it got closer.
With a quick step, Darren crossed the small distance he needed to get into jab range and let his left fist flew. As soon as it reached its destination, Darren’s back pulled like a rope between the two shoulder and the arms quickly exchanged places, his right glove getting closer right as his left was pulling back from the jab. His hips and torso swiveled as the right straight was coming.
However, Darren only put the smallest of step-ins with his left foot. As he did with the jab, he pulled his right fist back as soon as he reached full extension. His left fist had already taken its guard position, a few centimeters in front of his cheek, and soon his right joined it. With the same motion, as his torso rotated back to be at a forty-five-degree angle to his opponent again, he stepped to the left with a backstep, turning his body completely sideways in the process.
If left unchecked, he would keep peppering the girl with jabs while circling her sideways, the same almost innocent expression on his face. Surprisingly, in the heat of battle, his shit talking entirely disappeared, as he turned into a cool-headed, deeply focused machine.
“Clock’s running, Blondie.”
Well, at least, that’s how he liked to see himself, but he couldn’t help slipping from time to time. It was in the nature of dumb adolescent boys to put airs of coolness. Nonetheless, his normally hyperactive smart mouth stayed relatively silent, and for once was somewhat efficient in its provocation. He reasoned that the exercised was time for her, true, but it was also very much in disfavor of Darren who couldn't afford to take a clean hit no matter what. Therefore, she would have to keep attacking. He, on the other hand, could afford to keep poking at her from a safe distance. His smile turned devilish for a fraction of second.
Kobayashi Touma had pulled his file out of apparently nowhere while the camera was focused on the fight and was writing things in it. These were things about Darren and Jasmine. He inscribed the first line:
Both of these idio students are enjoying this way too much. |
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976 Posts
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19 Years
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"Yaksha"
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Post by Jasmine Noir on Aug 7, 2018 18:06:17 GMT -4
We circle the walls and claw at the dirt
We growl from our guts and howl until it hurts Breathe in. Breathe out. Calm. Relaxed. That was how Jasmine was now treating this. Despite what Darren might have thought, the blonde lioness was taking her time. Carefully, tediously, she examined her opponent, prowling as she tried to analyze his movements. Instead of trying to use a window of attack, she kept her guard up, taking the blond delinquent's blows against her gloves and forearms. Unfortunately, her taunt hadn't worked. It looked like Darren was in a world of his own as he kept assaulting her, a fight-prone mind enjoying the moment of contact.
She could've sworn a little part of her actually gave a little credit to his name. Looked like he wasn't just an obnoxious retard after all.
The fair-haired lioness had set a plan in motion. A plan that would likely get Darren a little on edge. She figured he was fully expecting her to be desperate. He was keeping his distance, seemingly toying with her. All she needed to win was get one hit in and that was it, and based on how Darren was treating this fight she knew he was painfully aware of that fact. Instead, she bide her time, waiting for the opportune moment. Even if it came at the very last second - it didn't matter. A hit was a hit.
Her composure was stone cold, posture practically flawless, Jasmine's focus was borderline superlative as she kept blocking jab after jab, swipe after swipe. She was focusing on ten times at once, from Darren's footwork to the shift in his muscles whenever he attacked, and she was surprised with what clarity she was able to identify his movements.
Mentally nodding to herself, Jaz decided to go on the offensive. She wasn't attacking, per se, but she was pushing forward, trying to close the distance between them, occasionally faking a swipe or a jab. This meant that Darren's attacks had now become more dangerous as they would end up faster due to having to travel less of a distance, but at the same time he would have to exude more effort. Pressure. That was what she was applying. Both to his physical and mental bodies. An opening would show itself eventually. She just had to push hard enough. |
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Post by Daimon Darren on Aug 8, 2018 23:02:22 GMT -4
His provocation didn’t have the desired effect. Instead of getting angry and flustered like most of his opponents got when he taunted them, Jasmine Noir was keeping her guard tight. Darren was dancing around and pounding on a tight, closed guard. Blondie was tough and her guard was solid.
He was surprised. It was exactly the tactic the coach had warned him against. The old man told him that, if his opponent was keeping his cool, he must match him. The coach always employed masculine pronouns when referring to an opponent. Clearly, he had never met Jasmine Noir.
Others boxers would have had a flashback to their coach’s teachings by then, but Darren’s already weak prefrontal cortex couldn’t hold the rewards circuits in the back of his head in check, and the coach’s words were never recalled.
Darren was having too much fun, and his thrillseeking ways pushed him to slowly but surely attempt bolder and bolder moves. He soon incorporated a lead hook into the mix, and sometimes he got a little closer and attempted to sneak a short upper down low. It was to no avail. Blondie had strong arms and her guard was tight.
He decided to up the cadence. He hopped left and right, his feet shuffling on the canvas with incessant squeaks from the leather soles, and his jabs were coming from all directions. It was still to no avail. Blondie was tenacious and her guard seemed immovable.
The challenge was blinding him to the fact that his opponent was starting to push him. She got closer, shuffling her feet and shoulder menacingly, causing him to unconsciously back away in an effort to keep at a comfortable distance.
If technique wouldn’t work, if speed wouldn’t work, then Darren would use trickery, and he decided he would land a punch. He attempted what was arguably one the coolest boxing moves from arguably the most legendary boxer of all time: the Ali Shuffle.
In the height of his prime, the man was known for insane combinations of five, six, seven punches at once before the opponent could even react. For every punch that a Frazier or a Foreman landed on Ali, he gave twelve of em’ back, and they were mean too. Ali was perhaps one of the trickiest boxers. It was no small wonder that he was the blonde delinquent’s favorite heavyweight.
And now, Darren was attempting to pull off the shuffle. It wasn’t so much a move as a feint; by doing what were essentially dance steps on the ring, the shuffler would attempt to confuse his opponent and punch from an unexpected direction. The real thing was a move used sparingly by the man it was named after; for beginners such as Darren, it was more of an attempt to clown the opponent.
It backfired quite spectacularly. He didn’t realize that he was so close to the rope and his sidestep was a little wide. He bounced back, not immediately understanding why. When he did, it was too late: a fist was flying in the general direction of his face.
He pushed his hand together in front of his face too late, and Blondie’s fist easily penetrated his half-assed guard to make contact with his cheek. The force of the hit threw back Darren for a few steps, almost lost his balance, found it again and managed to stay on his feet with his guard up.
DING DING DING DING DING, went the bell when the principal mercilessly rang it. It was too late for Darren anyway; according to the rules they had set for this fight, he had lost. |
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