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Post by Daimon Darren on Sept 15, 2019 18:05:29 GMT -4
The dull, repetitive sounds of the impacts of fist on heavy bags was interrupted by a quick injunction from coach Fujikawa’s gruff voice, instructing the quick-eyed blonde youth who was producing those sounds to follow him. The youth in question finished his combination with a powerful left hook and followed.
“Whassup, boss?” asked Darren on a tone far too casual for a salaryman addressing his superior, but just about right for a boxer talking to his coach.
“We have an answer from the Daikachi Gym,” replied the old man. He was too straight and to-the-point to be compared to an arrow; coach Fujikawa’s voice was more like a gunshot, dry and snappy and direct, over as soon as the message was transmitted. “They accepted the match.”
The youth’s face lit up all at once, like a Christmas tree.
“Really?! For real, boss? You ain’t playin’ me?”
“Idiot! When have you ever heard me joke about these things?”
“Fucking awesome! Finally, one of these assholes accepted the challenge? Which one is it?”
“His name is Kojiyama Karajuso. His opponent dropped out on injury, so they accepted to squeeze you in. He’s a veteran with a record of 11-10-2. Watch out for his-- are you even listening to me, you waste of oxygen?!”
The waste of oxygen wasn’t listening, too busy spamming his school chat that he finally got his match. “When’s the match, coach? How expensive are the tickets?” He ducked under a lateral swipe of the old man’s cane, still typing on his phone. “Hmph. I guess I don’t have to worry about your condition, at least,” grumbled the coach. “September 20, 9:00 P.M., Korakuen Hall. You need to be here two hours in advance for the registration. Listen, it was hard enough getting you a match, what with your school and your antics, so don’t be late, or we’re never getting you one again. Understood?!”
“Hai, boss,” replied the blondie on a tone far too casual to suggest he was taking it seriously. “Hey, did you call the press already?”
This time, he swayed a forward thrust of the cane and ignore a sigh of defeat from the coach. Tonight, the old man wouldn’t sleep easy.
To put things bluntly, Darren was the best prospect his gym ever had in a long time. The quaint little Fujikawa Gym in Musutafu did have a JBF belt hanging on the wall next to the entrance, a few amateur medals below it, but that was it. It was hard making a name for oneself in the era of mega-gyms, the kind which could offer the best sparring partners, the latest equipment and an array of coach surrounding every promising fighter.
Next to them, Fujikawa Gym looked almost pitiful with its one ring, single row of heavy bags, lone speed bag and barely enough space to jump rope. What it had, however, was Fujikawa Sakonji.
The old man had been an OPBF champion in times long forgotten, beating the hope of Thailand in the same gruesome match that forced him to retire. His opponent made a successful comeback and went on to challenge the world; Sakonji had to invest all of his saved-up fight money into an old building in a small town, and he barely had enough to furnish the gym afterward. It was kept afloat by a thread and the occasional renting it out to indie wrestling promotions; fight money was a poor way to make a living, and member fees an even poorer one.
It would have been a lie if Fujikawa Sakonji denied that he looked at the implementation of Yuuei with a silver of hope. Perhaps he could even make the transition to that new quirked boxing association, at worst, but maybe, just maybe, there would be someone in this school interested in the old-school, traditional boxing that he so loved. And one day, Daimon Darren walked in on a whim.
The kid had the right attitude, perhaps even too much of it. He went straight to Sakonji and asked him if he really did win an OPBF belt. When the coach answered affirmatively, he laughed in his face, saying that if a man with a face like a dried prune could win a continental belt, then boxing really wasn’t anything special and it wasn’t going to help him beat down a villain. He would have almost walked out if the coach didn’t tell him to get in the ring with him.
Fujikawa Sakonji fastened the mitts as one of the regulars tied a pair of gloves arounf the kid’s knuckles, wondering how he was going to get him interested in his old-school boxing. He had lost the body that won him the belt in the ring; he couldn’t show him how great boxing was. It was going to take some inventive persuasion. He threw a line. “Why seek out a boxing gym in the first place if you’re so strong, then? I think I know. You reek of defeat, kid.”
The delinquent answered with a terrible look. “Pick your words carefully and say what you mean, old fart.” Bingo, thought Sakonji. I just have to reel him in.
“I said, you smell like a loser. You smell like someone who just lost and is seeking to get stronger. And you think I ain’t the right guy for the job.” He held up the mitts, and mustered a cocky smile he hadn’t smiled in years. “If you can land a single punch against me, above the belt, with your knuckles, that I can’t catch with the mitts, then fine. I’ll admit boxing is a weak sport. But I have full confidence that I won’t.”
The kid smiled back, with ten times the maliciousness. “At least you ain’t a boring old man.”
Three minutes later, Darren was on the floor, exhausted. He had begun firing his quirk one minute in.
Not a single punch had landed. The coach had caught them all on the mitts. “Your stamina is laughable,” he began. “You have no anticipation, no sense of distance, timing or spatial awareness, and you rely entirely on speed. Your punches are light and don’t connect properly.” He slid off one mitt, and offered the kid a hand. “I can fix that.”
--- Sept. 20th, 8:52 P.M., Korakuen Hall, blue corner locker room ---
“Ssst ssst, ssst sst,” expired Darren as he boxed the shadows with sharp punches and sharper footwork, evading imaginary punches, countering the opponents his imagination conjured. “Keep your chin tucked in when you punch. Remember to control the distance. Alright, that’s enough shadow boxing, rest. I hear your opponent being introduced through these old walls, they’ll be calling you on soon.” Coach Fujikawa looked his boxer up and down, critically, like an oenologist examining a fine wine. “Your physical condition is as good as ever, but keep that head screwed tight on these shoulders of yours, kid. I have no doubts you’ll win if you do that. I have no instructions for you, no game plan.”
“Doesn’t that make you a bad coach?”
Darren reflexively dodged a cane that never swung.
“Today is too important to mess around. You know what I mean, idiot. If you can’t get through your debut match with the basics you’ve refined over the last year at the gym, you’ll never shine on the big stage. You know that better than anyone.”
The delinquent smiled. “Aye, boss. I’m just fuckin’ with ya.”
“Don’t. It’s unbecoming.”
The door of the locker room opened to interrupt their conversation. “Blue corner, you’re up!”
Nothing that couldn’t be said in the look boxer and coach exchanged was worth saying out loud. The boxer walked out, followed by the coach, in complete silence. When they entered the arena, the speaker called out his name.
“And in the blue corner.... Out of Fujikawa Gym, but more importantly out of UA High, I name DAIMOOOOOON DAAAAAARREEEEEEEEN! Finalist of the Sports Festival, he is having his debut match tonight! We have all seen how fast he can be when using that power of his, but can he replicate those feats in the boxing ring, where such powers are forbidden?! This is, ladies and gentlemen, the question we will be answering tonight in the Mecca of Japanese boxing!”
He had been calm all the way there. He didn’t even grandstand when he entered the ring. But when the referee called both fighters to the center of the ring for a quick reminder of the rules, he couldn’t hold it back anymore. Slamming his gloves together, UA’s number one shit-talked stared his opponent straight in the eyes, smiled a full-toothed grin like a devil’s and said: “Yo. I’m going to kick your ass six hundred and sixty-six ways to hell. Nothing personal.” (posting as spectators is welcome and even encouraged!) |
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Post by storytellerrisa on Sept 15, 2019 18:49:05 GMT -4
STORYTELLER ''Fwuuuuuoh.... fwuuuoh...'' One stretch, two stretch, three four five and six. It's been a long time since he had fought someone this young, even during hiw own young years this psuedo veteran was mostly known for his lack of ambitions. Kojiyama Karajuso had just turned 30 years old, despite being at such age he was a rather short men with a decent muscular anatomy. ''Fwuuoh... YAAH!'' He suddenl roared with a towering punch against the punching bag. The nosie was loud enough for the coach to peek in with a slightly concerned expression. ''Koji-san, please spare your energy to the actual match, it's only a few minutes away...'' He gently dismissed his coach's adivce with his left boxing mitt waging. He then rubbed his face off some sweat. ''What do I have to worry for? A match is a match, to me the winner is a testament whether one is worthy to be in the ring or not, and I have been the victor enough to know... that today my fist will strike true.''
He exhaled out silently and tightened his left fist inside the boxing glove, smiling with confidence, and despite his age he looked like a real rockstar in his eyes. ''I have high hopes for the match, never mistake my action for foolishness.'' The coach knew trying to advice at this time was a waste of time, so he nodded and dropped the towel over Koji's upperbody. ''Show them strength, Fist of Fate.''
The crowds was actually rather impressive for a debut match, with roars of cheering and chanting from groups it was clear the contestants had their fair share of followers, and it's not everyday a student of heroism enters the professional stage at such young age. Darren stepped out first, being the debut contender it's only respectful to enter first between the two. And shortly after the psuedo veteran walked out with his left fist raised up, and a silent smile hidden under the shade of the towel hanging on his head.
''From the Red Corner... enters contestant number twooooooo! Kojiyama Karajuso of Daikachi Gym! Or more importantly known as Fist of Fate! With a surprise of accepting a debut match of all things in this season! Is he going for easy victories? Or is he bored by the old crowd? With a fascinating score of 11wins and 10 losses and 2 draws he has never won or lost twice in a row! Tonight we might see it finally break!''
He jumped up into the ring, over the string fence, and then had his face all close up against Daimon, a true staredown between experience and youth! He didn't respond much to Darren's cocky words, instead he grinned back. ''We'll see how well you do youngster, but unfortunately for you the fate of victor is resting on me, I won my previous match and tonight it will be my next step!''
Being sent to their respective corners it was only seconds away from the bell to echo through the stadium. Koji inserting his mouth piece and smacks his gloved fists against eachother, pumping himself up. ''Remember, just because it's his debut match he is supposedly good at swift strikes, take the stage early and deliver blows he has not felt before!'' ''Right, he won't know whats coming to him!''
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Post by Daimon Darren on Sept 17, 2019 16:28:42 GMT -4
“I ain’t got nothing to listen to from a crusty-ass oldhead with more defeats than victories.”
That was Darren’s only answer as he walked back to his corner. He had heard the record correctly; but by his own count, it was 11 wins and 12 defeats. Draws, he reasoned -- he liked to quote himself on this -- were just ‘boneless defeats’.There was no helping the impetuousness of youth, especially not youth as ambitious and self-aggrandizing as Darren, and there was especially no helping its stupidity.
“Watch out for his left,” said the coach as he put the mouthpiece in the adolescent’s mouth. “Veterans have tricky lefts. He will attempt to trap you and counter. Stick to the basics and wear him down with your own left and your footwork. Compensate for experience with vivacity, but keep your wits about you. Fitness only takes you so far in boxing.”
“I thougcht you didncht havche a gchame plan?” replied Darren through the mouthpiece and a cocky smile. He adjusted the former in his mouth.
“You damn brat--”
“Seconds out!” said the loudspeaker.
“You heard him, old man. Shoo. Scram!” the blondie waved his coach away like one would wave away an excitable dog. “It ain’t your time no more. It’s mine. Don’t worry, I’ll bring back some decorations for your sad old wall.”
Fujikawa Sakonji couldn’t find anything else to say. His instincts as a coach told him to let him go. Despite his usual attitude, there was something like determination in Darren’s eye. The self-centered determination of a boxer who craved the spotlight, but nonetheless of the genuine kind.
The boxer turned around, stared down his opponent and the bell rang.
The second it did, he was off. It was no bullrush, but quick footwork, to reach and occupy the center of the ring first. His left arm snapped from forward and low to full extension and back again; a flicker jab, almost too quick to see, its impact dry and sharp like a firecracker. The first jab was followed by a second one as Darren stepped to the left, and a third one as he began circling to the left while throwing more of these jabs. His sense of distance in particular was remarkable, as he ensured that every jab would land at full extension; constantly toe-footed and quickly shifting to carry his body around, his feet were ready to take evasive action whenever needed -- all so that the delinquent could keep punching. He hated going on the defensive; if it was to test the waters, Darren liked to be the protagonist of his own matches.
He also liked to show off.
“And we’re off to a great start!!!” enthused the speaker. “Daimon-senshu is showing us sharp footwork and sharper jabs with an aggressive hitman style! He’s not quite so fast without his powers, but that’s nothing to scoff at either! Will Kojiyama-senshu turn the tables against the fury of youth and finally snatch a second victory in a row?!” |
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Post by storytellerrisa on Oct 6, 2019 10:34:20 GMT -4
STORYTELLER Kojiyama couldn't help but to puff out a small inhaled breath from the spicy words from the blonde, being a veteran also meant to keep his attitude cool and collected. ''Talk about having a mouth with one word too many, but he'll end up choking on it eventually.'' Koji was confident with himself, just from the first appearance between them two he was already cracking a plan in his head. He was not the kind of man to stick with something for every match, he feels more comfortable when the opponent shows their cards one or two moments too early. ''So coach, got no plan you wanna tell me that I will likely not follow?'' He said as he reached back to his corner, seconds away from the bell ringing. ''What do you expect me to say? I got experience, but never in my life has one of my boxers been up against this kind of youth, a hero student? Only thing I could even suggest is to trust in your own playstyle.. which I'm sure you would do anyway.'' Koji responded with a cocky smile, but one that agrees with his coach. ''I'll show blondie what it means to be up against someone experienced.''
Seconds out was announced and both getting into their position, and the moment the bell rang Kojiyama got ready to charge, but what he did not expect was for Daimon to take dominance on the center of the arena with such ease. The footwork was doing wonders for the match on the get go, Kojiyama didn't see an opening and was indefinitely pinned by the flicking jabs. ''He's fast! He must be light like a feather to reach me in just seconds! I just gotta respond back with oppositions!'' Being forced into a heating scene he crunched his arms together infront of him and recieving all of the jabs, planting his feet down and claiming his current position as his.
With such an explosive start the crowds was cheering and getting rather excited with the growing intensity from the newcomer. ''Don't feel overwhelmed. Don't feel overwhelmed. Don't overwhelmed.'' Koji mentally solidified his mind to not get fooled by the intimidation, with enough concentration he began to get in rythm with the jabs, the hits in other words effected him less and less each time, adapting for however long Daimon was planning on keeping up the jabfest. But Koji didn't have much of a chance to move from the sturdy position unless he wants to give the newcomer a nice juicy opening.
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Post by Chimera on Oct 6, 2019 11:27:57 GMT -4
432 WC goat watches you box | For some reason people always looked at Chimera funny when he said he had never watched wrestling or boxing. Did he just look like the sort who'd be into it? He was muscular--more than he looked--sure, but he was the exact opposite of certain muscle-heads who sought the lime-light. For example: Darren, his friend and band-mate, was as big a glory hound as he always was. Only this time they weren't on stage together and music wasn't the focus. No, instead the crazy son of a bitch was in a real, honest-to-God wrestling match! Chimera wasn't sure whether he should have been thrilled for Darren getting to this point, or terrified that he was going to get himself beaten black and blue.
Still, when the message arrived in the chat, Chimera promised he would be there to scream his support for the crazy bastard, even if he was worried for him. It was just wrestling after all. Even if he didn't watch it himself, he knew they wouldn't be seriously hurting each other in a permanently damaging way. It was as much a spectacle as it was a sport, just like their performances.
And Darren was definitely a spectacle.
Filed in among the crowd were the students of UA who'd come to watch, and Chimera was among them, dressed down in a simple t-shirt and jeans and hoping that the huge crowd of people would be too busy staring at the ring to notice his existence. So far, so good. In the ring they called up first the guy Darren was fighting--he looked like a slab of meat, but Chimera had a feeling he could still dead-lift the guy. How strong was Darren again? Hopefully strong enough. When he heard his friend's name called out, and a proper representation for UA, Chimera cupped his hands around his muzzle and put his singing skills to good use by shouting so loud it reached the goddamn ring.
"WIN SO RED BUYS US ALL DINNER, DARREN!!"
His laughter trying to force its way through that scream may have lessened it ever so slightly, but hey, he'd asked for something from the heart. And just like that the match began. Chimera still had no idea what boxing was all about but it looked like things were going good for him? Darren was fast as ever even when he wasn't using his Quirk, but speed didn't mean much when your opponent was a walking wall of bricks. But Darren was strong, too. Right?
He totally had this. |
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Post by Rowan Sakamoto on Oct 6, 2019 12:51:00 GMT -4
| ◀ | The heart is a heavy burden ❤ Truth be told, she had never really spoken to Darren but she heard about him, maybe hard to miss when you went to U.A. together but the minute she heard that there was a spectacle to be seen with him, she thought about going, heck she even brought her father, because she had not wanted to go alone. This atmosphere had scared but she wanted to learn. She would never learn on this level but self defense was something that she should learn, she remembered boxing with Kirk, she blew up the boxing glove and burned Kirk's hand, ha... times. Of course, this she had not told her father, she also had not told him that she thought about getting boxing classes or join the martial arts club at school. She had no idea how with the other clubs she was joining, leading and so on but she was sure at one point she would speak to Darren. Yea sure.
Yes this was probably something she could in a way learn about, it would soar past her head, it would be something she would not understand but it might be inspiring, uplifting, anything and she could not wait to see it, she heard yells for the boy she did vaguely know and her eyes looked at the ring and grinned, yes, this would be a wonderful thing to do and to see! |
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Post by Daimon Darren on Oct 7, 2019 8:44:20 GMT -4
The ambiance. The faces of his classmates, spread among the audience; their cheers. But above all, the noise. What had gripped Darren to his stomach was the overwhelming noise around him. It filled him with a sense of anticipation, of thrilling excitation and boundless expectations; it pressed down on him just as much as it uplifted. There were sparks in his eyes -- not of the usual kinetic kind, but akin to those filling the eyes of a kid on Christmas morning. Boxing so far was everything Darren expected.
And he fucking loved it.
He held his gloved hand up high when Chimmy called out his name before the fight, a smile as cocky as it was genuine on his lips. He recognized the 2-A class president too. He had no idea what her name was: they had never interacted before. That made him even happier -- the support from a friend like Chimmy was great, but support from strangers meant that his name was spreading. That his reputation was growing. That he was becoming the legend he pictured himself being all of his life.
So it was with a mad grin that he went and rained down the jabs on his opponent’s guard. As expected from a veteran, he found it tight and well-adjusted. He was guarding with his legs just as much as his upper body; his stance was firm and planted, and he did not move an inch, only turning to meet Darren’s jabs.
Guess he ain’t no scrub, thought the delinquent, the grin not showing any intention of leaving his face. Good. The bigger they are, the harder they fall, the bigger the mediatic impact and the more ranks I climb. But first, let’s take care of this here tough customer.
The next punch Darren threw was no jab. Right as he reared back his left hand, with a full step-in, he swung his hips and back and turned in his shoulder, extended his right arm, and, crossing over his left hand as he twisted his right one horizontally, conjured a right straight from the depths of hell. It was the same exact punch that had won him the match against Yumi in the Sports Festival: a textboox long cross, thrown at full extension and with full power, aimed not at the opponent’s guard, not at their face behind the guard, but through their face. Whether it would actually land there Darren wasn’t too confident about; it was the opening moments of the match and Kojiyama’s guard was tight. He wouldn't make a mistake that early. Darren wasn’t aiming damage with this punch; he was aiming to rattle.
Indeed, his speed might not have been up to the impressive standards his classmates were used to when deprived of his quirk, but that was to say nothing of his strength. Day after day he had built it, pounding the sandbags and swinging weights around with wild abandon. Those weren’t the lustrous and inflated muscles of a bodybuilder, built from excessive loads on the bench press and lethal deadlifts; these were the muscles of a martial artist, built lean and for explosivity, reinforced and trained through countless sparring sessions, quick and snappy and capable of producing a knockout punch from a dead stop in an instant, the same kind of punch he used to batter on iron-armored samurai and dangerous villains alike. And with those fists, he was sending a message.
And that message was: get fucked, bitch. tl;dr: just going with a one-two really, throwing a powerful straight after the jabs, straight on the guard to rattle the opponent. Assume he's getting back on guard after throwing it |
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Post by Arthur "Reddarcc" Hunter on Oct 7, 2019 9:14:09 GMT -4
Well, either way this goes, it'll be fun to watch. The blonde Deliquent mused to himself as he waited for the match to start. Everyone else from UA who'd come to watch, to his knowledge had all sat down in the seats below, atleast Chim did, it was hard to not recognise the guy in the middle of a crowd considering he was the only horned individual in the crowd. There might have been other guys spread around but Red couldnt recognise em...after all, he was gonna be on his own in the balconies.
Now, to a normal person, Ring side seats would be the ideal, you get as close to the action as possible, the fighters reactions close up. Now, thats all well and good, but you'd have to move your head around constantly and its a pain, so you miss stuff. The best place to watch a match like this, is either the seats right at the back, or the balconies behind and on top of em. If he was gonna watch Darren get his ass kicked then he wanted the best seat he could possible get.
To clarify, he wasnt here to watch Darren lose. His wallet was full to the brim with as much money as he could stuff in there without looking like the jackpot for any aspiring pick pocket in the tokyo area, since he figured Darren would probably win. He'd even picked out a decent place nearby that could probably get everyone in. What he was really here for, was to see the perspective Darren had talked about, how quirkless fighting could open your eyes or something like that.
When Darren had announced that he was fighting, and told everyone that he was gunning for the title, Red laughed his ass off. He knew the guy was good, but that was only because of his quirk letting him move however the fuck he wanted. But you cant use that in the ring. He'd even gone so far as to bet dinner that Darren would lose due to cheating with his quirk. After all, the sparks were an obvious tell for the thing. At the time he blew off said perspective as Darren just being prideful about it, but the more the kid thought about it, the more interested it became to him.
The kid had never been stupid enough to try fighting without his quirk. He'd made efforts to hide the fact that he was using it, of course, but the risk of trying back in the day was too high so it wasnt worth it...but now, He had the oppourtunity to try out whatever he wanted, and much as he thought Darren was a prick with a ego so huge you could see it from fuckin orbit, he respected the guy. Thats why he made those football grenades for him, hung around the MA Club despite not being a member, Didnt take his shit and shot back when he had the chance. Plus he still owed the guy for carrying him through his first fuckin day.
Besides, it wanst like the guy he was fighting was gonna make it easy for him. He'd lost as many times as he'd won, and somehow pulled two draws out of his ass....in fucking boxing. How the fuck do you draw in boxing? Either way, as average as his record was, he was still a professional boxer, a veteren of the ring. He knew Darren could fight, but Red figured that fighting with actual rules, without quirks to help you out, would have an effect on his fellow blondes chances of winning easily. It was up to Darren to prove him wrong about that fact.
Once Darren was in the ring, he heard Chim shout out about dinner. Almost instantly Red shot back with a simple "SURE, IF THE JACKASS CAN FUCKIN WIN WITHOUT HIS QUIRK THAT IS, MATE" Down to him. It was mostly in jest, a cheeky git grin wide on his face. Darren was the kinda guy who'd get even smugger if you told him to fuck off, atleast in Reds mind. Besides, someone had to try and keep his bloody ego from eclipsing the entire solar system. He'd be up here watching out for that, after all, and how good Darrens techniques were. Maybe there was something he could steal from it, he'd already stolen some other tech from the guy.
After Darren as done gloating, and presumbaly telling his second to fuck off or something, it looked like. the fight was on. Darren immediatly speed off, no sparks in sight, and started to bombard his opponant with jabs. His footwork was a sight to behold, it was barely different to what Red'd seen him do with his quirk, and every jab was delivered with swift, pin point accuracy. If he wasnt up in the balconies he probably wouldnt have been able to see them as well as he could. His opponent was trapped, but this wouldnt decide the match. After all, they may have been quick, but these were just jabs....and Koji was adapting to them, following the rhythm. Plus, it looked like Darren was just showing off how good his feet were, that he could outbox with the best of em, the cocky bastard.
"AY, DARREN, YOU INVITE US TO A BOXING MATCH OR A DANCING COMPETITION?" He'd shout down jokingly at the ring. What he actually meant was Stop showing off before it bites you in the ass, you dumbass but given the crowd, Darren probably couldnt hear it anyway, nor get what Red actually meant by that. Hopefully with how Darren usually fought, his showing off might have had an actual point behind it, maybe fishing for a counter or something with his right hand.....But Darren did like to show off so he doubted that. He just hoped he didnt get too cocky and pay the price for that, and end up on the floor.
After a few more seconds of Jabs, Darren decided to was a good idea to throw a REAL punch. Jabs are good and all, they help whittle your opponent down, but they dont win fights. He knew Darren had some explosive power from watching him fight Tetsuko, and he'd decided to show off said power. He feinted another Jab and was going for a powerful straight. He knew if it hit, it'd probably make the guy think twice about letting his guard down....but there was a chance that he tried swinging a counter from this, he had already gotten used to the rhythm. Its what he woulda done. But Darren could probably deal with that anyway, right?
Lets see how good this new perspective of yours really is, Darren. |
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Post by storytellerrisa on Oct 22, 2019 15:29:19 GMT -4
STORYTELLER Koji almost had his eyes totally shut during the constant barrage of jabs, to him it almost felt like an eternity, each jab pushing a wave of force through his upperbody, and even with such a tight well solidified guard it was still hurting his arms. But Koji has taken many hits in his life, and at this rate he'd be standing with more energy than the blonde cocky boy. ''C'mon now.. Ease up those punches, I know you can't keep doing it for another minute!'' Just as the crowd was at it's loudest Koji could feel the sudden presence of something majorly dangerous. He peeked between his gloves, just a small crack of opening to witness the abnormally charged up punch. This kid really was putting his all into this one, and before Koji could properly prepare for the extreme impact the guard crushing punch hit dead on against the jabused arms of his. The punch blew up with noise and left with quite the powerful scene of the blonde student literally pushing the experienced boxer backwards with an one arm punch.
''HNNNNGHGARK! What is this kid thinking?! If only I knew he'd be doing such a ridiculously charged up punch I could've struck him a nasty one!'' With both pain and confusion going through his head he almost fell onto the ground, but catches himself with one leg, almost pushed back against into the corner, it truly showed what one single solid punch can do versus a whole dozen of jabs. ''There's no way he's gonna pull another one of those punches, unless?'' Koji forcefully straightened his back despite the sudden force his body experienced, getting his guard back up and a very much sharp stare at his opponent, knowing the power behind those fists of Darren it was hard for Koji to motivate himself to do the attacking. ''He must be tired from this, I should provoke him.'' Koji smirked and wiggled his left glove to tell Darren to come at him, giving a cocky side and acting it was nothing.
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Post by Daimon Darren on Oct 23, 2019 18:09:42 GMT -4
Bang! It didn’t matter how many times he felt it; the blowback from a punch was always just as good as the first time. It even got better with time, and the blowback from the first real punch he landed in a competition was no exception to the rule. But it could have felt better. It could have felt a lot better. For example, if he had landed it square.
The punch landed instead on the boxer’s tight guard, who straightened his back and grit his teeth and took the hit remarkably well -- many a first-year student had their guard burst open by the very same punch when they doubted Darren’s skill without his quirk. But here, and while his power was nothing short of impressive and still good enough to push his opponent all the way back to his corner, it wasn’t good enough for Darren’s taste. It wasn’t a true boxer’s punch just yet. A boxer’s punch landed.
Darren immediately closed the gap between the two, trapping the older boxer in his corner. But Kojiyama Karajuso hadn’t said his last word nor had he taunted his last taunt. It was with confidence and eyes still alive that he wiggled his left glove, inviting in Darren’s own. He bit down on his mouthguard in a grin. “Cornered already, old man?”
He wasn’t one to leave a taunt unanswered, neither in words nor in action so he let his left fly and his right sprang behind it. His punches were more compact and controlled now; that was something he had taught him, coach Fujikawa recognized from the sidelines: “When he traps his opponent in the corner, a foolish boxer will lay it thick without a care, but a smart one will keep his wits about him. Cornered opponents can be more dangerous than live ones.”
But he started to realize something was off. In fact, Darren wasn’t thinking about the coach’s advice at all. He was thinking that he really would like to land a hit and that the best way to go about it was to pound open his guard with as many punches as he could, and his body naturally remembered the short, compact, high-volume strikes. Coach Fujikawa started to shout, but Darren was too absorbed in his combination to register. He went from a short left upper to a short overhand right, followed up with a drop and a compact cross to the stomach, sprang back to his feet, and to finish it off, with a powerful step-in, swiveled on his left leg like a pole dancer and delivered an exemplary left hook, all of his power from top to bottom converted into a cutting fist, gracious as the horizontal cut of a fine sword.
Yes, it was indeed by all textbook account a beautiful punch, but this was a boxing ring, and Darren was without a quirk. And years of relying on Autokinesis had made his swings a little more predictable than most -- it was just that, usually, it was too late by the time his opponents reacted.
This time, however, he showed a rare crack in the foundations. An opening. tl;dr: follows up, taunts back, start unleashing a combination of short punches, except his last one which has a big tell (in other words: its a free pass to hit him in the face) |
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Post by storytellerrisa on Nov 5, 2019 17:06:39 GMT -4
STORYTELLER Koji was no fool and kenw very well the dangers of inviting continous barrage of hits, specially when taking such a devastating punch with a well guarded stance. The veteran however got pushed farther into the corner, Darren put so much pressure and intensity that Koji felt like he could just break open any moment, but he breathed gently, mentally he was giving his attention to his air circulation and tricking his body to think these punches to his shell guard was nothing more than pinches. ''You truly are giving your all huh? Are you feeling unsatisfied with the previous punch? An expected KO just like that? No no kiddo, you are just tasting what real boxing is like.'' Koji was now just beginning to fully observe the young opponent and what was going through that naive head of his, this veteran was believing in fate today and as such will trust his instincts to the very end.
''And the veteran Koji are being cornered like a trapped animal! It is a miracle that he still has his guard up! But the young newcomer seems to be now giving any less than before!!!'' With even the commentator this hyped up the crowd followed along and chanted Darren's name. For Koji the fierce pressure truly was something else, it truly seemed like he was on the verge of losing, his arms felt weak, the white pain slowly getting back it's colours, but during the whole rampage by Darren, Koji has slowly pushed his front, his upperbody gaining space forward with his rear leaning against the corner pole, using it as a perfect supporter against Darren's offensive strategy.
''Koji-sama! You gotta break out from there! Koji!'' Koji could hear his coach just fine, but he couldn't let other ideas come to his mind, he was dead set on his risky plan, putting all of his fate into this one trap. ''Kids like you should learn some manners..'' The moment of climax, the very last attempted strike by Darren, an overdone left hook was an open door for Koji to take advantage off. He could finally rest his arms, and in mid motion gently leaning away, using his well earned space to narrowly dodge the mighty hook by Darren. While the charging punch looked impressive, with a simple withdrawal dodge like that almost made the newcomer seemingly just hit the air.
Koji charged in, his own left coming in penetrating the air while Darren had his defense at his weakest. The red glossy glove planted against his face, the pressure and impact wasn't as impressive as his, but the pure technique and precision made Koji to land a critical strike against Darren's lower part of his face, namely serving a nasty one to his jawbone with the force of an adult's body. The noise sounded like a bullet, killing the cheery crowd in a matter of a second as they saw the image of Darren suddenly being the one struck. One could say it was a prime example of a Counter Attack.
''Taste a true punch!''
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Post by Daimon Darren on Nov 13, 2019 6:24:22 GMT -4
“Dai-mon! Dai-mon! Dai-mon!” chanted the crowd as the young boxer punched without pulling none, his two gloved hands flying like red bricks at Kojiyama’s guard, the older boxer finding himself cornered and unable to respond to the younger boxer’s furious assault and endless discharge of energy, unlike the crowd who responded in kind and cheers. It was a rather small crowd — as much of a name as Darren was, it was still a debut match, and his name wasn’t even that big anyway — but it didn’t matter to the blondie. He loved it. He was a junkie for positive attention, hooked on an IV drip of praise-induced serotonin.
He noticed the only dissonant voice too late. It was the coach, desperately yelling at him to watch his opponent. He wasn’t watching him, that was true; Darren was already seeing him sprawled on the floor, a mere stepping stone for his ascension to the throne. He was watching himself box and he wasn’t watching his opponent box. If he did, he might have noticed that his guard was thick and that he was inching closer, slowly but surely.
One wide punch was all it took to turn the tables. Koji had earned himself enough space to sway away from the hook. It felt incredibly weird. Darren wasn’t used to his swings going wide: he was usually on the other end of the swaying motion and the one who made his opponents miss. For a second he didn’t know what to do. A single intelligent thought ran through his head: Huh?
And then a punch ran through his head, or rather through his chin. It didn’t have the power described earlier, but its technique was on par with Darren’s if not better, aimed straight for the point of the chin and aimed well. It made contact with the third and fourth knuckle and Darren’s head jerked back suddenly, his spiky blonde hair swaying and spraying beads of sweat arcing through the air and shining from the lighting equipment directed at the ring. The impact resonated through his skull, courtesy of its accuracy, but it didn’t hurt. Darren instinctively knew the dizziness he felt instead was worse news. That meant his brain was bouncing in its cerebrospinal fluid. That meant he was going to feel it in the legs.
So he took a wide step back, and sure enough his knees wobbled. His now-widened stance helped keep him upright, but it was his will not to get knocked down in his first match and the mounting rage that he almost was which did all the heavy lifting and kept him upright. He wasn’t down, he wasn’t KO’ed, and that meant he could keep going.
And boy he would, or there would be hell to pay. The coach made that clear from his frantic banging of the mat. “What the hell are you doing, you bumbling idiot?! Your punches aren’t that easy to read in training! Get your head out of your own ass and fight like a proper boxer!!” The coach’s words made a vein pop on Darren’s forehead, mostly because he knew the coach was right. He had been arrogant, worse, predictable: his assault was all speed and no tactics. He had a tendency to do that, he just realized. Few held a candle to his speed in school, so it was easy to rely on sheer volume to get through, but this wasn’t possible on the boxing ring. He had to use his head.
He found his guard and composure back quickly, and he was ready to box again. He’d side-step any followup assault and work from the beginning, playing things out from the back with a series of rangefinder jabs. The range found, he’d sneak in a straight or two, this time however keeping his distance. There was a certain grace to his movement: contrasting with the sharp and dry violence of his punches, he swayed like a leaf in the wind to dodge the replies. It was terribly fascinating. He prioritized the jabbing and the staying on the ball of his feet, light-footed, ready to dance left and right and weave in and out of range, trading blows in a much more technical war than the skirmish which unfolded a before. As if Darren wanted to show that he was a proper boxer.
“Incredible! Daimon looked as if he was rattled by Kojiyama’s punch, but his feet are even lighter than before now! What a chin! And he’s now following up with a textbook outboxing performance! Does he still have a chance to win this round?!” |
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Post by quizzity on Apr 8, 2020 13:44:02 GMT -4
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