The octagon belonged to Kaito. He was an aggressive and unyielding whirlwind at its center, refusing to give his opponent any foothold, almost pinning his opponent to the net. Kenji, however, kept a determination that would not be defeated. He didn't want to be the man who was overpowered by a sixteen-year-old, so he unleashed a flurry of punches, a two-punch combination followed by a desperate dash, wrapping his arms around Kaito. The younger fighter, realizing his advantage in a stand-up fight, saw an opportunity to keep from going to the ground.
Kenji pressed his head against the flesh, one arm around Kaito's back, the other around his leg, aiming to topple his opponent. Kaito struggled against the rush of strength, trying to keep his balance, retreating to the net and finding shaky footing. After seconds stretched into eternity, the referee separated the entwined fighters, resuming the fight in an upright position - Kaito at the barrier, Kenji in the center.
'Fucking asshole,' Kaito muttered to himself, thoughts of strategy flashing through his mind. 'If he flops me on my back, those fancy punches will rain down and I'll be done for.'
Back on his feet, the dance resumed as Kaito threw a flurry of punches, targeting his opponent's face to gain an advantage. Then, with unexpected swiftness, Kenji's punch met resistance. Four strikes followed, the last followed by a familiar jerk, but which proved to be a trick Kaito had fallen for as Kenji's deceptive move struck the target. Even putting his hand up to his head, the damage from the blow was very severe. The swinging blow, which clouded Kaito's senses for a moment, caused him to stagger backward. Finding himself lying down, his instincts kicked in as he stretched out his legs to prevent a light tackle.
'Didn't I block that punch?' he thought fleetingly, lying on the canvas.
Kenji staggered forward, looking to gain an advantage in the grapple, but Kaito's limbs held firm, not allowing a pass. But after a brief resistance, one leg was captured, followed by a dive into a defensive stance.
The situation was becoming increasingly dire for Kaito. Kenji's fist was aimed precisely at the target, but as it approached, Kaito's leg muscles, strengthened by the Quirk, tensed, and with a sharp jerk pulling his opponent to him helped to deflect the blow to the side. A deft maneuver - left-hand gripping, right arm around Kenji's neck.
Kenji, trapped in Kaito's grip, pondered incredulously. 'Where'd that little brat get that kind of power?'
Despite being trapped, Kenji's remaining arm began to deliver blows to Kaito's side, each one intensified by his quirk. The young man gritted his teeth, tightening his defenses.
But Kaito was able to think of a way to get back into a favorable situation. He had to get back on his feet and knew he would have to take risks, but the choice was obvious, continuing to be in such a position would only mean losing.
In a bold gambit, he loosened his grip and delivered a swift elbow strike to Kenji's head. The reaction was instantaneous - Kenji's arm instinctively came up to deflect the blow. Kaito seized the opportunity and leaned on his opponent's limbs, slipping out of the ground and rising sharply to his feet.
"Hate this," Kaito muttered to himself, despising the parterre more than ever.
Back on his feet, Kaito swiftly regained his composure, buoyed by the rush of adrenaline surging through his veins. Kenji, visibly rattled by the unexpected shift in fortune, circled cautiously, his confidence showing signs of faltering. As Kaito's mind raced, recalibrating his approach, he honed in on Kenji's vulnerabilities like a chess master surveying the board.
Sensing Kaito's resurgence, Kenji launched a strategic barrage of jabs, probing Kaito's defenses with meticulous precision. Each punch carried the weight of Kenji's quirk-enhanced strength, yet Kaito deftly parried most, deflecting the impact with elegant, calculated movements.
With renewed resolve, Kaito retaliated with a lightning-swift flurry of strikes, zeroing in on Kenji's midsection with pinpoint accuracy. His fists moved like a blur, each blow finding its mark and compelling Kenji onto the back foot. The crowd caught up in the spectacle and erupted in excitement as Kaito unleashed a relentless assault, driving Kenji perilously close to the edge of the octagon.
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Kenji, struggling to regain his footing, attempted to grapple with Kaito once more, banking on his superior size and strength. Yet Kaito, now in his element, employed his agility and speed to elude Kenji's advances. With a sudden burst of acceleration, Kaito sidestepped, leaving Kenji teetering off balance.
Seizing the moment, Kaito executed a lightning-quick takedown, sweeping Kenji's legs out from beneath him. Kenji collided with the canvas, momentarily stunned. Before he could gather himself, Kaito pounced, swiftly transitioning into a dominant position on the ground.
The audience held its collective breath as Kaito meticulously advanced his position, maintaining firm control over his adversary. With surgical precision, he applied a joint lock, compelling Kenji into submission. The referee intervened, signaling the culmination of the duel.
A wave of jubilation swept through the spectators as Kaito stood triumphant in the heart of the arena. He glanced towards the sidelines, catching the eye of the youth who had voiced concern earlier. With a nod of reassurance, Kaito acknowledged the boy's presence before turning to address his fallen opponent.
Kenji, though visibly disheartened, extended a hand in a gesture of sportsmanship. Kaito accepted the conciliatory gesture, a silent testimony to the mutual respect shared between adversaries. As they exited the octagon, Kaito felt a surge of pride mingled with relief. He had demonstrated his physical prowess and resilience, eclipsing the specter of his comrade's earlier defeat.
Exiting the octagon, Kaito scanned the room, making a beeline for the bench where he'd stowed his gear. A tall, red-haired woman caught his eye—solidly built, face unremarkable, sitting on the bench.
Sinking onto the bench, Kaito retrieved water from his gym bag and took a swig.
"Great fight," she offered.
"Thanks," Kaito replied, his tone chill. He appreciated the acknowledgment but harbored no pride in a victory that left him unsatisfied. While others lauded a 16-year-old's premature triumph over such an opponent, Kaito replayed his match mentally, tallying each misstep.
A brief silence hung between them before she glanced at him. "Finished for the day?"
Her question yanked Kaito from his introspection. Mishearing, he asked, "What?"
"Done sparring?" she clarified. "That punch you missed—looked pretty serious."
"That?... I'm fine," Kaito dismissed.
"It's your call," she remarked. "But after a hit like that, it might be wise to lay off until you're fully recovered. Those kinds of misses, without proper healing, will haunt you down the line."
"Yeah, but I'll manage," Kaito countered. He recognized the truth in her advice yet doubted anyone else would be keen on sparring with him using reinforcement quirks. Besides, that missed punch was a mistake unlikely to recur.
"Your choice," she replied.
Remaining in the gym for another 40 minutes, Kaito engaged in two more sparring matches, easily clinching victories in both. Post-shower and changed, he exited the building, the cab was already approaching him. Outside, police sirens blared.
Pulling out his phone, Kaito checked an app, discovering an attack nearby perpetrated by three quirk-wielding crazy persons—the sort labeled villains for using their powers to harm.
"Why the hell on this street," Kaito muttered, perturbed by the prospect of a longer route home due to the chaos.
Logging into Messenger, he sent the usual inquiry to his friend about how he was feeling. By the time a response came, a car had pulled up, and Kaito climbed in, continuing his exchange with Anthony. The response came—a slight headache but recovery was expected in a couple of days.
They chatted amicably until Kaito broached a question of particular interest. "Know any spots where fighters can go at it using their quirks?" His intentions were obvious: the UA was nine months away, and he didn't have an acceptable level of quirk control or experience using it. He sought to hone his abilities to stand confidently among his peers who had trained with his own since childhood.
Anthony replied: "Hmm, you mean like hero tournaments?"
"Yeah, exactly! But here's the deal: I've got 9 months until I start at UA, and my quirk isn't exactly straightforward. I want to level up before I dive into the whole hero scene," texted Kaito.
"Gotcha. There's something, but it's not exactly above board," replied Anthony.
"What do you mean?"
"Are you free this Saturday?" asked Anthony.
"Afternoon yes,"
"Perfect. Most of the info I'll share face-to-face."
At first, Kaito didn't understand why he didn't want to tell him right away what he was talking about, but suddenly it dawned on him. Underground fighting, he forgot about it, he started remembering it in the My Hero Academia spin-off he read. That's right, this can be the perfect place to improve your skills in a short period.
"Alright, when and where do we meet?" Kaito texted.
"IDK. I'll hit you up on Friday with the deets,"
"Got it."