Sethrol the Calm
Arena 1
"I know but..."
An arm was raised to block her first strike, but the blow landed to his upper thigh without the arm getting even close to blocking it. The pettles floating around them in a cyclone scattered to the edge of the ring, unable to take the shockwave erupting from Mira's blows. It wasn't that he was too slow to block her, she had spared with him enough times to catch onto that. No, he simply did not have the will to block her strikes. No, that wasn't it either. The old man's arms were limp at his side, his chest puffed out ready to take any blows she threw at him, any feelings she had for him.
Thats why he took them, all of her furry. Sethrol's body twitched with each strike. With each memory, a new memory flooded into his mind. He remembered the first time he witnessed her win a fight, the first time he offered her money for food, all those days she spent in his dojo working out and practicing her form. Yes, the form that she was using to pummel him, it was honed in their time together. All these memories but... not a single tear.
"I was always watching you," he said, in between strikes.
His head was smacked again, knocked to the left. "I could never offer you a home, because I live without one. I could never offer you my love because I detached myself from such things...."
Knocked to the right this time, an image of Vanilla flashed into his mind. This was bad. He needed chi. The body could only take so much punishment without going unconscious, without chi he would surely lose.
Lose what? The match, his status, the tournament?
A punch landed squarely in his jaw. Her fist pushed upward, threatening to send him flying into the air. "Banilla...." he said, his voice muffled by the fist under his jaw. Sethrol sat down into a horse stance as he was punched, keeping him grounded, keeping his eyes leveled with hers. The coat he had worn into the ring had exploded, and the bare chest underneath was littered with holes. A fire lit in his belly, sharpening his glare enough to slice through even the hardest souls. It wasn't one of anger or outward hostility, but raw self determination. "That woman entered your heart through selfishness, then allow me to do the same."
There was no point in blocking. The old man unleashed a flurry of punches, all aimed at every inch of her body. "Thats right... I'm not your parent. I'm your teacher. But I..."
The flurry got faster and faster. Machine gun like punches were an understatement. These fists flew like rockets and impacted like supernovas. "I... I WANT TO BE YOUR FATHER!"
"MIRA! SHOW ME THOSE TEARS YOU'VE BEEN HIDING!"