Light Sparring
"Disappointing," the man mutters, staring at the crumpled boy lying face down on the canvas.
The brute begins putting on his coat before the count even ends, unceremoniously leaving the ring as his victory is declared. Bearing His face...a dishonor, he thinks to himself.
The crowd retreats from the colossal man as he makes his way through the arena. Their eyes track him like prey hiding from a predator, the excited roars from earlier in the night replaced by suffocating silence. The ground beneath him audibly protests with each heavy step as he heads towards the exit.
The scent of sweat and disinfectant lingers in the narrow corridor. The hallway darkens around him, the walls seeming to shrink from his bulk as the behemoth trudges towards the locker room. He ducks and turns sideways to force his immense frame through the narrow doorway.
His cellphone rings.
"How was your meeting with Mr. Samson?" The voice on the other end is smooth, haughty.
"Uneventful. He's not the one."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Before you leave, I have another job for you."
“You know the price for boring jobs, Bud." The large man growls. "Your pretty words won’t cut it this time.”
“The price is of no concern, I assure you. I just need you to tie up some loose ends. An associate of mine will stop by your room with the details shortly.”
“He better not waste my time,” the man snarls as he hangs up.
The monster's thoughts drift, as they often do when his mood sours. Japan... There’s been a lot of buzz coming from back home lately. Old and new movers alike vying for a piece of the pie. America's hunting grounds have grown barren in recent years. The new number 1? Nothing special. Last time they'd crossed paths, the hero had failed to provide any entertainment at all. And today? Another disappointment.
Perhaps the prey back home had fattened up after all these years... He allows himself a dark smile at the thought. In the meantime, he needs a drink. This guy better not keep him waiting.
A knock at the door interrupts his thoughts.
Bobby walks towards the center of the room, designed in the style of a traditional Japanese dojo. The space is sparsely decorated, with the faint smell of polished wood and old tatami mats lingering in the air. Rays of moonlight pierce through the Yukimi shoji, casting a serene glow over the floor. Shirtless and wearing simple sleep pants with hands fully wrapped, Bobby bounces back and forth in a pendulum step. A smirk creeps across his face.
At the far end of the room, Hifumi stands with his back to Bobby, wearing only his boxers. He pulls a sheathed katana from its wall display and turns around with a confident grin. He kneels carefully, placing the sword on the ground before him with measured precision. Hifumi lingers for a moment, taking in the details of the quiet room, before wrapping a blindfold around his eyes and tying it firmly behind his head. Then, with deliberate motion, he holds the katana at his waist. He inhales deeply.
Hifumi steps up with one foot and draws his blade in a single fluid motion, appearing right before Bobby the instant it leaves its sheath. Bobby is already ducking under the slash, however, immediately bringing an uppercut to meet Hifumi's chin. He barely grazes the skin before Hifumi vanishes.
Hifumi sprints towards Bobby from his original position, jumps into the air, and vanishes once more. Bobby dodges to the side as Hifumi comes down with an overhead strike to where Bobby had just been. Hifumi disappears and reappears low to the ground, slashing towards the boy's ankles. Bobby jumps over the sword just in time, then stands unfazed as another slash passes dangerously close to his face. He circles from his position as Hifumi appears in the air once more, punching at the flat of Hifumi's blade to avoid a follow-up strike. This repeats several times until Bobby delivers a hard punch at the weapon just as Hifumi's foot hits the ground, knocking him off balance.
Bobby dashes forward, narrowly dodging another, less calculated slash aimed at his back while stepping into a swing from Hifumi's return position. This causes Hifumi's arms to reach past Bobby's shoulders, opening up a hard inside punch to Hifumi's side which knocks the wind out of him. Hifumi jumps backwards multiple times in response, retreating to his original position at the start of the fight.
"Guess you throw pillow punches without your sun juice," Hifumi grins defiantly, his breath heavy.
Bobby smirks, trying to mask his own exhaustion. "You sure you're not peeking through that blindfold, bro?"
"You're just way too predictable, Bobbeh. Now let the master show you how it's done!"
With a final grin, Hifumi vanishes. The boy begins disappearing and reappearing chaotically around the room in quick succession, faster than Bobby's eyes can track.
His movements are not random, however. Bobby bends backwards on pure instinct, eyes wide as the katana’s edge whistles past just inches from his face.
Hifumi appears behind him in midair, catches the katana, disappears again, and reappears above Bobby to deliver a sharp kick to his torso.
The instant he feels Hifumi's heel collide with his gut, Bobby is suddenly airborne, his body flipped to face the floor as he hurtles backwards towards the ceiling. He spins in midair, just in time to see Hifumi flipping downward, his katana raised for a devastating overhead strike.
Bobby catches the blade between his hands, the steel biting into his palms as he grits his teeth against the force of the strike. Even with a blindfold on, Hifumi's face displays clear shock as Bobby kicks him in the torso with both feet, the sword slipping through Bobby's fingers as his grip falters.
Unfortunately, at the precise moment the boys are suspended in midair, the first rays of morning sunlight filter through the dojo's windows to illuminate their struggle. Hifumi is sent flying by Bobby's dropkick, sword still in hand, slamming into the ceiling. Bobby crashes completely through the floor of the dojo in a violent explosion of wood, plummeting into the level below and landing hard on the kitchen tile.
Standing at the stove is a drowsy Ernst, wearing an apron which reads "Kiss the Cook."
"BOOOOOOBEEEEEEEEHHH!" Ernst hears, still processing the sudden increase in debris in his kitchen as Hifumi hurtles through the hole Bobby had just created. His katana recoils off of Bobby's chest like it's hitting a steel wall, the force of the impact vibrating through Hifumi's bones as he bounces backwards onto his rear.
Still holding his frying pan, Ernst walks over to the boys, briefly glancing at the gaping hole in the ceiling before looking down at his sprawled-out interns.
"How do you morons want your eggs?"