she’d spent ample time of her life backed up against the wall, and, tooth and nail, ryuko matoi had hissed and kicked and fought dirty to claw her way out. she was a fighter through and through, a delinquent existing without the brotherhood of a gang. she was a vagabond, a drifter, a child who existed on both sides of the tracks, and found every part of town to be the wrong part as she traversed through it. she was a firecracker, bright and hot, the sort of punk that not only attracted danger, but actively sought it out.
it may have been a cry for attention, hell, she may have had something to prove, a point to prove, but it really didn’t matter.
for any threat that came her way was a threat she knocked down, and every bruise became a badge of honor. she was a drifter, the type of delinquent that belonged to no gang, but she had little care for that sort of thing, for her own reputation or honor, for at that point in her life, there was only one thing she existed for.
the thrill of the fight.
and today, she found herself back to back with another who shared the same fate. it was a shame, that she’d have to share the adrenaline, costar in this moment of conquest, but as she tightened the bandages over her knuckles with her teeth, and set her jaw into an anticipatory sort of grin, she couldn’t help but think of the potential this little duet held. it would be of a different sort, but there was no denying the obvious. this would be fun.
the crooked group of elder students continued to advance on them, forming a loose, grouped circle around the trapped teens. ryuko had to note, she found them absolutely revolting, in every manor a crooked-toothed, slack jawed, pincushion of a delinquent could be. they comically fit the stereotype they were meant to portray, and that made them all the harder to take seriously.
how long had it been since she had actually taken any threat seriously?
ryuko matoi arched her back against her taller ally, and arched a palm in much the same way as she gave a playful punch to the inside of a hand in time to an excited sort of laugh. she craned her neck and cocked her chin upward to meet his gaze, throwing her weight to one thigh in a way that displaced her clothing, gave her skirt an ironically peppy swish, and came to rest her hands on her hips.
( ain’t anybody been able ta’ take me down just yet! )
( are ya’ ready then, ta’ bring ‘em that kiddie two for one special? cause hell, i think they’re gettin’ one hell of a deal. )
Those words were the twist and break of the ignition. If there were any seconds thoughts, she gave the talk that managed to spike his blood up to that familiar level of heat.
"Lucky. Just one loss on my record table, I need to make up for it with an endless win streak."
Their provoking words had done nothing more than send the masses into a frenzy. Once comical faces were twisted with rage and wounded pride as a chorus of yells would be the starting shot for the pair’s fighting festival. Bracing his feet firm against the ground, the approaching wave of flesh and weaponry would be met with an abrupt rise of bloodlust. Gathering all of the enemies within eyesight, that left his other senses to gather the rest.
Fist clenched, there would be a sole line of speech left before he drew back into the familiar language of fist fighting.
"Oga Tatsumi. (男鹿 辰巳!) S’my name.”
Rearing his shoulders back by the small margin of a bump, it was a purposeful signal for them to disperse then and there. Pushing off the abnormally strong legs of a middle schooler, all sense of rational thought faded away into the sensation and focus that trudged him through so much. These were one of the rare times were one of his more honest smiles could come into place. In the midst of the fight, this is it where he felt like he could truly belong.
Catching wind of the various attacks being thrown his way, from brass knuckles to splintered limber, his body acted upon its own accord when it came to weaving through the potential damage. So many times did this particular moment happen, yet not once did it lose it’s satisfaction. The faces of the surprised as they thought they captured an easy kill. Crudely butting his forearm against wrist that slipped by his face, it caused the weapon the thug held with inexperience to be accidentally released. It was a better time than never to capitalize.
So began the offensive dance that split skin and spilled blood. His fists swiped, crushed and battered into limbs with precision that no one their age should be carrying. Yet, he did and it was a factor he shamelessly took full advantage of. The pained grunts and wails started to increase in volume as the bodies of high schoolers started to be blown away. Whether it’s with crushed noses or their ill made attempts to breathe sweet air into battered lungs, they suffered.
"Heads up!" Oga’s voice would yell a good moment into the fray. Making sure to keep the distance fair with his momentary brother in arms, this ensured they’d be able to back up the other if it was a necessity. Already a few cuts decorated the delinquent’s school jacket and shirt, along with one barely made scar had scraped his face. Driving a merciless punch into the older male’s abdominals, the power was purposely added with form and position, to ensure that this bastard would be out for more than awhile.
After rendering near the edge of unconsciousness, Oga’s calloused fingers had swiped upward, hastily taking a hold of the punk’s shirt collar. With a heavy heave and swing of his arm, he sent the opposition flying off towards Ryuko’s direction of the fray.
Time to see how she was holding up.