What Happens in the Pit

Chapter 2: Motive

Pitbull sprung forward, knowing that he had to be the one to make the first move or he'd never recover the match after that. He faked a right hook, knowing that the rugged, experienced fighter in front of him would read that, expect it from what she knew about him, and that he could use that against her. Pulling back at the last opportunity, even though it would have landed, he switched it up for a left uppercut instead, slamming his fist into her jaw like he might not get another chance.

Hell, he might not.

With the way she laughed, snarled, spit blood on the floor at his feet as she staggered to her feet.

She was beautiful, feral, dangerous, disastrous.

He wanted to be all of those things, too.

So, he let go, and he let her take him there, to the edge where sanity and absolute insanity teetered as their fists collided against skin that gave way, bruising and pulsing with heat and pain that would feel much worse in the morning.

He was broken out of that delicious trance by that fucking nerd.

It was always him.

It was always going to be him.

Pitbull thought he heard his voice and dared a glance over, earning a punch right against his cheekbone for it, the warmth blooming from that spot immediately. The glance was enough for him to confirm the green curls and dark freckles, even though there were healing bruises covering the moron's face. Was he a fucking fighter? That almost made too much sense, and Pitbull couldn't think about that right now, in the middle of a fucking fight, damn it.

When Jupiter staggered on her feet and finally fell, the referee held out a hand to ward him off. Pitbull held up his hands in surrender, showing that he would cooperate with the directive as the referee checked on the fallen fighter.

The boos and jeers that echoed throughout the arena when Pitbull was announced the winner were staggering.

He ignored them, just as he ignored them the first time he won against the gravity-quirked girl, and he wandered over to Ochako, looking down at her as she blinked up at him against the harsh lights, scrunching her nose in pain as she came back to consciousness. She sighed and took a long moment to consider his offered hand before accepting it as he pulled her to her feet.

"Fucking hell," she muttered under her breath as she stormed out ahead of him, leading the way toward the exit and away from the angry yells demanding an immediate rematch. Katsuki only heard her because he stayed in step, just a half a step behind and slightly to her right, allowing her to lead the way. "Go ahead," she demanded.

"What?" Katsuki asked as they made their way out of the ring, keeping an instinctive eye on her in case she fell, but not hovering.

"You gonna' rub it in?" she asked, thoroughly drained of energy.

"Would that make you feel better?" Katsuki bit back.

She snarled as she spun on him in the narrow hallway, stopping him dead in his tracks. At least his reflexes were still on point, so maybe the hit to the face didn't mess him up too much, though he could feel his cheek throbbing and gathering heat by the minute. His vision wasn't holding, either, which was concerning. The edges were darkening, his vision tunneling slowly, but enough for him to take notice.

"You absolute dick! I'm not some fragile glass!" Ochako snapped, leaning up onto her toes to snarl in his face.

"Who the fuck is calling you fragile? Huh?" Katsuki barked back, making her squint her eyes, but not back off, trying to determine if he was being genuine or not, Katsuki determined. "You weren't then and you're not now. Now let's get to the healer, yeah?" he continued, a little softer.