Chapter 0 Part 1: Brawlers with Benefits
"Remember this: You don't have to be an athlete to learn how to use your fists. And it doesn't matter whether you're short, fat or skinny, timid or brave. Regardless of your size, shape, or courage, you already have the weapons with which to protect yourself. I repeat: All you have to do
is learn to use them correctly."
- Jack Dempsey
[Metro City, New York]
[Tony Redgrave's Gym]
(Y/N's POV)
My big fight felt like it was coming too soon.
The lumbering weight of the dusty old punching bag flew around, effortlessly being carried by the force of my strikes. I sunk elbow after elbow, kick after kick into it, dying to drain away every ounce of excess energy away from my body. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't punch away my anxiety. I collapsed, almost all the way to the floor, sweat dripping from the tip of my nose to the concrete floor...bent over, holding my knees...I swallowed the lump in my throat and looked at my reflection.
The mirror was set by the bag so you can pick out the flaws in your strikes and stance, but I normally ignored it, I knew staring into it wasn't going to help me at all in becoming the best fighter I could be. All it ever did was demoralize me. I stood up to my full, unimpressive height, and for once, gazed at myself. I never was built like a 'fighter', and my training still did very little to fix that.
I didn't have the presence that filled the room that most other monsters had, I only stood around 5'5 in height, nor did I have the overwhelming weight to strike fear into people. With the countless hours of work I was putting into becoming a combatant people would still describe my body as feminine. But this, in the end...was working out in my favor, whether I realized it or not...
Despite my little, huggable frame, I could hit...and I could hit hard. Bruce, one of the top brass in my Muay Thai gym, called me a 'Hard Puncher', supposedly it means I strike several weight classes above the one I'm actually in. The way he put it, 'it's not genetic, and it's not technique, some people are just built like that'.
I really had nothing to worry about, I was undefeated in that ring. I wasn't actually worried about losing the fight. I was scared I was going to win.
Because they wanted me to lose.
They didn't care how much I protested, nor was I informed until just yesterday that my boss was throwing all their money behind the opponent and telling me to dive. I already deconstructed his form, already ingrained his weakness into muscle memory, and now...I was expected to throw it all away.
I was born to win. I was never built to lose. True greatness, in all things, comes from creating a self which can not fail. Not training so you can win, training to the point that failure simply is not an option. Punching a bag until your hands go numb, running until your body can't take anymore, drawing until you have not a drop of ink to your name, doing what you desire as hard as you can until you reach your limit and go beyond.
For no other reason other than dirty money, I needed to unlearn this, with my life likely on the line. Even if I was the farthest one can be from true perfection, striving for pristine execution was ingrained in every single muscle in my body. Every broken bone, every bruise, every single lost sparring match, every time I had my ass beat, was all in pursuit of that one goal. To be the best person I could possibly make.
I rose back to my feet, ready to have another go at punching all my fears away-and then POMF~
"Hey wa-" A cheery voice came out of the impossibly soft thing I had run into, I fell back onto the bench dazed from the impact...and found myself staring up at the familiar green gi of a very bohemian lady; both socially, and in her attractiveness.
"Oh-sorry!" I put my hands up, looking away from Laura, trying to hide my eyes away from her as best I could, "You snuck up on me!"
"From the front?" She smirked, cupping something in her hand and bending down to meet me face to face, "No way! You did that on purpose, didn't you?" she giggles, outstretching her hand with a hot paper cut, "I got your favorite~!"
I took it, holding it to my chest, almost instantly forgetting about what she handed me because of her comment, "Why would I do that on purpose?!"
"I think you know why, if only you were a little shorter it would work out better for you!" She dropped the satisfying heft of her body down next to mine and nearly instantly had me in a headlock, "Trying to 'start' something with me, are ya?" Her off hand cupped mine, quickly adding in , "don't drop your coffee, little dork!"
"St-start something? What do you mean-?"
"Oh I think you know what I mean~" She let out an exaggerated purr that I could feel vibrate throughout every curve of her body. "You're trying to get me to fight you!", When she quieted down and expected a response to her teasing, she barreled right through my words without giving me a chance to speak. "Something's wrong!" she so eloquently put it, letting go of my head and shifting over to the other side of me. Despite the generous helping of weight her body had, the girl could move with all the grace of a cat no matter the restriction...the benefits of being a fit Jiu Jitsu queen.
"You're shaking like it's freezing in here!" She took my hand in hers, pulling me into the relaxing sauna of her hot abs, feeling me shake on her skin. "What's wrong?" She frowns with deep concern.
"I...I think I'm having a panic attack," I look away from her, feeling redness grow across my cheeks from the sudden close proximity, "...an-and..." I stop, voice turning into a mutter at the end. What I wanted to say was 'getting me flustered probably won't help', but couldn't bring myself to.
"You're going to be fine, just breathe!" She suddenly jerks my hand, pulling my chest into hers and rubbing my back...I hold my breath instantly, doing my best not to awkwardly wrap my arms around her and embrace the pillowy softness of her thick, strong body.
"I said breath!" she scolds, pulling ,me tighter into her, squishing her breasts hard against my chest, her intimidatingly large sweater stretchers now the only thing keeping any kind of distance between me and her...squishing them almost right out of her ripped up gi; thank god she had on a workout bra, if anything were to happen to make them pop out I might explode with embarrassment.
"...Youre not helping..." I let out a heavy sigh, her chest quickly taking up the space I just freed up by letting my lungs empty. I reached up, pushing onto her shoulders, "Laura...Laura-" I pleaded, feeling my back pop from the slightest movement. She loosed me, almost sending me off the bench and onto the floor.
She caught the coffee cup that I almost dropped, somehow not spilling a drop."See...you aren't shaking so much anymore!~" She smirked, "Is getting all wrapped up with my elegant 'techniques' helping you?" she questions rhetorically with a giggle, leaning onto me while I laid across the bench and letting the pillowy weight of those 'techniques' fall onto my chest, "A quick match always helped me out..." She insists with a playful smile and a devilish gaze.
"Right...yeah...good idea..." I clear my throat, pulling myself out from under her, and this time I do fall off the bench, landing on my back, "...You're gonna kill me one of these days..." I note, standing up and inspecting my body for gym dust.
"Nah~!" she chuckles,"You're too much of a tough little man for that," She sits up, putting the coffee between her thighs and beginning to fix her hair, "Finish your coffee before it gets cold and then we'll throw down in the ring, got it?" she winks.
"...Are you gonna hand it to me?"
"I'm all tied up, just get it yourself," she reaches down into her pants and pulls out a hair tie, starting to methodically put her hair up. And she never puts her hair up. "Wouldn't want your gym friend's gift getting cold would you?" she adds, making sure to stress that I needed to get it now.
She really was trying to kill me...
I reached down sheepishly, gingerly taking the cup from her legs and meekly sipped it, standing up perfectly straight and holding it close to my chest. "...How is Sean?" I idly ask, trying to shake off the heart fluttering thrills she had just put me through.
"Oh, he's around here somewhere," she scans the room, letting her hair drop and flicking the hair tie around her wrist, seemingly having suddenly changed her mind, "It only took a little convincing to get him here," she planted her palms onto the bench and casually flexed her biceps, her veins pushing out of her skin, "You know how easily I can get him to come out of his shell..."
"...By bullying him?" I quirk a brow.
"He needs the training anyways, I can't always be there to scare people off of him you know!" She reasons, letting her muscles relax, "He wants to be a fighter anyways...but I can't get him to wanna learn Matsuda style..." she grumbles with frustration, "All he cares about is all that flashy shoto nonsense..."
"Maybe he just realizes its better to knock them out before they can touch you than it is to try wrestling with them?" I smirk, trying to get my confidence back, "I could teach him Muay Thai..."
"Yeah good luck kicking me in the head after I've folded up all your clothes with you still in them," she flashes her teeth with a confident bass to her voice, "Hurry up with that coffee so I can fight you!"
I look down at the drink she had gotten me after taking a deep gulp of it, "How'd you know I was even going to be here to get me this?"
"Simple, if you weren't here I'd just make you get here!" She tilts her head, flipping her hair with her hand, "You know how convincing I can be."
YOU ARE READING
Like a Tiger (Fighting Game Girls X Sub Male Reader) 18+
Romance(Y/N) is just a punk on the streets with a good right hook and a dream in his heart to become the best. Having myseriously woken up one day in Metro City with nothing but a tattoo on his hand and a chip on his shoulder, he fought in illegal prize fi...
