𝐁𝐄𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 [ʜᴀᴊɪᴍᴇ ɴᴏ ɪᴘᴘᴏ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ]

{ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀᴡɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ɴᴇᴡ ᴇʀᴀ}

・❥・~ ɴᴏᴛᴇꜱ. ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, I USED GOOGLE TRANSLATION TO DO IT IF THE WORDS DON'T MAKE SENSE THANK YOU FOR BEING COMPREHENSIBLE!

The pain is unbearable, a burst of fire shooting through my shoulder and paralyzing me. I remember that precise moment, the brutal shock when my opponent violently threw me over her shoulder. The world around me distorts, sound transforms into a distant humming. Each second seems to stretch, every moment is an eternity. I feel the hard tatami mat against my skin, its rough texture accentuating the pain radiating from my shoulder. The gymnasium ceiling, with its harsh lights and blurry lines, seems as distant as if I were underwater. My breathing becomes difficult, each breath a struggle against the fatigue overwhelming me like an relentless wave. The crowd's cries are muffled by the pain and the incessant echo in my head. The spectators' faces blend into an indistinct mass, blurry and incoherent, like an impressionist painting.

I close my eyes, trying to focus my scattered thoughts to control the pain spreading through my body. The whispers around me become clearer. My name is repeated over and over, a tenuous thread linking my shattered mind to reality. "3... 4... 5..." The referee's voice is firm, each number resonating like a bell in my head. The pain is still too sharp, but I know I must get up. Clinging to the ropes of the ring with wavering determination, I slowly rise. Every movement is a monumental effort, every muscle in my body protests. Sweat beads on my forehead and runs down my face. The stands are buzzing, the crowd is stirring, the commentators are hysterical "Incredible! She's getting back on her feet despite everything!"

I put my mouthguard back in place with my gloves. The bell rings, signaling the resumption of the fight. My muscles are sore, my thoughts confused, but I get back into a defensive stance, determined not to give up. Opposite me, my opponent is still standing, her clothes covered in sweat and her face marked with scratches. She is exhausted, just like me, her movements are slow but precise. *I must continue... I must finish this fight...*

Energy is escaping me, every breath is a struggle. I lunge towards her, my legs seem to drag. The weight of fatigue is palpable, but I know I can't retreat now. I throw a left hook towards her head, hoping to surprise her. She manages to parry the blow with some difficulty, but I don't give her a break. I follow up with a right jab, then an uppercut. The impact is brutal, she staggers, her eyes showing a confusion similar to mine. I can see her breath shortening, her movements losing their vigor.