The Blades and The Gauntlets [Vi x fem!oc]

Chapter IX: The Top Side

Months had passed since Mila stood at the edge of the bridge, staring toward Zaun. Life in Piltover hadn't changed much, except now she spent most of her time trying to keep the fire burning inside her while playing the Ravencrofts' game. But some things were different. Caitlyn Kiramman had become a constant presence in her life, whether she liked it or not.

The two of them were at the training grounds - a private space set aside for enforcer recruits, though Caitlyn had pulled strings to get them access. A way to blow off steam, she had said. To Mila, it was more like an outlet for the frustration she couldn't escape, a place where she could feel in control again, even if it was just in the middle of a sparring match.

Sweat dripped down Mila's forehead as she circled Caitlyn, her body light and quick, her eyes sharp. Caitlyn stood across from her, feet planted firmly, trying to hold her own in the match. But it was clear - Caitlyn wasn't nearly as fast or as strong. Not even close.

With a sudden, sharp movement, Mila darted forward, aiming a quick jab at Caitlyn's side. She blocked it, but the force of the strike sent her stumbling backward, her grip on her stance faltering.

"Come on, Topside. You're making this too easy." Her voice was breathless but steady, her eyes gleaming with a challenge.

She gritted her teeth, wiping sweat from her brows as she straightened her posture. "I'm trying. You're just... ridiculously fast."

Mila smirked, taking a step back, her muscles coiled and ready. "Zaun teaches you a few things about surviving, I guess."

Caitlyn lunged toward her, throwing a punch, but the blonde sidestepped with ease, her movements fluid and effortless. She barely seemed winded, even after nearly an hour of sparring. Caitlyn was losing ground quickly, but she refused to back down.

Mila, on the other hand, was thriving. Every hit, every block, felt like a release. Like she was letting go of the months of anger, the bitterness that had been building inside her. Sparring with Caitlyn wasn't just practice - it was a reminder of who she was, of what she could do, even in a city like Piltover. And the bonus of beating up a Piltover citizen was always a nice addition.

Caitlyn launched another series of strikes, this time a bit more calculated, but Mila easily deflected them, her focus unshaken. She ducked beneath one punch, stepping inside her guard and delivering a light tap to her ribs.

"Too slow." Mila's voice was teasing, but there was an edge to it, a quiet frustration that lingered beneath the surface.

Caitlyn winced, stepping back again, her breathing labored. "I'm not built for this like you are. I prefer shooting."

"No kidding," Mila replied with a half-smile, though her eyes remained serious. "You're a Kiramman. You fight with politics, not fists."

Caitlyn straightened, catching her breath, and for a moment, the two stared at each other. Mila could see the determination in her eyes, even if she wasn't as physically capable. She might not be a fighter, but she wasn't weak either. There was a quiet strength in her, that Mila had come to recognize over the past few months.

"Maybe," Caitlyn said finally, "but I need to learn this. For the Academy."

Mila snorted, stepping back and crossing her arms. "The Academy. Still think you'll be different, huh? A Kiramman with justice on her mind."

Caitlyn lunged again, her footwork slightly better, but Mila was already moving. A quick sidestep, a flick of her wrist to parry Caitlyn's punch, and a sharp hook sent her opponent stumbling backward.

"You're telegraphing your moves," Mila said, voice clipped. She didn't wait for a reply, launching forward with a series of rapid strikes. Caitlyn managed to block the first two, but the third - a solid jab to her shoulder - sent her sprawling onto the mat.