histórias de Fightingforher

Discipline is key for becoming a man. It's a widely known fact. Japan is a beautiful and spiritual land. But its history can be dark and brutal. Takeo Watanabe was young but disciplined. Son of a Ronin who once served a powerful overlord, Takeo's father taught him as a young boy to wield a blade. Meditate to stay sane. And work hard to be a somebody. Takeo truly is a deadly weapon.

She didn't fall out of love with him. She fell out of feeling safe. To everyone else, he was charming. Protective. A little intense, maybe-but passionate. No one saw the way his words cut when he felt overwhelmed. The way he pushed her away before she could leave. The way his love came in waves-warm one second, freezing the next. He doesn't realize he's hurting her. He doesn't realize that the sharp tone, the jealousy, the distance... it's all armor. A shield he built to survive his own mind. But she's tired of being bruised by battles that were never hers. So she does the one thing she swore she never would-she walks away. And that's when he realizes. Losing her isn't just heartbreak. It's the first time he's forced to face himself. Now he'll do anything to get her back-prove he can change, prove his love isn't just chaos wrapped in apologies. Because for the first time in his life, he's not fighting his demons. He's fighting for her. And this time... he refuses to lose.

*UNDER CONSTRUCTION* He was a rockstar. I was a college student. He loved me. And I loved him. He stepped on my heart. And I destroyed his. We had a toxic relationship. That's just how it was. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Kate, she was very pretty and boys fell at her feet. But she never took time to notice. Now in her sophomore year of college, her life turns upside down; everything changes. Thats when he comes along. The blue eyed, blonde haired boy with a cold lip ring. Her life would never be the same again. But he is not the only one to change her... * warning! You might hate me at some points*

The locker room smelled like sweat, blood, and stale energy. My gloves hung heavy over my shoulders, my mind scattered between fights I'd won, fights I'd ruined, and nights I couldn't remember. I laughed at a joke no one really made, muttered, "If I could, I'd kill that mf before the first round even started," and tossed a bottle against the wall. My friends shook their heads, hyping me up anyway. "Hanny... you really don't want to drink tonight. You've got the next match. Don't be careless," one said. Another friend leaned close, trying to pull me back to something resembling reason. "Nah... you've got fire. But tonight could be different. You might... want to change the routine, next match is the finale practice maybe?" I laughed, loud, sharp, broken. "I think I'll keep ruining myself. Fire's enough." When I stepped into the ring, it was all noise. screaming fans, flashing lights, sweat, metal, adrenaline. My opponent snarled, the referee barked, and I moved like a storm no one could track. Then I noticed it, something red in the crowd. Not distinct, not clear. Just a flicker, a movement that felt... out of place. My stomach twisted. I didn't know her, didn't know why I noticed her, didn't care. And yet, there was something in the way she watched or maybe I imagined it that made my chest tighten. I didn't care, I didn't even glance again. I could hear the crowd for the first time cheering, conversations, shouts. It was different it felt different. Maybe every match i have heard this. and been like this. Maybe tonight i didn't try to avoid it. I actually listened i wanted to know, i wanted to hear it. I cared, but why? I glanced at her again... She looked quiet just looking, admiring, or maybe i wanted her to admire me. Everything felt different, the lights, the smell, the voices. Like i finally felt alive, like wanting to hear her voice made me feel alive. It terrified me. But only one thought was on my mind, Who is she?

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