Where Elegance Meets Violence (for Weonna)

[Letta]

LAW Training Center — Late Morning

A sharp impact echoed through the quiet training center. Laxia von Roswell landed gracefully upon the canvas, one hand touching the mat. Across the ring, a LAW trainer staggered back into the ropes. A thick protective pad covered his chest, its center marked by a cross of blue tape, the exact spot where Laxia’s foot had struck. Years of ballet and fencing made her movements appear more elegant than threatening, yet that elegance concealed their true force. Balance, acceleration, and precise placement allowed her to deliver far more impact than her slender frame suggested, something the trainer had just learned firsthand.

“Again, if you please.” Laxia rose calmly. Her orange hair was tied high with dark blue ribbons, though several loose strands clung to her perspiring forehead. A black sleeveless athletic top and matching leggings allowed her to move freely while maintaining what she considered an acceptable degree of dignity. At ringside, Sebastian checked his stopwatch. “Two-tenths of a second faster than your previous attempt, my lady.” “Only two-tenths?” Laxia’s brows drew together. “Then there remains room for improvement.”

The trainer gave an incredulous chuckle. Most wrestlers would have been satisfied with completing the sequence cleanly, but Laxia was rarely satisfied with her own performance. He adjusted the protective pad. “Very well, Ms. Roswell. This time, I won’t give you the same opening.” “If you did, there would be little purpose to the exercise.” Laxia settled into position with one foot slightly ahead of the other, her body angled to present a smaller target. Her heels remained light against the canvas while her eyes followed every subtle movement of the trainer’s shoulders and hips. Ballet had taught her complete control over her body. Fencing had taught her distance, timing, and how to lure an opponent into an attack they believed was their own decision.

The trainer advanced, and Laxia retreated with two measured steps, inviting him to close the distance. When his padded arm swung toward her head, she slipped beneath it and guided the attack harmlessly past. Before he could recover, Laxia sprang upward. Her legs wrapped around his shoulders, and a sharp turn of her hips sent him rolling across the canvas with the tilt-a-whirl headscissors she had recently added to her repertoire. Laxia carried her momentum into a graceful landing and quickly created distance. The trainer regained his footing and raised the pad, prompting Laxia to charge directly toward him. At precisely the correct distance, she pushed off the canvas and snapped one leg outward. THUD! Her dropkick struck the center of the blue marking, driving the trainer back into the ropes once again. Laxia landed in a controlled roll and finished upon one knee, calmly brushing a loose strand of orange hair away from her face as Sebastian stopped the timer.

The trainer leaned against the ropes, breathing heavily as he inspected the mark upon his chest protector. Laxia rose and adjusted the black band around her right wrist. “There are wrestlers with years of experience who cannot manage accuracy like that. Frankly, I’m impressed. Please don’t take this the wrong way, Ms. Roswell, but you move more like a fencer or a dancer than a professional wrestler.” “I shall assume that was a compliment.” “It was. Still, some people here would consider all that footwork unnecessarily complicated. They believe there’s no need to aim carefully when they can simply hit hard enough to make precision irrelevant.” Laxia’s smile tightened slightly. Overwhelming strength could certainly be effective. If someone caught her and restricted her movement, her graceful footwork would become considerably less useful. She knew that weakness well, perhaps too well. It was precisely why she refused to be caught. “I’m certain such an approach has its merits.” Laxia stepped closer and lightly tapped the blue mark upon the pad. “But it hardly suits me. No matter how powerful an attack may be, it means very little if it fails to connect.”

She turned toward her corner, where Sebastian waited with a towel and water. Despite the intensity of the exercise, her gait remained measured and composed. Only her slightly quickened breathing betrayed the effort she had expended. “I prefer to use precisely as much force as necessary, at precisely the correct moment, rather than entrusting everything to strength.” Laxia accepted the towel and wiped the perspiration from her neck. Brute force had never suited her tastes. Reading an opponent, drawing out an opening, and exploiting it with a single accurate attack felt far more natural. “And isn’t that approach a touch more efficient… and rather more pleasing to watch?” she added with a restrained smile. “Of course, my lady,” Sebastian replied. Satisfied, Laxia took a single drink of water before returning the bottle and towel. “Then let us continue.”

The trainer returned to the center of the ring and raised the pad, planting his feet more firmly this time. Laxia took her position opposite him and assumed a stance that blended the poise of ballet with the measured tension of fencing. At a glance, she resembled a dancer awaiting the beginning of her performance, but the trainer knew better than to underestimate her now. Sebastian readied the stopwatch. “Are you prepared?” The trainer answered with a silent nod and tightened his grip upon the pad. The moment Sebastian started the timer, Laxia began closing the distance with another series of light, graceful steps.

[Weonna]

AKANE

CLAP. CLAP. CLAP.

Slow, deliberately obnoxious applause sounded from somewhere beyond the ring, cutting through the quiet training center.

"へぇ〜、すごい、すごい。"
(Heeh~ amazing, amazing.)

Akane stood nearby in her gym attire, the redhead having apparently watched enough of Laxia's demonstration to form an opinion. Judging from the smug grin plastered across her face, however, it wasn't a particularly flattering one.

“Very elegant, 外人."


Her green eyes shifted toward the trainer and the protective pad before returning to Laxia.

“All this dancing around... just to kick little blue mark?”

Akane sauntered closer to the ring, folding her arms beneath her chest.

“Some don't need stopwatch. Don't need little target telling us where kick.”

She tapped the side of her head.

“You just know.”

But it was Laxia's comments about precision and using only as much force as necessary that had really caught Akane's attention.

Akane scoffed.

“Precisely as much force as necessary? Hah.くだらない。Sound like excuse from someone afraid to hit hard."

She stopped at the apron, placing both hands against it as her grin widened.

“But maybe Akane is wrong, ne? You look very impressive beating up poor little pad.”

Akane tilted her head, staring directly at Laxia.

“So tell me, 外人…”

Her smile sharpened.

“Can you still be so precise when target kicks back?”

[Letta]

Measured breathing and precise footwork. Every movement had to flow into the next with the precision of clockwork. The slow applause intruding upon that rhythm was irritatingly out of time. Laxia’s brows drew together slightly, but she intended to continue. Unfortunately, the trainer was already looking outside the ring. She could hardly kick him while his attention was elsewhere. Laxia checked her advancing step and, without breaking her posture, turned to follow his gaze.

A woman with striking red hair stood nearby in her gym attire. Her athletic build and unabashed confidence carried a presence as arresting as her hair, enough to put Laxia instinctively on guard. The words leaving her mouth, however, did little to lend that presence any dignity. Compliments steeped in sarcasm, an arrogant grin, and that repeated word. Gaijin. Laxia had heard the expression before since arriving here, and she could certainly tell it was not being used affectionately now. She listened without interrupting, though one eyebrow rose a little higher each time she heard it. Akane. Judging by the way the woman referred to herself, that was presumably her name.

Even after the final question, Laxia let the silence linger. She briefly rolled her eyes at the trainer, whose attention remained firmly upon their visitor, before approaching Akane’s side of the ring. Neither hurried nor deliberately imposing, she stopped behind the ropes and rested one hand lightly upon the top cable. Up close, the woman’s solid build was even more apparent. Perhaps she really could deliver a powerful kick. That hardly obliged Laxia to find her manners impressive. “Thank you for the applause. For someone who finds my footwork so unnecessary, you certainly watched closely.” Laxia held Akane’s gaze, her chin slightly raised. Her tone remained impeccably polite, but carried the cool disapproval of a lady correcting someone’s manners. “Though if you intended to watch, you might have had the courtesy not to interrupt.”

The suggestion that she was merely afraid to hit hard had struck a nerve. Laxia knew her physical strength was nothing exceptional. That was precisely why she developed her speed and learned to commit her weight at the right moment. To dismiss all that effort as a coward’s excuse... Worse still, her delivery carried more than mere sarcasm. There was an aggression beneath it, as though she might decide to prove her point herself at any moment. Laxia tucked her irritation neatly behind her smile and tilted her head. “I prefer to check my work rather than trust instinct alone. Though I suppose we all have different standards.” She briefly glanced toward the protective pad before meeting Akane’s eyes again.“As for whether I can remain accurate against someone who fights back? Of course. I never miss my mark. Under any circumstances.”

Laxia straightened, her smile still courteous but her blue eyes noticeably cooler. Her gaze passed briefly over Akane’s legs, though she kept that assessment to herself. “I understand that you have considerable confidence in your kicks, Akane.” She pronounced the name distinctly. “But how hard you can kick isn’t what interests me.” She relaxed her hand upon the rope and continued at her leisure. “When that wonderfully confident kick finds nothing but air… what do you do next?” Her manner was impeccably polite, as though she were awaiting a particularly interesting explanation. The corners of her lips lifted a little further. “Surely your answer isn’t simply to kick harder...?”