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It was the first match of Louise's professional career—struck dead in place on the grounds of a foreign land, with nothing but a dwindling hope that tonight she'd be able to become more than just a pretty little jobber for the audience to gawk at. Though, that seemed like an impossibility, as she laid her back against the wall of her locker-room; arm cradling her stomach as she felt the poisonous nausea of former beatdowns soon to become a far greater strain once she stepped into the ring.
She knew all her moves by heart, but knew not the strength that was meant to accompany such technique. In her mind, all she's learned from her years as "The Punching Bag Princess" was as useless as even having this match to begin with. To the audience that studied her career, they surely knew she was one love-tap away from collapsing towards the mat. However, as typical, her manager barged into the room, an anxious grin akin to the devil on his face as he dragged the silent fighter beside the entrance of the arena.
Her heart raced, as the crowd began to cheer loudly in anticipation. With a singular glance back at her manager, tense dread upon her every slight movement, she walked down the ramp; sweat streaming down her forehead before the match could even begin.
Strangely, it only seemed to fan the flames of pure adrenaline in the crowd even more as they hysterically chanted both her and her opponent's name; soon carried by her entrance music. In a way, hearing the fast bars and rhymes from her beloved artist gave her the final push she needed to anxiously stumble towards the ring—subconsciously ignoring the row of extended hands attempting to grace her bare skin.
Before she knew it, she had bumped into the side of the ring ever-so slightly. Her face grew flustered, her body instinctually rushing to get inside the ring.
Now within the chamber of glory or defeat, her neck stiffened as she looked over at her brother, chanting her name. She hadn't meant for him to be there physically, yet there wasn't a moments rest to dwell over such trivial matters.
"There was no guarantee that she had any chance of winning over her far more skilled opponent, but in spite of that, she had a reason to win, so she'll win" she thought to herself, quickly snatching the mic from the announcer's hands.
"Ah! Sorry about that!" she loudly whispered to the announcer before snapping her head back to the audience, "T-tonight, you may think you know my outcome, and that my bruises are a façade to fool you to think I have an ounce of skill, but.. on this very night! the night you came to watch Ren Xiaofan wipe the floor with a newbie! will be the same night I leave you speechless for more than just my looks!"
She knew all her moves by heart, but knew not the strength that was meant to accompany such technique. In her mind, all she's learned from her years as "The Punching Bag Princess" was as useless as even having this match to begin with. To the audience that studied her career, they surely knew she was one love-tap away from collapsing towards the mat. However, as typical, her manager barged into the room, an anxious grin akin to the devil on his face as he dragged the silent fighter beside the entrance of the arena.
Her heart raced, as the crowd began to cheer loudly in anticipation. With a singular glance back at her manager, tense dread upon her every slight movement, she walked down the ramp; sweat streaming down her forehead before the match could even begin.
Strangely, it only seemed to fan the flames of pure adrenaline in the crowd even more as they hysterically chanted both her and her opponent's name; soon carried by her entrance music. In a way, hearing the fast bars and rhymes from her beloved artist gave her the final push she needed to anxiously stumble towards the ring—subconsciously ignoring the row of extended hands attempting to grace her bare skin.
Before she knew it, she had bumped into the side of the ring ever-so slightly. Her face grew flustered, her body instinctually rushing to get inside the ring.
Now within the chamber of glory or defeat, her neck stiffened as she looked over at her brother, chanting her name. She hadn't meant for him to be there physically, yet there wasn't a moments rest to dwell over such trivial matters.
"There was no guarantee that she had any chance of winning over her far more skilled opponent, but in spite of that, she had a reason to win, so she'll win" she thought to herself, quickly snatching the mic from the announcer's hands.
"Ah! Sorry about that!" she loudly whispered to the announcer before snapping her head back to the audience, "T-tonight, you may think you know my outcome, and that my bruises are a façade to fool you to think I have an ounce of skill, but.. on this very night! the night you came to watch Ren Xiaofan wipe the floor with a newbie! will be the same night I leave you speechless for more than just my looks!"
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First Match Attire
Spoiler
