The Second Step: Aizen Yuzuriha vs WYVERN II

[BlackAkuma]

Aizen should’ve stayed down. He knew he should’ve. His body was reaching its absolute limits, there wasn’t a single area on his body that didn’t hurt, and he swore that even simple blinking was causing him pain. He felt like he’d been in a car wreck like nothing was working as it was supposed to. If he had any sense, any sense at all, he would’ve just stayed down, let the count play out, taken the loss, and spent the next week in a hospital bed. That was the normal thing to do. The sensible thing. The human thing. The smart thing.

But then, no one had ever accused Aizen of being smart. Stubborn, prideful, taciturn, but smart? No, that wasn’t on the list.

As the count stared up again, Aizen defied all logic and began to rise with it, pushing his way up despite his body’s clear insistence that he needed to stay down. He rose, higher and higher, swaying with every inch, threatening to topple over at any second. He managed to stand all the way up as the referee was counting eight and didn’t topple over by some miracle, but that was the full extent of it.

He barely knew where he was. He didn't know where WYVERN was at all. Dazed, all Aizen could do was stumble towards the announcer’s desk as he shook his head, desperate to clear the fog and get back into the fight.

[Hills]

Even through the haze of pain and exhaustion, Wyvern can sense weakness. Aizen's form wavers in her vision, multiplying and rejoining in irregular intervals, but she can still tell he's retreating. Trying to recover, no doubt; she had seen too much to ever think he would be fleeing in fear. As her conscious mind barely functions, however, her instincts take over. The human recedes, and the animal emerges. The warrior gives way to the predator. And the predator smells blood. Tastes it, too, even if it's her own. It was time to end this.

Wyvern begins moving, heavy footsteps barely keeping her balanced, the movement only one step above a stumble as she steadily advances towards her opponent. Her lips recede, baring gritted teeth that show just how much effort it takes just to force herself to keep moving. The body screams for her to stop, but the mind, fighter and predator alike, demand that it keeps going. She was hungry. This time, she would not be denied. Not by anything.

Rounding the corner of the ring, Wyvern radiates bloodlust like a grim furnace, strangling the voices of the commentators as she nears Aizen. Seeing her opponent leaning on the announcer table for support, she stops just outside of his easy reach, swaying ever so slightly as she pauses. Then, without warning, she whirls in place, every ounce of energy she has left propelling her into a final burst of motion. Lifting her leg at high angle, she brings it down towards the back of her opponent's neck, the black clad limb arcing down like the blade of the reaper's scythe!

[BlackAkuma]

Marshal your thoughts. Focus. Tune out the world. Relax.

Simple words and Aizen wouldn’t have had a problem doing any of that in normal circumstances, but that was far from where she was. It wasn’t just due to all the damage he’d received, but the pounding bass of the crowd around him, yelling, screaming, cheering, and roaring with a thousand voices. It was hard for him to know where he was, much less to get any read on his environment and figure out where his opponent was.

But he had to. Had to lock onto WYVERN. Had to figure it out. He just needed a moment, just needed-

There.

He saw her out of the corner of his eye, a blur of motion, but that was all he registered before the pain exploded in his neck. His noise was one of surprise, pain, and anguish, a hoarse cry that didn’t sound like it had any business coming from a human mouth. Aizen fell forward with his eye screwed shut and laid out across the top of the table, draped over it, nearly falling to his back.

He was awake, barely, but he almost wished he wasn’t. His neck was on fire, and his body refused to follow a single command.

[Hills]

Not enough.

Even with her conscious thoughts all but gone, Wyvern still retains enough presence of mind to regard Aizen as a threat. This might be enough for a pin, but a 10-count? She couldn't be certain. It was time to end this for good. As Aizen collapses onto the announcer's table, the Irish wrestler reaches a hand forward, seizing him by the collar and hauling him back upright and letting go, leaving him to stagger back from the momentum. Even if the more experienced streetfighter can't stand on his own, it takes Wyvern only an instant to continue. Whirling on her heel once more, this time she uses the windup to fire a straight kick directly into Aizen's stomach to bend him over. The rapid motion combined with her spent state nearly sends her off her feet, but years of practice pay off and the movement is completed with mechanical precision. Reaching forward, Wyvern wraps her arms around Aizen's torso, wrenching him upwards and off the ground, bringing him up onto her shoulders if he isn't able to evade or escape.

While she has no intention to pause, there's a momentary hitch before she's able to lift Aizen even further, needing to dig ever deeper into herself to reach the last dregs of energy keeping her moving. If he was fresh, Aizen could surely escape, but in his addled state doing so may be beyond him. If he can't get free, Wyvern intends to lift him to the full extent of her reach before driving him through the announcer table with a devastating elevated power bomb!

[BlackAkuma]

The match was over.

Aizen didn't consider himself a proud man, but he was confident in his abilities and knew what he was capable of. Most importantly, he knew what he couldn’t do, what was beyond him, and there was little doubt in his mind that he’d reached such a limit as he lay there, sprawled over the announcer’s desk, his body completely unresponsive. He’d put up a good match, given it everything he had. He would not make excuses or try to rationalize the obvious fact: WYVERN was beyond what he could handle.

This time.

He was musing future possibilities deep in the recesses of his mind, when she came in and pulled him away from the table, forcing him to stagger away. He likely would’ve fallen over if she hadn't grabbed him and pulled him close at the last second, shoving his head between her legs, a position that even the most casual wrestling fan would recognize. Aizen knew what was coming, but that did no good - he was a deer in the headlights, and the car was already on him. All he could do was wait for the inevitable, and he didn’t have to wait long.

He went up. He came down. His body slammed into the announcer’s desk, obliterating it on impact and he was laid out amidst the wreckage, utterly devastated, an unmoving wreck.

[Hills]

With this, it was over. Either this would put Aizen down for good or she would collapse from exhaustion. Wyvern's shoulder screams as she hefts Aizen into the air and brings him down on the announcement table. She hurts. This match has pushed her to her limits and beyond, requiring wells of determination and power she has never before needed to tap. Sheer exertion has brought about agony previously unknown without involving the shedding of blood or the breaking of bones. The early injury to her shoulder has only gotten worse over time. Fire burns under her skin around the socket, and some dim part of her fading consciousness recognizes that she'll be paying for her continued exertions of it for some time. There is no regret, however. Not as long as she can recover her pride.

"One!"

The backlash from the shattered table is nearly enough to knock her off of her feet, but somehow, Wyvern keeps from falling over. Forcing herself upright, she locks her legs and straightens her spine, allowing her arms to dangle backwards and tilting her head up towards the ceiling. So long as the bell has not rung, she cannot allow herself to fall.

"Two!"

Closing her eyes, Wyvern puts all of her thoughts into maintaining her balance and forcing herself to keep breathing as her body desperately attempts to shut down and force her to rest.

"Three!"

The numbers of the count begin to blur together in her ears.

[BlackAkuma]

With that, it was over. Aizen’s body knew it, even if his mind didn’t want to accept the fact. He tried to will his limbs into moving, commanded his arms to rise, his legs to curl up, his spine to work, but none of it responded - for a horrifying second, he feared paralysis was setting in. He learned it wasn’t as bad as that when the pain set in - a raw, searing flame that scorched his limbs and seemed to go down to the bones.

”4!”

He finally gained enough control to move his neck after a moment and craned his head over just enough to see WYVERN, standing tall - barely, mind you, but doing it. The effort looked like it had taken the soul out of her, as if a stray wind could knock her flat. Unfortunately, Aizen didn’t have a stray wind to spare. It was all he could do to twitch about and keep regular breathing patterns. He was sure that it was nothing a hospital visit and some rest wouldn’t fix, but that would be a while in coming. For now, he was wrecked.

”5!”

Somehow, though, it didn’t bother him. While he would never call himself a sore loser, he tended to stew on his defeats when they occurred, rare as that was, replaying the match over and over, trying his best to find the flaws and fix them with obsessive zeal. Today, however, there was none of that - only a calm acceptance of the inevitable. He hadn't failed, he hadn't made any real mistakes - WYVERN was merely the better person…today. Who could say what tomorrow would bring, however.

”6!”

[Hills]

"7!"

If the count stopped before 10, she didn't know what she'd do. Not that she'd know whether it stopped because of her opponent's recovery or the end of the match; the haze of pain and the echoing beats of her heart pounding in her ears make it nearly impossible to hear the number of the count, and her total exhaustion makes it even harder to process them.

"8!"

This had been a damn good fight. Even if she couldn't win here, this was a battle she could be proud of. A war that had pitted every fiber of her being against a more experienced opponent. Unlike last time, there had been no mistakes. No crippling flaws in her conduct or holes in her skill that had caused her downfall. He was the more skilled fighter, that was clear even more now that he had fought her to a near-standstill despite her physical advantages over him, but she could stand at his level.

"9!"

This couldn't be the last fight. He lived for this just as much as she did. A tied record wouldn't satisfy either of them. And the fight was just too good. She had grown since the bell rang. She hoped he could say the same. And if he hadn't this time...she'd make sure he did the next. Push and be pushed. Sharpen and be sharpened.

"10!"

Wyvern is only barely aware of the bell ringing in the background, unable to believe the match was truly over until she felt her uninjured arm being lifted over her head. The drone of the announcement of the match's results refuses to come together in her mind, aware the words had been spoken but unable to grasp their shape over the roar of the crowd. She might not know how to work them, but she had dragged their respect out by force. The formalities concluded, Wyvern's legs give out beneath her, sending her crashing to her hands and knees.

...I did it.

[BlackAkuma]

She did it.

Pride could be a weird thing. Aizen didn’t think he had it in himself and his abilities, and tried not to let it cloud his judgment or make him blind to improvements that needed to be made. But despite some opinions, he was only human. It was hard not to look at his accomplishments, his skills, and not feel a tinge of satisfaction at how far he had come and the trials he’d conquered.

Pride was nothing new. But pride in someone other than himself? That was rare. Pride in his opponent? Rarer still. Yet, here he was, feeling a great swell of it as the bell rang and the winner of the match was crowd, despite it not being for him.

He could still remember the look in WYVERN’s eyes after their first match, when she suffered that early loss. It was unacceptable, and he knew how much of an obsession it could grow into. It was a wrong that any respectable wrestler would seek to right, a nagging itch she would have to scratch.

And she’d succeeded. As the bell rang and she collapsed to her knees, the sense of relief was palpable, as was the distinct feeling that this was another chapter in the story - an exceptional one, sure, but just that. They both knew that. Aizen would’ve been willing to start that next step tomorrow, and he suspected she might’ve felt the same.

Their bodies, however, felt different, and would need a little time to recuperate. Time that would be spent strategizing, rewatching the mat, analyzing every little flaw in their forms and coming up with news to approach things.

Aizen was looking forward to that.

He finally found enough strength to roll over to his stomach and crawl her way, dragging his body along the floor, looking as if he’d just come out of a war. He certainly felt like it, and WYVERN could say much the same. But he had enough left to get out a few words. Just a few.

”You fought well.” WYVERN didn’t strike him as the type to care much for flattery and he wasn’t the type to give it out, but this was a special occasion. ”Let me know when you want the next match. Your choice of stipulations.”

[Hills]

Wyvern is completely insensate following the end of the match. Exhausted and beaten within an inch of consciousness, forcing herself to keep going at full speed had consequences that could only be delayed, not outright halted. Leaning back on her knees, she simply...exists. The noise and light and pain is all still there, but it can't reach her. Her brain, overloaded and overworked, simply refuses to process for a time as it resets. It's only after an indeterminate amount of time has passed that the Irishwoman regains true consciousness. To her, it might just as easily have been a minute as an hour. All she knows is that when she recovers herself, Aizen has pulled himself closer. He starts speaking, and while it takes a moment for his words to register, she is able to listen and understand, somehow.

While Wyvern didn't put much stock in compliments, the terse praise from Aizen is something she won't soon forget. He had shown her a level of pure fighting skill she hadn't known was possible, and even their brief interactions had been enough for her to learn that he would never have the motivation to lie about something like this. It was genuine, authoritative, and gratifying. As for the second half of his statement, she cocks her head to the side and then grins fiercely.

"Soon as you're healed up...I'll be ready to go again. I'll start thinking about that stipulation."

Despite her obvious weakness, Wyvern somehow begins pushing herself up to her feet, standing upright after a few tries. She's unsteady, barely able to see straight, and could collapse at any moment, but she feels good. This was what she lived for.