Harsh spotlights fall upon a fighting arena barely some 18 films wide, surrounded on all sides by a massive cage. A massive crowd cheers with the force of a dragon’s roar; each voice indistinct in the excited collective.
Cutting through the chaotic cacophony, is the amplified cries of an announcer; through some means of magic or magitek yet out of sight.
“LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND EVERYBODY BEYOND! WELCOME ONE AND ALL TO TONIGHT’S RUMBLE! DON’T BE FOOLED BY OUR NAME, BECAUSE THESE FIGHTERS ARE ITCHING TO GO, AND WON’T GET ANY RESPITE UNTIL ONE OF THEM FALLS, OR THE BELL TOLLS!”
As the announcer gives their long-winded introductions, Izayoi examines herself. No sign of injury or dizziness, and no sign of aetherial memory tampering either. So then, how did the slender raen wind up here without remembering, if it wasn’t due to a head injury or magic? However troublesome, she knows what to expect; she’s been here before, and she seems to have swapped out her usual golden kimono for an equally flashy iridescent outfit and fox mask. A match then.
Before Izayoi can even check her pockets for her Ōfuda, they spring to life around her, the aether imbued beforehand all but confirming her preparations, even if she didn’t quite recall doing so. Well, not specifically for this, anyway.
With a wave of her hand, she makes herself vanish from sight with a glamour, running to the nearest door to the cage, and forming an illusory double to make it look like she blinked from one spot to another, and distract her opponent before the match even begins. As per the rules of this particular arena of course, the real me will have to go in too, as usual.
Izayoi grumbles as she realises the closest door is marked red; which with the blue accents on this prismatic white outfit, didn’t really match. As she’s about to switch to the other side, the announcer gives her reason to stay;
“IN THE RED CORNER! THE MISTRESS OF MYSTERY HERSELF, IIIIIIIIIIZAYOOOOOIIIIIIIIIIII!”
Izayoi scowls, and yells back.
“That’s not my stage name, asshole! Read the signup sheet!”
The announcer ignores her complaints, and continues.
“AAAAAAAND IN THE BLUE CORNERRRRR! THE BLADE OF GESAR, GANST- GANT- KANSEGSE! Is that how you-“
The inane ramblings of the announcer die out to Izayoi’s horns as she takes measure of her opponent. Rather than a hulking and brooding man, the likes of which fancies himself a mirror of the Oronir’s Khagan, Izayoi finds her gaze going far lower… to a woman shorter than she, but with several times as much muscle. In particular, what draws Izayoi’s gaze - and scowl - was the wool or fur lining to the other woman’s black lacquer armour. Was that fabric dyed gold? Was this burly idiot seriously stealing her thing? Or don’t tell me. She’s just wearing gold because it’s Oroniri yellow but extra.
While Izayoi was fuming to herself, the bell rings to start the match. She calms herself down, reasoning that this was a bit of an irrational reaction; afterall, there’s an idiot whom I KNOW is doing the gold outfit thing independently of me. Perhaps it’s just a big coincidence, and- WAITWHYISN’TSHECHARGINGATMYBODYDOUBLE.
The little blue-haired gym-and-war rat seemed to be entirely ignoring Izayoi’s carefully-woven illusion. It’s almost as if it wasn’t even there, and that the Raen wasn’t, in fact, hidden by those same magicks.
An axe to the side was all the confirmation Izayoi needed. The blow sends her careening a good few fulms to the side. Izayoi thanked the stars and seas, as well as this arena’s organisers, for the injury-dampening magicks woven into the arena; else she’d be in a lot of pain right now; and likely worse.
Though tumbling on the ground, Izayoi thinks quickly. She rights herself, and before she’s even on her feet, she’s pinning down her foe’s movements, and the Xaela’s position and direction. Easy pickings.
Izayoi focuses and unleashes magical covering fire to limit her opponent’s safe movements.
She channels aether through her fists to augment what would be a paltry and pathetic punch into an explosion of force. All she had to do was wind back right as the Xaela gets within… How the Hell did she get right up in my face? She was going half as fast as needed to get over here-
The Xaela’s boot collides with Izayoi’s gut. While she doesn’t get winded - much to her own surprise - she really feels the blow and the bruising that it’d leave.
That’s funny… She thinks. Isn’t that where I got shot by a rubber bullet by that big, hammer-wielding-
Izayoi hadn’t even blinked. The gold-clothes Xaela was immediately upon her once more, carrying an oversized hammer, midway through an overhead arc.
This is it. Izayoi winces. If I’m not concussed already, this’ll be how.
Izayoi shuts her eyes and braces for the blow, so tightly that her horns start ringing…
…the blow never comes, but the ringing becomes only louder and louder, even as she relaxes her eyes and opens them.
Tinnitus. From her previous fight in that same arena. One where while the rest of her head was spared, her horns took a beating, one she expected the rest of the moon to heal.
Izayoi groans as she wakes up in full from the incessant perceived noise. This was going to be a long day…