It came as a bit of a surprise when Kasemchai deftly sidestepped the first ball like it was nothing; most students would try to block it, some would freeze up entirely, but it was only few who would handle it as gracefully as he had. Then again, hadn’t Ichiro approached him precisely because he looked strong? He couldn’t afford to be surprised when he turned out to be right.

From his form the Thai student seemed to be a martial artist of some kind, if it wasn’t obvious already, flowing smoothly from the sidestep into a roundhouse aimed at his inside leg. Ichiro’s IES traced the direction of the kick before it happened, calculating the arc of Kasemchai’s leg and showing the baseball player exactly where the kick was heading even if it was far too late for him to dodge it; although, strangely, Kasemchai was still too far away for his kick to reach.

But it hit him nonetheless.

As if the distance between them meant nothing, Ichiro felt something impact his thigh on his leading leg that hurt all the more for how unexpected it was; all of his weight was on that leg as he leaned forward into the swing and as the kick landed it was unfortunately unyielding, absorbing all of the force of the blow. Ichiro buckled with the pain, stumbling two steps to the side as he felt the strength go out of that limb, no longer able to support his full weight, before he caught himself.

During the stumble he swung his bat back the other direction, another red orb appearing in mid-air before being caught by the clumsy, one-handed swing and flying Kasemchai’s way. It wasn’t fast, but it didn’t need to be, and as awkward as the swing was it was still guided by a perfect understanding of angle and direction. The Chopper hit the ground in front of the transfer student and exploded immediately, the concussive wave it produced hopefully enough to push the martial artist back or even send him tumbling.

Once he had his legs back under him Ichiro would use the distraction, if there was one, to back even further away from Kasemchai, opening up the distance between them even more now that he knew his opponents range wasn’t limited to the length of his limbs.

@HereComesTheSnow

"I don't think you understand, Daichi. We don't need another building. This'll do fine."

Daichi was slightly perplexed at this - He wanted a mech, but was gonna stick with something small enough to fit in the classroom and leave through the door? Wasn't that more like Power Armor? Not that there was a problem with that - speed and power were extremly important at Shiroyama, so power armor would definitely help a fighter. Whatever the case, Daichi probably was overestimating Mori's goals here - few people had plans big enough that they needed to involve the Club President, so jumping straight to that was probably pretty foolish in retrospect.

"I don't think I want the Student Council finding out about this either."

Now that was more difficult for Daichi to wrap his head around - why? The Student Council, excluding the president who somehow thought making children fight was a good idea, had always seemed pretty reasonable to Daichi. They were kind of controlling to the Repair Club, but as long as their quotas were met, they never really caused any problems. Why did Mori not want to get help from them, or even let them know what was happening?

"Two words, Getter Robo."

That was a bit confusing to Daichi for several seconds - why mention an anime and manga series from the 70's? Then it came together.

"Oh, like a combining robot thing? That sounds pretty cool!"

Daichi tried thinking for a few more seconds, but eventually gave up on the matter, and just addressed his concerns directly.

"But why hide it from the Student Council? It doesn't really seem necessary if you ask me - I doubt they'll regulate it or anything. Plus I don't know how we'll get the funds otherwise - I can clone stuff, but I still need an original copy..."

@RoflsMazoy

As he found himself surrounded just a few meters from the entrance to the main building, Daiji idly replayed the choices that got him into this situation in his head.

"Hey, I don't know if you really are as stupid as you look, but I asked you a question!" One of the surrounding students said, a smirk on his face. "Who the hell do you think you are, bumping into me with that smug-ass smirk on your face?!"

"I didn' realise I was smirkin'." Daiji started to explain, pointedly staring directly ahead and over the delinquents head. "I'm jus' not all that great at talkin' to new people is al-"

"Oh, sure, so it's all just a misunderstanding, right?" The delinquent asked, before scoffing and raising a nasty looking AED taking the form of a wooden sword. "Look at you. Not even looking us in the eyes while you bullshit us. You really think you're strong enough to make an enemy of all the delinquents in the school? You sure you're ready to piss off the boss like that?"

"Not even slightly." Daiji said simply, continuing to avoid eye contact.

For whatever reason, this seemed to piss the delinquent off even more.

"Look at me, damn it!" He shouted, swinging the sword at him. Daiji responded by quickly sliding the wrapped up staff he had been carrying from his back and using it to guide the sword past him. For a moment, the delinquent looked up at him in surprise, but upon seeing that Daiji was still avoiding eye contact, he let out a shout and swung again. Once again, the wooden blade was guided past him, it's wielder along with it, and as it repeated itself more and more, Daiji was beginning to realise that he had to defuse the situation soon, hopefully before the barely stifled snickering of the other surrounding delinquents set the main one off.

He hoped it wasn't actually too late for that, considering the rapidly worsening expression on his opponents face.

"C'mon, please stop!" He tried to plead, although he was frustratingly aware that his naturally growly voice made it sound more like a taunt than something sincere. "Seriously, I ain't tryin' to fightcha! I just can't look ya in the eyes 'cause of my i-"

And then he redirected his blow again, only to here the horrifying sound of different voices grunting in surprise and pain. Slowly, he turned around to see that, yes, he had in fact accidentally flung his opponent into three of the spectating delinquents.

None of them looked quite as amused as they had just a second ago, and Daiji winced in a combination of frustration and fear as he watched them draw their own AEDs. Sure, he had been more than content to let the first delinquent tire himself out until he was too tired to keep going, allowing Daiji to explain himself, but now things were looking bad.

This was immediately compounded when he felt something hit the back of his legs, a kick or something, and he fell down to his knee. On instinct he looked up, only realising his mistake when his gaze met four others.

For a moment, there was silence, and Daiji sighed.

"KILL HIM! I'M GONNA KILL HIM!"

Honestly, despite how bad he usually feels when he scares people, he kind of wished they'd all gotten scared this time. But no, that would just be too easy, wouldn't it? Instead, only two of them caught the fear, one of them sprinting off with a shriek while the other simply dropped to their knees in silence. The other two got the anger, his original opponent being the one who screamed about killing him. Now, he was at least somewhat experienced in fighting people under the influence of his rage eyes, and while they did tend to make more mistakes, that was usually because they were swinging harder and faster than usual. Naturally, this also hurt a lot more, and Daiji didn't really like getting hurt.

Which was why he immediately jumped back to his feet and sprinted off in the other direction, the two raging delinquents hot on his heels. He had to lose them, but how? Even with his longer legs giving him the speed advantage, they weren't so far behind him that he'd be able to outrun them, not before collapsing from exhaustion at least. No, he needed somewhere to hide, or at the very least somewhere he'd be able to maneuver around the pair to fight them more easily.

And then a small grin appeared on his face, as he came up with a plan. However, it immediately vanished when the wooden sword AED clipped his heels, eliciting a high-pitched shriek of what may have sounded like rage to others, but was actually just fear of his own. Dodging more than a few swings from the two delinquents, he dashed through the entrance to the building, and after a few moments of desperately looking around, he saw what he had been looking for.

The cafeteria.

After almost forgetting not to make eye contact with the student sitting just outside the cafeteria entrance, instead flashing him a thumbs up and horrifically poor excuse for a grin, Daiji practically burst through the doors, leaping over one table and using Sarufuemaru to pole-vault himself onto a second, before spinning around to face the delinquents.

"Ok, alright guys, now I think it's time we all calmed down an' acted like adults!"

"I'm gonna jam my thumbs into your eyes like I'm reading your mind in brail you fu-"

"Ok fine, I'll do it your way!" He shouted, before looping the end of the staff between the leg of a chair and flinging it into the face of the second delinquent.

"Hey, if anyone else feels like steppin' in, now'd be a pretty good time!" He shouted out to the rest of the students. "I am open to any and all offers, preferably before that guy wakes up again!"

"Well, I'll tell you how we're going to do it when I get that far," Mori replied, releasing Daichi from his (admittedly non-serious) grip, and patting him on the shoulder. "Gonna need a lot of prep work. I'll get around to it when I have the time."

If Daichi wasn't getting excited then it was hard for him to get excited about this. It was pretty long in the future as far as he could tell, he'd give it time.

He wanted to keep it secret partially because Getter Robo was also kind of like that, a little bit. The lab was fighting against an evil force, the Student Council wasn't exactly evil but they sure did act like it sometimes. They'd be sourcing their own funding anyway, and they weren't gonna be using the grounds for testing. Why tell them anyway? Still it definitely sounded better in his head than when he said it out loud.

@Duoya "Well, I'll try and grab somebody else for Karaoke, see you tonight!" He called out as he left the Repair Club.

Thinking about Getter Robo got him thinking about pilots for it. Well, it could certainly be the repair club but they weren't the best candidates ever. Not like they were making the best machines every either, but surely it was the thought that counted. Well... no that was stupid. He just wanted an excuse to go bother some people.

Outside of the repair club the people he really knew were few and far between. Sure, lots of people knew him, but not so much the other way around. There was one particular student he was thinking about. The new transfer student who had been generating some measure of attention. He... didn't remember what her name was, but he had her in his dossier. Hard to not write somebody like that down.

"Where is it..." He muttered flipping through the pages. "Here we go..."

On top it was written; "Sword was cool. Think up a cool name.."

Well, he had come up with a couple good ones, by this point, actually. 'Hot Sword.' On a more serious note, 'The Flash Flameblade', 'The Flashflame Blade', 'The Flame Flashblade?' He wasn't sure whether she could shoot fire yet, but that was his head-canon at this point in time. The sword was red hot so what else was it going to be?

She was also short. The main reason he wanted to find her was she looked like she'd be fun to heckle.

"Now if I were a passive-but-aggressive loner with no patience for other people where would I go?" He said aloud.

Rooftop it was.

"Tally ho!"

It was amazing how quickly it had happened. Daiji's plea for assistance was barely out of his mouth when a girl flew feet first into view as though she had been spring loaded, a bullet in a gun waiting for this moment to be fired. She planted the bottom of her sandals into the side of the still standing delinquents head, sending the boy sprawling onto the cafeteria floor.

She landed with a short "oof" and a few metal clanks. One of them was the long pole that she'd used to launch herself at the delinquent, clattering to the ground just inside her reach, but the other was her helmet. It had fallen off as she vaulted through the air and was left spinning on the floor behind her.

The fact that she'd been wearing the helmet wasn't the only thing odd about her. She had a cheaply made scrap metal shield strapped to her back, armor on her legs, and a raging fire in her eyes as she hopped up and placed herself between the delinquents and Daiji. All in all she looked like she was halfway to dying gloriously for her country as generic CGI footsoldier #314 in Hollywood's next fantasy epic.

"Hear me, oh dogs of the dark lord Chie." She said, kicking her pole back up into her hands and leveling it at the two. "I know not what vile deeds you had intended for this middle aged man, but on my honor he will not be your only foe. I am Fukano Yume, knight errant. Rise, and name thyselves!"

Yume didn't actually need to know their names. After all, she knew them. She knew every member of Yamamoto Chie's insidious cabal of ne'er do wells, by face and attitude if not name, and had battled many of them at some point or another as they levied their unjust taxes upon the poor of the student body. Though now it looked as though they had graduated to assaulting the elderly! It made her sick, and with the fire of the noontime sun burning in her breast she made ready to crush them.

As soon as they were back to their feet, of course. It wouldn't be proper to attack them as they were now.

@Rabidporcupine

What happened to keeping it short?

This weird, polite and not even remotely threatening delinquent club president leader was just sitting down and listing out endless 'perks' of joining her weird delinquent club. Chinatsu found herself staring blankly as the list just became longer and longer. What was the point of a club built around breaking the rules having so many rules? Who even joined this club? And worst of all, it was just taking so long to get through it.

"... So you're a club about breaking the rules... that has a million different rules?" Chinatsu questioned, tilting her head at the somewhat taller girl, "What kind of sense does that make?"

She didn't wait for Chie to respond.

"You're wasting your time, anyway," continued the small brunette, pigtails bobbing as she folded her arms across her chest, "I don't have any interest in joining your club. At all."

Taking money from other students? Even if Chinatsu had interest in any clubs that was hardly going to catch her attention. And it wasn't as if she had any concerns about having her own pocket change stolen. She was quite confident that wasn't going to happen, to begin with.

@RolePlayerRoxas

@King Cosmos

Perfectly placed. Right on the load-bearing meat of the inner thigh, the impact forced the baseball player's stance to buckle, sending him stumbling off to the side as that leg tried to contend with being knocked out of position, his weight, and its newly-forming bruise. He doubted he'd killed it yet— it would take a few more for him to totally remove the boy's ability to put weight on it, but from the looks of things he'd already cut down mobility.

"Welcome to the world of Muay Thai, Farang."

I knew you weren't fit for this. I'll do you a service and end things quickly—

He burst forward, looking to use this opening as a means to close distance. With his opponent so preoccupied, he wouldn't need to worry about any more incoming attacks for the time being. Even if he swung—

Too high. That'll land in front of me. Getting desperate already? Hoping I'll trip?

Kasemchai closed in further, ignoring the crimson orb that fell from its pop-fly arc a scant two feet in front of him. It was simply avoided, all he needed to do was step over. Baseballs weren't even big enough to be an impedance. This was done. In another second, he would be in distance, and this fight was as good as over. That man had one leg, he was batting single-handed, he was off-balance, his head was just dangling there. All he needed was one knee and he would put him away. Maybe even a flying knee for style—

It struck the earth, and Kasemchai's world became dust, and grass, and impact.

It was as if a blanket of raw force had suddenly slammed into him, not only checking his advance, but sending him reeling back bodily. It was only thanks to his many fights of stadium experience, live combat, that he found it in himself to stay on his feet at all. Had he placed a wall in front of him? Just what the hell was that? It was as though he'd run into the fist of the Buddha. If he were any less tough, he'd be dazed and on his ass.

Kasemchai tensed his body, recalculating and recomposing, as the baseball player found his feet and retreated further.

That sealed it. He had to get inside range now. Whatever other tricks this bat contained, Kasemchai was not stupid enough to let this happen again. If such an explosion were accompanied by usual shrapnel and flame, he could have been in serious trouble. He had regained his stance and his wits by now— And would not allow his opponent any room to breathe.

He began his forward march, maintaining his stance with an almost shuffling sort of footwork— always making sure to minimize the amount of time he was outside of his solid, compact base. He would not be caught unawares again. He would not cross over his feet and get knocked end over end because he was unable to brace himself.

He refused.

As he closed the distance, his lead land lanced out with a pistonlike jab. A jab was perhaps an even safer version of the teep in this instance— a range-finder, a harassing tool, something that rarely had one-shot knockout power, but quickly thrown, not compromising his stance, and perfect for forcing reactions. Just because it did not mean a knockout did not mean it could be ignored— any punch to the face was a punch to the face, and in his experience any punch in the face was hard to think through.

He did not intend on letting up. Even if he had only just stepped into the edge of his range (he didn't have the best range on this distance, he could have been entirely outside), the moment the jab reached full extension it was retracted right back into the guard, just as quickly. Punches were snappy things. You didn't leave them out there to try and push your opponent with— If anything, you stabbed with them. Quickly. Precisely.

He jabbed again as he made another step in, using his forward motion to maximize the reach of his punch and add just a bit more weight to it.

Repeatedly.

He would not let up until he could get his hands on him. The moment he began to shield his head, he would attack the body. If he felt like it, he would even teep him in the gut— But he would drown this man in blows all the same.

The exploding baseball had achieved its purpose and bought Ichiro enough time to recover and retreat, giving his opponent something to think about as well as pushing them back. Now when Kasemchai approached him it was slowly and with his guard up, advancing inch by inch with careful footwork and a steady stance. It gave Ichiro a moment to breath, a moment to think, a moment to figure out what it was that had just hit him. At least until the first jab came.

As soon as the Thai student began to move his arm forward Ichiro slid his left hand down the length of his bat and held it in front of him, putting up a barrier between him and the attack just in the nick of time as something slammed into it. Range means nothing to this guy.

A second jab slipped past the bat and clipped the side of his head and he moved his shield to compensate. Peering past his weapon he watched his opponent’s arm with each jab, anticipating where the blow would land and moving his bat into its path by miniscule amounts and moving his head to avoid what he couldn’t block, but even with his IES it was hard to read the path of an attack that came so quickly and which was coming straight towards him. Slowly Ichiro began to adjust and gain a feel for his opponent’s rhythm and movements, but as soon as he began to block or dodge more jabs than he took Kasemchai switched tactics and began to aim his jabs at the body instead; Ichiro moved the bat down to block those as well but it was a wider area to protect, not as mobile, and the damage slowly built up.

The whole time he was under this assault he was backing up, one and a half or two steps for every one of the transfer student, and eventually the blows stopped coming entirely even though Kasemchai still threw punches his way. There it is.

His opponent’s range wasn’t infinite. It had a limit and he was now beyond it. He stopped retreating and waited until he felt the blows come again, never stopping in his attempts to block them even when he was apparently beyond their range, finding the edge of the effect. He stepped back and the attacks stopped again. He stood still and they started again when the Thai student stepped forward. Defining the range and narrowing it down. With this new knowledge he backed away by two steps and stood just beyond his opponent’s range, feigning blocks with his bat to blows that wouldn’t reach him, and waited for the right moment.

When Ichiro was ready he jumped back and put himself comfortably out of Kasemchai’s range before once again falling comfortably into his batting stance. He took a moment to aim his shot and swung, his leg protesting profusely; he couldn’t put nearly as much force into the swing as before but he’d already known that and accounted for it. This attack wouldn’t need his full power behind it to be effective.

A red orb appeared in time to be caught by the bat mid-swing with a crack and a second crack followed it so closely it would be difficult for anyone not listening for it to discern them as two separate sounds at all. The Switch-Hitter suddenly accelerated directly towards Kasemchai, doubling in speed a mere fraction of a second after the initial impact to create the illusion that Ichiro had somehow struck the ball with more force than before even with his injured leg.

@HereComesTheSnow

"...Aw," Chie let out a disappointed sigh at the firm rejection. It was the expected outcome, but it was no less a shame. Her club could be a hard sell most of the time, even though they got so many benefits! Like free pompadour styling!

"Well, that's disappointing..." Chie muttered with a troubled expression, "I would really prefer not to procure your homework every week, Chiba-san. And besides..."

She tilted her head slightly. The faintest hints of a rumbling deep within the school could be felt. More mayhem was occurring somewhere, it seemed. The self-professed delinquent rose to her feet, continuing her reply, "in this school, it's better to be in a club than not. You can only play the loner for so long~"

Her words weren't intended to be a threat. Even her club members had trouble parsing threats from genuine advice. so Chie's intentions tended to be difficult to figure out. She regained that sunny smile, stooping down to effortlessly lift the massive axe in one hand, "In my honest opinion, my club has the best chance of taking on the student council eventually~! ...but if that's still not enough, at least pick a club that won't rely solely on your lone talents~"

@VitaVitaAR

Mimir sat seemingly entranced by the display of violence in front of him as he ate. The transfer student, as Mimir had already noted, used no IED to combat his opponent; however, it didn't seem like he needed it. To any layperson, the Thai's stance could be considered odd, with the distinguished elevated front leg(though slightly less-so in Kasemchai's case). When compared to the more basic 'styles' one could encounter on the street - the untrained ones, you could say it was. While Mimir was certainly no expert - he could recognize it as Muay Thai pretty easily. He knew the basic stances of many styles, and even used a variety of ostensibly unrelated techniques from various martial arts in his own free-form style. He could recognize the skill behind the fighter's movements almost as soon as he made his first attack.
Similarly, he could also recognize the challenger's stance. His father had been a fan of baseball in his earlier years, and was apparently not bad at it, by his tales. While Mimir had never caught on to the American pastime, he knew how it was supposed to look.

The two went at it, measuring each other's potential as they jabbed at each other with their attacks. Mimir's eyes dazzled as the two started to heat up their engagement, revealing bits of their respective arsenals to try and obtain the upper hand against the other.

He stood up and pumped his fist into the air, "Ywuhhh! Beat hus a-" he attempted to cheer them on, before almost choking on a mouthful of food he'd yet to finish. He recovered, albeit with pink-tinged cheeks, and continued watching the two duke it out, gripping his long ponytail in anticipation for the result. He really did enjoy a good fight - It was like TV, but better! And free front-row tickets to boot!

@King Cosmos

How was he blocking with such consistency? He definitely didn't have the fight training to make a proper read at this distance...

Could it be his Inherent Engine? Can he see the incoming burst?

What was more, the baseball player was steadily giving ground as he subtly shifted the bat beneath the storm, widening the gap between them as opposed to it wilting beneath Kasemchai's constant advance. He supposed the boy would run out of room eventually, but this arrangement was not ideal. Classes would begin again before they finished if he meant to back him all the way against a wall from the center of the courtyard.

... Then he stopped, bat braced before him in time with the slight change in angle of Kasemchai's jab but receiving no impact. There was none of that minute compression as the impact traveled through the metal and into the baseball player's arms— and then there was.

Then, his opponent retreated once more, and the Thai fighter understood.

He has a read on the edge of my range. He knows the maximum distance I can strike from now. For that matter, so do I. I'd never gotten the opportunity before in previous fights— remember this distance between bodies. That is as far as I can strike.

It's obvious now that he's got something to make for his lack training in keeping up with my strikes. Every time I've switched levels ort broken a pattern, he's made the correct move to block with that bat. Some I've managed to slip through, it clearly isn't perfect, but that also rules out prediction— he's reacting to something.

He needed an opportunity. Something big to burst in on, this measured advance is too easy for him to back out of— there!

His opponent, even in the face of his aching leg, made a great leap backward, readying another swing and taking a singular moment to aim.

The Thai saw the stance, saw the motion, and threw himself to the side as the crack of the bat heralded another incoming projectile— and winced as the edge of the orb, moving at an impossible double speed, grazed his side with the force of a heavyweight's punch. If it were moving at the velocity it had before, he would have been well clear— did that slugger have this much power left up his sleeve even after his leg had been attacked?

Grit your teeth, this is your opening.

Edges of his jaw tightening, the Thai's conditioning and adrenaline bolstered his fortitude twofold, and he surged forward once his feet caught traction after the sidestep. Assume maybe a second to rechamber after that swing. Assume maybe another to readjust position for the new angle Kasemchai had taken— moving towards his opponent's right. Two, maybe three seconds to get into true striking range was a tall ask when running at someone with a bat during the best of times, and Kasemchai was not unmarked himself.

But he could not let himself be killed at range by this man's endless bag of tricks with a baseball bat.

He would cover this damned distance.

Kasemchai ran. Gone was his shuffling, steady, compact footwork, that which was too slow to use without a ring to pen his opponent into. He ran for all he was worth, long strides chewing up the ground before him as he all but sprinted towards the baseball player, bold plan taking shape in mind.

If that unusually high-percentage blocking rate was based off of reactions rather than predictions, then he knew how to tear those apart— feinting. Show one strike to land another. As the opponent reacts to that which does not come, they leave themselves open, confused, and second-guessing their reads. Much more vulnerable to follow-ups from either a different angle, or different timing.

One stride. Two. Three.

He had built up the momentum well now, and had definitely entered maximum range... but the end goal was to cover the entirety of this space. He had an option for that. Low percentage in the extreme normally, but perhaps with his power, some of the unsafe factors became safe.

Four. Five. Closing in.

Do it now, and let the force carry you the rest of the distance. Don't let him have the chance to hit you out of the air with that bat!

He launched himself up from the ground, springing off his front leg as the rear swung upward, adding height and an extra boost in vertical momentum.

How will his eyes see through a lie?

That motion had placed his left leg in front, leaving his right chambered and ready to deliver a flying knee of crushing force with all of the energy from his weight, his charge, concentrated onto a single point. It was perhaps the most powerful blow in all of Muay Thai, an art famous for devastating knee strikes from the clinch alone— let alone one with room to build momentum over so much distance into.

All he needed to do was wrench that right leg upwards, and all of that bone-rattling power would be brought to bear right on the level of the baseball player's forehead. A shot that could knock out anyone if it landed clean. A huge attack, that traded a huge windup for huge force.

He reared his back midair, as though committed with all of his being to the knee strike and ready to throw his hip into it for a little extra juice—

You should feel proud for making me use such a gambit.

And wrenched his right elbow downward towards the top of his opponent's hatted skull, as though to split a log with an axe. All of his forward motion could compensate for any power disparity between the two strikes— even if the first would have been overwhelmingly strong, the second simply needed to be strong enough.

And if fate was willing, this would carry him close enough to get his hands on him.

Mori suddenly burst onto the rooftop holding a freshly made hotdog. It was still steaming, and it had freshly fried onions, cheese on top, tomato sauce and mustard.

Mori had taken a little detour on the way to make his lunch, and also think up of what to say to the transfer student. There were a lot of things he could offer like information; an established presence, cheap storage solutions etc. The hard part was figuring out what the transfer student was going to care about. The second hardest part was trying to remember her name.

But all of his words died on his lips when he saw her.

@RolePlayerRoxas "Oh fuck it's you," He cursed accidentally.

He didn't usually swear but it was Yamamoto Chie. He'd never hard any dealings with her personally, but plenty of dealings with her little gang. They tried to fleece him for protection money, they tried to coerce him into lowering his very reasonable prices, and they tried to resell his drinks to unsuspecting newbies, which was extremely unacceptable. The best prices were right here, and yet he'd only been able to sock one of them with a can of beans. Just one.

She looked friendly and soft but who knew what lay under the squishy exterior. A heart of evil, no doubt about it.

He needed to refocus his attention on the objective at hand. His mind raced for a way to take back the momentum. He looked the transfer student and then looked at her lunch and then back at the transfer student. One word bounced around in his head.

NORMAL. He thought.

@VitaVitaAR "Hey, you want a hotdog?" He said to her.

Ah fuck. He thought.

Chinatsu narrowed her eyes as Chie seemed... not exactly to threaten her, but to lay out potential consequences? Regardless, the pigtailed girl didn't like it. She didn't like it one bit. But regardless, it didn't really matter in the end. If Chie decided her club was going to be an obstacle for her, then Chinatsu would defeat them all. It was that simple. She wouldn't allow anyone, not a single person, to stand in her way to the top, to defeating the Unbreakable Student Council President Yukimura Atsuko.

Absolutely, absolutely no-one.

"I'm not interested in shaking down students and stealing homework," she responded, simply. There wasn't a single club that she did think was worthwhile for her to join, and this delinquent club was absolutely no different.

And then someone else showed up. Some guy with a hot dog? For a few moments she stared silently. She already had her lunch. Why would she want to eat another, entire lunch? Chinatsu wasn't some glutton like that girl from the neighboring class who powered up by eating or whatever.

"... Who are you?"

@RolePlayerRoxas@RoflsMazoy

He dodged!

Even pitching at double speed the best Ichiro could manage to do was to graze the martial artist as he threw himself to the side to avoid the attack. It seemed that Kasemchai, with his experience and physical conditioning, was just too fast and too skilled to be caught out by something as simple as switching up his speed a bit; it even looked like the Thai had started to dodge before Ichiro had finished his swing. That wasn’t something a lot of people did, they usually froze up as he’d thought earlier, but he already knew Kasemchai wasn’t like that.

His swings were easy to see coming but a big wind-up usually served as a good psychological attack before the ball even came out, no one wanted to get hit after all, and even once they got used to it the variety of projectiles he had made it difficult to know what to do. The swings served to psyche the opponent out because they knew something was coming, just not what it was. He’d seen more than a few students second guess themselves only to get hit by something simple.

Gritting his teeth, Ichiro made a mental note to smack himself after this. Of course something that simple wouldn’t work here; Kasemchai had already shown he was made of sterner stuff than that. It was dumb of him to send the ball straight at the opponent even at double speed after he’d been able to dodge his first attack. If he’d predicted the dodge and added a little bit of an angle to it he could have caught Kasemchai right in the chest. Even so, it had done damage if the wince his opponent couldn’t mask was anything to go by; Ichiro had never himself experienced what a hit from his own AED felt like but he’d been beaned by a pitcher before and it wasn’t a fun experience. His Switch-Hitter was much faster than that and even a glancing blow from something moving at that speed had to hurt.

Painful or not however, the transfer student was already steady on his feet again and rushing towards him, the slow and considered advance abandoned in favour of simply charging his way while Ichiro was still recovering from his swing and at his most vulnerable. Slugger was out of position on the other side of Ichiro’s body and the recoil of his swing was still trying to spin him away from his opponent. For him to choose to attack now of all times? Kasemchai knew an opening when he saw one and had Ichiro been dependent on that one stance to attack from he would have been in a lot more trouble.

Instead of trying to fight the recoil of his last attack Ichiro instead used that momentum to carry his bat around to his other shoulder, chambering it on his left side rather than his right as he brought his other leg forward and shifted his grip to account for swinging the other direction.

Bet you didn’t know I could swing lefty didya?

Regrettably, even being able to do this wouldn’t be enough. The Thai fighter had already sprung from the ground by the time Ichiro was ready to swing and far too close for him to think to use any kind of projectile or duck out of the way. Faced with the imminent prospect of being kneed in the face by a Muay Thai expert much larger than himself Ichiro could only act instinctively and do what he always did in times of uncertainty.

Swing for the fences.

Putting all of his weight forward onto his uninjured left leg, Ichiro swung Slugger with all of the remaining force that he could muster directly at the ribs of his approaching airborne opponent. So focused on his swing was he that he didn’t see the elbow descending towards him before it cracked down on the crown of his skull and the world went black.

Vision returned a moment later and Ichiro found himself in a state of free fall, his legs not responding as he saw his opponent above him and the ground below him. His shoulder hit the ground first and the rest of his body soon followed, the bat that had fallen free of his fingers making a distinctive sound as it joined him. He didn’t know if his last attack had landed or not, but he knew enough to realise he had lost the fight at some point.

@HereComesTheSnow

@King Cosmos

Pain blossomed through his right side as he hit the earth, standing shakily over his fallen foe. As the boy came to a moment later, bat lying at his side, he would see Kasemchai's breaths as now remarkably shallow compared to how deep and controlled they were at the beginning.

Unbelievable.

To think he didn't consider a switch-hitter.

In this game of inches they called fighting.

Just because he'd not laced up gloves?

It was all he could do to tighten his core at the last moment once he'd realized in midair, holding every bit of the tension in his abdominals and serratus that he had naturally produced in his elbow strike. He had no way to evade this blow, no way to dodge it, and was too truly committed to the strike to block. If one could even meaningfully do so.

He had indeed reached far enough to to cleanly strike the batter with real blows, not projections of his own force— and that distance saved him. His adrenaline still pumping wildly through his veins, he knew that even on only one and a half legs, this man's swings were hard as any kick he had ever taken in the ring. So perhaps the baseball bat metaphor had some merit to it after all— though by getting in that close, Kasemchai had done himself another favor. The principles of force generation were universal between all sports— if you're swinging something, be it a kicked leg or a baseball bat, the end is what moves fastest. More acceleration, more force.

If he had kneed from one step further out, he would be the one on the floor, he was sure of it. It would have placed him perfectly into that solid end of the bat's range. Here, thanks to the baseball player stepping into him and further shortening the distance, Kasemchai's velocity had carried him even further inward, and the swing had slammed home with roughly the center of the bat. The instant later, his elbow struck true, and ripped consciousness free from his opponent, his grip upon the bat with it. Denying the proper follow-through that very well could have penetrated his tight core anyway, and done potentially catastrophic damage to his ribs.

Even now, the Thai wasn't fully sure of how hard he had been hit, truly. He knew that he was keeping, almost instinctively, his breaths sharp and short. He would definitely have a welt to match the one he had given that leg... And there was a good chance that bruising reached down to the bone, too. Perhaps he had lost a crack in the confusion? He hoped not.

But he was on his feet, and the opponent was on his back. His smile, crossing the line between self-assured and feral, returned to his face in full.

He had won. As he was always going to. That he had come so close to losing was unexpected, but he had claimed the victory that was his from the start all the same. Today was his, and his point had been proven. The fighter's game was one of inches indeed, and he exceeded in utilizing each one.

Even as he left arm gingerly held at his right side, the Thai rose the arm that had given him the win into the air, bronzed fist stark against the azure sky. His within the shadows of the silver locks framing his face, those green eyes looked upon this man with... acknowledgement. That of one who recognized a good effort in the face of an overwhelming victory, even if the true events of the fight were not nearly so one-sided. To Kasemchai, he had merely been caught up in the storm of a destined great. For this man to prove his worth to this degree in the face of it was... commendable.

This man..?

Ah.

"Your name, Farang."

He extended a hand to the fallen. The assured victor would only be right to show the sportsmanship as such. The warm ache that had begun to set into his ribcage would see to it that this would be remembered.

"I'd like to know who fought so hard against me."

Relka finished her notes on the fight and snapped her book closed, as she predicted the new kid beat Ichiro, even if it looked closer than her earlier prediction. The Thai boy made what seemed to be a reckless gamble, but it paid off this time. She looked through her notebook trying to formulate the best plan for taking on the student council president. Relka understood that no matter what plan she had, there was going to be a few bumps in the road.

She stopped in the middle of the hallway and an other student almost ran her, the boy walked around muttering under his breath, but Relka chose to ignore it. An interesting hypotheses, maybe if she got the two new students they could form their own club. She knew her fighting wasn't that well and she would eventually hit a wall in the higher ranks. They could teach her to fight and help her dismantle the student council. She just had to get them to form the club, they seemed to be loners though, it might be difficult to talk them into joining. Hell they might join an others club before hand, but she had to try.

Relka had no clue where the new girl was at the moment, but she had ways of dealing with that. She activated Loki and her doppelgangers appeared, she wrote notes on two sheets of paper asking Chinatsu to meet her to discuss taking down the student council. And they took off in opposite directions on the hunt for Chinatsu. They weren't able to speak or think for themselves, but they did retain most of her memories. Now she had to get to the Thai boy and snatch him before someone else did.

Another day at Shiroyama High School, another day of countless petty brawls over less than nothing. While Hana understood that this was a battle school, she didn't like the way the president ran things. All she did was make the school more hostile. It was harder to become friends with someone when they'd rather punch you for a bunch of points. And worse yet, there was pressure from your club to go out there and literally kick some ass. Why couldn't the hobbies she loved be separated from beating people up? Her eyes drifted up from her copy of Chushingura to see a baseball player and a boxer guy duking it out. "Why make him join the baseball club if he doesn't like baseball?" she muttered as she watched the battle unfold.

As the heated battle reached its climax and the fighters displayed the pinnacles of their martial skill... Hana's interest faded. The girl was mostly ignorant of fighting techniques, and when they lacked the flourish of staged choreography, she just couldn't get invested. Besides, her delicate hands had seldom formed into fists, let along struck somebody. The person she defeated, she didn't even touch. "Hmm... maybe with a bit of practice they'd play cool warriors for the next play," she hummed to herself. "A bat's kinda like a sword. Maybe when they're done beating each other senseless, I'll see if I can get them on stage."She grinned softly at the prospect. Her play idea hadn't been accepted yet, but if she could generate enough enthusiasm, the club president might accept it.

Hana was already packing up her things and walking off when the final blow was struck. One guy threw baseballs, the other did karate. That was all the information she needed to know if she ended up having to fight one of them. She didn't need to see who won the fight. Besides, something much more interesting was happening...

@Cerces22

She saw one of her fellow students create a couple of clones of herself. However, she wasn't using them to dogpile and beat the crap out of someone. Now that was exciting. She had to go say hello to this person. Besides, if she could make copies, it would be like making three friends in one! Hana approached Relka with her usual sweet smile and a spring in her step. "Hey, that's a pretty neat power you've got there," Hana chirped. "I bet it makes doing chores super-easy." Hana extended her tiny hand, hoping to make her first new friend of the year. "I'm Kouchisuno Hana, but I think honorifics are too formal for friends. You can just call me Hana."

She noticed that Relka had sent her clones off in different directions. "Looks like those two are off in a hurry. Did you lose something? Maybe I can help you find it." Relka didn't seem to give off an aura of violence, nor did she seem to be as hotheaded as so many of the other students in the school. Maybe if she approached the topic carefully, she could get her on the stage. It would be a three for one deal!

No sooner had her clones rounded seperate corners, had a student approached her and began talking. The small brown haired girl introduced herself as Hana, and she was borderline annoyingly friendly. She offered to help her find what her doppleegangers went in search for and Relka gave a half smile.

"Hello Hana, I am Relka, a pleasure to meet you finally." Her voice came out very smoothly, if an octave lower than the other girls around her. Relka kept verbalizations to a minimum, it strained her vlthroat after prolonged use.

"I haven't lost anything, my puppets are only good for a select few things. There isn't a lot going on upstairs, but they know enough to help where needed. Is there something I can help our schools best actress with?" She knew she was painting on a little thick, but Hana preferred to be on stage then in the ring. Relka had very little information on her powers, and couldn't let this opportunity go to waste to fill in an other page. Potentially even turn the girl into an ally in the big picture.

@Tomaru

Rolling himself gently onto his back, Ichiro covered his eyes with one arm to blot out the harsh midday sun. He still wasn’t exactly sure why he was on the ground, other than the obvious, or why his opponent was clutching his side like he was; the last few moments of the fight were a blank for him, one moment he had been happy to have figured out his opponents range than then he was on the ground. He’d definitely blacked out at some point in between which meant he’d have to visit the nurse’s office after this to make sure he wasn’t concussed or something. Head injuries could be scary.

He heard an accented voice above him and reluctantly moved his arm aside to peek past it to see the speaker. Kasemchai was reaching down to offer him a hand in getting back to his feet and, as much as Ichiro would prefer to simply lie there until the pain went away, it was probably wiser for him to get up and get himself moving again. With his free hand Ichiro blindly groped along the ground until he found Slugger and grabbed it by the middle before grabbing the Thai student’s wrist with his other hand and allowed himself to be pulled to his feet.

“I-Ichiro… Rank 7 nobody at your service.”

His head didn’t feel any better with the new orientation and he scrunched his face up as the sensation of being upright left him feeling momentarily lightheaded. “What’s your name? So I know who to say when people ask who gave me this lump?” Now that he thought about it there was something else he wanted to ask as well, about something the transfer student had said during the fight and again just now. “What’s that Farang thing you keep calling me?”

@HereComesTheSnow

[h2]Yamamoto

Chie, silent after Chinatsu's firm rejection, slowly turned her head towards the source of the new voice. The student with the vendor for a device, she recalled her club members talking about him a few times. He seemed a popular target for their club activities.It was quite thoughtful of him to assist in their ventures like that! Though the smile she offered to him, combined with the utterly massive weapon slung casually over her shoulder, was probably a tad disconcerting.

Eventually, she raised her hand, finger extended. She wagged it back and forth, playfully warning Mori, "cursing like that is a privilege reserved for my Decadent Failures, please refrain from such unbecoming language~"

With one more glance in Chinatsu's direction, the delinquent leader simply said, "I regret to hear your decision~ That said, please enjoy your time here at Shiroyama!"

And with that, she began to make her way back into the building, as peacefully as she had arrived.

@VitaVitaAR@RoflsMazoy