บท 12: Futo (2)
Before Kyoto could recover from his little spout of embarrassment, the commentator hushed the crowd with his shrewd voice once more.
"Fighting stances in 3."
Kyoto felt oddly rushed as he hopped into the ring, automatically adopting a loose fighting stance.
He had decided to just adapt his style to whatever his opponent went with.
Futo dropped himself into the ring and instantly tightened his stance. At first glance, Kyoto couldn't make out a single gap.
Futo's straight-waxed back hair highlighted his refined eyes.
He looked like a boxer.
His feet bounced smoothly from side to side as his arms stayed at the perfect distance before his face, at the ideal angles for swift jabs and hooks.
"FIGHT."
The same silence that began every fight emerged.
Kyoto walked backward and forwards unsure of what to do. It felt like he had been shipwrecked.
Futo slowly crisscrossed over to Kyoto.
Kyoto had his hands by his waist.
He wanted to prioritize kicks.
Unknown to Kyoto, a hidden viper was trailing in the grass before him.
Kyoto's eyes were unfocused as Futo's figure struck forward.
The tense atmosphere made his movements look like a blur.
Before Kyoto could react, a flurry of punches came from everywhere in his vision.
Kyoto dodged a few by curving his neck left and right via luck and instincts but received a nasty right hook to his right cheek.
It felt like a wake-up call.
Kyoto tried to use Futo's offensive position where he was essentially just throwing out punches left and right blindly to his advantage.
Kyoto went for a kick to Futo's half but Futo's footwork surpassed his bounds and his foot slipped backward whilst his other foot pounced forwards; a barrage of jabs rapidly blasted into the front of Kyoto's face.
A series of thuds rang out as Kyoto's face became a sore red. Kyoto couldn't rub his face as Futo violently used his rapid footwork to approach him once more.
Kyoto had currently landed 0 hits, missing a calf kick and being punished appropriately.
Futo was on a major streak.
Kyoto couldn't find a single flaw in his methods.
Futo continued his passive-aggressive front.
Feeling forced to make a move as Futo only got nearer, Kyoto dipped down swiftly and used the momentum to incorporate a sweep into his movements.
As his leg swiped across the rubber mat, leaving a deathly burning sensation on his bare foot, Futo charged forwards looking to punish his low figure.
Kyoto rose with speed and rage circling in his mind.
He allowed the air to carry him forward as he utilized his forehead to attempt to smash Futo in a self-damaging action.
Futo caught on in the last moment and forced his own forehead forwards with as much power as his body allowed.
The two's heads collided and smoked like rubber for a few moments after.
In the moment, Futo charged thinking he had gained the advantage as Kyoto's figure stood restlessly.
Kyoto unleashed an impending right kick to Futo's chest. The impact felt hollow but the attack landed before Futo's arms could reach his skin.
Kyoto stood like a man restored from death as his eyes pierced through Futo's confidence easily.
Futo was sent skidding back.
Futo's body bent slightly as his feet shuffled backward from the force of the kick. Heavy pants emerged from Futo's mouth. His ribs felt like hell. Each movement turned up the pain notches several times.
Kyoto had now landed a head-butt and a solid kick to Futo's chest.
Utilizing the range advantage of kicks seemed to be Kyoto's best bet now.
Kyoto and Futo were practically bouncing up and down to keep their momentum strong.
Kyoto sensed Futo was about to charge through some sort of sixth sense. He clung to this sixth sense and did a risky move.
As Futo charged recklessly his arms clearly going for some sort of wild punching barrage, he grew overconfident in his footwork.
Rapidly, Kyoto used his brain whirring inhumanely fast to time his kick.
Like a miracle from under the heavens, Kyoto's entire body spun right, faster than he could control.
Kyoto released an unnaturally fast spinning heel kick. His body twisted clockwise in a blur as his head went under and his legs flew up powerfully. The speed and trajectory of the kick sent Futo's head jerking back in a putrid kind of way.
Futo dropped to the floor, his body sort of slipping from its stronghold, before getting up instantly in outrage. His body had briefly given up on him due to the power that had just crashed into his head in one fluid movement.
Kyoto's head and arms dipped to the floor briefly before he got himself up.
Kyoto had bet a huge deal on that kick landing.
Futo seemed less stable now and far less arrogant. His footwork had been forgotten in his mindless stupor.
But Futo felt like he had awakened. It felt like his mind was on another spiritual plane. Ready to intercept any attack.
He hopped from left to right keeping his feet extremely ground-born.
His eyes had an odd white shine stuck in them.
Kyoto assumed he only needed 2 more solid kicks to win.
Going in ruthlessly, Kyoto tried to launch another basic front kick into Futo's chest using the range to his advantage.
'Predictable.'
Futo's mind flashed in what seemed like his evolving state of mind.
His footwork drove him to the left impeccably as his fists followed along like river water.
Before Kyoto could react, Futo didn't punish his kick but rather punished his face.
Kyoto tried to get his hands in the way to protect his face but a deafening uppercut sent his sense of direction everywhere as a pang of pain entered his system disrupting his thoughts.
After the uppercut came strong and numbing blows that surfaced all around Kyoto's front.
Every time Kyoto tried to return a punch, Futo's perfect footwork weaved him away before he would unleash a painful counter.
His iron defense had returned.
Every time Kyoto made a move, it was turned futile as the front of his body met with more bloody hits.
Kyoto watched in frustration as Futo's figure swayed from side to side. It seemed like Futo would go down in one hit, but that hit never came.
Futo looked at Kyoto blankly.
"Should've taken the ryo."
Kyoto cursed under his breath.
"Silence."
Futo looked at Kyoto wildly.
"You won't beat me. Give up."
"Give up."
"Give u-."
Seeing a gap in Futo's guard Kyoto went for a simple front-snap kick upwards.
His foot blasted into Futo's chin causing his head to rock back and forth rapidly.
Kyoto had assumed that Futo would've fallen but he still stood, rocking and swaying even more.
"Why."
"Won't."
"You."
"FALL."
Kyoto's words were hoarse and those of an exhausted man.
Kyoto sprinted to Futo with unprecedented speed before locking onto his shoulders with both hands.
Before Futo could even look down, Kyoto launched himself into Futo and crashed into his head with a flying knee.
Something cracked.
Futo's body finally lay slumped on the floor.
Each of Kyoto's attacks had pushed in enough damage to force him unconscious.
It had taken several crippling attacks to the head for Futo to finally fall. It seemed that his provocation at the end was his last hope as he sensed his weakening physical state.
The crowd looked dumbfounded. They had assumed that Futo was winning by default.
The commentator shifted in, once again amazed by the Uchiha.
"Folks, the dark horse has reached the top of the hill first once again."
"The Uchiha has prevailed."
"Uchiha."
Someone muttered the word.
Soon a sea of mutters and low-toned whispers filled the stands.
It was a different mood compared to Kyoto's last victory.
Kyoto looked around peculiarly.
He had won, but such a freakish atmosphere had formed.
Soon, the mutters got louder as people accepted reality.
"UCHIHAA."
"UCHIHAAAA."
Shrieks and screams resounded in the stands.
The referee hidden behind the stands entered the stage before yanking Kyoto's right arm up. Kyoto's black ai was covered in dust.
Kyoto strolled off the stage, once again in victory.
Kyoto's ranking: #75 -#51
1 spot away from the top 50.
A look of satisfaction bore into Kyoto's face.
Futo woke up long after the stands had been deserted and the warmth in the air, cooled.
He realized that he was in the exact same spot where he had last stood.
"Fuck."
Futo's fists clenched up before pathetically wasting away.
"I-I lost."
Futo's deep breaths became hyper-ventilations.
"First to th-that man."
Futo had memories that gnawed at him in the cold of a certain man.
"A-and now even that guy?"
"I lost to an adolescent?"
Kyoto's face scrunched up through intense emotions.
"FUCK."
His shout was consumed by silence as it wavered in the atmosphere.
The whites in his black eyes shook as his breath wavered. A moment of who he had become resonated within him as his shout shifted back down his throat forcefully.
Futo picked himself up lightly, his head felt heavy and painful to move around.
He had received several nasty kicks but being kneed in the face had ended it all.
Futo felt bitter nostalgia as he remembered his last moments. How he had attempted to win through words as the energy slipped out from his body.
Futo wiped off sluggish sobs off his face as he exited out into the vast shinobi world.
Ready to start the entire cycle again.
And one day.
He would return.
Never to lose again.
Never to fall to mortal blades.
He had a long journey set ahead of him.
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