The Idols of Iron Fist

The Thirtieth Match

                                                      The Thirtieth Match

    “The next match will be between Ganryu versus Makoto Kikuchi!”

    “Finally!” Iori sighed. “You! You’ve been grieving like crazy and you haven’t even fought yet, so—h-hey, where are you going? G-get back here! I’m not done with you!”

    Makoto ignored her and went straight down into the arena. At this point, it didn’t matter to her if whoever her opponent was killed her. A part of her was saying to just let them win. But the stronger part of her, the part that had started to take over more and more ever since Hibiki’s death, was urging her to win, or at least to try, to set an example for those who watched her.

    She would show them that she could do more than just sit there and grieve.

    Her opponent was a large man wearing nothing but a loincloth, commonly known as a mawashi. Makoto noted that he was a sumo wrestler.

    Strong. This guy is obviously really strong, but I’ll bet he’s slow. I’ll just have to out-maneuver him.

    Ganryu dipped his head for a moment and got himself into a ready pose. “I have a reason to win,” he called. “Do you?”

    Makoto laughed. “Not really,” she admitted. “Aside from the fact that if I don’t, a few very important people will be missing me.”

    “Fight well,” Ganryu demanded. “That way, it will be that much more impressive when I defeat you. And then, my beloved Julia will be forced to notice me, don’t you think?”

    Makoto nodded. “Sure, perhaps she will. And when I win, maybe I’ll finally be able to smile again. You think so?”

    “Perhaps,” Ganryu answered. “I would like to see a girl such as you defeat a strong wrestler such as I. We shall see!”

    “Geez, I’m getting seen as a girl all over the place,” Makoto squealed. “I like this tourna—wait, no. I hate this tournament. Well, the fact that I’m getting to fight now is kinda cool, but everyone is dying, and I hate that.”

    “Do not worry,” Ganryu insisted. “I’ll make sure you join them soon.”

    Makoto narrowed her eyes. “We’ll see about that!” Alright, Makoto, this is it. This is the part where you prove your strength. After a quick deep breath, Makoto charged the large sumo wrestler, who stood still and watched her.

    Ganryu watched her and lifted his hands to block her attack, but at the last second Makoto swerved and ran around to his back. She slammed her foot into the back of Ganryu’s head, but the large man hardly seemed fazed. He turned just in time to notice that Makoto was already behind him again. This time, she sent her fist flying into his spine as hard as she could. If she listened, Makoto thought she heard a slight crack, but Ganryu seemed completely unhindered. He turned to face her and moved his hands as though he would shove them against her body and knock her against the wall, but Makoto quickly sprang into the air and back-flipped out of the way, landing only inches from the wall.

    Too close. Dang it…I have to pay more attention…

    Ganryu chased after her. Makoto dodged off to his left and kicked his head. Ganryu caught her leg over his shoulder and slammed her onto the ground over his back. Makoto let out a cry of surprise, but she quickly recovered and returned to her feet—or rather, her foot that wasn’t locked in Ganryu’s iron grip. The strong man yanked her leg up and Makoto slipped onto her back again. She winced.