The Tiger King (Chaelisa)

12| Fall

It takes seconds.

Mere miniscule, almost worthless pieces of time that suddenly turn so valuable and precious in situations where Time is everything.

It takes seconds to either win or lose; it all depends on who moves fastest.

Lisa knew this very well: Hwangssabu had stressed upon it endlessly.

"You see, in the ring, it's not always the biggest and strongest fighter that wins," he said as he sat both girls on his lap. "It's the smartest one, the one who thinks fast on their feet and figures out their opponent's weakness. Learn to work smarter, not harder, when you're fighting."

"LISA WATCH OUT!"

Lisa turned just in time for a boxing glove to hit her smack in the face, sending her flying backwards.

Ah...I was not fast enough... Lisa thought fleetingly as she crashed to the ground. She sprawled in a daze, feeling the familiar stream of warm sticky blood trickle over her lips.

"Tor-na-do! Tor-na-do!" the crowd chanted, urging her to get up.

"Finish her! Finish her! Finish her!" yelled her opponent's fans.

Lisa felt like closing her eyes and falling into a deep sleep where nothing could touch her, not even the mindless chanting egging her on; not even the blood; not even the flying fists; not even the horrible strangled screams of the dying that still echoed in her head... 

The exhaustion ran deep, a heavy weight in her bones in contrast with the adrenaline urging her to get up and fight fight fight.

"Tor-na-do! Tor-na-do!" roared the crowd, stomping their feet. Their rousing cheers reached a crescendo when Lisa sat up with a groan, holding her head.

In a fight—any fight—the body's reaction is always the same for anybody: fight or flight. Very few people have the fight mode ingrained in them to prolong a fight—it's why street fights generally fizzle out, when the instinct to flee kicks in soon after a couple of punches.

The brain always seeks to distance the body from danger. It takes years of training to suppress this instinct and fight back instead.

For Lisa, she was past caring—she was too tired to fight, or flee. 

Tired of working out. Tired of winning and still stuck in the same place.

Nothing ever changed, not even when she had won four matches in a row that one time, and raised Jennie's hopes of ever improving their wretched existence.

So, so tired.

"Finish her off Kay, come on!"

"Shut up, I got this!"

Squinting against the blinding lights, she saw the Bear circling in her corner, ignoring her eager trainer who was hopping from one foot to the other in agitation as she cheered for her masked fighter. 

Lisa had to give the Bear credit for maintaining that aloof aura.

Of course, she was not the only boxer to hide her identity just to create that mysterious persona but it would get progressively harder to maintain it once her popularity increased. 

The girl was as mysterious as they get, hiding her lower face beneath a black mask. She had raven-black hair with bangs that covered her eyebrows but her eyes, hard in the midst of battle, now shone with something akin to nervous concern.

"Come on Tornado!" The Bear said gruffly, tapping her foot impatiently. "Are you gonna gawk at me all night?" 

"Why don't you show us your pretty face babe?" Lisa called, eliciting several chuckles from the crowd.