Description: Blanka, invited to tea! Alma, invited to NeoLeague! Oswald, invited to watch! EVERYONE, worried about Hotaru! ( Winner: Alma )
The sun shines brightly this fine spring Saturday afternoon, the clear sky letting warm rays pass unobstructed down to the passerby. It is a quiet day, a relaxed day, one for ambling walks and idle conversation, a soothing respite from the week as the ties that normally bind slacken and seem to disappear. There are many stops for those happy to lose themselves in this balmy moment, and one of them, having slowly but surely become one of the more prominent, is the tea shop Le Petit Chien. Serving specialty teas and well-known for their extraordinary tea ice creams of unusual flavors, graced by charming outdoor seating, it is said that they were 'discovered' and made popular by one Alma Towazu, psychic fighter-model extraordinaire. Such was never his intention, but the rumor has only enhanced his considerable clout at the store, the employees having long sinced been charmed by his modest manner and gentle amiability, belying his now respectable reputation as a fairly formidable young warrior and a champion of virtuous causes.
Even Papillon, the small dog for whom the cafe is named, is quite fond of him.
"...it's truly an honor to feel of help to today's youth..."
Indeed, there are many reasons to notice Alma, just superficially: his height, his hair, his suspiciously -- or alluringly, depending on whether or not you are a squealing Japanese fangirl -- androgynous beauty. More nuanced, however, is the irony of his demeanor; for rather than standing out, he tends to naturally downplay himself with his subdued expressions and soft words. Such does he look now, sitting straight but limbs relaxed, a steaming ornate cup of green tea held casually aloft in his right hand, speaking quietly with a sincere little smile to his companion, red-tinged blond bangs obscuring one of his warm hazel eyes. It's easy to dislike a celebrity; it's harder to dislike a celebrity who perpetually seems unaware that he is one, or if he does, in his earnestness to engage with others always sets that knowledge aside.
There are many brands of charisma; this is one.
"...but it's important to take some time and go back to fighting like this... I wouldn't want to lose perspective, and forget my own passion for my work in all the struggle..."
Yet even were none of these things true, Alma would still be noticable today-- and why is that? Because as he sits outside his signature tea shop, he is sharing a pot with the Green Machine himself, Blanka, the legendary jungle beast.
"I feel very fortunate to not have my passions and responsibilities conflict."
Alma, seemingly perfectly comfortable, takes a sip.
"Do you have any particular passions, Blanka-san?"
It's true that Alma is a generous-hearted person, sincere in his desire to learn about others, convinced that through this he better understands himself; it's true that Alma has let go his own personal discomfort time and time again for the benefit of others, sure that if his dislike is not rational it is in his own best interest to let it go. But this is not why Alma seems so completely at ease around Blanka. No, in fact, Alma has an advantage here, that a non-psychic might not.
He sees Blanka's aura.
He sees a fellow fighter.
"Do you have any particular dreams or ambitions?"
And thus he is at home.
In the background, slowly, the cameras are being set up...
"Blanka... want to do important things." /What/ those important things are, well - that's still a mystery to the jungle man. Dressed for the occasion in something low-key, a hooded sweatshirt and heavy jeans, he could /almost/ blend in with the younger crowd that wanders outside the tea shop. Admittedly, few of them would have the dark green skin or wild spiky mass of orange hair that is Blanka's trademark - but in the last few months, a few /have/ been seen, one way to tell that Blanka's slowly gaining the appreciation he's looking for, the respect and adulation overtaking the fear of him. A fierce fighter, he's always found times to show a softer side - being invited to do 'tea' with Alma Towazu is just another way of expressing it. He sips carefully at his cup, the jutting jaw barely able to handle the delicate motion, but the exaggerated care he takes makes the act /almost/ comical. The outstretched pinkie on his holding hand could tip it over the edge to humorous - but Alma's far too polite to giggle, right?
He'll be good enough to give the other fighter a longer, more thought out answer - though really, Blanka has never been quite good at 'thiking'. A creature of the moment, raised in the jungle where introspection led to being in someone's mouth, he had to learn to simply act without waiting.. a habit he's had to unlearn quickly in this world. He offers the model a toothy grin, and then adds one more thing. "Want to find mother. Become famous fighter, she will see, sometime. She will find me and Blanka will be happy." Not that he isn't happy now, mind - what with the setup of the battle, the thrill and promise of adrenaline just moments away. It's just that.. with his mother here, it would be so much /better/. Sip. Cup to plate, relaxed sigh - Blanka's as prepared as he can be.
Alma smiles back, wider than before.
He's not only too polite to laugh, but too polite to say anything about Blanka's first comment; although he is tempted to encourage him, most likely saying something like 'A noble goal!' would just sound patronizing. Instinctively oversoliticous, it doesn't occur to Alma that such social nuance is probably far beyond Blanka, and the jungle creature would probably take him at his word. What he does think of, however, is that even when completely vague and undefined, such an ambition automatically takes Blanka beyond many of the less noticable figures that now populate the YFCC, boys and girls with no such dreams, with no direction in which to take their potential. Blanka is at least moving in /a/ direction; a great deal of Alma's job now involves getting people to a place where they feel safe moving at all. He appreciates Blanka's sentiment.
What comes next, however, seems to actually move Alma. Blinking, he sets his cup down and looks into his companion's eyes, even as the Neo League officials nod to one another and begin to signal that the streetside fight is about to begin; a small crowd is already gathering. "That's a good dream, Blanka," he says softly, actualy averting his eyes for a moment before looking back and smiling again. "I want my mother to be proud of me too."
He rises slowly, still smiling, the sun at his back casting bright rays that embrace and flare around his tall frame-- tall, at least, in comparison to everyone but Blanka.
"We'll both fight to pursue our passions and fulfill each other's dreams, then," he continues, voice sure. "I'll stay true to myself, and never forget the challenges that I love-- and I'll try to bring you a little bit more fame in this battle, to bring you one more step along your way."
Even opponents are allies in Alma's battle, and that's a good thing.
It is, after all, a jungle out there.
"Don't hold back," he continues, warmly now, as a waitress quietly pulls the table away from them, Alma finishing his tea and setting it down before pushing his wire-frame chair to the side; an empty space has already been cleared for them, though a few brave souls remain seated in the outdoor seating farther from them, given front-row seats for today's eye-catching battle. "I'm looking forward to seeing your unique style in action, Blanka-san."
Stepping back, straightening his posture and letting his legs and arms relax, Alma begins to sway ever so faintly, quietly setting his own rhythm as he breathes deep of the soft spring air. "Please," he says, extending his left hand forward in what might be either a fighting stance or a beckoning gesture, "do your best."
The fight for glory begins anew!
COMBATSYS: Alma has started a fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|
Too much flowery talk! Blanka cannot follow all of it! He can, however, understand the gist - and the quiet words he's offered before Alma stands are tucked away and treasured. To hear someone as famous as the other man understand and agree, share his dream of making his Mama proud!? How could he do anything less than his best for the man! Carefully, he gets out of his chair, his perch there (No, no, he never sits normally in chairs, his feet always on the seat instead of on the ground) undisturbed as he extricates his bulk from it's comfy confines. He stretches out to his full height, lazily bringing his arms up and over, giving the gathering crowd a good look at his height, and the massive size of his hands and arms. Popeyesque, one might say, for good reason. Once the cameras are rolling, the green giant gives Alma a wink, a whispered. "'... Blanka do his best. Promise.'" and then howls out bestially to the sky, an exaltatnt exhalation of enjoyment - he /lives/ for this, now!
In the crowd, a few 'AWH-ROOOS!' can be heard, and he laughs, mighty maw hanging open, but the grin never really stops. He moves fluidly, launching himself directly for Alma, attempting to tussle the man to the ground with a speedy shoulder-charge, following up with a hip toss and throw. It's a move he used in the jungle to get obstinate banana bunches off the trees - let's see how much a-peel Alma has in comparison!
COMBATSYS: Blanka has joined the fight here.
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Alma 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Blanka
COMBATSYS: Alma blocks Blanka's Wild Shoot.
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Alma 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Blanka
"Hmn!"
Alma meets Blanka's loud howl with a quiet grunt of his own, but the comparative silence of his sound is deceptive; within his eyes burns a flame that grows only brighter with his opponent's celebration. He can feel the spirit of the battle already, the eyes of the audience upon him, the circumstances all convening to make possible the noble and life-affirming clash of souls.
He is ready.
The extended left palm provides the buffer he needs; Alma thrusts it out and catches Blanka's shoulder, pushing himself away and stealing some of the jungle creature's momentum for his own use. The light that blazes within the depths of his gaze now, hints of white and pinks and purples, blurs into existence faintly now as a halo around his legs, trailing afterimages as he attempts to sneak in a low sweep kick before Blanka can recover, causing his opponent to stumble before smoothly lashing out with a graceful but unpredictable further series of kicks, the many blurring images that trail behind his strikes further obfuscating his intentions-- and making a delightful and mesmerizing lightshow out of his attack.
Calm and composed, the young man's eyes are intent, body and spirit balanced.
COMBATSYS: Blanka dodges Alma's Autumn Rain.
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Alma 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Blanka
"WHUFH!" Blanka's breath is caught out of him as Alma simply .. vanishes? Moves to the side, stealing Blanka's momentum. He staggers, stumbles wildly as the foot comes around, looking as if for /certain/ he should fall when the sweep lands. However, not all is as it seems for the gentle giant, the green behemoth laughing as he catches himself on his giant hands, and flips upright again, just in front of Alma's series of kicks, the afterimages leaving a spark in Blanka's eyes. He's a little slow to recover, the beast-man rubbing at his gold eyes afterwards, blinking the sparks of power back and away. "Very goood!" he howls, clapping eagerly. He shows a childish zest for this fight, much like almost every fight he's done - to him, it's a game. 'Fight' and 'Playtime' still hold the same meaning to him.
"Now.. my turn!" Blanka drops down and forwards as Alma rechambers from the kick, hunkered into something akin to an attack crouch, reminicient of the way a stingray will fade into the ground before striking off the ocean's floor. Admittedly, with his bright green skin and orange hair, the 'disguise' part doesn't work well at all - but it does let him tense every muscle in his body - and this time, when he lashes forwards, it's with a one-two kick of his own, mighty muscles swinging in a shin-kick aimed at knocking Alma to the side. Another jungle special, used for taking down /trees/ that would not give up their banana splendor - he used it less often, because even /he/ knows that you have to keep the tree alive to get more banananananas from it!
COMBATSYS: Alma interrupts Medium Kick from Blanka with Rising Fury.
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Alma 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Blanka
Alma acts on instinct.
"Huyahh!"
Eyes flashing, the handsome youth remains undeterred as his elaborate series of kicks fails to make contact-- and then his opponent is a blur, lunging at him, and were it not for Alma's utter faith in his own intuitions he no doubt would have been cut down just like one of those trees. But, Soul Power reacting automatically to the detection of Blanka's violent intent, the diffuse light around Alma's right leg all of a sudden ignites fully, revealing its true power in the plumes of sparkling white flame that emerge. He kicks out quickly and sharply, and even as Blanka's kicks begin to impact Alma's own return kick is slamming into the beast's side, knocking Blanka slightly into the air.
It's clear by the way he flinches that the model has still taken some damage of his own, but that moment of lifting his opponent off the ground is all he needs. Twisting in all his scintillating glory, the soulfire-wreathed fighter rises into the air, seeming to simply ascend rather than jump as he launches two more fire-imbued roundhouse kicks into his opponent's airborne body before gracefully touching ground again.
Despite it all, he looks a little dazed.
"What raw power," he murmurs, a faint awe mingling with the light in his eyes.
He had been off in his own little world, under a large table-parasol even as the match was getting set up. One leg crossed over the other, relaxedly sitting back and reading a book. The noise was getting to him - but once he looks up the annoyance fades away. Finally, a fight that was starting up and HE wasn't part of, there's a quiet and reserved sigh of relief as he sets out of his chair, placing cup atop the now closed book. Well, it wasn't hard to spot Blanka, to say the least, doing the martial tango with ... well another warrior ... this one not so readily identifiable.
"BLANKA!" Oh that familiar and brief bellow from a corner of the crowd, "I WON'T FORGIVE YOU IF YOU DON'T TEACH HIM THE SAME LESSON YOU TAUGHT ME!" Even the crowd has to pause and turn a moment, as he keeps his book nice and steady with one hand, the other lifting the cup to his lips to take a drink, "YOU ARE THE ONLY ONE TO KNOCK ME DOWN IN THE LEAGUE SO FAR SO DON'T DISAPPOINT!"
What is Blanka doing in the air?! BLANKAS ARE NOT MEANT TO FLY!!
The first kick knocks him upwards, his body already starting to twist and adjust, so that he can land, catlike, on all fours, and regroup. The twist is a bad choice however, as it opens up his kidneys for the next two hits, each roundhouse arcing the mossy monster further up. He lands awkwardly as Alma comes down, landing with a crunch on the road, but quickly getting back to his feet. He starts to move fowards, and then...
Yelling! Blanka's head whips up and over, knowing the voice well enough - Oswald! The poor guy who had Blanka land on him at the end of a Neo League, oops. He gives the man a thumbs up, and then gives Alma another toothy grin, wide-eyed, gold eyes staring into Alma's own. "Cannot let.. fan down. You understand." He says it with good humor, and then starts to circle Alma, looking for weakness, a place to strike and strike hard. He knows what he /wants/ to do - it's up to him to make sure that Alma gets out of position enough to make it possible!
COMBATSYS: Blanka focuses on his next action.
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Alma 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Blanka
Alma knows that Blanka's strength is formidable, and it is to his advantage to keep the jungle warrior at bay, pressing him at a distance rather than allowing the fight to go to infighting or desperate grappling, where he doubts his own power will be sufficient to endure-- on the other hand, Blanka's stamina is also great, and he doesn't want to overextend himself and become fatigue. It's a careful balance, as it always is, but Alma's preternatural awareness of his own body and spirit's condition allows him to keep such understandings to the level of intuition, his conscious mind not interfering with his overwhelming urge to express himself through combat, his strategies on the level of the subconscious.
When Oswald shouts, Alma glances over only for a moment, but it is long enough-- he has no idea who the strange older man is, but more than his unusual appearance marks him as different. He too has the spirit of a fighter, and his aura glows with mysterious and obscure colors, the colors of one with an equally mysterious and obscure history. Alma is already interested, but it is clear this man does not know who /he/ is either, and knows only Blanka.
Very well then.
"Of course," he replies, grinning softly. "I'll prove my strength, too."
Alma's opponent is taller than he, but his personalized Hiten-Ryu style aids him in aiming expert kicks to keep the hunched-over beast away; thus does he kick again, this time without any flair, feinting into a stagger-step forward that seems to indicate a forward punch before instead bringing up his knee and lashing out with a fierce front snap kick.
As long as he can dominate the /rhythm/ of the fight...
"Ha!"
...he'll find his moment, he is sure.
COMBATSYS: Blanka fails to interrupt Light Kick from Alma with Electric Thunder.
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Alma 0/-------/--=====|====---\-------\0 Blanka
Blanka is going to show Alma something, alright - something /powerful/. He's going to show the man the heart of the jungle, and what it means to him, what his life was like growing up. The deepest pieces of who Blanka is, and what things mean to him - well, Alma will see! He grins eagerly as Alma murmurs again to him, and then the kick is brought out. Blanka hunkers down and digs his fingers into the concrete, bracing himself on the earth. Grounded thusly, he howls as the foot comes in, trying to time the electrical spark of his chi at /just/ the right moment.
He's wrong.
The foot impacts him in the side of the head, knocking him to the side. Pushed away, Blanka's body explodes into blue and white lightning, but it's nothing more than a pretty show at the distance he is from Alma. Undeterred, undisappointed, he howls in enjoyment, slapping the ground. "Very... fast! Blanka impressed!" He lurches to his full height, and mimes a boxer's stance, rubbing his fists together. "Now.. have to show you /strong/." With that, he motions Alma in again. This should be interesting.
Even a psychic couldn't see /that/ coming.
Alma gets away feeling lucky-- but to be fair, he could tell that Blanka was waiting for something, and he knew better than to go all-out right then. Still, that blaze of electricity looks formidable indeed, and he ends up wondering if perhaps he should have viewed some fight videos of Blanka before accepting the randomly assigned Neo League challenge.
But, no, he always prefers it this way; he wants to discover his opponent for himself, directly before him, his tactics spontaneous and his mind open, his spirit pure and his heart resolute.
And it is thus that his right hand seems to ignite of its own accord, his eyes flashing with the light of his inner fire as he leans forward and gracefully casts his palm out as though making an offering.
"Hmn--!"
Alma feels only the need to express himself, to bring forth the fullness of his fighting spirit and make it known to his worthy adversary, to initiate again and again the clash of souls until their identities blur and in the heat of battle their very beings intertwine. Thus does he present this, a swirling gout of flame that darts forward, cresting like a wave through the air and aiming to break and crash against Blanka's form-- and, invisible to the eyes of others, his very self.
Forgetting all else, Alma grins soft and wide, eyes gentle but sparkling with his might.
COMBATSYS: Alma successfully hits Blanka with Sacred Wave.
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Alma 0/-------/=======|======-\-------\0 Blanka
When in doubt, run straight into things! Blanka has never lived by half-measures - the way his life has been laid out so far prevented it quite handily. He's always had to focus on day to day life, on being indomitable and taking every chance he can in order to survive and grow strong. It's part of the way his life was set, don't you see? As the sweeping wave of energy crashes forwards, Blanka simply tries to leap /through/ it, trusting his inner fortitude to hold him steady, like the strong hand of a captain on the ship's wheel in a storm. He's not easily broken, nor easily swayed. The energy, however - is very strong. It batters at his will, forcing him to quail inside - for a second, he looks lost, then shakes it off with a snarl and sniff. He's more than that - more than some beast to be cowed by man's red flower. No, no, he is /Blanka/.
"Not enough to stop Blanka!!" he yells, his arms coming up and around, attempting to give Alma a big hug indeed. He'll go for a grapple, a grab and bring his maw into play, biting down on Alma's trapezeus and head if he can. He's not pulling the teeth out, no - the pressure of his mighty jaw should be good enough for this fight. Besides, would Alma /ever/ forgive him if he got blood on the model's suit??!?!
COMBATSYS: Alma endures Blanka's Wild Fang.
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Alma 1/----===/=======|=======\-------\0 Blanka
"Urrghh--!"
Not enough to stop Blanka, indeed. Alma can only be impressed by the swiftness of his opponent's recovery, yet if anything his grin widens at Blanka's resolve. In fact, as the jungle-trained warrior bounds close, it appears -- perhaps it was a trick of the light, but it appears -- that Alma has simply spread his arms, as though preparing to embrace his adversary.
Embrace he does, or at least he is embraced, but the pain is more than he could have imagined, teeth gritting as he feels his flesh crushed between Blanka's mighty jaws, knowing that the teeth themselves would do even worse. Yet the pain brings the world sharply into focus, summons up from within him the clarity and the fury that he needs to fully express himself and his power.
"Haaaaaa--"
Alma's arms wrap tightly around Blanka, even as the fanged beast continues to gnaw at his neck, even as the agony tears through his body, and looking over the green man's shoulder, his eyes blaze brighter than before, his very pupils obscured in the field of light arising there.
"--AAAAAAAHHH!"
And throwing his head back, unleashing a passionate cry to the heavens, an geyser explodes beneath them in sworling pinks and purples, threatening to consume them both in the searing flames of Alma's ardor.
The power is Alma's own, and it will not assault his self; it will do no more than ruffle his stylish -- and thankfully unbloodied -- clothes and hair. But the barrage of light, if Blanka does not sense it coming in time to kick out of Alma's grip or brace himself, will do much the same as the Sacred Wave, and far more intensely.
It's everything he has to offer.
He simply cannot hold back!
COMBATSYS: Blanka endures Alma's Full Confession.
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Alma 0/-------/-----==|=======\====---\1 Blanka
Squeeze! This is probably the hardest hug Alma has ever gotten! The way he's getting held and slobbered upon, Alma might get flashbacks to that one time he was mobbed by schoolgirls at Taiyo. Ew! It is to be noted however, that Blanka has minty melon-fresh breath, which comes from being a relative vegeterian. Sure, sharp teeth are supposedly for meat-eating, but really there isn't anything better than a tasty melon. And melons will definitely be for afters, after this brawl - Blanka can already tell that he will need a refreshing drink of some flavor to take the bite of this fight out of his system!
When Alma doesn't let go, Blanka gets a little nervous - after all, most people attempt to escape the grip once he's gotten it - the few that have /held/ on usually have more to give than Blanka can take - and tonight is no exception. As that energy courses through Alma's frame and then Blanka's own, he howls muffledly around Alma's shoulder. It's almost physically painful, the way that the energy assauls his willingness to fight, batters at his ego, to force him to lie down, to play dead.. To accept Alma as the alpha male in this battle. But for all Alma's power, he's made one mistake.
Blanka backs down to /noone/. He holds all the tighter, riding through the explosion and waves of energy, still clutching to the mighty model's back. Slumped, dazed, Blanka manages to bring his head up, gold eyes dulled, but still seeing well enough. Over Alma's shoulder, Blanka's voice can be heard, amused - sore, dazed. "Blanka.. understand now. Always give all. Now.. Blanka's turn." With that, he clutches tightly to Alma, and it's /Alma's/ turn to deal with the sudden blaze of energy, enough to blow out the cameras, were they not specifically prepared for the lightning storm that surrounds the two. Whether he gets away or not, Blanka has shown him just what he is made of - whatever happens today, Blanka can still be very proud of what he's done.
COMBATSYS: Blanka successfully hits Alma with Direct Lightning.
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Alma 1/------=/=======|==-----\-------\0 Blanka
Was it truly a mistake?
Even as the lightning courses through him, even as Alma's head is thrown back by the sheer force of Blanka's response, the two fighters clinging to each other as they both unleash every ounce of their power at one another, though no one can tell-- Alma feels strangely at peace. His consciousness removed from the events as his body is battered, thanks both to his epic expenditure of power and the great pain now tearing through him, he can feel only flattered that life has presented him with his opportunity, to both share everything he has and to have the one with whom he has shared respond in kind. Truly, this is a meeting of warriors.
Truly, this is the clash of souls.
The last jolt finally tears them both apart, Alma stumbling backwards and somehow, somehow only barely preventing himself from collapsing to the ground, pure willpower keeping him on his feet. Gasping for breath, Blanka's energy still crackling around him, Alma has yet to regain full control over his own functions and finds himself unable to reply to his opponent's words. Yet in a sense he does not need to; meeting the eyes of the green fighter, through all the agony, still a sincere smile rises up from within the wounded youth.
And then, as if unable to help himself, he blurs forward.
"UURRRAAAHHH!"
Never has such an incoherent cry been so expressive, and one who can say his piece in howls will surely understand that language is unnecessary now. A storm of righteous fury, Alma feels his spirit ascend to new heights as his body seems to move of his own accord, attacking which it should be finished, striking when it should be shocked and done. The last of his flames literally explode into being around his feet and fists, little bursts of power echoing through the air like pink and purple firewords as after every punch and kick he aims toward Blanka a little explosion follows.
This is the final trial...
Yet it is fair to say that whatever happens, they have both already passed.
COMBATSYS: Blanka fails to interrupt Trial by Fire EX from Alma with Electric Thunder.
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Alma 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Blanka can no longer fight.
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Alma 0/-------/------=|
Trial by fire? Blanka's been through those. And sadly, it brings back memories that he keeps trying to hide. The crash of the plane when he was just a baby, the smashing explosion of Howard's arena so recently, the injured people around. In the end, Blanka cannot endure the interference of those memories, his concentration shaken to the point that he's an easy target for the model-fighter. (dual class, don'thchanknow!) Each impact is met with his hands, but the spirit beneath is wounded sore and quick, willingness to fight battered, blasted down. As Alma's last punch comes in, Blanka braces, prepares..
And catches it.
In the palm of his hand, Alma's hand fits so well - like holding a small orange or the like - burning, singing skin, Blanka shakes his head, giving the fight to the other warrior with a muted grin, and a laugh. "Alma tougher than Blanka... is good." With it said, he yanks Alma's arm upwards, and points to him for the crowd. He won't fall down here - but he and Alma can both tell that it's sheer will alone keeping Blanka on his feet. "Winner... is Alma! Good fight.. am sorry, Oswald.. Blanka try harder next time!!!"
The fight was over, and the Irishman is already on his way through the crowd. Book tucked under arm, the cup he held last was gone as he enters the 'ring' from the edge of the circle of people. "Spare your dignity, Blanka." He crouches a bit and gives a solid pat on the shoulder, "...fought like a man, you've nothing to be pining about."
Even as he's crouched his head turns to look up at the opponent of the moment, giving him a scrutinizing stare followed by a respectful nod, "An excellent show of martial skill, Mister Alma. You and Blanka put on quite the performance, I'm impressed."
He starts to turn as he finishes that phrase, reaching down to lift up one of the tremendous treetrunk-arms looping it over his own shoulder, trying to at least give him some sort of support, "Come on, son." He groans as he tries to pull Blanka's weight up, "Time to get back to the Dojo."
Something is strange.
It's not just strength or strategy that allow Alma to penetrate Blanka's defenses this final, crucial time. No, he can detect, through the impact of his psychic energy against his opponent's aura, that something seizes up within him, some moment of weakness allowed to trigger in the midst of their fatigue.
Yet this itself does not feel wrong, nor does Alma feel that the victory he senses is coming is any lessened by it-- for he sought to encounter the fullness of Blanka's self as well as express his own, and this repressed memory, this secret that Alma cannot divine but that seems to hold Blanka back, is a part of that self. He is flattered for having gotten a glimpse of it, and left to wonder what it is that caught at Blanka's heart.
But he is all the more flattered by what comes next.
"Blanka-san," he says respectfully, between deep restorative breaths as he smiles and nods warmly at the cheering audience, "you are a truly noble fighter. I am honored to have been able to face you like this. I--"
He stops when the strange man approaches, taking his opponent from him, but does not make any move to stop them from going, simply standing and looking at the two of them curiously. They certainly make quite a pair. But, after all, the same could be said of /him/ with Blanka.
"Thank you, sir... farewell, Blanka..."
Contemplative, he watches as they begin to go.
"Sir!"
Tone respectful, still Alma cannot stop himself from asking.
"If I may ask-- who are you?"
Never before has he seen such an enigmatic figure-- or aura.
COMBATSYS: Alma has ended the fight here.
Reaching up with his free hand he brings a finger to tip the front of his hat as he's addressed, "The name they call me is 'Oswald', Blanka and I are... rivals from the SNF and Neo League Circuits. I suppose we have... a non-descript score to settle in a game of friendly combat."
A sort of deep but brief chuckle takes him, even a muted if pleased smile on his lips. "Since you, also, are part of the League, you probably have seen my name before." He makes a short gesture with his head toward some of the score-keeping crew, "...on the top of the Neo League Charts. I trust I will be seeing your name on the rankings as well?"
/This/ is Oswald?
"I believe so, sir."
Alma's gaze is thoughtful but steady.
"Alma Towazu, of Hiten-Ryu. An honor to meet you." He inclines his head forward politely, then smiles at his opponent's broad retreating back. "Please take care of Blanka..."
He'll say nothing more, and watch them go.
He knows, though, just looking at this man, wondering at him...
~ He, too, is a man I must fight! ~
Someday.
Someday soon.
Log created on 21:44:06 03/22/2008 by Blanka, and last modified on 01:30:18 03/26/2008.