Chimon vs Touma

"A-alright! Start!" the trainee announced.

He placed his earbuds back into his ears, playing blood-pumping electronic music straight into his ears thie time.

–And just like that, the jovial eyes of Chimon honed in with utter focus, raising his hands as even the silver-haired adolescent could feel the atmosphere of the ring shift.

It's like a flip in him just switched–the affable man is now a cold-blooded machine, he thought.

The ex-heavyweight champion traversed the length of the red-roped ring in an instant, not giving him any time to space himself before unleashing a flurry of fists right off the bat.

SWOOSH.

The fists clad in protective leather, for his own good more than the boxer's, fired towards him like bullets, punching through the wind.

In what felt like slowed time, his golden irises sparkled, prompting him to move with utmost necessity to evade taking the blow straight to the head–ducking beneath it before–

SWOOSH.

Another came, aimed for his gut as he was forced to pivot off of his right foot to avoid the hit from slamming into his abdomen.

It was just as he expected, and just what he had hoped for.

Despite being on the receiving end of frightening, air-piercing blows that required him to evade perfectly, he was already smiling.

He's the same monster as always. If I was a normal person, one of those blows would destroy my organs. Still, it won't feel good if I'm caught by one of those, either way, he thought.

Even while dodging, it wasn't a singular action–he had to string together his swift footwork as the ex-heavyweight pursued him, keeping him boxed in as his punches launched out, sounding off like cannons.

"--"

Sweat exuded from his pores just a minute into the high-intensity sparring session, not given a moment of reprieve as he was constantly swarmed by Chimon, who matched his footwork despite a clear difference in size.

Each glancing blow unleashed a hefty air pressure, causing the ropes to sway as the intense game of cat-and-mouse continued.

He could feel it, stirring up inside of him as he evaded the monstrous blows while facing down the champion pugilist.

I missed it; the sensation of my blood burning up in my veins. A real challenge–my body is just itching to fight! He thought.

At the same time he thought this, Chimon kicked it up to the next notch: "Tempo Increase."

If it were a melody, the previous rate at which he launched his assault would be considered a bedtime lullaby, relatively. With this next stage, Chimon extended his attack into "rock."

"--!"

He felt the parted wind press against his face as his silver locks were brushed by the intense wind, weaving by the giant, swift glove as he could feel the sharp wind pressure pressing against his cheek.

A knockout blow–he's really not holding back, is he? He grinned nervously and excitedly at the same time.

There was no room for an exchange of words; only a trade of actions–Chimon threw a fist, and in return, he dodged that fist.

Being on the receiving end of the unending barrage from the endurance-renowned champion, his footing naturally began to reshape itself, honing in and becoming more instinctual.

It wasn't something he intentionally told his body to do, but instead something that came naturally from years of training beforehand.

The members of the gym gathered around the ring, watching in awe at the unseen event.

"That kid…he's really hanging in there against the owner?" A middle-aged man commented.

"Yeah, I don't believe it either…Just who the hell is this kid, anyway?" A younger member gulped.

There was one present in the building who knew the "kid", though it wasn't somebody that Touma himself knew–seated in the back and watching quietly.

That "kid"...is the "King of Brawling", the stranger thought.

–

It had been ten minutes without a break.

The sounds of their shoes skirting against the white, rubber flooring filled the gym as the others watched in silence of the intense training session.

The type of boxer that Chimon placed himself as was a "swarmer"--the type to apply constant pressure on his opponent, never letting them counter by throwing a constant flurry of punches.

However, this was an unexpected style for somebody of Chimon's tall, far-reaching build as the benefit of being a swarmer laid in keeping yourself close to your opponent, which didn't require insane length.

Despite that, Chimon's "Ogre Style" was among the most feared in the world of boxing.

This was exactly what he had sought; feeling his body burn up as sweat left his pores in abundance while placed constantly under the unrelenting assault of the former champion.

I'll be kicking it up now. Try to keep up, kid, Chimon thought.

Chimon's eyes were unflinching, always locked onto him as he sprung forward again, unleashing a dozen blows in an instant.

"--!"

So fast–his tempo increased again, he thought.

With the music still playing into his ears, he was forced to shift up his style of evasion–no longer relying simply on his own footwork as he flipped back, spinning on his hands and repositioning himself around the aggressive boxer.

The spectators were left agasp at the unorthodox dodging style.

"What the hell was that? That wasn't normal footwork!" The middle-aged, burly man said.

"Is that capoeira? I've never actually seen it used for real before…" The younger member said.

–

Amidst what was supposed to be a sparring session, yet resembled an intense battle, the two inside the ring moved at their utmost, caked in sweat as time continued to crawl forward.

Each cannon-like punch sailed forward with enough force to kill a bear, yet none had yet to reach the nimble, golden-eyed man.

In the gym, the one man there that none knew or even recognized his presence, sitting on the bench nearest to the door, dressed in all-black with a dark hoodie on and sunglasses.

In truth, this man was not affiliated with the gym. Around this stranger's fist, a tattoo of a snake coiled around it as he watched the sparring bout.

So…that's the "King of Brawling", Touma Daigo? The enigmatic man thought.

Watching from afar, the stranger's focus took to the radiant, golden irises that the silver-haired young man possessed.

I've finally seen them in person now–the "Eyes of The Victorious"--they're finally beginning to awaken, aren't they? Though I doubt Touma Daigo himself is knowledgeable of his own eyes…Let's just watch for now, the man thought.