Fight/Knight

[mAc Chaos]

I like how the ring and Archer's control over it kind of compared to Unlimited Blade Works. Then the reality marble runs out because and he gets killed.

That Gil punch seems more like Tsubame Gaeshi or Gae Bolg though...

[Tobias]

there is no such thing as a magic punch, so any special ability a boxer uses is going to be a technique of some sort, with one or two exceptions. a punch that blew away the whole ring, while kind of amusing to think about would not exist here.

[Tobias]

sending off the next chapter to my beta workers, but minor admission of guilt, the rapid posting pace thus far was primarily a result of having already finished the first 3 chapters save the beta-ing and rewrites, by the time I started posting, so...


...yeah, expect a slow down of posting rate that's unavoidable, sorry. If I was smarter I would have spaced things out more to maintain a more stable rate of posting, but eh, if I was smarter I would probably do a lot of things differently. anywho, stay tuned for chapter 4 folks.

[Kirby]

Aw. I has a sad now.

But hey, chapter four.

[Tobias]

“Come on, let’s go!”

The sound cracked through the air of the otherwise silent gym. At that moment, there were only two people inside, the air dimly lit by starlight filtering through the windows. The sun was slower to rise than the pair already hard at work.

Emiya Shirou was wearing his usual training gear, but that early his fighter wore a pair of sweatpants tied off at the waist with a loose overshirt she could tuck in against the cold. It went without saying that a fighter’s body was under considerable stress during the tournament, and Shirou considered it one of his duties, if not his foremost one, to manage the health of his stable of one. He held a grip onto Saber’s feet while she was doing crunches.

“Faster, let’s go!” Shirou said, his voice accompanied by the rhythmic sounds of Saber’s breath whooshing in and out, along with the thrum of her body cutting the air. They had been at it a while now already, a trail of sweat having soaked into the mat.

“That’s one fifty, you are off-time, pick it up! This is what Writer is doing right now, you know, do you think she is off-time too? I bet she is having a great workout— move it!” Saber’s face was caught in a grimace at hearing her next opponent’s name, a mixture of pain and determination. Shirou carefully didn’t let a smirk cross his face as her movements just slightly but noticeably sped up.

“That’s it, now finish strong, we are just getting started. That’s one eighty, you got twenty left. You know what Writer is doing right now, what are you gonna do?” She didn’t speed up anymore, but she damn well tried. Her last five were completed with a slight gasps as muscles cramping in her stomach cried out for rest she would not give them.

God, he was proud of her.

She carefully finished the last crunch before allowing her body to flop onto the mat. Shirou was encouraged that her training took over and, instead of gasping for air, she was carefully breathing in and out, managing her air intake to properly fill her lungs.

“Hey, don’t get too comfortable, we are just getting started.” Shirou admonished her, glancing at his timekeeper. “All right, not bad. Take some water and five minutes, and then get on the rope.”

Saber nodded, toweling herself off a blue cloth emblazoned with the Emiya dojo symbol, a relic of better times when Emiya Kiritsugu had been able to afford little stylistic choices like that. Saber opened the little fridge by the training ring and pulled out an unmarked, clear bottle of water. Emiya Shirou had his own recipe of electrolyte-infused water he prepared for her; usually the homemade stuff had a bit of a raw flavor, but Shirou’s was always delicious.

That had been one of the more enjoyable differences between her current manager and her former one. Before Shirou, she would have said she preferred her old manager’s style which largely left her to her own devices and let her train as she wished, but Emiya was the complete opposite, his constant oversight of her training regimen was practically overbearing. On the other hand, there were little touches like the water or the garnishes he added to the meals he cooked to take care of her morale as well as her body; she had to admit she thrived as a fighter in response.

After a moment longer the air of the gym was pierced by the sound of a sharp whistle, the same one that hung around Shirou’s neck. Saber kicked off in a burst of furious activity, the rope turning to a near-solid sphere of blue light as it whirled through the air. After no more than a few seconds, the whistle cracked again, causing her to halt her momentum to a dead stop, with just a second to draw air into her lungs. The whistle started her up again. This time it was much longer before Shirou’s whistle signaled a rest period of a few seconds. Rope drills like this one taught the body to be able to transform from a dead stop into furious motion as quickly as possible while maintaining fluidity and agility in a boxer’s hands, as well as trained one to learn to make the most of tiny breaks in action. A boxer who couldn’t spot and immediately take advantage of a second or two’s breathing time wouldn’t last the length of a long fight.

Three sharp blows of the whistle signaled the end of that part of training. By now the faded glimmer of the stars had been replaced by the soft rays of the sun. Some of the more dedicated fighters would actually be showing up soon. It was their normal routine. Shirou staggered the workout regimen each day to focus on certain muscle groups, giving others a chance to heal and build themselves, but there was a certain structure and form that he always followed.

Everything was going smoothly until later in the evening when Saber hit a rare moment of indecisiveness in the training schedule. It was time for her technical training, but her match with the FA had eliminated the need to work out against Taiga.

“Shirou, were you able to find someone suitable?” Saber said, sipping on a protein shake. Not even Shirou could make one of those more than barely palatable. For someone who preferred a structured meal, just blending together different ingredients seemed somewhat heretical.

“Hmm…I found someone who says he uses Writer’s Monstrous style, but he is pretty sketchy, his reviews are mixed at best and I am pretty sure he wrote the positive ones himself. His prices are pretty high too; we could only afford a day, maybe two if we are able to haggle him down…” Shirou was frowning.

Each new match carried a specific problem for a manager to overcome, before fighting the Free Agent, he did not know whom he would fight in the second round until it had started. In other words, he only learned he would need to prepare Saber for the fight with Writer when it was already time to start preparing. Since he spent north of fourteen hours a day purely on managing Saber, training, prepping, as well as cooking and coming up with new schedules, he had to find time during the rest of the day for the proper role of a manager. This included watching videos of an opponent’s matches and looking for weaknesses or tells, gathering information on the opponent, and signing a technical trainer.

That was all time a manager could not spend on useless things like his own sleep or health. The King of Boxers tournament was by design a grueling process that stretched not just a fighter, but also his or her manager to the absolute breaking point. Well-managed boxers entered fights prepped and ready, in good condition and with the knowledge and tools they needed to secure victory. Poorly managed ones went in blind or in poor conditioning, their luck inevitably wearing out quickly, serving no purpose other than to wet fans’ appetites and provide additional revenue to the Treasury by way of entry fees.

Saber knew more well-funded gyms were able to compensate partially for this with multiple managers, one person working as trainer and cut man, another handling nutrition and paperwork, another to work as a scout to handle arrangements on the enemy boxer. Shirou obviously couldn’t do such a thing, so he simply shouldered every burden onto himself and soldiered on without a word of complaint. It’s easy to uphold an ideal when there is no sacrifice required, but it’s when you begin to suffer that you find out what it’s really worth to you.

“A day or two only?” Saber said, understanding the situation, but feeling frustrated. It wouldn’t be as bad as the situation against the Free Agent, but it was not ideal.

Shirou’s only response was a scowl…which was quickly interrupted by the sound of the double doors in the gym slamming open, propelled by two outstretched hands.

Certain people in this world exhibit a kind of gravity, a force of personality demonstrated by the halt of conversation, the catching of one’s breath, and the swiveling of dozens of heads in the same direction. Fujimura Taiga was such a person.

…But this one’s name was Tohsaka Rin. The dark-haired girl strolled into the gym wearing her traditional red and black clothes marked with the glittering insignia of the Sparkling Gem Gym. Her confident footsteps signaled that she owned the place (though Shirou would have to miss another payment for that to be accurate) but her face held a strangely curious look to it.

Saber and Shirou shared a glance, wondering if somehow the other had known to expect the powerful manager’s arrival. Shirou caught the way she ran a practiced eye over his fighters and equipment, wondering how much she had gleaned about his gym with a simple glance, and also whether he really wanted to know after all.

“Oh, if it isn’t Emiya-kun, and Saber too!” Rin said, incongruously, as if they had happened to walk into each other on the way to the store.

That prompted another confused look between the manager and his fighter, but pure courtesy compelled Shirou to say something, though when he opened his mouth he still wasn’t quite sure what would come out.

“A-Afternoon…Tohsaka. Welcome to the Emiya Gym,” he said blankly.

“Rin,” Saber’s slightly breathless voice came next. “How fares the Guardian?”

“Hnnng,” Rin knuckled an eye, looking askance at Saber for a moment. It wasn’t an unreasonable question, yet Rin didn’t seem happy that Saber had asked it for some reason.

“Eh, he wouldn’t die even if you killed him. He is already up and being critical like always. I see a lot of physical therapy in the future, and he is going to be carping at me the whole time…” Rin heaved a long-suffering sigh.

Neither Shirou nor Saber thought it wise to ask why someone with the resources she commanded took it as a given that she would need to oversee the Guardian’s therapy personally if it was such a burden.

“I am glad the Guardian will recover…” Shirou said, then caught himself, “B-but, is there something you need?”

“Huh? Oh, right!” Rin said, looking oddly startled. “U-um…how’s your preparation going? You have the Blood Writer next, right?” Saber found herself a little startled; had Rin just stuttered…? She didn’t seem the type to become flustered.

“Yeah.” Shirou said simply. It was public knowledge, and besides, Rin was already out of the tournament.

“Though, finding a style trainer…well, I do have someone but…” Shirou trailed off.

“Red hair? Broad-shouldered guy?” Rin said, recovering her balance, even looking a bit smug.

Shirou looked startled.

“Ooooh… you don’t want him, he doesn’t even know the Monstrous style, and he isn’t very conditioned.” Rin said, a knowing smile showing up behind her hand that came up over her mouth. It was clear she was enjoying this part.

“If you are going to waste your money on someone who can’t teach Saber anything, you are better off paying me rent!” Rin stated, staring directly into Shirou’s eyes.

Shirou did not respond. Saber thought it must have been annoying for him since he too had expressed reservations about the quality of the man he was thinking about hiring.

“…Why are you telling us this, Rin?” Saber said, after a moment when it became clear Shirou was too flustered to respond.

“Umm…” Rin’s smile faded, she actually looked a bit nervous, and one of her hands came up to finger the bottom of one of her elaborate twintails. “I actually…know someone.”

Shirou and Saber both looked intent at that. That was interesting news indeed!

“An old friend of mine used to be a boxer, but later went into style training. She knows Blood Writer’s style pretty well. If I put in a good word, I am sure she will take Saber on for a good price.” Rin finished, looking anxiously back and forth between Saber and Shirou.

Saber realized she couldn’t say anything here. This was Shirou’s job. Of course, what Rin was offering seemed almost too good to be true, but on the other hand…

“Please do!” Shirou said, bowing his head. “If she will come, then we would be happy to have her!” Shirou said, without lifting his face.

That had to hurt, Saber knew. To lower his head in front of another manager must have deeply wounded Shirou’s pride. All the same…Saber supposed she knew that he would. His loyalties, and his priorities, were clear. A hint of warmth at the thought tempered her annoyance on Shirou’s behalf.

Rin cocked an eyebrow at the both of them for a moment, and then sighed, perhaps in aggravation, or maybe in relief. She removed a surprisingly cute phone in a pink case from a pocket and turned halfway around to make the call.

“Ah, hello, Mi…” Rin started, through the phone line, but Shirou and Saber could vaguely make out a confident-sounding girl speaking on the other end.

“Yes, this is Tohsaka— no, not yet, why do you always ask! …No, he is just my fighter, listen to me!”

Rin grew increasingly flustered at what seemed like a barrage of questions fired over the cell.

“Listen, I am calling in a favor, can you come down to the Emiya gym today?” Rin tried to get control of the conversation. Saber wondered if, unlike her own manager, maybe the girl was someone Rin was weak to.

“…Yes, that’s the one, Saber. Yeah I was surprised too! Especially at this gym! I mean, I know it was hard getting work but…umm!” Rin flushed a little and glanced back at Shirou and Saber; Saber noted that even Shirou seemed to be giving her an uncharacteristically hard look usually reserved for when he felt like she was not on form.

“Look I can’t talk right now, but can you come over here? Eh? Yeah, I am here too…No it’s not like that either, just come already!” Rin thumbed the end call button considerably harder than was needed, cutting off the sound of laughter coming clearly through the line.

Rin put one hand to her forehead, looking momentarily unwilling to face the pair. “Why is she so difficult…”

Shirou was having a lot of trouble dealing with Tohsaka. Managers interacted occasionally, but it was always in the professional, cordial yet guarded manner, setting up matches, sizing up the competition, and dealing with media in the case of more well-known ones was also a requirement.

Actually, Shirou had an image of a good manager being a person like his father. Concise, controlled, devoting all his energy to his fighter to the exclusion of all else, but Tohsaka was quickly tearing down such beliefs. Of course, he knew full well her abilities. The Sparkling Gem had a stable of prize fighters who truly deserved the name, among which the Guardian stood supreme. She not only was a favorite in the King of Boxers tournament, but had competed well in international contests too. Her record spoke for itself. On the other hand, she was so…nosy.

As if sensing his thoughts, Rin looked up from glaring at her phone and met Shirou and Saber’s eyes with a scowl.

“I just got you a trainer, so, shouldn’t you be getting ready to greet her? I can only get her past the door; you will have to be the ones to get her to train you!” Rin exploded.

Shirou’s danger-instincts weren’t nearly as developed as Saber’s, but he still felt that maybe this was a “discretion and valor” sort of moment.

“She is right,” he said looking at Saber, “get changed and hit the showers, I’ll take care of the fee.” Saber nodded and walked off, picking up and slinging her training bag, which was lying beside the training ring, over her shoulder as she went.

Shirou turned back to Rin not quite sure of what to say, just in time to see her curiously open Saber’s fridge where her water was.

“Erm, Tohsaka, are you thirsty?” Shirou said, belatedly, feeling he should at least be a good host.

“No, not really,” was her reply. Somehow taking that as the end of the conversation, she pulled off the lid and took a few swallows, swishing her cheeks around a bit.

“…Not bad,” Rin noted a bit grudgingly. “You have some talent after all.”

Shirou just stared at her for a moment before muttering a thank-you. Tohsaka Rin just moved at her own speed and pulled everyone else along.

“U-um, Tohsaka…” Shirou began, casting about for a topic. “A-ah, that’s right, could you tell me more about this trainer? I mean, I hadn’t even heard there was someone like that, and I had looked for a while.”

Come to think of it, that was strange; how did Rin just randomly know someone who could do the job when he had spent all night looking. Wasn’t that suspicious? He tried to keep his thoughts out of his expression, but after a moment of staring, Rin grinned evilly, as it seemed to Shirou.

“Huuuh….are you worried? Maybe I was paid off by an enemy, is that what you think? My my, Emiya-kun, could it be that you are really cynical after all?” Rin leaned against the pole of the fighting ring while hiding a grin.

“Just…why are you helping me?” Shirou could only ask the question.

“…”

It was an obvious question, but it seemed to catch Rin off-guard. For some reason, Rin seemed weak to honesty. She looked away in dissatisfaction for a moment, and then looked somewhere in the vicinity of Shirou's forehead, not meeting his eyes..

“I am just protecting an investment” Rin said, glancing away after a moment.

Shirou didn’t believe her. A gym barely making its payments didn’t warrant personal intervention by the head of Sparking Gem herself, let alone several, and calling in favors on top of that.

Shirou’s doubt must have shown up on his face.

“Look, you don’t understand!” Rin said, sounding like she was making an excuse to herself. “If your gym goes under, the Treasury will buy it and bulldoze it and I can’t beat their offer, they keep raising rates and driving people out of business! All my gyms are being bought up and wrecked, the new places can’t get accreditation, and I keep losing money, and now they knocked out the Guardian and I want to hurt them!”

Rin leaned forward and grabbed onto Shirou’s collar, and for a second the grip of her fingers made Shirou feel like he was about to be throttled.

“And then you come along and you hired Saber, why didn’t I do that! I thought about it…but her reputation was in shambles and by the time she surfaced it had been a while and I wasn’t sure she would be in good condition…” Rin’s voice was growing softer, more reflective, if still angry.

“Some people I was doing business with still hated her and I needed those contracts, it seemed like such a big gamble…but then you show up and she is better than ever! She beats one of the best fighters I have ever seen and she does it completely blind! I can’t let them win another tournament…not after what they did, so…”

Shirou remembered Rin’s look after the Guardian had been savaged. He was starting to put the pieces together. Rin wanted revenge, but didn’t have a way to fight without the Guardian. He had been one of the top-ranked fighters in the tournament and the Golden Boy had destroyed him. There were only a few fighters left with that kind of ranking. One was the Hound Dog, but he was another fighter for the Treasury. Another was Fred Ken Heracles, who had rankings almost equal to the Golden Boy, but the foreign group which had sponsored him was a complete mystery, and even if Rin’s resources could ferret out his gym’s manager, it was unlikely he or she would need or even want Rin’s mucking about. So if she wanted to get a piece of the action, she would have to stir the pot a little.

Thinking about it, if one considered the number of people with a stable that included a fighter of the caliber needed, yet with a manager lacking enough for Rin to make use of to soothe her injured feelings, the number was very small. In fact, it was probably boiled down to just one.

…Shirou’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his gym door banging open.

“Tohsaka, I made good tim—?” The girl who walked in was a confident brown-haired girl with a duffel bag of gear over her shoulder. The girl looked around the gym as she spoke, before catching sight of the two over by the training ring. What caught her off-guard was probably…

Rin held Shirou’s collar, he was pulled a bit towards her, and Rin was leaning forward herself. Anger had brought a slight flush to Rin’s cheeks, and she was breathing rapidly. To the girl, it might have looked like…

“Emiya-kun…?” Rin said under her breath, as the other girl stared with a grin slowly playing across her face.

“Hmm?” Shirou replied in the same manner.

“She will never let this go, and it is your fault.” Rin finished warning him with a flat stare. She then let go of his collar, and forced a calm expression onto her face.

“So…Tohsaka,” the girl said walking up, clearly fighting a grin. “Are you going to introduce me to your…? She left the question open.

“Emiya Shirou.” Rin introduced him in a flat tone. “He owes me money, but has a good fighter and is up against Writer. I was thinking you might—”

“I would love to!” the girl said, without letting Rin finish. “My name is Mitsuzuri Ayako, pleased to meet you! I checked my phone on the way over here; you are looking for a specialist, right? I’ll give you a good rate. I still owe Writer one anyway.” A shadow seemed to flash across the girl’s otherwise bright face. Shirou didn’t really know the details of the match, even managers couldn’t recall every single match, but judging from the fact that Writer’s mere name was enough to swing a discount and a glare, it must have been a bad one.

“I’ll tell you right now though, I can help you get ready, but there is one thing I can’t prepare Saber for.”

“What’s that?” The question came from behind Shirou; as if drawn by her name his fighter walked up to them, wiping her unbound hair with a hand towel before beginning to redo it in her usual bun.

Shirou occasionally forgot just how long Saber’s hair was.

This is gonna sound weird…” Mitsuzuri said with a dark look. “Fighting Writer…well, style wise I can get pretty close to her level, but I don’t have her…aura.”

“Her what?” Shirou said blankly, but Saber’s eyes narrowed.

“Blood Writer loves to hurt. It may sound like sadism, but it isn’t; she loves pain. I have never felt anything like it. When you box her, you can see that she wants to hurt you and she wants you to hurt her too. It’s scary. I know it sounds weird, but I have seen boxers absolutely freeze in place before she knocked them out.”

Shirou nodded, while Rin and Saber looked at him in surprise.

“I watched some of her fights last night, against some pretty good fighters. It actually did seem like they were all just a bit off their game. I didn’t know why,” he explained.

“Yeah, right.” Mitsuzuri nodded, relieved Shirou knew what she was talking about. “You must be a good manager! That makes it easier then.” Ayako finished, causing a grimace from Rin.

“Well, I think Saber will be ok, but it’s better if she is prepared for it, so I thought I should warn her. That’s what you are paying me for right? Speaking of which… “

At that, Shirou and Ayako quickly haggled over her fee. For once, Shirou got the better of the deal, it was clear Ayako’s heart wasn’t really in the negotiation. She must have really had it in for the Blood Writer. Once they were finished Ayako borrowed Shirou’s changing room and came out wearing a dark brown vest with a pair of black shorts.

Rin looked annoyed, she probably wanted to stay and watch the training, but…

“All right, I have to go back,” The dark haired girl admitted. “I had some free time today because I set aside time for the tournament,” Rin tried not to show that her removal was still bothering her, “but I still have a company to run.”

“Tohsaka!” Shirou called out from Saber’s corner.

She stopped and looked back.

“Just wanted to say…thanks. I owe you one” He said, bowing his head.

“Shirou is right, we are grateful.” Saber said, softly but clearly.

Rin nodded, but didn’t say anything. After a moment, her hair flipped around her as she spun around and walked out the door.

After a quick fist bump, one of the gym’s members tapped the bell, and the first training match started.

Saber rocketed to the center of the ring, the thrill of the fight urging her on; her opponent did likewise, a welcome difference from her strange match with the Free Agent. When they met, her opponent settled her heels and planted her feet. Saber didn’t let the distraction shake her concentration, but it was still a bit unexpected. That was the stance of a power fighter; women tended to prefer lithe movements that used their bodies’ natural flexibility as a weapon. Saber fired a few light jabs at her opponent from just outside range, testing, probing strikes. Her opponent responded with quick tight movements that deflected by the most minimal distance required, then returned her fists to her chest. Tight body, held forward, chin down…

She was an infighter. A dangerous infighter. Ayako feinted to the left and then advanced, but Saber saw the shift coming.

There was a moment like a dance between them. Ayako advanced two steps forward, Saber feinted high then shifted her body low, whirling like a pendulum to add force to a technically precise straight into Ayako’s stomach. Ayako pressed forward again, Saber sent another punch in, which Ayako deflected to the left, and then stepped back. She wasn’t used to being the ranged fighter, but Promised Victory was a high-performance footwork style that chose a balanced approach which could exploit an enemy’s weakness.

Saber was a boxer who proudly danced to her opponent’s tune, as long as she could take the lead.

Ayako feinted left and then actually stepped left, trying to work Saber into the corner. Saber saw an opportunity to jump right…but chose not to take it. In training, she also wanted to see what Monstrous could do at its preferred range.

Ayako’s response was quick and brutal. As soon as Saber stepped into range, Ayako’s heels planted firmly, her demeanor like that of a man setting himself for a hard day’s work. Her first straight slammed hard into Saber’s upraised glove, forcing Saber to take a backstep she really wasn’t prepared for. Ayako was adding a lot of force to her punches and kept power in her arms even when the block was showing, instead of reloading. Saber responded by catching the arm wrist to wrist and swinging it aside, opening Ayako up for the counter cross. Saber let one of her heels plant for just a second, force coursing its way up her leg and out her arm in a lightning bolt strike she would only risk on an off-balance opponent.

It was like hitting a damned rock.

Ayako met Saber’s force on one hand and absolutely stopped it cold. Ayako’s body didn’t even shift backwards, and her return jab-hook combination targeting Saber first on the sternum and then working its way to Saber’s chin both landed square, taking advantage of her surprise. Saber bobbed her head at the last second, getting a little of the force of Ayako’s strike deflected and recollected herself behind a backstep which Ayako smoothly followed along with, matching Saber’s movement.

Ayako aimed a hook that had a lot of power behind it but was a hair off-target, more set for the back of Saber’s head than squarely on her chin. Saber instepped so that her and Ayako’s bodies were nearly in contact, and responded with a right uppercut that was so tight her fist was placed firmly in contact with her own chest for most of the punch. There wasn’t enough force to do real damage but it was enough to force Ayako on the back step. Saber’s off-fist, planted firmly at her own side stopped Ayako’s retaliating body blow as Ayako re-chambered.

They circled each other warily for a moment, and Saber struck first. She opened with a picture-perfect three-count jab set, two for the head and then one under the guard for the body, and Ayako caught them all with her usual unwavering power, each of them sliding weakly off a strong guard. Saber’s last punch was so by-the-book it actually cost her, as Ayako read the blow before it was thrown and, after blocking, thrust out her left fist and punched Saber’s returning arm low, forcing her balance forward and her shoulders down.

A beautiful set up for a power fighter; Saber could almost hear Shirou’s worried intake of breath. Saber’s vision was low, but she could see from the swivel of Ayako’s hips the tight hook she was chambering, a knockout blow.

It missed.

Or it should be said, it was dodged. With a head bob movement reminiscent of a mongoose daring a cobra to strike, Saber shifted her weight low, her left knee crouching to almost touch the mat, and threw herself over the punch to launch a strong right hook at Ayako’s undefended side. A relic of her training with Taiga, the simulated opening that converted from feint into a power punch was deadly if performed right. The hook buried itself into Ayako’s floating rib cage, drawing a grunt of startled pain and actually staggering the previously unbreakable wall that had been her opponent. Saber instepped and prepared a straight to continue when…

With a sharp note, the ring bell sounded, indicating the end of practice. Saber caught herself, and there was a moment of silence when she and Ayako stared at each other, she with her fist halfway towards Ayako’s face, Ayako with an off-balance guard halfway up to block, an open question as to which would have arisen first hanging over them…

…Before the air whooshed out of them both in a shared moment of recuperation. For a moment they simply breathed together, letting oxygen-starved lungs cool and refill themselves. Ayako offered a glove, which Saber bumped.

“You know…I had heard of the great Saber but…” Ayako sighed to herself in admiration.

“I am not even sure you need me!” Just then Shirou climbed into the ring, holding a pair of towels and bottles of water he had fetched for them both.

Ayako and Saber leaned against the ropes for a moment, trying to wipe the worst of it off them. Ayako took the simpler approach and, after taking a swig, dumped the rest down her head and then wiped off the water.

Boxers did that a lot, and privately, Shirou hated it. Who did they think ended up cleaning that?

“I think you know this already,” Ayako said, “but Writer’s style is best on the instep inside. You would do well to stay on the outside.”

Saber nodded briskly, not interrupting.

“Now, something you should remember is that though I am imitating the style, one difference is that while I am stopping punches by being as resolute as I can, Writer won’t.” Ayako went on, “I swear she sometimes lets punches through just because she loves it. It’s great for running up the score card, but knocking her out is difficult. You should concentrate on winning by points and staying loose. You don’t need to press her, she will give you opportunities.”

At that, Saber flicked an eye over to Shirou. Strategies like that were within the purview of a manager, so it was natural she would want to get his take. He nodded slowly. He remembered when checking out Writer’s rankings that she had a large number of losses in the points but a lot of wins by knockout. Ayako’s words made sense. Besides, this was what they were paying for, after all.

“Saber and I are going to go over the match a bit more over dinner,” Shirou mentioned. “Would you like to stay and listen? We could use the input,” he offered to the trainer.

“Hey, sounds great,” Ayako agreed easily, “fighting like this works up an appetite. Hope you serve large portions, Saber looks like she eats like a bird, but I can really tuck in after a fight!”

…

There was a moment of silence.

...

Ayako's confident grin faded after a moment, as she watched Saber and Shirou exchange a long look together.

Ayako had the sudden feeling she had just signed up for a fight she wasn’t ready for.

Later, in the living room, Ayako and Saber relaxed over a cup of tea while Shirou busied himself in the kitchen. After her win, Shirou had kept his promise and restocked the food supplies, so dinner promised to be pleasant.

“You know Saber,” Ayako said after a moment, causing Saber to put her cup down onto its small plate.

“I caught your match on pay-per-view. I had heard of you before but it was the first time I ever actually saw you in a match. Don't tell you manager this - cause I am sure he is congratulating himself on a good negotiation - but I would’ve done it for free!” Ayako couldn't help but start laughing out loud. Saber too couldn't suppress a smile at the girl's infectious mirth, even if what she had said was quite surprising.

“The second I saw you I wanted a match or two with you, and to pay back Writer, hell, I should be paying you!” Ayako finished gaily.

“I...thought you were retired,” Saber offered, a question in her voice.

“Yeah, I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t still get that itch, you know? You see someone great and you just want to get in the ring with 'em, just give one good punch if nothing else.”

Saber felt a pull from inside her just hearing those words; she knew that feeling. “It is a great moment,” Saber agreed with a wolfish grin, “that first good punch where they fall back, the second is even better, the third, better still!” Saber said, her voice growing energized.

“Right, right? And then you get that one second, that perfect moment, maybe they miss a block, maybe you got a good sidestep they didn't catch, maybe you got that perfect parry and the sound of their punch is ringing in your ear and then BAM! You feel so alive.” Ayako finished Saber's sentence for her.

“...Ayako, if you feel so passionately, then...?” Saber did not wish to be rude or pry, but it seemed a shame that Ayako, feeling as she clearly did, had stopped fighting.

Ayako's face clouded over, some of the fire going out of her. “Hit a wall,” Ayako answered, offering a bitter grin, “I spent a lot of time in serious training after Writer...even learned her style, did everything I could, but after a while, I hit a point where I just couldn't seem to improve. I was too good for regional, not good enough for the big leagues, and I didn't want to just be a part-time fighter. That’s why I started doing technical, it's not the same, but hey, at least I get to get back in the ring, right?”

Saber felt the words hit home in a strange fashion. That desire to get back in no matter what, there was a resonance there that made Saber feel an odd bond. Didn't she, more than anyone else, understand the lengths one might go to, to keep fighting when everyone said you couldn't?

“Who is hungry?” A lively voice cut through the cloud that had begun to form over the two girls.

Emiya Shirou walked up with his arms nearly overflowing with a large tray, smelling faintly of vinegared rice. The reason soon became clear as he set it down: on the first tray, in addition to some lettuce-wrapped chicken, there were several platters of homemade sushi rolls. Mostly cheap stuff, California yellowtail, but Saber's eyes lit up...as did Ayako's. Homemade sushi was always good if it was done right. Shirou brought out several more platters and finished with cutting up three oranges into slices at the table and placing them on each person’s tray as a simultaneous garnish and desert.

Ayako dug in at once, outstripping Saber early, who cracked a pair of chopsticks gently and began sedately dishing her plate up.

Shirou rolled his eyes. For a while the sounds of conversation ceased, to be replaced with the scraping of chopsticks on plates and the burble of hot tea being poured.

“...Wow, I can’t believe I lost twice today.” Ayako said at the end of the meal, scratching her head. “Where the hell does it all go?” The table was filled with empty dishes, but there was a much larger pile on Saber's side than on Ayako’s.

“It’s the best way to keep up energy.” Saber replied calmly, not really answering. Ayako glanced at Shirou.

Shirou shrugged. “That’s what she tells me,” he responded to the unspoken question. “I was worried at first, but Saber always trains well after a good meal, even if it’s dinner.” Shirou began gathering the dishes up for washing, both Saber and Ayako offering to assist, but as usual, he refused the offer and went off to the kitchen.

Over the sound of hot water running, Shirou listened to the pair's voices drifting through to the kitchen. He could make out certain boxing terms like parry and jab, but doubted they were doing extra training; they sounded almost like a pair of schoolgirls gossiping. It was a surreal feeling, hearing his dedicated fighter sound like that.

It came to him that perhaps it had been a long time since Saber had had a friend. He was her manager, that was a bond that was in some ways closer than friendship - almost family - but there were certain lines in that relationship too. They were not equals; he needed her to acknowledge him, her body and her spirit needed to reflexively listen to him even when her mind wanted to lie down and rest.

Of course, Saber had fans and well-wishers, people to cheer for her, but how long had it been since she just had a girl of her own age she could talk to? Taiga had been friendly, but now that Shirou thought about it, she spent more time with him than Saber, so they hadn't really gotten close.

Unfortunately there wasn't much he could do about it. He wasn't even sure he would if he could. Saber was his boxer, the two of them were in a very precarious situation, and he needed her focus to be on the ring one hundred percent. So with that in mind, he had to put his worries out of head and get ready for tomorrow’s training. This wasn't something a manager should be involved in, not one bit.

...He still took extra time washing the dishes.

“Will you be here tomorrow then?” Saber asked Ayako, her and Shirou walking the brown-haired girl to the door.

“Yup, same time,” Ayako assured them with a smile, “gotta get you ready for Writer; besides, you are paying me.”

The two girls shook hands and Ayako looked ready to depart, when a sudden crease went over her forehead, and there was a momentary flicker behind the bright girl’s eyes. No, more than a flicker, she showed a sudden, intense shudder of fear.

“Oh, but before I go, let me give you a warning.”

Shirou and Saber couldn’t help but straighten up a bit. It was clear this was something very serious to the young girl.

“Do not, under any circumstances, let Writer bait you into a bare knuckle fight. She does that sometimes, and it’s…it’s…different. It’s bad. She is a nightmare. Stay in the official ring. That’s where Saber should have the advantage.”

For a moment, the pair didn’t respond. Why would they be street fighting to begin with anyway?

“Well, anyway, I bet you will be fine, between the two of you I am sure you can handle the Wormen and Children gym. Good luck!” Ayako slung her bag over her shoulder and strode off without a look back. Shirou could only manage a muttered “Bye then…” in return. Somehow, what Ayako said stuck with him… Somehow…it seemed a bad omen.

[Umbra of Chaos]

Will all the NPs make an appearance as a technique Tobias?

[Rafflesiac]

It went without saying that a fighter’s body was under considerable stress during the tournament, and Shirou considered it one of his duties, if not his foremost one, to manage the health of his stable of one.

?

“Red hair? Broad-shouldered guy?”

Iskander, so unreliable. His Army of the King style let him down?

Heheheh...Wormen and children.

[Kirby]

AYAAAKKKOOOOOOO

[mAc Chaos]

I was expecting it to be Luvia. :V

[Kirby]

I was expecting Sakura.

[Tobias]

Will all the NPs make an appearance as a technique Tobias?

each fighter will have one, generally, except for Gilgamesh if you count backing from the Treasury.

oh, but Saber is a welsh fighter who never learned the kind of special techniques that crop up in the tournament, so doesn't have anything like that. The witch of the ring does not have one either.

?

the group of fighters working under a boxing manager is known as his stable. theoretically shirou has some others besides saber, but they are just amateurs and gym rats whose primary purpose is to slightly delay shirou getting foreclosed on, so really his stable consists of one actual boxer. Hence, shirou has a stable of one, Saber.

Its actually worth noting while most better managers have several talented boxers as part of their gym, having one fighter enter the King of Boxer's tournament per gym is very common since people find managers with more then one boxer arent able to give as much support to each prizefighter, so its better to just enter one and focus on him or her alone.

On an unrelated note, army of the king, not bad, though I was thinking conqueror of the ring myself.

[Rafflesiac]

oh, but Saber is a welsh fighter who never learned the kind of special techniques that crop up in the tournament, so doesn't have anything like that. The witch of the ring does not have one either.

Aww...there go my dreams of the ultimate straight Excalibur and the perfect defense Avalon.

[Tobias]

it would be pretty convenient if Saber had a pair of techniques that could auto null enemy special attacks and essentially win every fight, but life for Shirou and Saber isnt that boring simple, they will just have to find a way to beat each one as it comes.

This tournament is a long shot for them you know?

[Rafflesiac]

Ehh, that's true.

Makes it more impressive also, ups the tension and all that.

[Tobias]

Writer’s fist crashed into her opponent’s jaw in a brutal uppercut; Shirou and Saber could clearly see the way the poor boxer’s feet lifted off the ground before the ten count. As always, Writer’s form combined grace, precision, with absolutely merciless and punishing blows.

Mitsuzuri had skipped dinner again, which meant the meal had finished quickly with just Shirou and Saber. After they finished, Shirou and Saber had clustered around Taiga’s laptop to watch a few of Writer’s fights, to look for any tells or weaknesses. The fight was the day after tomorrow, and this was one of their last chances to go over what they had learned.

“She is ambidextrous like you, might even lean to her left,” Shirou noted, rewinding the tape and pointing to Writer’s clever right hand parry that had set up the knock-out blow. “Keep an eye out for…”

Shirou’s statement was cut off by the sound of the telephone ringing. He sighed in annoyance, but still rose to pick it up. Ever since Saber’s first match there had been some increased media attention. Usually as a manager he would be happy about this and cultivate relations, but right now they had a tournament to win. He almost would have ignored it, but his stable had also begun to increase in size. No real fighters of note had appeared, but the extra people working out were good for his bank account.

“Emiya gym.” Shirou answered politely.

“Is the Emiya-san?” A business-like man’s voice asked.

“Yes, yes it is, may I ask who is calling?” Shirou said in return.

“I represent the tournament committee, Congratulations on winning your qualifier match and entering the tournament.” The man had the dull sing-song tone of one repeating something he has said many times before. “Your fighter, Saber, has been selected for a random drug screening. Please bring her immediately to the complex. Failure to arrive promptly may result in…”

The man droned on in a warning spiel that Shirou mostly ignored. Putting a hand over the phone receiver, he waved Saber to put on her windbreaker jacket. The morning’s air, while brisk, was not overly cold, but Shirou insisted on warm clothes when they went out at night or early in the morning. A poorly timed cold could end things for them. It wouldn’t be the first time a promising contender had been wiped out by an untimely case of the snuffles. This tournament was extraordinarily physically demanding; hell, that’s what managers were for.

Shirou copied down the man’s instructions and assured him he would arrive in under an hour. Normally fighters were screened on the day of the match, but it’s not like they had a choice. Random screenings ensured match fairness, little things like this were just part of the game.

“Is there a problem with the match?” Saber asked him after he hung up, looking a bit worried.

Shirou was a bit pleased at the note of concern. Saber, as always, was eager for the battle.

“Nah, just a quick screening. Morning training is cancelled I’m afraid, we will have to make up tomorrow.” Shirou replied, taking care to push the irritation out of his voice.

Saber nodded, calmness returning to her features; she knew how all this worked. Hell, as a world-class contender, she had probably dealt with this kind of thing more than he had.

If it wasn’t for the time limit, Shirou might have thought about biking up there while Saber jogged. A morning run could be refreshing and was actually part of Saber’s routine, plus as a manager he believed little ways to break up the usual training regimen, like the change in destination, helped Saber stay focused.

Oh well, rules are rules, too bad. Shirou thought to himself.

So they caught a cab. Little luxuries like cab fares instead of train rides were still really something Shirou didn’t like splurging on, but they were at least possible after Saber’s win these days. The cabbie, a short, foreign, red-haired girl was a boxing fan, as displayed by the lipstick-smeared photo of the Golden Boy set under her cabbie license. She chattered excitedly about having Saber in the car and made good time to the arena.

It might seem surprising that the same building was used for both matches and medical screenings, but if one thought about it, it made sense. While not to the level of a proper hospital, they had enough medical staff and facilities on hand to stabilize a badly injured fighter long enough for transport, as had happened with the Guardian, and they could also conduct on-site screenings before or even during a match if there was a doping question.

“Will you be accompanying me?” Saber asked, surprising Shirou for a moment as they made their way through the complex. Shirou occasionally forgot that even if Saber was familiar with this kind of situation, she still didn’t know everything about this particular tournament.

“Not this time, in planned screenings like the ones we took before the rules aren’t as strict, but random screenings are a bit different, they don’t even let us enter the room. I’ll be right outside the door though.”

Saber nodded in reply, and Shirou took the lead as they moved through the sprawling complex. The byways managers used cut down on some time, but the trek to the walled-off medical area took a little while to navigate through the arena. As one might expect, the medical staff was positioned so as to be easiest to access from the rings themselves.

When they arrived, Shirou was allowed a stool next to the checkup room they lead Saber into. It was a tiny luxury allowed to a manager. He started filling out some paperwork which basically amounted to permitting tests to be ran and billing the fee to the Treasury. Things like that were part of his entry fee. It had been exorbitant and he still owed Raiga, but at least as far as it went it was fairly comprehensive for his basic needs as a manager.

Shirou felt the world blur around him for a moment. When things cleared, he had dropped the hardbacked board the insurance paperwork was clipped to on the floor, and if his back hadn’t been pressed against the wall he doubted he would still be on the little stool.

I am so tired…

Shirou absolutely couldn't show Saber how the long hours were wearing on him, because a boxer responded to his or her manager’s energy. He had both responsibility and pride propping him up, but in little moments like this, things caught up with him. He felt his eyes drift close for a moment; he wanted so much to just take a little cat nap.

But there wasn’t any time; the test took a bit longer than one might think, since, as opposed to the usual urine test in the random screenings, they also drew blood and took hair samples, but that didn’t mean he had time to relax.

If there is a free moment, it should be used to fill this out…and then I should work out tomorrow’s training…

Shirou forced his tired eyes open through sheer willpower.

…Just in time to see a can of coffee, which at first glance seemed to be hovering in the air in front of a pair of extremely shapely breasts.

…As an afterthought, Shirou found himself thinking if he wasn’t exhausted the coffee would certainly not be the most interesting thing in that particular picture. After a moment he focused: an extremely attractive girl with darkly purple hair appeared to be offering him a drink.

“U-um, sorry,” Shirou stammered, “I didn’t order anything like that.”

“It would have been weird if you did, this is a clinic, not a café!” The girl beamed a warming smile. She seemed like one of those people you couldn't help but like. “You just looked like you could use it,” the girl finished, pressing the can firmly into his hands. It was still hot from the machine.

It was hot, pure black coffee, without even any cream to sweeten the flavor. Normally Shirou preferred tea, but right now, it seemed like perfection. Deciding not to look the gift horse in the mouth he cracked the can open and downed it in a single long chug. Logically he knew the caffeine wouldn’t hit his system for several minutes, but the rejuvenating effect on his mind was immediate. If it was a placebo, it was a damned good one. Or maybe it was the restful aura of the pretty girl who had given it to him.

When he finished, the girl giggled, looking pleased.

“Better?” she said with a hand over her mouth.

“Much, it is a little late, but thanks. You saved me” Shirou admitted gratefully.

Shirou gave the girl another once-over. The girl was wearing a thin shirt cut off at the elbows that was speckled a bit with dust. Not dirty from lack of care, it was just the type that had been worn while doing a lot of cleaning. Shirou knew the look because there were a dozen like it in his closet right now. It was a bit too large for her, possibly a hand-me-down. She was wearing a pair of long, but thin jeans that did nice things for her contours but would be hot to work out in, so she probably wasn't an athletic trainer. She might be a manager though, that meshed with the fact that usually the people in this area were either managers or boxers, but he did not recognize her. Which didn’t necessarily mean anything; it wasn’t like even he could know everyone in this business.

“I am Emiya Shirou.” Shirou introduced himself, “Are you…?”

“No, no, nothing like that, not yet.” The girl replied with another cheerful smile, “I am just keeping nee-san company. Her manager is here somewhere, but he left to go chasing girls. I am Matou Sakura, pleased to meet you!”

“Ah…yeah, pleasure is all mine. Um…if you don’t mind me asking, what did you mean, “yet”?” Shirou had caught a hint of wistfulness in the girl’s words that pulled a bit at his heartstrings, something there sounded kind of familiar.

The grin slid off the girl’s face. Shirou admitted privately he was sorry to see it go.

“Nee-san and I have wanted to start our own gym for a while now, but it takes a lot of money to start from scratch!”

Don’t I know it. Shirou thought to himself. A licensed gym cost a fortune to start and another to maintain. That was pretty much his problem too.

“We are both working at a gym right now; the manager wasn’t good at negotiating so nee-san is actually getting a pretty decent amount of the winnings. I do some work there too, mostly feeding everyone.” The girl finished her introduction.

“You cook for a stable then?” Shirou asked, a smile coming across his wearied features. It was rare for him to talk this easily with someone who had a compatible interest; since most of those people who did were considered enemies.

“Yup!” the girl responded almost triumphantly. “I don’t mean to brag, but I am confident in my skill.”

Shirou felt a twinge of competitive spirit flare up. He wasn't the only manager who cooked for his fighter instead of leaving it to a third party, but often it was considered just a part of training, not a mark of pride. Shirou felt differently though; managing food encouraged the mind and body, and it seemed this girl agreed. Her sister was probably a lucky boxer. Speaking of which…

“So your sister is in the tournament then, is she anyone I know?” Shirou asked the purple-haired girl innocently.

“Oh… a-ah, n-nobody really - I mean, it’s not important!” The girl became immediately flustered, perhaps even frightened. The friendly air that had built around them seemed to dissolve immediately.

“Actually, um,” the girl went on before Shirou could interrupt or apologize, “Nee-san is probably finished with her test; I should go find her, see you!”

And before Shirou could respond, the girl pattered away, long purple hair flowing along behind her, hanging momentarily in the air as if reluctant to leave behind the pleasant time they had together.

“Yeah…see you.” Shirou mumbled.

He wondered if he had done something wrong. Not every gym had a great reputation, and the girl had implied the manager may have been sub-par. Maybe they had taken whatever work they could get and she was embarrassed about it. In his heart he had to apologize for bringing up a sore subject.

Oh well. Shirou mentally shook himself off. Break time, it seemed, was over. With an idle flick of his fingers he crushed the empty coffee can between his fingers and tossed it underhand into a nearby waste bin, and then settled in to finish the paperwork he had started earlier.

Shirou felt a smile creeping across his features. Strangely, he didn’t feel tired at all now.

It wasn’t long later that Saber came walking up to him. Shirou just had to check over a few remarks from her checkup, mostly things he already knew; a minor iron deficiency result suggested he might want to work in a little extra calcium in her diet, but nothing serious. They were getting ready to head out when all of a sudden, Shirou saw Saber tense up. Before he realized what the problem was, a hand clasped him hard over the shoulder, gripping him tightly as if to prevent his exit.

Shirou turned a wary eye to see who had accosted him, muscles tensing for a fight. A manager being attacked to sabotage a fight was a rarity, but it did happen. On the other hand, doing it inside the arena next to the medical area seemed…unlikely.

The first thing he saw was a flash of blue, atop a handsome face. The young man looked no older than himself, but his visage had a glint of experience to it that Shirou’s lacked. These experiences might have been of the kind Shirou would wish to avoid; he had an easy confident grace that told the world he was its superior. Next to him stood…

Now Shirou felt his body tense up in earnest. He knew this woman, how could he not. Other than Saber, she had been the foremost person on his thoughts this week.

She was large, statuesque. She wore a pair of tight-fitting black leather pants which clung to every muscle of her shapely legs, rendering the large belt she wore purely ornamental. It was bound with a skull buckle, partially hidden by the thick leather jacket she wore despite the heat generated by the day and the passerby. On her hands were a pair of black fingerless gloves, which showed off her red-painted nails. Her wrists bore a pair of spiked bracelets which matched the also spiked dog collar encircling her neck. But her face…

Her face bore the touches of what once had been an almost luminescent beauty. That loveliness however was marred, rendered impotent by the crisscrossing white scars which covered the entirety of her face. Linking them together, almost seeming like the origin points of the scars, were multiple piercings. Each eyebrow held a mismatched set of iron, enough to almost pull the eye down. A single large loop of metal plugged her nose, less a simple piercing and more like a cattle ring. The edge of that loop touched onto a lip ring which itself accentuated black lipstick. More decorations rested under her ears, which each bore a long chain hanging loosely, attached at two spots on the edge of her ear to the bottom of the lobe. A tattoo of snakes ran up her neck and merged with her long hair.

The hair almost defied description. At the roots were shades of purple which caused Shirou to shiver with a half-remembered memory, but the color had been dyed, or perhaps even spray-painted, a garish mix of green which transitioned to blue, and then an almost vibrant red as it reached the base of her back.

Now Shirou had real reason to prepare himself: his next opponent in the King of Boxers tournament, Blood Writer, and the man who was surely her manager. His name was…

“Shinji. Just Shinji, no need to be formal, we are all friends here, riiiiight?” The man said with an arrogant tilt to his face, as if grasping the direction of Shirou’s thoughts. “No need to be so tense…” Shinji’s voice had an odd wheedling tone to it. Strangely it sounded almost like the tone of a boy in mid-seduction.

Shinji’s hand left Shirou’s shoulder and almost idly wiped off some imagined spot of dust on Shirou’s collar.

“You are Emiya Shirou, and this lovely lady must be the great Saber. She is a real beauty.” Shinji’s eyes held a lascivious, almost malicious gleam to them. Shirou thought it looked like a man who could, and did, immediately grasp what a woman looked like naked even if she was wearing something like her windbreaker.

“And you probably know my Writer?” Shinji said laconically. He had not in any way missed Shirou’s reaction to the approach of his dangerous warrior. For her part, the punker gave Shirou a look that at once analyzed him and dismissed him from consideration. Then she turned her eyes on Saber. They offered each other no greeting. Boxer and boxer simply regarded each other. They each bore a pair of half smiles that were both different, and eerily similar. One mouth bore lipstick, metal, scars, and one was accentuated by nothing but pure white skin. But the intent…the intent was exactly the same. They were both humorless, cold, threatening, speaking eloquently of promised pain. For a moment, the air wavered with an almost electric energy. Shirou had believed nobody could truly match his Saber’s lust for battle, but now he saw he had been foolish. The aura of the Blood Writer didn’t just equal Saber’s battle lust, it surpassed it, beat it down. Shirou could actually see the rippling of his fighter’s jaw as she reacted to Writer’s pure and unfiltered lust for blood.

“Now now!” the distraction came from a surprising place. In the moment of danger, Shinji had almost faded into the background. “Save that energy for tonight!”

“…Tonight?” Shirou asked guardedly in response to the other manager’s knowing grin. “Our fight is not scheduled for tonight.” Shirou looked puzzled, feeling a trap springing.

“Weeeellll…” Shinji began, playing for dramatic effect, the wheedling tone sounding stronger than ever in his voice. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about. What do you say to a little exhibition match tonight? No rules, just these two fighting it out for love of the sport!”

“Would that be a bare-handed fight?” Saber’s voice cut into Shinji’s sales pitch, earning her a scowl from the blue haired manager.

“Um...” Shinji stared, nonplussed.

“You have been talking to Ayako!” A vibrant, throaty voice cut in, the sultry sound of it marred somewhat by a slight lisp. It took Shirou a moment to connect the throbbing notes with the tall boxer standing next to Shinji. Her earlier vicious feeling had been temporarily nullified; her expression actually held an almost loving grin at the moment.

“How is she? I worry she doesn’t take care of herself. How did she…look when you saw her?” Rider’s tongue rubbed across her lip, showing off a tongue piercing which accounted for Writer’s speaking difficulty.

The dichotomy of how Writer seemed to regard Ayako and how Ayako felt about the Blood Writer was not lost on Shirou and Saber, who exchanged a large, puzzled look, unsure of how to, or even if they should, answer her question.

“Ok, well!” Writer said, still looking mischievous. “If you have been talking to…no, I bet you were training with her…well, there is only one thing to do. Excuse me; I am going to the bathroom!”

“You…what?” Shinji said, sounding aggrieved that he had utterly lost the flow of the conversation, but Writer was already striding purposefully away, her long legs able to carry her at an almost running rate as she pushed her way through the crowd.

“It’s not even that way….” Shinji trailed off. Writer was gone. “Useless woman…” He sighed to himself, before jerking and looking back at Shirou and Saber, who it seemed he had forgotten were there.

“Look, Emiya-kun,” Shinji addressed Shirou, clearly trying to regain his balance. “I hear the Emiya gym is on hard times, and this isn’t a freebie we are talking about here!”

Shirou twitched, annoyed. Was there anyone who didn’t know about my failure to run my stable at this point? Shirou thought to himself, aggrieved.

“Now I have the venue all picked out, here.” Shinji shoved a note with an address and a faded photo printed onto it in his hand. The arena in question did not look very clean. “I’ve already booked it, me alone, you don’t need to do or pay anything, just show up. A couple of lovely ladies going at it, getting down in dirty, in this fight-loving town? Say the word; I can have packed stands in one hour, cash only. In two hours I can set up a web pay-per-view, that’s a looooootta money. Winner takes all, sounds good, right?”

Shinji’s eyes were burning bright. An unsanctioned match between two official boxers was not specifically against the rules, but it might as well have been. What manager would put his fighter into a dangerous fight in the middle of the King of Boxers tournament?!

Shinji appeared to have eyes only for the money. He was right in that sense, a match like that would sell out in hours, if not minutes, after the tickets would go up. Since the treasury wouldn’t be involved, the proceeds would be astronomical.

Still though…

“No.” Shirou said it plainly, without hesitation or regret. Beside him, he felt more than he saw Saber droop slightly as the air whooshed out of her. She longed to fight, whoever, however. She wanted to get in the ring with Writer, but still, her discipline showing through, she didn’t argue, but merely accepted it, even if it frustrated her.

“But…” Shinji started.

“No.” Shirou repeated, cutting Shinji off. “Yes, my gym does need money, and your fight would go a long way. Yes, I could use it, but so what? We got a match coming up; all I have to do is win there. And more than anything…” Shirou’s face took on a nascent grin. “What’s the point of paying my technical trainer if I am not going to take what appears to be some really good advice? We aren’t going to fight Writer bare-knuckled, and that’s…”

Shirou’s admonishment was interrupted when Writer came back. As opposed to when she left, she didn’t even bother pretending to move normally and ran back at a dead sprint.

“Good, you are still here,” Writer’s throaty voice was a bit breathless. That was unusual; a fighter of the King of Boxers tournament had no business becoming winded from a tiny little run. That reflected poorly on Shinji, as she needed to work on her conditioning.

“Here, this is yours.” Writer said, forcing a sheet of paper she was holding into the hands of the manager of the Wormen and Children gym.

“This…” Shinji’s voice became breathy with strangled surprise and chagrin. Shirou and Saber, who had turned to leave, stopped despite themselves and faced the other pair again.

“This…is a notice of withdraw from the tournament!” Shinji choked out. “What have you done?!”

“Simple.” In contrast to that of her manager, Writer’s voice was calm, though it was tinged with malice. It appeared her manager was not exempted from Writer’s desire to cause pain. “I utilized my right as a boxer to remove myself from the tournament. Oh, and by the way,” Writer turned to face Saber and Shirou. “In case you were wondering, he,” Writer inclined her head mockingly at the stricken Shinji, “has neither the connections nor the funds to arrange a free agent in time to replace me. Guess that means the win is yours, congratulations!”

Writer paused a moment to let that sink in.

“Then again…I think I remember hearing that your gym was in bad enough shape that you had to accept the free agent match last round because not doing so would doom you.” Writer’s voice was almost threatening. “Now I am guessing, if you have talked with Ayako, you were refusing to fight me, right? Well…”

Writer trailed off, looking almost exultant at the look of chagrin slowly spreading across the face of Emiya Shirou.

“How about now?”

Writer’s blood lust washed over Shirou. He felt almost frozen, helpless. Yet beside him…he felt Saber tensing up. It was a good tenseness though, she was adapting to Writer’s presence. Shirou wrenched his eyes away from that of Writer to glance at his boxer; she was smiling, of all things, looking enthused. She knew what Shirou’s response had to be.

For a moment, Shirou felt his eyes drawn to Shinji, and Shinji, in kind, looked back at him. The other manager had not left a good impression on Shirou, but faced with a pair of unruly fighters eager to fight their hearts out with no regard for the wishes of their managers, he felt an odd moment of kinship with the other man.

“Well…”Shirou began, admitting to himself he was going to have to fight Writer on her own terms now.

“Crap.” Shinji finished, acknowledging that while he had the fight he wanted, he had lost his chance to win the King of Boxers tournament.

[Rafflesiac]

Well crap.

That's not good for our heroes. But Rider has low stamina when going full speed? A weakness has been found!

[Umbra of Chaos]

Well, I was not expecting that. Nice chapter Toby.

[mAc Chaos]

Nice twist. I was wondering how Shirou and Saber would end up in one of those brawls. Also Sakura was actually bearable.

[Gray]

Interesting rewirite of Rider team. Though I think you went a little overkill with Rider's asthetics there. I assume you plan to parallel the fate route because I don't see a way to parallel a Zouken into that team and Archer vs Shirou isn't really possible unless he tries to manage.

[Tobias]

Nice twist. I was wondering how Shirou and Saber would end up in one of those brawls.

...what, are you implying since I referenced Writer prefering brawling to straight boxing that it would somehow come up due to conservation of detail? perish the thought!

Interesting rewirite of Rider team. Though I think you went a little overkill with Rider's asthetics there.

Yeah I wonder why she does that?

...probably not worth thinking about though. *sweat drop*