92 Street Fighter (2/2)
Sword and spear collided once again in a shower of sparks that spread out of the point of impact. Luckily, the explosive strength of his spear brought about by his earlier Augmentare was gone, and I wasn't blown back like before. Still, the collision of our weapons sent a shockwave into my hands that rose up my arms, numbing them momentarily in such a crucial moment.
Azuma capitalized on my sluggishness to show me he had more tricks up his sleeve than a magician at a Las Vegas Magic show—not that I really know anything about Las Vegas. I am still a minor, after all. The man push-kicked me in the stomach and sent me tumbling backward. Then he reached out to me with his left hand, grabbed hold of the back of my neck, and shoved me forward and down right into the path of his rising knee.
Have you ever been hit in the head with a metal plate? No? Well, let me tell you, it's no fun, and it hurts like nobody's business. Even worse, smacked in the right spot, like say, on the nose, and you get disoriented so badly your eyes tear up. Obviously, this also meant Fool's Insight was out for the count. Thankfully, the same couldn't be said of me. Although I will be the first to admit that I may have screamed like a little girl even worse than the time Azuma had stabbed me.
I staggered back, my eyes blinking with tears. My nose was stuffy. Something sticky and wet dripped down it. With two of my senses going wonky, my hearing suddenly rose up several notches, and I could hear the jeering coming from the enemies encircling me and Azuma. I even heard the groans coming from my own troops.
I raised my sword forward in a vain hope of blocking whatever came next. Perhaps even a Hadouken . After all, Azuma did just unleash an insane Street Fighter combo on me. Whatever I expected, it didn't come. Instead, Azuma's voice rang clear from just a few feet away from me.
”Well? Didn't you say you would set me free?” There was no malice in his voice. No taunt.
I blinked. My blurry vision cleared somewhat, and I could see the outline of my opponent back in his favorite fighting stance. I blinked twice more. Then a third time and fourth time. I blinked until my vision cleared well enough to see Azuma's face as he patiently waited for me to reclaim my bearings.
”I supposed I should thank you for nullifying the Curse of the Morrigan… Perhaps after I best you I might find someone else in this battlefield who can finally put me to rest,” he said, laughing as he did.
Azuma arched his back down and lowered himself. His entire body was taut and ready to spring.
”The Spellweavers set a trap for the Iron Fist. They've even accounted for the elites fighting alongside her,” Azuma admitted. ”Surprisingly enough, the Lord of War's only concern was you. He called you a…” Azuma's emaciated face sent me an almost respectful nod. ”He called you a distortion, a random element who could overturn a battlefield.”
Azuma lowered himself even more.
”Exchanging blows with you now, I can understand why he might think so… I can understand why Jimmy Jonas might have lost to you,” Azuma said in an amused tone.
Honestly, all this praise was making me blush. Fortunately, my face was bloodied enough that my red cheeks just made me look more beat up instead of embarrassed. Weirdly, though, it wasn't embarrassment at the top of the emotional hurricane swirling inside me. Sure, there was a worry for Darah and a fear for my life that were clear contenders, but neither of them was as strong as the pride I felt at being recognized by such legendary figures from this part of the Fayne.
These myriad emotions were enough for me to dust myself off. Then I stood up as straight as I could despite the pain in my entire body and raise my sword with my right hand. ”S-sorry… I've made you wait long enough.” I leveled the falchion at him. ”It's time I earned the praise you've given me.”
In my head, a single thought rose to the forefront. Round Two. Fight!