Where before Benjiro had been swept into helpless fear as the hollowness had taken hold, now there was a wild edge driving him. His mind is flooded with calculated reactions, all as familiar as walking and breathing. He could stun and slow, he could hurt, he could incapacitate, he could disable, and...he could kill.
After sending one into the wall, Benjiro struggles to his hands and one knee before he is slammed down again. In an instant, he lashes out with an elbow to the face of the one on top of him, forcing him to recoil, and he follows up with a flat-handed carotid strike. Disrupting the steady flow of oxygen to the brain, the larger teenager collapses with a gulp for air. Barely able to take a breath himself, the third lands a punch at his skull, and his forehead slams into the floor. Muscles bunching, he swings both his legs out in an arc that returns to come down into the side and back of the third to send him sprawling.
His attention snaps back to the one he sent into the wall, watching, anticipating his next counterstrike when everything is brought to an abrupt conclusion. Hauled off the floor by one hand as though he weighs nothing, his head swims as he looks up to the familiar face of his professor.
Safe.
Instead of fighting, he reaches to hold the forearm supporting him with one arm, feet trailing to find purchase on the tile floor. His whole body is shaking as his eyes widen. Benjiro sees the chaos around them, and horror sets in accompanying the realization of what he had just done. His own body has suffered greatly, the redness at the bottom of his mask and the blood dripping freely from his chin a testament to the punishment that pressured his retaliation. As it is, he can’t even stand up straight while trying to catch his breath.
Worth the wait
After sending one into the wall, Benjiro struggles to his hands and one knee before he is slammed down again. In an instant, he lashes out with an elbow to the face of the one on top of him, forcing him to recoil, and he follows up with a flat-handed carotid strike. Disrupting the steady flow of oxygen to the brain, the larger teenager collapses with a gulp for air. Barely able to take a breath himself, the third lands a punch at his skull, and his forehead slams into the floor. Muscles bunching, he swings both his legs out in an arc that returns to come down into the side and back of the third to send him sprawling.
His attention snaps back to the one he sent into the wall, watching, anticipating his next counterstrike when everything is brought to an abrupt conclusion. Hauled off the floor by one hand as though he weighs nothing, his head swims as he looks up to the familiar face of his professor.
Safe.
Instead of fighting, he reaches to hold the forearm supporting him with one arm, feet trailing to find purchase on the tile floor. His whole body is shaking as his eyes widen. Benjiro sees the chaos around them, and horror sets in accompanying the realization of what he had just done. His own body has suffered greatly, the redness at the bottom of his mask and the blood dripping freely from his chin a testament to the punishment that pressured his retaliation. As it is, he can’t even stand up straight while trying to catch his breath.