Lock, Stock, and Feral [Gaoh/Amaranta]

Deflected blows, narrowly dodged strikes, the dance that darted them across the sand left clouds in their wake. Another step back, the slip of a palm, crack of an elbow, punch after punch after punch - numbness had taken hold, joints stinging from the exertion. Wounds suffered and wounds inflicted, building by the moment. Flesh swelled and fractures formed, but the Karateka's focus would not waver. Pain, exhaustion, they were for later.

For now, Gaoh lived by the moment. Between the beats of a dragonfly's wings.

It was a twitch in the shoulder, or maybe a step off the beaten path that flagged him. Amaranta's tactics changed with frustrating swiftness, the pair of blows that came narrowly adjusted to match. Palms closed, and the arrancar responded with back-handed fists, operating for minimal contact as his elbow's pattern changed, spiking their motion upwards. Not enough for the initial shift, a stray blow connecting with his side. Like a sledgehammer through concrete, teeth clenching to bare through.

A foot placed forward, muscle tightened, and Gaoh roared the only thought in his mind. "OSU!!"

More control. Tighter. Less movement. More power. Focus, breathe, control the space - everything the man needed, everything he could possibly do to climb, and still the mountain leered above. Fist by fist, Gaoh's deflections slowed, his movements sparser. Where once the sound of flesh on flesh overtook the air, came silence, the shift of footwork, sand sounding like children at play. A shift of his footing, the tilt of his head, he'd avoid Amaranta's blows by a hair, his arms drawn back to prepare.

The counterattack soon to begin.

Where would their violent salvo lead them? The sun-kissed lioness found herself elated to such a degree that no part of her wanted this to end, even if she knew there was a limit to how much he could reasonably handle her strength.

Even so, he met her in kind with resounding spirit. Relentlessly striking again and again, she sought to violently push through his defenses, to push him to his limits all so she might unearth another technique in his arsenal. Indeed, if she was the mountain to be overcome, she wanted to see him overcome it by climbing to the top. Even once would suffice.

When the next moment passed, his movements changed, his offense seemed to shift, and whereas before, their dance was easily surmised as striking and deflecting at its core, Gaoh avoided her violent whirlwind of offense by a hair's breadth, his body shifting as though he were preparing to bring something new to bear.

Like a child excited for what they might see under a tree on the eve of Christmas, fierce azures widened in preparation as she approached, drawing her fist back, prepared to strike.

"Haha! What's this? Turning back already? Or are you showing me something new? Come on, then! Show me! Show me! Surpass those limits and show me what that mettle of yours amounts to, Gaoh!"

"I see your strength. The idea of raw physicality, the sheer force you've carved into your frame. " A whistle of air as his head slipped back, a fist narrowly avoided. "Heavy. Fast. Tough." Each word followed a bob, footwork leaving blows to slip by opposite sides of a swiveling frame. "I can see it. Your improvisations," a push forward, knuckles barely missing the back of his skull. "your haymakers," knees dropped as another blow soared by where his head had been, a daggering movement launching him sideways and up. "Tried and true, and the steps in between."

Where Gaoh had dodged sound once again filled the air, each shift of footwork accompanied with a jab from one of his arms at an exposed point of Amaranta's defense. Not that it was doing much; Gaoh's knuckles already began to bleed, and his wrists sang with pain. Punching through a steel wall would've been easier.

"But if we could climb mountains just by looking - " Underneath her arm, an uppercut aimed at her elbow, slipping past the opposite fist as it scraped the edge of his neck. "Then what would be the point?" A fierce grin crossed his face, teeth stained with blood. Amaranta's trouble would only mount with the passing seconds, rarer that even minor contact was made with her blows. Gaoh's own snuck in without rhythm, picking a new opening with a different fist where they presented themselves.

The approach was collected, measured. If he lacked the power to blow it away, then he would be the river, and carve valleys.

"Hahahaha!"

'His words had hardly fallen on deaf ears, but there was simply too much joy she was experiencing right now. His boldness, in both his words and his approach, could hardly be ignored. The insurmountable mountain that faced him was viewed with admiration, and he merely continued forward without pause.

In addition to that, he shifted the rhythm of his strikes... or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say he attacked her without any rhythm this time. The momentary error on her part was enough for the battle to shift momentum.

Whereas before, she was the one layering him in a series of blows, now she was the one experiencing a flurry of offense, each fist devoted to exploiting the openings that presented themselves due to playful neglect. She was on the back foot now. What an exciting feeling! Even with her superior defense compared to his offense, to achieve even that was in itself impressive.

The other shoe was going to drop. Gaoh could feel it on the back of his neck, crude drawings of sweat and bristled hair. How it would come, there was too much to consider. Amaranta still had more - but what remained a mystery. There were obvious factors to consider - Nah. Fuck that. This is martial arts.

A deep breath, caught between swings.

A second wind. A fist to the jaw.

Heavy, direct. Again. Solar plexus. Again. Liver. Again. Leg. Again. Deeper. Again. Arm. Elbow. Gut. Again. Again. Again - blow after blow, Gaoh stepped harder. Stepped further. As the skin on his knuckles split, as the muscles in his arm sprained, he stepped forward. One more. One more. A dozen one mores and a dozen more still.

Gaoh's mind commanded, and the flesh obeyed. Wounds compacted, blood burst and still he struck. Welts on his chest, busted lip, swollen cranial socket; longer the list grew - still, he struck. He had no right to beat this woman. No sane claim. "This is MY strength, Amaranta Valeria!" Through bloodied teeth he spoke, a stray blow having caught his jaw. "I see a light at the end of this tunnel!!" His crimson stare unwavering, another blow slipped by, a shift, a step - a blindspot, in the crook of an elbow, the fringe of vision.

But there was nothing more that he wanted, a full power twisting kick aiming across and to Amaranta's temple.