Page 67 of River of Deceit

The other students in the caf have noticed that something is happening, because several of them get closer, creating a semi-circle around us.

“No rules,” Fenrir says, right as he punches me in the face.

Fuck, that hurts. I stumble back, but I recover fast enough that I can block Fenrir’s next punch. Before he can put distance between us again, I knee him in the gut.

Our styles of fighting are completely different, but neither of us can get much of an edge over the other. I’d hoped to end this quickly, but as we trade blows, I realize it’s going to be a matter of who slips up first.

My jaw sets.

It’s not going to be me.

I pretend to punch Fenrir, and he immediately raises his arms,like the boxer he is. I use that distraction to kick him in the side. His muscles are like steel, and I barely budge him.

He grins and grabs my calf.

I brace myself as he throws me into the nearby table. Some students scream, and I hear something fall to the floor and shatter.

Keep going. I’m not backing down, I’m not losing.

I lunge forward again, and this time I manage to land a blow to his jaw. My hand aches already, but I feel accomplished when Fenrir’s head snaps to the side.

“Not bad,” Fenrir says, getting back into a defensive stance. “If you lift more, you might even manage to hurt me one day.”

It’s not the insult he probably hopes it is. I know I should lift more and put on more muscle myself. But I don’t have to hurt him to take him down, which is the new goal. If I can lay him out, that’ll end this, and I won’t be completely humiliated in front of the entire caf.

“I can step in,” River offers from his seat.

If they already think I’m someone’s bitch, that’s the last thing I need. “I’m fine,” I say through clenched teeth. Never mind that he still has to be feeling the paddling, even if he’s not showing it. If he came to my defense, it would be even worse if he was the one to put Fenrir in his place.

Pass.

“Just thought I’d offer,” River replies lazily.

He’s enjoying this.

Fucker.

Fenrir circles closer and jabs at me again. I’m ready for it, deflecting his arm and counterpunching. Fenrir takes the blow, but he immediately strikes back, getting me on the side of my head.

Something wet trickles down my face, and I don’t care if it’s sweat or blood.

I’m. Not. Losing.

Chanting starts up around us, equal parts“Fen-rir! Fen-rir!”as well as “Asch! Asch! Asch!”Good to know at least some of them are on my side.

The knowledge rejuvenates me.

Fenrir gets in close again, going low like he’s about to attempt a take down. That doesn’t seem like his style, though. I realize I’m right when the blow redirects towards my face, and I can get my hands up in time to protect myself.

Even with the blow hitting my arms instead of my face, it hurts like a bitch. Fenrir isn’t holding back.

Fenrir hops back a few steps, keeping his feet moving from side to side while he reassesses me. “MMA wuss,” Fenrir says.

“Fight smarter, not harder,” I counter, circling closer. Boxers always think they’re the strongest on the block, but they only use a limited set of tools.

When Fenrir is in range again, I get my leg behind his knee and unbalance him. Fenrir’s eyes widen, but before I can celebrate my victory, he grabs me and drags me down with him.

We both struggle to get the upper hand, hitting each other wherever we can. I take several hard blows to my stomach, but I give as good as I get. Blood drips out of Fenrir’s nose.