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The Civisect Gymnasium was new, clean, and needed to be broken in. Fortunately, Tamiya had scoped out the joint many moons ago, and deemed it sound after rearranging some of the mats and furniture.

The room was spacious and bright. Lightly patterned walls would withstand stains and smears of all kinds, and the equipment was fresh and smelled of clean new rubber. A few highbloods used the facilities, some merely stopping to look at the peculiar trolls who entered the premises. Outsiders, yes, but a cultist and a redblood were not expected in any realm. If not for her blood and the violent implications of her faith, the two would be laughed or threatened out of the building.

"Sinter, you will not be welcome here. ******** do not know a righteous brother when they peep on one. Give them goddamn eyestalk contact when you enter and crush them with your gaze. Show no fear. You are better than those b***h-a** losers,"

Tamiya had instructed. And as they showed up, just as she had said, there were stares. A redblood in Civisect was abhorrent. The rabble, they said, had been swept out since the reconstruction. But here they were, fighting still. Tamiya had no pity for trolls who weren't on the right side. If they did not back her moirail, they were nothing to her.

"Be proud. Embrace your inky bloodpumping hate and ******** fight with it,"

Tamiya appeared now dressed down. She wore a simple white shift over her hakama, and more practical pronged geta rather than her dangerous wedges. In her hand, she clutched a replacement club for sparring to match Sinter's dulled saber. Her hair was pulled back pristine, as it always was, and she looked as fierce as ever.

There was an open space for sparring through the main room of the gymnasium. It was broken up into a variety of immense mats, and many trolls wrestled and scuffled and fenced. But the activity came to a relative hush when Tamiya cleared her throat, readied her weapon, and spun to turn to her sparring partner.

Stepping onto the mat, she gestured with a hand for Sinter to come at her. All eyes were on the two.

14/20

Tamiya was not expecting such strength from Sinter. "Damnit!" She yelped. The blade nearly slashed right across her abdomen as she hopped back defensively. She felt a dull impact, but her reflexes were not keen enough to counter attack efficiently. Frankly, she was taken off guard.

She circled around him, wary but otherwise allowing him to make another hit. Her brow was furrowed. She couldn't keep letting him in like this, or else the fight would be completely one sided. Not to mention, she had insisted on training him. Her wounds hadn't completely patched up since being underground, and occasional feelings of restriction and pain now began to accompany a frequently ringing spongeclot.

Tamiya tried not to let it get in the way, but it smarted. Sinter's attack smarted. Damned if she wouldn't try to help him improve through a solid fight, but if she blew it this early it wouldn't do either of them any good.

<********> Tamiya clenched her teeth. She was too slow. Sinter whirled into a blind spot and cracked the saber into a direct hit. The physical memories of Aendal's army shot deadly pain through her torso and she grunted with frustration. Tamiya's eyes began to well.

There was no way she could hit him now - her vision had started to swim. It was too soon for her to have done physical activity, but Sinter wanted so badly to fight -- to be strong. She was failing him. She was failing herself.

Pull it together, dumbass....

Maybe she should call for a break? No. She would fight until the end. A merciless foe was to be understood; she got herself into this, after all. Tamiya took a deep breath and took a heavy swing at Sinter, but missed. He was quick and lean. "Your form could be improved by more swift jabs," Tamiya recommended.

5/20

"And don't let your guard down!" Tamiya yelped. Sinter had shown weakness by inquiring about her injury, and it would cost him. She sidestepped and lunged, bringing her swinging arm down hard on his own dominant shoulder. A sharp, hot poker of heat shot through her legs and she winced on the follow ********!" She screeched. It was unclear if it was a typical Tamiya shriek or one of pain, but her tight expression showed evidence of holding something back. Regardless, she fought ferociously and finally (but unwisely for her physical wellbeing) managed to land a few blows in before retreating back to the outside of the ring.

Tamiya was breathing heavily. Her water-resistant make-up was restrictive in a fighting situation, and she felt beads of sweat cool her neck and threaten to muss her visage. It was the least of her worries, but at this time any distraction was a worthwhile distraction. As long as she kept Sinter's saber in her view.

2/20

Sinter was unsurprisingly elegant when fighting. She was struck with an odd, envious sensation. She had never had such flow - her moves were always brusque and short. To the point, but perhaps too heavy. His moderation was something to admire, but perhaps not suited for finishing off enemies. His tactic seemed to be to subdue. She could work with this.

"Cripple your enemy and they can no longer fight! Basic!" Tamiya announced matter of factly, unapologetically dodging Sinter's blows. His smaller, vindictive attacks were not connecting with as much force or grace now, but she was hurting more than ever.

A quick thought back to her own style, and Tamiya changed directions. If she threw him off his guard, she could get in a strong move. Win or loss, he'd learn something from this tussle.

"Playing dirty can be ******** nasty, but twisting a dirty trick into strategy is the key of a true master."

She aimed a solid whack to his torso, aiming to drop an elbow on his back before skirting around to his back. The move took all of her energy. Winded, Tamiya was about ready to throw in the towel. She dabbed at some of her make-up, locking her knees so that she didn't fall straight on the mat.

1/20

Was Tamiya spinning? No. Was the room spinning? Yes. The room was spinning. No. Tamiya squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, and opened them again. The flourescent lights of the gym were peppering her vision with bright stains. She was in time to see Sinter recover from his position on the ground.

"Don't leave your back open," she announced. But Tamiya didn't do anything. She stood there, keeping her balance, watching. It was a peculiar sight, and for a long moment it seemed as though Tamiya had simply not realized that she wasn't moving. In any case, she felt like she was moving. The purpleblood lurched forward eventually, in a messy, ineffective attack.

There wasn't much hope of winning this, but she was preoccupied by trying to keep Sinter in check. He was blurring across her vision, more agile and more.... Multiple... Than she remembered him being. "Damnit, what are you doing?" She grumbled.

0/20

There was a distinct gasp as Tamiya fell forward onto her knees. She dropped her weapon, and it clattered onto the mat in the midst of a deathly silence. Tamiya wheezed.

"I cannot see," she mumbled. She squinted one eye, then the other. The pattern on the mat had turned into a single color. She decided to curl up into a tight little ball, looking up at Sinter through one eye. "Acceptable match, you b*****d..."

She groaned in pain. There was a slight stain on her white shift -- one of her wounds had reopened a touch, and was oozing pus. Nonetheless, she wouldn't admit defeat due to her past. It was, as they said, in the past. Rest was all Tamiya wanted now. She grimaced and clutched her stomach, quietly mumbling rapid prayers to herself.