[ Mine keeps his hands up, a return from the quick and dirty trade of blows to the textbook stance and composure he'd started with. He doesn't move, also the first time since. The spotlight on him is hot as well as bright. Beads of perspiration gather, then, and want a path down Mine's sculpted body. From his neck across his back, where sinew tugs under the skin, sweat seeks the slope of his spine. The way he's bent slightly forward, elbows just out of the way, contours the small bundles of muscles that reach around his ribs each side, too. Under the satin gleam of the colors of his tattoo, areas that are so newly done and raised are sensitive to the sudor.
His arms open up around his chest to relinquish protection. Mine feels air puff warm against his upper lip. His abs squeeze every breath as he stands upright. Tashiro is essentially down for the count. Mine hears the jeers of the crowd as more than just noise. Some are happy, some are not. Kanda's is pretty clear. He raises his head in that direction. He looks at Nishikiyama. Mine swallowsβprobably justβspit. His Adam's apple rolls down the front of his bared throat. Heat has collected underneath his chin and the skin shines damp. He licks up a drop of sweat that rolls over his lip. Mine wants a remedy for Nishikiyama's absence in the past weeks.
Win. The simple command buzzes in his head, easy to keep to even within the trance of the brawl. Though, with the victory already sure, Mine thinks of his own desire that'd placed him in this contest. Here's proof that he wanted Nishikiyama to have: his strength, his determination, his capability. More of himself, he'd said. Maybe mostβ?
His face twists. Serious, decided. He breaks eye contact. Tashiro only groans when Mine grabs and flips him on his back. The scent of his own exertion mingles with the metallic tang of blood streaming down the other's face. No one'd actually counted down; the fights are over when one of the men is out for good. Mine stands above and doesn't hesitate. He drives his fist against Tashiro's jaw so hard, that his head snaps up from the ground and lolls to the other side, limp as blood splatters across the white mat. Mine's won. ]
no subject
His arms open up around his chest to relinquish protection. Mine feels air puff warm against his upper lip. His abs squeeze every breath as he stands upright. Tashiro is essentially down for the count. Mine hears the jeers of the crowd as more than just noise. Some are happy, some are not. Kanda's is pretty clear. He raises his head in that direction. He looks at Nishikiyama. Mine swallowsβprobably justβspit. His Adam's apple rolls down the front of his bared throat. Heat has collected underneath his chin and the skin shines damp. He licks up a drop of sweat that rolls over his lip. Mine wants a remedy for Nishikiyama's absence in the past weeks.
Win. The simple command buzzes in his head, easy to keep to even within the trance of the brawl. Though, with the victory already sure, Mine thinks of his own desire that'd placed him in this contest. Here's proof that he wanted Nishikiyama to have: his strength, his determination, his capability. More of himself, he'd said. Maybe mostβ?
His face twists. Serious, decided. He breaks eye contact. Tashiro only groans when Mine grabs and flips him on his back. The scent of his own exertion mingles with the metallic tang of blood streaming down the other's face. No one'd actually counted down; the fights are over when one of the men is out for good. Mine stands above and doesn't hesitate. He drives his fist against Tashiro's jaw so hard, that his head snaps up from the ground and lolls to the other side, limp as blood splatters across the white mat. Mine's won. ]