"The only reason a warrior is alive is to fight, and the only reason a warrior fights is to win." -Miyamoto Musashi

Tachypsychia is a strange occurrence where your perception of time slows down. It happens because of adrenaline, drug use, and extreme exertion. You notice small details you wouldn't otherwise.

Like Seth noticed the slight fraying on the edge of Jayson's rash guard sleeve as they stepped back into their fighting stances. He was vaguely aware of the word 'begin'--the whole world seem to echo.

Jayson caught Seth in the stomach with a lightning-fast roundhouse, just a tap to deflate him, then came back around hard with a back-leg version of the same hooking kick Seth had dropped Greg with.

Seth leaned out of the way, heel whooshing past his face at ninety-miles per hour. Seth shuffle-stepped backwards as Jayson continued his assault with a vicious series of hand strikes and murderous elbows.

Seth checked an elbow with his palm and the two locked for a moment. Then Seth retaliated.

A single low cross dug into Jayson's side, a penetrating strike aiming for the kidney. Seth followed up with a leg kick, not bothering to go for the meaty portion of Jayson's thigh but instead going straight for the side of his knee. Jayson picked up his leg to check the blow.

Funny thing was, Seth had been doing more body hardening this year.

Shin met shin and Seth could see the pain in Jayson's eyes as he leapt backwards out of the way of Seth's retaliative assault. Seth followed him with a second roundhouse from the left, aimed at head height, then continued into the air, spinning once and kicking again. Both missed Jayson's head by the breadth of an inch. Seth set down continuing with a wild left hook.

He clipped chin.

Jayson jabbed back in return, hitting Seth square on the nose and interrupting his flow. Tears blinded him for a moment and Seth executed a wild slip to the right. The swish of air told him his instincts were right. Despite his eyes not being clear, Seth ripped a vicious body shot off with his left hand then backpedaled away, wiping his face on his gi sleeve. His nose was bloody, but not broken. As his arm came away from his face, Jayson was already flying in with a powerful overhand left.

Seth parried and stepped in, firing an elbow down the pipe. Jayson slipped under and threw a right uppercut that Seth barely leaned away from. Seth seized Jayson's wrist, slipped his right hand behind Jayson's upper arm and over his forearm, and yanked forward.

Jayson threw himself backwards as the lock rapidly applied pressure to his rotator cuff, flipping himself completely over to escape the devastating hold. He came out of the athletic jump with a knee aimed for the inside of Seth's leg. It impacted exactly where Greg's shin had less than half an hour ago.

Seth's knee buckled and gave way, he went down. Jayson took the opportunity to fire a hook straight into Seth's jaw, knocking him flat. Stars filled his vision, but Seth rolled hard, coming to his feet as the blackout went away. Not a KO. Not a KO.

He looked out of the ring. Coach John had completely abandoned the ring he was supposed to be at and stood behind Ms. Tull, muscular forearms folded across his chest. Claire stood beside them, hands over her mouth.

Seth spat around his mouthpiece and blood landed on the mats. His teeth felt loose in his skull.

Jayson threw his arms out wide. "Still just a weak, worth-"

Seth flew across the ring, heel out. Jayson jumped backwards to afford himself more time to parry it wide. Fuck. A vicious overhand came in response. Seth slipped again, circling outwards. He caught a glimpse of the clock as he did so. 0:34.

They stood apart, circling. Seth couldn't lose. Not again. Not this time. He couldn't shame his school, he couldn't let down Ms. Tull and Coach John. He couldn't be that kid, vulnerable and defenseless.

Seth felt the rage bubble inside him, forcing its way up through his stomach, consuming his heart and filling his head with a crimson rush. Tachypsychia took over as Jayson stepped in with a jab, straight, elbow--Seth parried each one with swats that seemed to swim through the air. A cross. A low hook. A leg kick. Seth checked it, then before Jayson could set his leg down, fired the most powerful low kick he could muster into Jayson's base leg, sweeping it out to the side.

Jayson's eyes went wide and his hands shot out, trying to catch himself on Seth as he fell. Seth watched himself almost in the third person reach out and grab Jayson's shirt as leverage, then twist his hips downwards into a descending hammer-fist strike.

Bone contacted bone and time resumed.

Jayson went to the deck, Seth following him and putting a knee on his chest, swinging the other one past and around his head as he grabbed Jayson's wrist and then yanked Jayson's arm between his legs, his hips now a fulcrum.

Seth bridged into an arm-bar. Jayson struggled, swinging at Seth, trying to get a hold, anything, as Seth stretched his arm towards the breaking point. Seth looked at the clock. 0:10.

"Tap, Jayson, tap out!" He growled.

Jayson grabbed Seth's toe and started to wrench on it. "FUCK YOU."

Seth shoved his hips all the way through and a sickening sound left Jayson's mouth, not unlike a rabbit being killed. Seth kicked him away and stood to his feet, his jaw and fists tense, his eyes wide at the unnatural angle of Jayson's arm.

A ring medic rushed into the ring to tend to Jayson. The ring judge looked at Seth with fury in his eyes at what had been done to a student of his own school, then he glanced over at Coach John who had the darkest scowl Seth had ever seen on his face. Over the screams of Jayson, the judge called.

"Seth Blackwell, winner by TKO!"