He swung wildly at her with his dislocated hand, attempting to keep her away. It seemed to have caught her enough off guard as she stepped back and barely avoided the blow. She didn't stay still, though, and used her legs to strike at him from a distance, hitting him on the ribs.
He sidesteps as the blow hits him, lessening the damage as he tries to grab onto her arm. Her elbow hit his hand, knocking it away while quickly regaining her footing and slamming her palm into his face.
He was being impatient, and he had to slow down. He could efficiently react to her attacks; he was rushing because of his hand, which only hurt him.
He stepped back and changed his stance, bringing his good hand forward, similar to how he had acted when he first fought her. The two stared at each other; she seemed to be waiting for him to rush in.
She slowly stepped forward, throwing a quick jab, stopping a few inches before it hit his face. She didn't stop after her first attempt as she kept feinting in his direction. His gaze remained locked onto her; she seemed to be trying to bait him to do something. But he had to bide his time.
Charlotte's mind and body slowly relaxed, bringing his focus to its peak. He was about to move, but he hadn't expected the pain from his wrist to come shooting out so quickly. He froze as he was about to make his move; Iza didn't miss the chance as her hand shot past his head, and she held on tightly to the back of his hair.
She pulled him forward, and he tried to swing at her chest only to have her pull his head back and downwards. His punch flew past her as she brought her elbow down onto his face multiple times, breaking his nose in the process. He tried to pull himself away and grab onto her arm, but she pulled him closer and headbutted him.
Charlotte moves to grab onto her head the same way she had done, but she pushes him away and lets go of his head. She took this chance to spin around and kick him in the gut, moving all the air out of his lungs. He got sent to the ground, gasping and holding back the feeling of hurling.
His nose was bent the wrong way, and blood spilled from it like an open faucet. His tunic looked worse for wear from the blood, and he had this horrible taste of blood in his mouth. Yet the thing that was in worse shape than anything was his anger at himself; this all happened cause he lost focus.
"Are you done?"
She said her voice sounded slightly off due to the punch she received on her nose earlier. She had more than gotten revenge for it, though. She didn't approach, instead silently watching and waiting for his response, but she never lowered her guard.
He forced himself to sit up, looking up at her. She still had a slight smirk on her face. But her eyes betrayed the emotion she displayed. She still looked as cold and indifferent as always; she probably always looked like that. Yet it instilled a feeling that could only be described as anger; he wanted to win.
"Never, I'm-"
She didn't wait for him to finish as she charged in and went for a kick to the side of his head; he managed to raise his guard but failed to brace himself as he got pushed to the ground. She didn't waste the chance, and as she got on top, he lifted his guard to his face for a blow that never came.
Instead, she grabbed onto his arm and transitioned into an armbar. His entire arm locked up, and yet she didn't stop, intent on dislocation his arm. Charlotte's mind raced on what to do. The two were near the edge of the stage; his hand hadn't locked up yet, so he held onto her tunic, refusing to let go.
He forced himself to sit up; she pulled even harder as he began to move. The pain he felt was unbearable, but he refused to give up. Even as his shoulder popped off its socket and his elbow bent the wrong way, his hand held onto her tunic.
She released her hold too late to escape as he brought her to the edge of the stage and tried to push her off. She regained her footing and charged at him, pushing the two off the stage. She had landed on top of him, the two headbutted as he hit the ground, and her knee pressed into his gut once again, draining the wind from his lungs. His arm looked like a bundle of spaghetti; everyone stood in silence before one of the teachers began laughing.
"Look at his arm, oh my god!"
He didn't have to look over to see that his teacher—well, his used to be the teacher—was laughing at him. The two were teleported back, and his nose and tunic were fixed. His wrist and arm hadn't been so lucky. It wasn't at least a bundle of spaghetti, though.
He was trying to figure out precisely what to do and how to fix his arm. The teacher was saying something he couldn't focus on with his arm like this; he had his head tapped by Iza, and looking up, she gestured for her to see his arm. She looked flawless, not a mark after their scuffle was left over.
He picked up his arm and moved it closer to her, and she easily flawlessly put it back into place. He tried his best not to scream as he scraped the ground with his fingers. A few tears falling down his face. After she was done, she turned back around and faced the front. If not for the looks he was receiving, from jealousy to surprise. He would've thought he imagined the whole thing.
She was a different type of person when she wasn't kicking his ass or anyone else.