Daeron
Kin-Slayer
- Joined
- Jan 22, 2026
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Hi, I need you guys opinion regarding my writing of Tournament Fighting Scene. Is it easy to understand? or which part i should improve?
Here's the fighting scene :
Here's the fighting scene :
The day arrived. I was warming up with my Sensei’s team for the upcoming match. It was a one-day tournament consisting of four stages: First Round, Quarterfinals, Semifinals, and the Final.
I was a bit bummed that my parents couldn't come because they were still abroad, but I was happy the crew—and Jessica—came to support me. It was hilarious that the boys actually showed up cosplaying as Tekken characters. I could tell the only one who felt embarrassed was Tyson (who looked like a budget King), while Jones and Alvin (Eddie Gordo and Law) were acting like monkeys.
"Kid, remember," Sensei’s voice cut through the noise. "Stay focused. No showboating. Hit, get the point, and retreat (Zanshin). Stay calm."
"Osu!"
My first opponent stepped onto the mat. Same height as me, but built differently—long torso, shorter legs. That was my win condition. I had the reach advantage.
"Kamaete!"
We dropped into our stances. I kept mine loose, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
"Shobu Hajime!"
The fight started. He was aggressive, rushing in to jam me up with punches. I waited, watching the distance close. Just as he committed to a lunging punch, I slid to the right—a sharp side-step—and fired a side kick into his open ribs. Thwack.
"Yame!"
The referee stepped in. Waza-ari. Two points. Easy.
We reset. "Hajime!"
He was smarter now. He circled, keeping his guard high. No punches. But then I saw it—a subtle twitch in his right calf, his weight shifting back. He was winding up for a front kick to push me away.
I didn't retreat. I leaned into my lead leg, using it as a pivot point. Before his foot could leave the floor, my left leg whipped around in a high arc. A roundhouse kick. My foot pad tapped his cheek guard with surgical precision.
"Yame!"
Ippon. Three points. The score was 5-0. I glanced at Sensei. He didn't smile. He just held up three fingers and slashed the air. Finish it. If I got an 8-point lead, the match ended early.
We reset. The opponent was rattled now. His breathing was heavy, his eyes darting around. He was desperate.
"Hajime!"
He charged, abandoning technique for raw speed, swinging a wild fist. I floated back, creating the perfect gap, and snapped a high kick toward his head. My foot made light contact with the side of his neck—a perfectly controlled scoring blow.
Suddenly, he crumpled. He clutched his throat, wheezing, putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.
Shit. My stomach dropped. If the referee bought the act, that was a Category 2 penalty for excessive contact. I could be disqualified right here.
"Yame!"
The referee looked at the groaning boy, then looked at me. He paused. He knew the difference between a hit and a tap.
He raised his hand toward my side. "Aka, Ippon!"
Relief washed over me. The ref knew he was faking. That was 3 points. Total score: 8-0. Technical Victory.
I bowed out, keeping my face stoic, and walked back to the coach's corner. In the stands, the "Tekken" crew was going wild.
"Sit. And breathe slowly. Don’t get too excited!" Sensei ordered me sternly.
"Osu." I sat down and controlled my breathing. Sensei was right. If I got too excited, it would only lead to mistakes later. I still had three matches to go to become the champion.
I was a bit bummed that my parents couldn't come because they were still abroad, but I was happy the crew—and Jessica—came to support me. It was hilarious that the boys actually showed up cosplaying as Tekken characters. I could tell the only one who felt embarrassed was Tyson (who looked like a budget King), while Jones and Alvin (Eddie Gordo and Law) were acting like monkeys.
"Kid, remember," Sensei’s voice cut through the noise. "Stay focused. No showboating. Hit, get the point, and retreat (Zanshin). Stay calm."
"Osu!"
My first opponent stepped onto the mat. Same height as me, but built differently—long torso, shorter legs. That was my win condition. I had the reach advantage.
"Kamaete!"
We dropped into our stances. I kept mine loose, bouncing on the balls of my feet.
"Shobu Hajime!"
The fight started. He was aggressive, rushing in to jam me up with punches. I waited, watching the distance close. Just as he committed to a lunging punch, I slid to the right—a sharp side-step—and fired a side kick into his open ribs. Thwack.
"Yame!"
The referee stepped in. Waza-ari. Two points. Easy.
We reset. "Hajime!"
He was smarter now. He circled, keeping his guard high. No punches. But then I saw it—a subtle twitch in his right calf, his weight shifting back. He was winding up for a front kick to push me away.
I didn't retreat. I leaned into my lead leg, using it as a pivot point. Before his foot could leave the floor, my left leg whipped around in a high arc. A roundhouse kick. My foot pad tapped his cheek guard with surgical precision.
"Yame!"
Ippon. Three points. The score was 5-0. I glanced at Sensei. He didn't smile. He just held up three fingers and slashed the air. Finish it. If I got an 8-point lead, the match ended early.
We reset. The opponent was rattled now. His breathing was heavy, his eyes darting around. He was desperate.
"Hajime!"
He charged, abandoning technique for raw speed, swinging a wild fist. I floated back, creating the perfect gap, and snapped a high kick toward his head. My foot made light contact with the side of his neck—a perfectly controlled scoring blow.
Suddenly, he crumpled. He clutched his throat, wheezing, putting on an Oscar-worthy performance.
Shit. My stomach dropped. If the referee bought the act, that was a Category 2 penalty for excessive contact. I could be disqualified right here.
"Yame!"
The referee looked at the groaning boy, then looked at me. He paused. He knew the difference between a hit and a tap.
He raised his hand toward my side. "Aka, Ippon!"
Relief washed over me. The ref knew he was faking. That was 3 points. Total score: 8-0. Technical Victory.
I bowed out, keeping my face stoic, and walked back to the coach's corner. In the stands, the "Tekken" crew was going wild.
"Sit. And breathe slowly. Don’t get too excited!" Sensei ordered me sternly.
"Osu." I sat down and controlled my breathing. Sensei was right. If I got too excited, it would only lead to mistakes later. I still had three matches to go to become the champion.