Chapter Text
The acrid smell of smoke filled the air, dimly lit lights laying shadows across people’s faces, better hiding their features from prying eyes. Bodies shuffled passed each other, pushing through to get a better view or to find the nearest make-shift bar. The sounds of clapping and cheering pierced through the constant murmur of the crowd, followed by the sound of shaking chains. Another one down.
This isn’t where Eijirou normally found himself on a Friday night. Normally, he’d be scrolling his phone in bed, avoiding his essay, and ordering in as a little treat for eventually opening the word doc.
But he feared even taking out his phone in this place, lest it be stolen right out of his hand.
Ignoring the unease in his shoulders, he pushed through the crowd, getting a better view of the unconscious man they were dragging out of the ring. A little bruised up, but not as bad as the crowd made it sound. Searching around, Eijirou spotted a table far-off to the side, where a man counted through a stack of cash.
He walked up to the table, smacking his hand down to catch the man’s attention.
“How much to get in?” Eijirou shouted over the hollering of spectators, thumb pointing behind him at the ring.
The dealer eyed him over, halting the count of his cash. He was a wry-looking man, nose downturned like a witch, cigarette poking out of his lips. Eijirou had to look way out of place here, with his clean adidas, intentionally ripped jeans, and maroon letterman jacket. Young, amidst the sea of 40-to-50-somethings clanking beers and laughing till they’re red in the face, and alone, unaccompanied by any eye candy like the rest of them.
The dealer puffed out a breath of smoke in Eijirou’s face, chuckling as he fanned it away with his hand and a cough. “Odds are 90:10. Minimum bid is 100$.”
Eijirou shook his head, again fanning away the smoke the dealer blew in his face. His eyebrows scrunched a little, annoyance clear on his face. “Not the bet- the ring. How much to get in the ring?”
The dealer laughed then, obnoxious and grating. He put out his cigarette stub in the tray to his right, shaking his head and calming down from his fit.
“What? What’s so funny about that?” Eijirou demanded.
“Kid,” The dealer’s laughter turned back into discontent, “You wouldn’t last 10 seconds in that ring. Go home to mommy where it’s safe and warm.”
“I can fight!” Eijirou defended himself, “I know how, just let me down there. Is there a sign up sheet or something? How do I get my name on a pot?”
“You’re not enterin’ the fight, kid, now scram!” He snapped over the chatter, grabbing his previously abandoned stack and starting his count from scratch.
“Are you serious?!” Eijirou exclaimed, leaning over the table, “Isn’t it hard to come by fighters? Wouldn’t you want the pots to be more evenly split?”
“One more yap outta you and I’m calling security, brat. A no is a no!” The dealer scoffed, “you’d get zero bets anyway. Get outta here.”
With a groan of frustration, Eijirou turned away, pushing his way through the crowd. If he thought they were rowdy before, they were going absolutely wild now. He could hear the scratchy speaker system blair the sounds of a fight starting - announcing the stage names and waging the odds. He would be paying more attention if he weren’t so busy trying to find some sort of damn sign up sheet. Some way to get him in the line up.
Eijirou knew how to fight. He’d had to fight a lot growing up. His parents didn’t have much, nor were they situated in the nicest area. His underfunded, overcrowded public and high school featured many delinquents, and the budget cuts taken to the mental health and bullying awareness campaigns didn’t help anyone become any nicer.
So yeah, he got into a lot of fights. And damn near every one of them was justified, in his opinion. He always fought for what he believed to be right. Even if the odds are almost always stacked against him, and even when everyone else seems to disagree.
He supposed he got it from his mother. She’s so strong, and fearless, and steady. His rock through all the hard times. She always knew what to say, and how, and when to say it. He wished he inherited that from her, but no - he’s actually a lot more like his other mom. Awkward, and a bit shy, and to be honest, a total scaredy cat. He can’t count how many times he ran away from danger in his early years. But it only took one really brave moment to break that cycle - one moment to realize he could do more than just cower.
He could man up and fight back.
Just like his mom, he chose to be strong, and just like his mom would, he walked through that crowd with determination. He had to talk to the announcer- maybe he had some sway in things.
As Eijirou made his way around the ring, he could hear the sounds of flying fists and connecting cheeks. The crowd collectively winced every now and again, cheered, then booed, and the sound became static noise in the back of Eijirou’s head. He spotted the announcer sitting at the table right up to the caged-off roof of the ring. The ring itself was inset into the ground, about 6 feet, just deep enough to be difficult to scramble out of, and just shallow enough to allow the fighters to grab water(and other unregulated things) from the crowd.
Two men, both about the same height, were rolling on the floor, their fist-fight turned into a wrestling match. It didn’t really matter how you did it, as long as you could get your opponent to surrender, or knock them out. You didn’t even need to pin them… just cause enough damage and anyone would surrender.
One of them had the other in a chokehold now, his face going from red to purple. He clawed at the other man’s arm, gasping and gurgling. He couldn’t even get a word out to surrender if he wanted to - the one holding him in place didn’t look like he really cared. It was becoming hard to watch, so Eijirou forced his eyes to focus back on his present goal.
Just as he did at the dealer’s table, Eijirou smacked his hand down on the announcer’s table, too.
“How do I get in the ring?”
The announcer was a short, plump man, who eyed Eijirou with speculation.
“Well, you’ll have to go to the dealer-”
“The dealer won’t let me. Can you get him to list me down?”
He eyed Eijirou with more scrutiny this time. “Well maybe that’s for the best,” He said, shrugging.
Eijirou slammed his other hand on the table, making a few people turn their heads to him.
“Why won’t any of you let me fight?” He exclaimed, his frustrations tipping over. “I can fight that guy easily,” he gestured to the ring, where the two men were now separated again - but the one who’s bruised throat glistened with sweat swayed more than he should.
“Look, if you wanna fight so badly, no one’s stopping you. Just hop in, I don’t care. But you ain’t winning anything if you do cuz ya name’s not on the sheet. Understand?” His sentence was punctuated by a bell, signaling one of the fighter’s knock-out. A glance to the side revealed that it was indeed the one who’d been trapped in a chokehold who fell. The other man smiled at the crowd, pumping his fists and shouting his victory.
Eijirou glared back at the announcer, letting out another frustrated huff. “Y’know what? Fine. I didn’t realize my resume needed to include a demonstration.”
He turned away from the table and eyed the man shouting in the rink. He had to do this now, right now, or he knew for sure he’d back out. He’d back out, and run away, just like he did when he was a kid. But Eijirou was not a kid anymore. He could- no, would- hold his own. That prize money was his.
“Who wants a piece of this, huh? Bring it on!” The man in the rink shouted at the crowd, and Eijirou immediately took the invitation. He swung down into the rink by the steel bars, landing on the sandy floor with a grunt. “I’ll take a piece,” he rolled his shoulders, shucking off his jacket and throwing it to the side. He instantly brought his fists up to his face, widening his stance and preparing for an attack.
The man just laughed at him, holding his stomach and bending over, “No way! Who let their son into the rink?” He spread his arms at the crowd, who all laughed in response, some booing at Eijirou himself. It’s fine. They’re not the ones he’s fighting. He’ll just ignore them.
But the man continued to jab, only circling Eijirou, never even preparing for an attack.
“Seriously, man, I get the excitement, but are you sure you don’t wanna climb outta here and find a jungle gym to play on?”
“I’m not worried about myself. You too scared to fight me?” Eijirou taunted back. His opponent frowned at that, shaking his head.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” He tsked, holding up his fists as well, “But I’ve got a bigger jackpot in my sites, and you’re in my way.”
The bell rang, the crowd shouted, and the man rushed Eijirou without hesitation.
It caught him off guard, but not too fast for Eijirou to avoid. He ducked under, swiftly bringing his fist up to get him right in the gut, sending him stumbling back a few steps. He spat on the ground, glaring at Eijirou and rushing him again.
A left, a right, a hook, Eijirou managed to dodge one or two, and took the hits from the others, rooting himself to the ground and never giving up his stance. A knee came up to hit him in the chin, but Eijirou took that opportunity to grab his opponent’s leg, swinging him around to toss him back. As he stumbled, foot caught on Eijirou’s jacket, Eijirou took the opportunity to grab his flailing wrist, swiftly pulling him back and knocking their heads together with a loud ‘SMACK’.
Eijirou’s head rang as he stumbled back, but his opponent toppled over, knocked out from the impact. The crowd was a loud, thrumming mixture of yelling, cheering and booing.
‘That’s not fair!’ and ‘Who’s supposed to fight the king?’ and ‘He’s not even got any bets on him!’ echoed through his rapidly forming headache. Okay, not the best move, but a pretty swift and successful one.
The speakers scratched and the announcer’s voice came on again.
“We have an unexpected underdog with us tonight, folks! But don’t worry - anybody who bet on ole’ Hurricane here will still have the previous match’s winnings paid out!” He gestured to Eijirou’s fallen opponent, whose unconscious body was currently being pulled out of the ring.
“And you will have your champion match yet, folks! A gracious volunteer has just offered to fill the empty space,” He then gestured to Eijirou, a wicked smile on his chubby red face. Eijirou suddenly felt his stomach drop.
Champion match? When is that? Who is the champion? The announcer waved for Eijirou to step back over to his table, motioning for a man at his side to give Eijirou some water. Well, that was nice, at least.
The announcer crouched down near the edge, mic set aside. “What’s your name?” He asked.
“Oh, uh, Kirishima.” He answered.
The announcer rolled his eyes, “Not your real name, dumbass. Your stage name. Need to announce it for the next match.”
“The next match? When is that?”
He pulled up his sleeve and examined his watch. “In about as much time as it takes for you to come up with a name.”
Eijirou gulped. “Can’t I start off small? Like in the lower rankings?”
“Look, kid,” he shrugged at Eijirou, “You took out our second-in-running like it was a normal Tuesday afternoon. If I put you with the smaller guys you’ll have too much of an edge. Gotta make these things fair, y’know?” He gestured around them, to the greasy floors and the stained cement walls. Eijirou raised a dubious brow.
“And we have a big pot for the next match. People will riot if we stop it now and call it a day. Lots a’ work puttin’ all this together only to tell everybody to go home early. Now if you hadn’t taken it upon yourself to put our runner-up in an early coma, this wouldn’t’a been happenin’ at all. Kinda your own fault, ain’t it?”
Eijirou frowned at him. “So this champion guy, is he good?”
An abrupt laugh came out of the other man. “Let’s just say the guy you just knocked out… he didn’t even stand a chance.”
A clipboard was suddenly shoved in Eijirou’s face from the other man, and Eijirou could hear the crowd growing impatient. The thrum of a chant began, steady and low, as a pen was placed in Eijirou’s hand.
‘Bring the lion out, bring the lion out,’
Eijirou wrote down his stage name quickly.
‘Bring the lion out, bring the lion out,’
More people began chanting along, and the clipboard vanished from his hands. His head ache was getting worse - everything felt far away. The chanting grew louder.
‘Bring the lion out, bring the lion out,’
The speakers scratched again, “In a shocking turn of events, The King will now face off against our newest rising star - Red Riot!” The announcement rang, and ‘boo’s swept through the crowd.
Eijirou turned toward the middle of the ring again. He wasn’t actually meant to enter from the top - as is evident by the two metal cage doors on either side of the ring. They both connected to hallways, supposedly leading to the back, or maybe an infirmary. The crowd watched with bated breath as the door opposite Eijirou opened up with a clatter, and a head of ashy-blonde hair poked through.
“Introducing the reigning King, The Lion of the Underground, who knows no fear and gives no mercy, Dynamight!” The speaker feedback screeched through the room, but Eijirou found it to slip into background noise as his opponent came into full view.
He sucked in a breath. Piercing red eyes locked onto Eijirou, and a sharp scowl adorned porcelain cheeks. He was short, but his arms were sculpted with muscle, complimenting his lithe frame and strong legs. He slammed the door closed behind him, rolling out a shoulder as he wasted no time walking around the ring.
No, not walking. Prowling.
Eijirou was forced to walk as well, only to keep the distance between them as they assessed each other, circling the field. He was shorter than the previous guy by almost a foot, which means he had to be at least a full foot shorter than Eijirou.
The crowd was shouting Dy-na-might, Dy-na-might, Dy-na-might, but Dynamight himself paid them no mind. No pandering, no showing off. He had complete and total focus on Eijirou. Eijirou noted his wrapped up knuckles, and the wicked bruises adorning the man’s chest, as if he’d just scrapped with someone earlier that day.
Eijirou swallowed thickly. It was hard to get a read on this guy. Especially when he behaved so much differently than his name suggests - silence is not what he expected.
Suddenly, Dynamight rushed him, bouncing from side to side so quickly it was hard for Eijirou to keep up. It had to be by sheer luck that he avoided a sharp punch to his cheek, throwing himself to the side and rolling away, before quickly getting back onto his feet.
Smart move, as Dynamight was back on him just as quickly, throwing a reverse side kick that landed on Eijirou’s chest instead of his face, where it was originally aimed. He took the hit, grunting and grabbing Dynamight’s ankle, ready to yank him off balanced and pin him down.
Contrary to his plan, Dynamight did not fall, but instead jumped off his other foot, spinning sideways in the air to kick the right side of Eijirou’s face, sending him stumbling sideways. Dynamight landed back on both feet, and Eijirou saw a glint of teeth flash through a smile on the guy’s face.
Eijirou shook his head clear from the kick, raising his fists up and re-circling the blonde. “What, you enjoying this?” He asked, noting the slight bounce in his opponent’s step.
“Tch,” Was the blonde’s only response, face resetting to the scowl he had before. He stepped forward, throwing a quick jab, which Eijirou redirected, followed by another jab, which he then had to duck. A growl escaped the blonde’s throat as he launched a knee up, jamming it into Eijirou’s gut. He winced at the impact, but damn it if that was gonna make him crumble. An elbow came out of nowhere as Eijirou attempted to shove him back, connecting square with his temple, making his ears ring.
Still, he held onto Dynamight’s knee, not letting him get the leverage he needed this time to pull another 360 in the air. Though it didn’t give Eijirou many choices for attack either, as he struggled to keep Dynamight off his balance while taking a barrage of smacks to the head.
“Let go of me, asshole!” Came a sudden bark from Dynamight, teeth grit as he shoved at Eijirou’s face. Eijirou grinned at the response.
“Make me,” he countered.
Without hesitation, the blonde spit on Eijirou’s face, making the bigger man let go and stumble back, wiping it away furiously. “Eugh, that’s disgusti-” he let out an oof, feeling Dynamight’s foot kick into his stomach again, making him step backwards a few more, but not falling.
“You asked for it, shithead!” Dynamight shouted at him over the crowd, “Fight me like you fuckin’ mean it already! I’m not gonna respect some coward who does nothing but buy time!”
Eijirou glared at Dynamight, clenching his fists until the knuckles turned white. He’s not a coward. He wouldn’t be here if he was. He wouldn’t be doing everything in his power to win if he was.
“C’mon, all tired out? I’m just getting fired up!” The blonde taunted more, and Eijirou can honestly say, he preferred it when he was quiet. At least if he were quiet, Eijirou would be able to focus more on the fight, instead of that loud mouth sneering at him.
He was gonna make him eat his words. He lunged forward, tucking his head down and wrapping his arms around Dynamight’s torso, as sharp elbows and knuckles pounding at his back. He lifted the smaller man, grunting with the effort- he was a lot heavier than he looked- and swung backwards in a suplex to drop his opponent on his back.
But just in time, Dynamight tucked in, swinging his feet and using the momentum to throw Eijirou off-balance, only for him to slam down on his own back, the smaller blonde rolling away smoothly.
Eijirou gasped, coughing for air after being heavily winded. He wasted as little time as possible rolling over to get back up, pushing through the burn in his lungs, only to have a foot land on his spine and push him back down. Eijirou ate dust, spitting it out in disgust before he felt a foot crunch down on his wrist and his hair pulled by a rough hand, pulling his head back.
In this awkward position, the crowd shouted their praises at Dynamight, whose eyes bore down into Eijirou’s own defiant ones. He spat out a bit of blood on the sandy floor, never breaking eye-contact with the blonde, only watching his scowl deepen.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” He grunted, wincing as he felt Dyamight press down harder on his wrist.
“Surrender,” The blonde growled.
“Never,” Eijirou smiled, bloody teeth and all. Dynamite didn’t seem to like that answer, because his frown only deepened.
“Then good night.”
The foot left his back, and Eijirou rounded quickly, only for the other man to grab his shirt and yank him forward- sharply connecting his fist with Eijirou’s chin.
He did not hear the crowd cheering over Dynamight’s win.