|| @anarchyhorde from here: ||
Rappa stands, collecting himself after the hit, hood over his face blocking the look of almost absolute glee and PRIDE as a hand goes to feel his jaw. Even his high pain tolerance, Red Riot had landed QUITE the punch, throwing him back a good few feet, the sharp pain unable to be ignored, even by him.
“DAMN kid! I’ll give that one a good…four, MAYBE five. You could really feel the power behind it. You’ve been practicin’ haven’t ya?” Because with each spar, each new fight, Rappa could clearly see the improvement in Kirishima’s fighting power.
“You’re gettin’ better at putting your raw power into your moves, ALMOST as good as i was at your age.” The pain is dulling, but still there. “Five, I’ll give ya’ a five on the pain scale.”
“Wh–” A five...just a five? Any pride in his successful strike evaporated under the grade, no matter the words offered to him. Which was ridiculous, because it shouldn’t freakin’ MATTER what this guy thought of him or capabilities. At all.
But as it stood, maybe it was because the man was the person he wanted to surpass the most that the want for his approval had gotten to this extent, and the lack of a decent result in spite his efforts left behind a harsh burn instead. A proper rival showed their BEST at all times, right?
Only he’d come up short just now.
Teeth grit as Kirishima gripped his hand into a fist. “Ngh–looks like I need more of it tho’.” Frustrating–and painfully disappointing–as that was, he couldn’t dwell on it. Right, just train himself more until he could really make an impact- “Don’t suppose you have any tips to share on how to get better now, do ya?”
