[Ishikawa Ren]

     The door to the bar swung open with a push. A nice enough place. At first glance, it was a simple bar - all above the board. Clean, nothing broken or out of place. But the customers? Well, they were a little bigger and rougher looking than they should.

     The bartender glanced up at Ren from underneath a furrowed brow. "What'll you have, kid?" The Genin leaned over the bar and the man did the same, presenting his ear for him to whisper into. He'd memorized the passcode long ago. The bartender slid his hand up Ren's arm, pushing his sleeve back, then did the same with the other. He patted him and said "You're good to go."

     Ren parted the cloth drapes to the empty back room and stepped inside. As was familiar, he dragged two barrels out of their corner and opened the wooden door that led to the basement. A small corridor of stairs and another set of doors later, he came out into the raucous room.

     The crowd was going wild - the place was packed. The wet sound of a bloody first on a bloody jaw rang out as Ren narrowly avoided getting sprayed by a splatter that flew all the way to the back wall. One of the two combatants toppled to the mat.

     Removing his shirt, he tossed it into a pile near the entrance and spoke to the man who was sitting at a small table, counting money. "Sign me up."

247 words

[1/8]

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The man - though on closer inspection, he was not even as old as Ren - nodded and handed him a ticket without a word. Ishikawa took it and pushed his way through the crowd to hold onto the edge of the elevated mat.

     It was hardly his first time here - though that, he hadn't told anyone. In truth, his visit this time was not for the same reason it was each time prior. Word had reached a certain higher-up official in the village, and Ren had volunteered to handle it himself. Not quite a mission, which in truth, he preferred.

     The other young men standing in the crowd were accidentally shoving Ren, who held on tight to the rope overhead. From below he could see the loser of the previous match - knocked out old - being carried off by a few of the event runners.

     A good few more matches passed, the winner of the prior losing the latter, most of the time. Ren's heart was calming down now, less over the prospect of the bare fistfight, but more over the chance his prior involvement might be exposed. He had to win the rest of the fights tonight, until the place closed, without getting knocked out and thrown out, so he could retrieve and destroy the records.

215 words

[2/8]

[Ishikawa Ren]

     After what had felt like an eternity, it was finally his turn. Ren climbed up through the ropes. No referee, few rules. His opponent was another young man, a little younger than him, a little smaller. Not too much of a challenge, it would seem.

     But he was cocky, to be sure. The man looked at Ren with head titled back, threw his arms out and yelled something at him that he didn't hear over the crowd. The bright light above seemed to paint them in black and white, save for a drop of red from the man's previous fight.

     A bell's ring pierced through the noise. The man immediately took off at Ren, aiming to tackle him to the ground. With a sidestep he avoided the charge and bounced a bit to warm up. His opponent turned around and approached with fists raised.

     Left. Right. Hook. Quick on his feet, Ren dodged each until the man overextended on a right jab. Checking him with his shoulder, Ren grabbed his extended arm and hooked his foot around his leg. With a yank the man ended up on the floor, Ren following him down to the mat to press the advantage.

200 words

[3/8]

[Ishikawa Ren]

     Shit, he quickly thought. That was a mistake. Though he'd ended up on top at first, the man had quickly wrapped his legs around him and reversed the grapple. This was clearly his specialty. While Ren had at first suspected his Shinobi training would leave him with the upper hand over a civilian, clearly this guy had used his extra time well.

     Flipped onto his back, the air left Ren's lungs for a moment. He'd expected weight to be placed onto his chest, but found the man had instead grabbed onto his leg, immediately trying to break it. Pain screamed up from his knee as Ren sat up.

     Training of his own let him see an opening in the man's hold, though, and Ren quickly took advantage. Grabbing onto his legs, he yanked him towards himself - subverting the man's expectation that he'd try to get away. With a strong kick, his foot crashed into his jaw.

     Twisting and pulling his leg out, despite no small amount of pain, Ren pressed forward and pinned the man to the ground with his knee and proceeded to smash the man's face with a flurry of punches until blood splatters had hit the mat and a voice called out. Ren fell backwards and breathed heavily, leg and fists aching already.

216 words

[4/8]

[Ishikawa Ren]

     The next man to enter the ring was gargantuan - taller than Ren by quite a lot, which he'd found was rare. Beefy, too. He clasped his hands and punched his palm, smooshing them together like great slabs of ham. Crap. Not the sort of opponent he'd wanted. Ren glanced over at the bookie, who was grinning at him. Bastard.

     The bell rung. Ren circled the man, light on his feet. He barely moved. Merely waited. Ren tested him with a low kick to the shin, but it seemed to do nothing at all. Darting in, he tried to bait out a slow attack that he could evade and counter off of. Nothing.

     Enough waiting. Ren popped him on the chin with a quick jab, which the man noticed. He tried to grab Ren's arm, but it was gone. Pop. Pop. The Genin went for a hook after the man made another attempt to grab him.

     The man's giant bear arms came up and split the air between them, knocking Ren's arm aside. With a giant step forward, he crashed his forehead down onto Ren's brow. Sage! he cursed, head swimming.

     Ren backpedaled, almost thrown backwards by the force. Just hold on. He mentally commanded himself. Ignore it. He ended up on the coarse ropes, clutching his face and his bleeding nose. The bear of a man stomped forward, each foot shaking the mat.

234 words

[5/8]