I've Might Have Gone A Tad Bit Too Far...

A sentence that Eliza hoped to never utter from her lips. But there’s always a first time for everything.

Mind you; it wasn’t the first time that Eliza had to console someone when they come back into that waking world. The Dancing Passion’s record had turned into something stellar as of late, compared to when she started in the Tension league after following her ex. What was worthy of noting is the victories gained by knockout, something Ms Harenwood took pride in. Eliza takes no sadistic joy in taking away someone’s consciousness during the battle; it is but the fate of those that fall to Eliza’s dancer trained legs. If a man, or woman, didn’t get knocked out by a well-placed kick from the educated legs of Eliza, the Ballroom Roller was sure to finish the job. A finisher many a fan of Tension knew, a place where many a masochist would love to find themselves in. Ignoring the fact that they also have to deal with the mighty crush and the disorientating inertia that disorient anyone trapped inside.

Eliza has seen the process over and over. The awkward journey from unconsciousness to consciousness. There was always the confusion, as your brain came back and needed a second to register where you presently were. And often over, the Darling of Tension would always be there to make sure they were okay after she won the bout. The Dancing Passion experienced the sordid ordeal herself, so she knows how it feels. No matter what, she was there to complement those that deserve the effort and wish them well in their future endeavours.

“Goto….Goto, wake up!”

Except in this scenario.

The Dancing Passion wasn’t in the ring; she was in a dojo. Not the modern, refurbished ones that Eliza is used to in the Western side of the world, the traditional, historical variety. The walls and the beams that hold this hallowed building could tell many stories; the floor has met with legends. Accolades, banners, weapons and trophies decorated its halls, noting the champions who trained and graduated from this dojo. Eliza would be proud to be among those that trained there but also taking in the history of this building.

Instead, she was busy trying to rouse her teacher from his slumber. There were no students around, as it is after hours, which meant just those two. And Eliza wasn’t a trained medic to check if he was okay. That and the panic set in that she knocked out someone who’s gracious enough to teach the art of karate. Eliza could hear him breathing, which was a good sign. His head rested upon her lap as her gloved hand tapped on his cheek.

The Dancing Passion just needed him to make sure that he’s okay. Then she’ll deal with what happens next.

This was not the first time Goto had been knocked out, and it was unlikely to be the last.

He supposed that wasn’t the healthiest thing to say about your life, but nonetheless, it was true.

It was simply what came from the life of being a fighter, traveling the world, and finding himself pitted against all kinds of opponents. He didn’t always win, and he didn’t always stay awake for the loss. He had learned the proper way to come to, not waking suddenly and overwhelming yourself in the process. A strange thing to master, but it had helped him out a few times, and this would be no different.

What would be different however, was coming to after getting knocked out by one of your students.

Goto didn’t let Eliza’s panicked voice stir him too much. He was fine, he only needed a moment to gather his bearings. It was his own fault, really. She was known for her lethal kicks, but even so, he’d taken for granted how powerful her legs could be with a frame like hers. It was a mistake he wouldn’t be making again, sparring match or not.

He opened his eyes, closed them, then opened them again after a long sigh. ”I’m fine, Eliza.” He added on a small smile, just to reinforce the point. He started to sit up, lifting his head, but it must’ve been too much too fast.

Upon seeing Goto aroused from his slumber, Eliza relaxed. She has seen people being knocked out before, perhaps to the point where she's not squeamish or afraid of the sight of it. But she's not numb, most tend to forget that being concussed or being knocked out enough times brings risk to the brain. All of that is within the realm of competition, both she and the competitor knew the risks.

Sparring, however, brings a different kind of etiquette compared to serious competition. While effort is still expected, there are limits. Nobody that spars intend to knock someone out...at least those that are normal and not seeking to prove anything. And Goto was pushing Eliza through her paces. As any tutor should.

Regardless, the Dancing Passion never intends to do more damage than necessary. This is why she makes sure that her opponent is okay after her matches. Goto's calm response spoke of experience and puts her at ease instantly. "Usually this would be the part I'd wish you well and leave you to the referee." Eliza placed a hand behind the man, making sure he doesn't fall. "But since the referee isn't here, well..."

The world was starting to return to Goto all at once, as if his senses were all coming back at once. It was enough to leave him a little woozy and make his head spin, but reality was coming back to him, piece by piece. Eliza’s voice was helpful in that regard, as her calming presence gave him a serene center to focus on.

A breath in. A breath out. He was good.

”I’m okay, Eliza. Really.” He accepted her help on the way up, anyway, though he was able to rise without too much trouble. ”Your kicks seem to get stronger every time we meet. I clearly need to do a better job watching my guard.”

After a few more seconds to recoup, Goto stepped back and raised his fists, easing into his stance. This time he made sure to keep his legs looser, added more bounce in his step. Maneuverability was going to be key, here. ”Ready when you are.”

"A lot of my foes tend to have that problem." Eliza jests. Back then, there was a debate on if Eliza's kicks were that fast or if her opponents didn't know basic defence. To her credit, Eliza has been training for a long time, honing her skill and thanks to her dance training, can pull off such facinating stunts that left the crowd in awe. Seeing the Dancing Passion's strikes is one thing, experiencing them was another. That tends to be where her opponents just don't get how fast she could hit you until that stocking-clad leg struck true.

Perhaps it could be them underestimating the British Aristocrat. Who knows.

"It's all thanks to your tutelage. Your wisdom had helped me a lot." Karate was more kind to the body than Ballet ever was. Yet there was a lot to learn in regards to both, with each spar bringing the Dancing Passion one step further in her journey. Eliza helped Goto up, the two rising to their feet once more. While Goto recoupedy, the Aristocrat adjusted her attire, tugging on the belt that Goto gave. Once her teacher resumed his stance, Eliza settled in a strong one of her own. Strong, yet loose too. Eliza has had time to figure out the balance.

"Yes. Let us resume."

Eliza spoke. Goto listened.

It was a simple exchange, a mundane conversation, but she didn't know how much Goto appreciated it. The limited interactions he’d had with women in the AFW painted a decidedly mixed picture. Perhaps it was just the way people in general were today, but he often found them rude and abrasive, with his latest opponent being a prime example of that. As much as he wanted to amend his opinions on the opposite sex.

But Eliza was pleasant and kind, a warming presence. He liked this. This was the sort of fight he could enjoy thoroughly.

He nodded her way, then moved in again, more cautious than before. The last time, he had underestimated her range and thought he was safe when he truly wasn’t. A mistake, and one that he would not be making twice. Now, his steps were cautious and measured, taking care never to go too far, not dedicating himself. Not yet. A little closer. And…

He moved in with a large step, trying to get into her range before she could strike, and came at her with a simple straight aimed at her chest. A basic, but powerful move, designed to drive her back.