Your Fist Against Your Pride

Lu bit into his mouthguard. “Every time you said you didn't want to, you hit me anyway.” The bell rang. Han seized the center, using a jab to hide the cannon behind his right shoulder. Lu knew the rhythm by heart: half step, jab, half step, right hand. In the past, knowing where it came from had not given him the power to stop it. Today was different. Copied power trembled in his calves. Lu spent only a fraction of it on a sudden lateral push. Han's fist shaved past his nose, and the laughter in the stands broke off. Han attacked again. Lu slipped away again. “All you can do is run?” Luo shouted. Lu was waiting. The borrowed ability exceeded what his injured frame could safely bear. He had one full-powered strike. One had to become the ending.