A/N: This story is dedicated to my good friend, GalaxyVisionary. As a random gift/brain child. And is directly inspired by her story, No Strings Attached. This first chapter has quotes, dialogue, and descriptions DIRECTLY taken from Chapter 26: Deck The Halls. So these are not my words...but hers.

Also, a special thank you to Fandom Angst. Trust me friend. You will see why later on.

I intend this story to be about four chapters long. No more. So I will try to hold myself to it!

For those waiting on my other works, your patience, love and support are deeply appreciated. You know who you are. And I hope you know how much you are loved. I will be back to regularly scheduled shenanigans soon.

'No,' He had said, massaging his temples. 'I won't train you.'

These words still reverberated through my mind as I watched the spectacle before me through the overpowering sounds of the crowd and the violent physical altercation unfolding before my very eyes.

But the argument we'd had was still so fresh in my mind. An argument with him.

A guy.

A guy that I was seeing...but...not.

That I was with. All the time.

...but...

Not.

'What?! Why not?! We'd just be sparring for an hour every day, and you can give me a few pointers.'

'I already told you, Kitty. I'm not gonna help you.'

This argument just kept playing itself through my mind. Over and over again as I attempted to keep my gaze trained and focused on the fight happening right in front of me. To scrutinize and size up the talent that signed up for these matches in order to mentally psych myself up and prepare myself for the one I had already signed up for. For the following week. December 23rd.

'And I'm asking you why not?! Do you think I'm going to lose and not be able to handle it or something? I'm not a little girl, and I didn't ask for your evaluation!'

The thing was...I didn't want to be mad at him. Not over this. But the whole altercation had been so ridiculous. It's not like I had asked him to spare a liver. I had just wanted someone to train with that could read me. My moves.

My body.

And tell me what needed fixing. Not for him to decide that I would never make it out there. In the ring.

'You know I don't think that.' He had said, scowling at me. 'I know you probably will win.'

'Then what's the problem?!' I remembered repeating myself, having grown so very tired of going in circles with him.

And...I knew that I'd never forget that look he'd given me when I'd asked him that question. An anxiousness I'd never seen in him flashing in his eyes as his fingers found their way through his oddly colored hair.

'You never let anything go, do you? I don't get why you can't just take no for an answer.'

I remembered that it had been those words. Those exact words...that had finally set me off. The condescending connotation of clinging to frivolous things, being an annoyance. It was those very words that my dad had so cruelly hurled at my mom. The ones he had said to hurt her because he was screwed up on the inside. Telling her she'd never amount to anything...but a failing artist.

That, and nothing more.

'Fine. I'll find my own way to do this, whether you support me or not. I really don't care.' I had said, snatching up my things and shoving my feet into my shoes.

Even as my eyes now trailed and followed the moves of the two fighters in the ring before me, my mind was still trapped in this argument. Even now...his words seemed to have such a hold on me. Such weight and effect.

...even now...

Or...maybe...especially now, as I witnessed this madness in the ring.

'Are you seriously leaving over this?!' I remember he'd hurled this at my back as I'd begun to walk away from him. 'Just because I won't have a hand in you getting hurt?!' I remembered...his voice had held such an incredulous tone with this question.

This question...that had caught me so off guard.

Because...up until now...our relationship had never held room for such sentiment. And it was this unexpected show of emotion and concern from him...over me...that had really thrown me for a loop.

'What?!' I had paused to glare at him, because what he had said then didn't make sense in the least.

Because...I knew that he didn't really care about me. Not like that. Or...at least...that's what I had always thought.

Because all we did was see each other every day at school.

And screw each other on the weekends.

...it wasn't like I was his girlfriend...

'You're so annoying!' He had growled towards the dubious scowl I had thrown his direction as I had attempted to make my getaway. 'Why do I have to tell you that I don't want you getting hurt?! Why can't you figure that out for yourself?!'

And I remember that those words had caused me to stop completely. Halted in my tracks, as I felt the flames of my earlier anger flicker out and die. Die...to be replaced by emotions far more complex and confusing than my indignation.

'But...I fight you. I've never gotten hurt.'

'It's different with me.' He'd replied coolly as we found our bodies drifting together, drawn towards each other until we were toe to toe and eye to eye. 'I don't harm you on purpose. Who knows what kind of bloodthirsty psychos you'll be going up against?'

'You make it sound so dramatic.' I remembered laying my head on his chest as I stared down at my feet.

But as I drank in the violence made sport unfolding before my very eyes, I wondered if maybe he had been right about this...

If he had been right...to worry.

'But I guess you have a point.' I remembered having finally conceding to this well-made point he'd had. 'I just...I don't want to be afraid all the time. I want to...I want to prove something to myself.' The weight of these words had fallen so heavy along my shoulders.

So very heavy.

...until...

'Alright, I won't try to change your mind.' He had conceded, his hands moving to my shoulders to bring me away from his body. 'But I won't help you do it either. I don't want the guilt of helping you do something dangerous on my head. You gotta promise me one thing, thought.'

I remembered that this had made me feel so nervous. I had been so scared of his condition. Of what it might be. I hadn't been sure that I was okay with this...

'That depends.'

'You need to forfeit if you feel yourself struggling to stay conscious.' His voice had come so low and filled with concern that it had momentarily taken me aback as he continued with his caveat. 'If you think...even for a second...that you won't make it, promise me you'll tap out.'

It had taken me only a moment to think over this. Weighing the pros and cons before I had finally settled on my decision.

'Ok. I promise.'

As I watched the man in the ring go down hard with a viciously savage round house kick to the face from his opponent, I practically felt the silent cringe from Kyo as he stood next to me. Taking in this spectator sport. And I suddenly felt a level of gratitude towards his presence and the promise he'd had me make.

And I remembered that, after this argument we'd had, it had been his idea to scope out one of these events before I entered. The fliers were posted everywhere for these martial arts cage matches, so it hadn't been terribly difficult to find one to crash.

Put your fighting skills to the test in this nationwide tournament! Compete against the best of the best in your class, duking it out to win the grand prize!

Get ready to rumble!

And therein lied the double edged sword of these brutal competitions. The thrill, mixed with the real possibility of danger. Because...

Anyone could enter.

Anyone could fight.