Summer's heat swelled through the windows of the Chaldea Fight Team gym as its young fighters paired off on the mats and trained their strikes under Lancer's eye. Mordred donned pads as Musashi threw punches, kicks, and knees to her. Musashi, Chiyome, Fuuma, and Touta had their eyes set on their upcoming fights. Offers for Chaldea's fighters sprouted after Mordred's first Grail War fight, more at once than Ritsuka once handled. The sweat of their bodies fogged up the windows as they tempered their bodies and sharpened their blows.
Mordred and Musashi paired off in sparring to cap off the day's training. Musashi's karate stance, her hands near her waist and eyes focused on the center of Mordred's body, let her counter easily, though Mordred baited her with feints she learned in kickboxing. When the final buzzer sounded, they high-fived and headed to the showers. Water dripped out of Mordred's hair as she finished washing early, ready to head home and take a nap. As she slipped on her boots, she overheard Chiyome and Musashi talking.
"So, eight at your place tomorrow?" Musashi asked.
"Mm-hm," Chiyome replied. "Some of my friends from Yamanashi will be there, too."
"See you guys later," Mordred blurted as she walked out of the locker room with a quick wave. They waved after her, though she only caught a glimpse in the corner of her eye. She said goodbye to her trainers and Ritsuka before making a beeline for the subway.
Mordred waited in the station with a wayward stare at the ground. The shuffling of feet around her, the beeping of the intercom, and the monotonous voice announcing the impending arrival of the train passed her by like a mild breeze. Though her victory of Medusa remained fresh in her mind, the thrill and jubilance came and went like a firework. Artoria's response to her message the night of the fight helped douse the spark over her win - It seems you've improved a bit. Her head remained low as she entered the subway, walked up the stairs to Shinjuku, and went to clean her training gear.
Mordred kept her head high while sparring and training with her partners, smirking through their sessions as she watched and helped them prepare for their upcoming bouts. Though they all had a measure of experience by that point, Mordred racked up more wins than most of them had total fights in a shorter window of time. Musashi and Chiyome thanked her whenever they finished training. Fuuma, however, the only of the younger male fighters she trained with, would give Mordred little more than a nod at the end of the day. She would give one in turn, though they traded punches more often than words.
Several weeks into the younger fighters' camps, Fuuma approached Mordred before one of their sparring sessions. Mordred, sitting on the ground with one leg outstretched, looked up at him. His red hair covered his eyes, and the expression on his lips offered little to read.
"What's up?" Mordred asked as she continued stretching.
"Not much," he said. "Sorry if I'm interrupting you."
Mordred shrugged. "You're fine."
Fuuma nodded and sat an arm's distance away. "Isn't that friend of yours fighting tomorrow night?"
Mordred looked up with an eyebrow raised. "You mean Fran?"
Fuuma nodded. "I remember when we watched her fight in that tournament. She's strong, but I think your performance was much more impressive."
"Thanks," Mordred replied with a touch of confusion in her voice. "What makes you think so?"
Fuuma grinned. "You went into an absolute war during your last tournament fight while your friend looked like she could barely make it into the ring. You didn't let up at all no matter what your opponent threw at you. That Fran girl looked like a wounded animal out there."
"So what? She won her tournament, too."
"Yeah, but how far do you think she can go in Grail Wars?" Fuuma asked. "Do you really think she can beat your sister?"
Mordred narrowed her eyes, squeezing her knees as her hands tried to clench into fists. "If they ever fight, I guess we'll have to see."
"I'm just saying. She can be brutal, but how long can she keep that up, especially against someone like Artoria?"
"My sister ain't unbeatable."
"Of course; nobody is," Fuuma said as he rested his hands on his knees. "I'm not saying that I don't think she'll succeed, I just want to know how far you think she'll get."
Mordred let out a sharp breath. "She'll go far; I bet she has it in her to challenge for the belt. Besides, there isn't anyone in the division with her power."
"I don't know about that. Do you remember that white-haired girl we saw in the preliminary fights?"
Mordred thought back to the night of Frankenstein's tournament. She, the trainers, Fuuma, and a handful of others were among the half-full crowd gathered for the prelims. While some of the fights came and went with little to write home about, the performance of the Greek fighter Penthesilea shook those watching.
"She just joined Grail Wars," Fuuma said. "Same division as you and your friend."
Mordred smirked. "I'm not afraid of her. I bet Fran isn't either."
"I don't think either of you would be. Still, gotta wonder if anyone's gonna topple your sister anytime soon."
Mordred grit her teeth but said nothing. She hopped up and strapped her gloves onto her hands. "Whatever; let's just get to training."
Mordred spent the sparring session throwing overhand punches, high kicks, elbows, and body-shaking combos until the final buzzer. She took a cold shower before heading home. Once the door shut, she hopped onto her futon and checked her phone for new messages. Zero; not one from her sister or from Fran. While she never expected even a "how are you" from Artoria, Fran's silence stung in her chest. Not even an intermediary note from Moriarty found its way to her.
The next day was one she planned on taking off from training, a day of rest to let her recover. Moreover, she wanted to watch Frankenstein's fight. She checked her phone, and again found no new messages from Fran or Moriarty. Mordred sighed as she went to check her recent calls. Moriarty's number remained unlabeled on her phone, but the aberrant area code gave away its owner. Her thumb remained pressed on the number before she could debate calling. A flustered, frustrated sigh escaped Mordred as she set the phone to its speaker, waiting to hear Moriarty pick up.
No one answered. A generic message to leave a voicemail rang through her phone's speaker. Mordred raised an eyebrow and checked to see what time it was on the American west coast since the Grail War event would broadcast live from California.
Five in the afternoon, Mordred thought. Maybe they're just preparing for her fight. It's gonna be in two or three hours.
Mordred sighed, more resigned than before, and left to complete a few quick errands - buy food for the week, check stores for new training gear, see if there was anything she needed around her apartment, and so on. As she went about, she checked her phone to monitor the start of the event. She returned to her apartment before noon with two bags of groceries and a new mouthguard in her hands. When she saw the time on her clock, she stuffed the food into her fridge and tossed the unopened mouthguard's package onto her counter as she jumped into her loveseat. Her television flashed to life as she scoured for the channel on which Grail Wars aired. Some of their events, particularly those in Europe, aired at eye-scathing hours of the night. This time, however, she could sit back in the morning sun as the fanfare theme for Grail Wars FC blared through the TV, harkening the opening graphics.
The first two fights passed before Mordred's eyes. Although she kept an eye on the screen, her tapping foot and fingers wouldn't stop until the graphic for the third fight of the show came on: Frankenstein versus Anne Bonny. Mordred leaned forward and clasped her hands together as the two women met in the center of the cage. While Frankenstein held a hair of a height of advantage, Bonny's larger arms and legs let out a crack with every landed shot.
Mordred's heart jumped as squirmed in her seat. Frankenstein and Anne Bonny continued throwing strikes, not once going for a takedown or clinching for more than a second. They pushed each other back, though Frankenstein kept skirting around the edges of the cage, ducking and blocking strikes while countering with her own. The first round came to an end with both women bruised, though Fran's heavier breaths did little to settle Mordred.
Bonny Anne pushed Frankenstein to the back of the cage a minute into the second
threatening strikes as she sought to create an opening. Frankenstein kept her hands up and eyes open, however, and continued to block and dodge while firing off jabs of her own. Though the action in the cage lulled and the crowd remained at a low drone, Mordred bit down on her knuckle as the clocked ticked down. Her teeth dug into her skin as Bonny Anne rushed forward with a straight punch, only for Frankenstein to dodge out of the way. She threw a punch before Bonny could settle into a new position, hitting square on her chin and sending her to the canvas. Mordred clapped her hands and hopped out of her chair with a cheer as the referee called the fight.
Mordred sat back down once the replays of the finish started, her palms red from clapping. She relaxed into the back of the seat as the referee brought the two fighters to the middle and raised Frankenstein's hand. An announcer came into the ring to interview Frankenstein. Moriarty stood at Frankenstein's right while Victor stood behind her. He translated the questions into German and returned her answers in English. The questions and answers were as she expected; the plan heading into the fight, thoughts on her performance, and how soon she felt ready to fight. When the announcer asked Frankenstein who she would like to fight, Frankenstein looked into the camera. Her amber and blue eyes gave a listless stare as she peered from behind her hair.
"Mordred Pendragon," she replied. The air in Mordred's apartment grew still as her jaw
dropped. Frankenstein turned away without another word and left the cage with her father, Moriarty, and the rest of her usual team. A commercial played before Mordred shut off the TV. Her eyes grew red in her reflection against the blank screen, narrowing before she grit her teeth.
"What the Hell?!" she shouted as she stood and smashed her fist against the wall, wincing as she shook out the flash of pain. Her phone buzzed as she clutched her hand. Messages from Fuuma, Chiyome, Ushiwakamaru, and Boudica appeared all at once. A call from Ritsuka came through before she could check any of them. Mordred answered it the second button to accept appeared.
"Um, Mordred-" Ritsuka started.
"Did you see that shit!" Mordred yelled before Ritsuka could continue. "What the Hell is up with her? We don't talk for a few months and now she wants to fight?"
Ritsuka cleared her throat. "Yeah, I just saw that, too."
Mordred let out a frustrated sigh as she paced in her apartment. "Give me the fight," she said.
"Hold on, Mordred-"
"I don't care. If Fran wants to fight, then fine. Talk to her manager or whoever it is that decides this crap and get me a fight with her."
Ritsuka hesitated a few seconds. "Are you sure?" she asked.
Mordred's brow furrowed as she pressed the phone close to her ear. "Hell yeah, I'm sure. If she wants this out of the blue, I'm gonna give her an answer before she can get back home."
Ritsuka nodded. "I'll see what I can do."