Chapter 12: Shape
What is the shape of a fist?
When you think about it, the hand is pretty weird.
It is asymmetrical is just about every way possible, the muscles that move the fingers are not in the hand itself, but in the forearm, all of the major nerves and blood vessels pass through a single tunnel in the wrist, and so on.
But if you curl up the fingers in the way they are naturally made to curl up in, they tighten up into what we call a "fist". So what shape is that?
Amity had been asking herself these kinds of questions lately… why exactly, however, she had no idea. It didn't even have anything to do with the tournament, this had been going on for a while back already. She didn't tell Luz anything about it to avoid sounding crazy, of course.
She just felt like there was…. Something there. Something she wanted to know for sure for some reason. Like, in the back of her mind, she was trying to accomplish some sort of goal, and to do that, she needed to know these things.
Even though she had no idea what her "goal" was, she somehow was aware that the first question she needed to answer was: what is the shape of a fist?
She was mindlessly walking around bonesborough, not really paying attention. The events of recent days gave her an extra sense of urgency when it came to answering these questions, for some unknown reason.
It was to be expected when she accidentally ran into someone.
"OW! Sorry! I didn't mean to! I wasn't paying attention!"
"It's fine, don't worr- … hey, you are Amity Blight!"
Amity felt a bit surprised to be recognized, but it made sense when she realized who this person was.
In front of her stood a 16-year-old human girl. Her skin was a deep shade of brown. Her black curly hair was tied into a bunch of cleanly made cornrows, which were tied into a ponytail. She was more or less Amity's height, and had striking and piercing blue eyes, thin lips and a somewhat small nose. She was very pretty, obviously Luz completely outclassed her (in Amity's eyes), but she was undeniably gorgeous. And the most evident part of her body was her build. She was wearing a basic black tank top and some boxer shorts, which revealed her muscular and very well-toned physique. She also had some white straps on her hands, much like a boxer would… actually, exactly like a boxer would, since she was.
Amity took some time to look into the human competitors, so she wouldn't be caught off guard anymore. So she knew this girl as Jessica Tyson, an up and coming underground boxer that was slowly making a name for herself in the industry. She was first known as the daughter of the legendary heavy-weight champion, Mike Tyson, A.K.A. "Iron Michael". But quickly made it very clear she was not going exactly in her father's footsteps. Her style was much faster, much more evasive, and had a much more defined and intense footwork built into it. Notably, her style did not use guarding, ever.
Eventually, she revealed to the world that she was not actually using boxing. Not exactly, anyway.
"Well, this is quite the coincidence! I was looking for you, actually."
"You were?"
Oh no.
"Yeah. After everything Luz said about you, I just had to take a look for myself, ya know?"
BACK
THE FUCK
UP
"You…. Know Luz?"
"Of course I do! Since we were little kids! Has she never said anything about me? … I guess it makes sense, I haven't seen her practically since I officially got in the ring… We don't talk a lot these days."
Jessica had a sort of melancholic look to her… like she really missed hanging out with Luz… like…
OH HELL NO.
Author's note: chill, Amity is just being paranoid.
"I see… Well I have certainly never heard MY Luz say a word about you. Which is pretty strange if you ask me."
…. Subtle
"OK, tiger. Calm down. I ain't trying anything here… Ok, well, I AM trying to get a round or two with ya, given the chance we have right now."
Amity wasn't that sure yet, but that last part hit different.
"Huh?.., You want to fight me?... ok, what DID Luz say about me to you? Now I feel like I need to know."
Amity's very much real insecurities were cropping up like crazy right now. Some untitanly gorgeous human girl she never heard of show up out of nowhere, says she has known Luz since forever, is interested in her (again, chill. Just paranoid), and apparently, Luz said something about Amity to this girl that made her want to fight; which after the events of the last couple of days, she no longer has ANY idea what it could mean anymore.
"… You know what? Imma hold on to that. Let's put it this way: Ya beat me, I tell ya. Can I get ya to fight like that?"
…
Well, she was bound to fight someone eventually anyway. And at the very least it wasn't one of those monsters like Jack or Shibukawa, so maybe she stood a fair chance here.
…
Yeah, the terror she felt before came RUSHING back. For Titan's sake, just look at how everyone else ended up.
…
But at the same time, there was a strange feeling brewing up inside her. It was that strange sensation she had been having for a while now, like she was trying to accomplish something that she could not put into words.
"… Fine, let's do this."
Jessica dropped everything she was carrying and struck a stance.
Jessica's father, Iron Michael, was known for his contradicting style. He was absolutely massive, and had a punching power that was literally mind breaking. And while you would expect him to have a slow, tank-like style that would capitalize on his size, power and durability; he instead used his now famous "peek-a-boo" style, which was more like Alai's "rope-a-dope" style: high speed and evasion followed by quick and precise strikes in key moments. Michael was paradoxically fast for his size, and the combination of his speed and power made him the heavy-weight legend that he is.
Jessica, on the other hand, was rather lean and nowhere nearly as heavy. So it made sense that she instead used the style of someone who was like her: Floyd "Money" Mayweather. She used his signature "blade-off" stance, which had her sideways from her opponent, with her right arm being what faced Amity. For leaner, lighter boxers, this stance gave them 2 advantages:
their vital points were harder to hit. Since they were covered by their arms and flanks, things like their faces, and more importantly their chins, were extremely hard to land a good hit on. Their guts and chests were also very well protected.
They were much faster to dodge and strike. While a strike that comes from a blade-off stance is much weaker, if you hit just the right spot, it doesn't matter. You can ask Darius just how hard you need to hit someone to knock their lights out.
Of course, this style required extremely precise and well-coordinated footwork. One bad step and you might find yourself falling over your own feet a tenth of a second before getting slammed in the face.
But one thing struck Amity as extremely odd, and it brought that question back: what is the shape of a fist.
Because her fists were not rolled the same way a regular boxer's fists are. Instead of being compressed as tightly as possible, her middle finger jutted out ever so slightly. Breaking the spherical shape it would normally-
OH, A SHPERE!
THAT'S THE SHAPE OF A FIST!
Amity had no idea why she was so excited at this revelation, but she was. It felt like the pieces of something were finally coming together.
Amity raised her hand to draw a circle, trying her best not to waste any time.
But Jessica made her move first.
Her fist came in a bizarre curve, her entire body twisting to make it come in a roundhouse fashion. Amity was barely fast enough to put her left arm up, and she was sent flying a meter back by the blow. She then felt a stinging pain in her arm, and when she looked at it, she saw something incomprehensible along the length of her forearm: a cut.
She was cut? With what?
She couldn't see any blades or weapons on Jessica. How the Titan did she do that?
Jessica came swinging again, this time from Amity's right. Her right arm was cut this time. She was pushing forward with extreme aggression, and soon came a flurry of strikes all over Amity's body, making cuts all over the place, leaving her bleeding from every which way imaginable. Amity could barely cover her face, as every other part of her body was assaulted.
The pain was indescribable, like a million blades burning her skin.
There was no other way, it had to be her fist, the jutted out finger made a point that, when struck fast and hard enough, with a tense enough grip, could cut like a blade. The shape of the "point" turned the "sphere" into a "wedge", that's how she could cut.
What the hell was Amity doing, thinking of THIS while she is getting butchered?!
…
Was there something to be done?
…
She was unable to move
Unable to make a circle
Forced to do nothing more that defend her face and hope
…
Was there no way to attack?
…
If only she had another fist. Yes, if she could just have another fist on her, she could throw a punch…
A fist… is a sphere…
Her abominations… could change shape…
What happened next was not on purpose, Amity was not aware that she did it, she just did. While she did, she was thinking:
If I could just… throw a punch here… make a fist… a ball… and throw it at her
Suddenly, Jessica's onslaught stopped, as a solid, perfectly spherical ball of abomination mud nailed her square in the middle of her face, throwing her off balance and making her fall on to her back.
Amity was confused, as she just saw Jessica on the ground and a perfect ball was just floating in the air…
When had she done this? Did she make a circle at some point?
No… she would not have had a chance…
…
But regardless of "how", it was there.
Her mind became clearer.
There it is…
My third fist.