Internship Time! (Closed, Sigga)

Either Firebrand had called her bluff or simply hadn’t noticed it, but the novice combatant’s strategy had failed before it even began. That was bad. Very bad. She hadn’t even bothered coming up with a backup plan, so certain she was that her ploy would succeed. Well, mostly she just couldn’t think of a backup plan.

No sooner had she bolted forward than Sigga found a cacophony of projectiles whizzing towards her. And they. Were. On. Fire.

Whatever expectations her instructor might have had of her he’d certainly be disappointed by the end of the match. This student was decidedly inexperienced in dodging flaming arrows. And it showed.

She tried, though. She certainly tried. Tried to dodge the overwhelming inferno that threatened to flambé the young fish.

Maybe she had thought she could shrink herself down and occupy the space between the arrows or something, but there was just no way. In a moment of alarm and desperation Sigga leapt over one projectile and attempted to contort herself between the rest of incoming danger. But no fewer than four arrows found their mark along her skinny form.

At least the hits weren’t direct. Who knew what kind of damage she would have sustained if they had been. But even grazes from Firebrands Quirk came with danger.

So close were the grazes that her orange shorts immediately burst into flames!

On instinct Sigga allowed her airborne form to flop to the ground before rolling across the length of the arena like a loose roll of toilet paper. Stop, drop, and roll. That was the counter, right?

Immolated as she was, the girl rolled and rolled and rolled. Up until her frame bounced into one of the pillars. But her shorts were still on fire. Only one option left.

It was as if a new form of combat had been created that day. Flaming-fish-jujitsu would be an entirely appropriate name for it. In a single deft motion Sigga bounced to her feet, disrobed the flaming article of clothing while cartwheeling, and flung the brightly burning garment with her foot at her mentor.

Certain the a pair of flaming shorts would somehow not be enough to subdue the Pro-Hero, Sigga immediately went from her combat cartwheel to a tactical dive behind the closest pillar. No sooner had she done so than the familiar heat of the pinkette’s Quirk signaled additional danger inbound. This attack even came with a verbal warning. How very polite of him.

The girl didn’t pause to catch her breath or bother looking up. She simply moved. Moved away from the pillar as molten concrete and rebar peppered the floor behind her in an incendiary display.

Sparks and glowing slag arched over her bald noggin’ as the fish pivoted on her heel and threw a kick in her instructor’s direction. Too distant to make contact, but that had not been her intent. During her attempt to put out the fire Sigga’s shoelaces had come undone. The girl was now taking advantage of this innocuous development. A single black sneaker shot through the air towards the archer.

Without missing a beat, Sigga moved behind another pillar. Line of sight momentarily broken, the girl pulled off her remaining shoe then dashed around the concrete column before throwing her second piece of footwear at the man like a boomerang.

The youth had gone from flaming-fish-jujitsu to straight on fish-fu. The ranged version. But with her remaining articles of clothing nearing zero there wasn’t much left with which to improvise.

Her dodging and weaving brought her closer to Flame-On’s chief and, reckless as it was, Sigga snapped at the opportunity to disarm her opponent. Only clothed in her black wetsuit and socks she dashed towards him. This time the teenager attempted to kick the bow out of Firebrand’s grasp. But that stratagem would fail as well.

She was entirely unversed in performing a proper kick, nevermind a running one. No sooner had one of her oversized feet left the ground than the girl’s momentum and lack of traction between her sock and floor caused Sigga to slip.

The piscine dropped to the floor, skidding towards her opponent on her back at an uncontrolled velocity, a single foot extended off the ground like a battering ram.

Okay. That wasn’t too bad. Sure every single one of her attacks and attempts failed, but that.... hadn’t exactly come as a surprise to the fish. She hadn’t expected to succeed against such a high ranking Pro-Hero. There was just no way. Yet she still couldn’t help but feel marginally defeated in the face of… well, defeat.

A quick mental review did little to bolster her self-confidence. Her first attempt at a feint? No dice. It didn’t even distract him. The improvised flaming projectile? Also accomplished nothing. The follow-up shoe attack? Barely took up any of the man’s attention. Same for the second shoe, though that one had mostly been flung so it didn’t affect her gait. Her opponent clearly wasn’t easily surprised. And the coup de grâce? Well, that didn’t go exactly as planned either. The lack of traction Sigga’s socks provided was an oversight. She had adapted quickly though. But what turned into a potentially potent, speeding, sliding groin kick just didn’t make the cut. Firebrand had easily sidestepped the cheap shot. And that’s where the rather ludicrous match came to a close.

Why couldn’t it have been a test of mental prowess instead? She could have won that. Probably… Maybe. Suzuki-san had been right though, at least. The internship hadn’t just parked her behind a desk like she originally feared. Though now she couldn’t help but wonder if that might not have been the better outcome.

Sigga staggered to her feet, checking to make certain her wetsuit hadn’t been damaged by the flames or subsequent slide. She was pleased to note that the thick, noir material remained quite intact. It wasn’t fireproof though, but still managed to successfully preserve her modesty and the fleshy fish that came with it. Good.

Her eyes avoided contact with those in the room as the girl casually dusted herself off. It had been a little bit embarrassing that she hadn’t gotten a single hit in. But that was alright. The point had been to give her mentor a bit of intel on her abilities; an understanding of how she could adapt and confront an overwhelming foe, she assured herself.

The bald girl accepted the replacement clothes and shoes brought to her by one of Flame-On’s aids, offering up a timid thanks to the man who seemed to be suppressing some particularly poignant mirth. Wait. What was so funny?

Firebrand’s sudden exhalation got her attention. Sigga finally turned to look at him as he spoke.

The critique was… blunt. Especially so, to say the least. Still a youth of fifteen Sigga had yet to develop the metaphorical thick skin to weather such an assessment. She did not take the criticism well. Her cheeks flushed at ‘pathetic’ and, though she wasn’t aware of the expression on her face, her amber eyes scowled at her mentor. Oh, yeah? How about we go another round then? the girl thought bitterly, embarrassment turning into a simmering anger. She didn’t say anything out loud, though. Physical altercations proved to be far more successful when they remained in the fantasy land between her head-fins. She simply turned her eyes to the floor as her glare tried to set the floor on fire.

It didn’t take long for the peeved teen to fix her wardrobe with the replacement shoes and shorts. She made sure to keep her face hidden while she cooled down. When she was ready to continue she walked over to Jun.

Having to run was not going to be fun. She did enough of that during P.E. It was awful there and it would be awful here. At least her blonde peer seemed nice enough to let her set the pace. Or so she thought until he followed up with the threat of a motivating shock. Sigga hadn’t seen the young man’s unamused expression during the spar so she would have normally assumed he was joking. But the bad mood brought on by the previous criticism hadn’t faded entirely, however, and the normally comedic Sigga’s expression soured once again.

Quiet so nobody but the blonde would hear, the fish said in a level tone, “You so much as point a finger at me, I’ll Quirk-slap you so hard your heart’s ventricles will forget how to operate.” It would appear her wry sense of humor had been jettisoned, but at least nobody would have to see if Sigga had been bluffing with her threat or not. Without another word she started on her first lap at a leisurely jog.

The previous spar had been all the stretching she needed, and soon she picked up the pace as she entered the second lap. She didn’t actually want to find out if Jun had been bluffing, though she didn’t want to seem like she cared either. For better or worse, once Sigga entered the third lap the exercise she was being put through had drowned out any rude thoughts in her mind, her brain switching to autopilot. Boy did she hate jogging.

Once the third lap around the room commenced Sigga seemed to enter some sort of a trance. The consistent rhythm of her pace; her shoes thumping against the floor allowed her mind some degree of zen despite the rest of her body’s silent protest to the physical exertion it was being put through. The only benefit brought on by the calisthenics was that it kept the girl from stewing in her own misery.

You could clearly make out the laboured hissing of her breath as she ran. Sigga had long ago convinced herself that she was not made to run. While certain situations in her past had required her to make a quick escape from danger, short bursts of speed were all she was capable of. Physical stamina was not her forte.

It wasn’t long before the bald teen’s lungs and legs began to accentuate their protests. She hadn’t realized it before, but apparently when she ran in her P.E. uniform at the academy, the loose-fitting shirt offered a benefit that her current hero outfit lacked. The wetsuit was like a second skin, snug against her ribs. Normally quite comfortable but now Sigga found it hampering her. The slits between her ribs, the girl’s gills, were completely walled off by synthetic neoprene. Her gills almost never saw use, but during exercises such as this one they offered the welcome benefit of an additional airway into her lungs. She would have found it mortifying if her classmates found out about the sickly manner in which her gills flapped about under her shirt while jogging. Now though? They were safely sealed beneath her hero outfit. And that was making it difficult for the jogger to get ample oxygen into her bloodstream.

Ugh, her inner voice groaned as she panted her way forward. She wasn’t even halfway done. Don’t think about it. Just keep moving. And she did, though keeping her pace steady.

Suddenly an unexpected shock sent Sigga jolting forward in pain. Unable to stop her mouth from reacting with the rest of her body, the teenager cried out a string of very inappropriate expletives before turning her head to catch sight of her assailant. She didn’t stop jogging however. Jun’s attempt to encourage her to move faster certainly achieved it’s desired goal. It also brought forth additional profanity from Sigga’s uncouth mouth. Now in a dead sprint she hollered back at the blonde, dropping the infamously versatile English F-bomb in a consecutive string where it was utilized first as an adjective and then as a noun. Even if by some miracle those present in the room had somehow gone through life unaware of this particular word, the tone and expression on Sigga’s face left little to be deciphered.

The harsh language continued for the remainder of the jog, ceasing only when Sigga collapsed at the very end of the final lap. It felt like her heart had weaseled all the way up her throat while the rest of her muscles forfeit any additional movement. She simply lay there on her back and stared at the ceiling, breathing heavily.

Someone brought her some water, which she accepted, though it was a few minutes before the exhausted teen had the energy to drink it. The hydrating liquid was quite welcome with Sigga going back for seconds, thirds, and fourths before she felt her thirst properly quenched. Though even then the mental and physical exhaustion did not dissipate.

The five minute break passed in what felt like a heart-beat and it was time to continue.

Once again Jun was left in charge of instruction. Sigga remained silent throughout, though her gaze was anything but placid. It wasn’t so much that she had calmed down. She simply knew that if she spent a single additional iota of energy in yelling or retaliating against the emerald-eyed young man in front of her, she’d likely pass out. The remaining fuel in her tank would be used strictly for internship-mandated business today, and that meant allowing Jun to teach her a few kicking techniques.

Though appearing to be strangely cooperative after the jog, she certainly hadn’t forgotten about the electroshock impetus he had put her through. The assault had brought back bitter memories from the last group home she lived in where domestic abuse had been the norm for all the children living there. It had been several years since then and though Sigga’s time at the facility had been a living nightmare, the memories weren’t ever going to be forgotten.

Quite contrary to her earlier performance, Sigga seemed to now be doing a rather immaculate job in absorbing Jun’s instructions. Her stance was a little wobbly at first, yes, but soon the kicks she was learning to mimic seemed rather well executed.

It was still clear that the fish was tired, but at least she wasn’t making any complaints. Perhaps it was that very silence that helped her in staying focused. When the kick training finally concluded Sigga got some more water to drink before reporting back to the duo. Her expression seemed to lighten a bit as she drank another bottle of H2O, waiting patiently for more instruction.

It always felt a little weird to Sigga when someone older than her talked about her gills. She didn’t know what it was. Perhaps some strange psychological vulnerability she had yet to fully decipher. Even speaking with her family physician on the subject made her a little uncomfortable. Never the case with her siblings or friends, though, which is why she presumed her discomfort was relating to the age of the person who was talking about her… body parts...

The unease she felt didn’t reach her face, however. The fish’s expression still had that contradicting mix of alertness and fatigue plastered all over. She didn’t even flinch at Firebrand’s pointed query. “Well...” she began slowly, uncertain how much she should say given the open-ended nature of the man’s remarks. “Uh, um, I don’t, like, need to use them unless I’d otherwise have to hold my breath for a long time underwater.” It never occurred to the girl that the man might have caught on to the fact her gills normally saw some use when she was overexerting herself physically on land. As far as she was aware Firebrand hadn’t ever observed her in P.E. class. Nor did he have x-ray vision. At least she hoped that was the case.

Sigga had, very briefly, contemplated ordering her hero suit with slits for her gills, but that idea had been jettisoned early on. Exposing them seemed more like a liability than a boon, even now in hindsight. Maybe one day she’d find someone in UA’s support department to hassle about tackling this problem to mitigate any associate risk with exposing her gills, but for now she was content with the way things were. Even if it technically hampered her during that excruciatingly long jog.

Her eyes stayed focused on Firebrand, though she didn’t add anything to her previous remark. She was too exhausted to think further on the subject seeing as there wasn’t anything for her to do about it at this juncture anyway. Her expression didn’t falter until the man suggested their next course of action was going to be a rematch between them.

W-what? Ugh. Not again… Despite the obvious thoughts her amber peepers seemed to convey, and despite all of the internships’ setbacks, there was one credit the dispirited fish certainly deserved. As tough as things got, whether through interviewing trauma victims, evading her would-be killer, or putting up with her peer’s sadistic personality, Sigga had yet to openly suggest she should simply quit the internship. On the other hand, she certainly had lost most of her enthusiasm.

Another spar? Well… at least it wasn’t against Tomoshibi. There was little comfort in knowing the day could always get worse, though.

She gave herself only another half-minute before getting to her feet. There was just no way things would turn out better this time around. Unlike in round one, Sigga was teetering on the precipice of physical and emotional exhaustion. At least in the short-term, all that training did little more than spend her fuel reserves. It never occurred to her that such stringent training regiments were the norm for most professional hero-agency. Heck, the one she had been put through was considerably lax, though in her mind she might as well have been doing aggressive military-esque calisthenics since dawn.

Sigga allowed herself a deep breath, then nodded at Firebrand that she was ready to continue. It would take a miracle for her to win even with the generous handicap the archer offered, but sometimes besting a challenge was never the point. Sometimes lessons had to be learned the hard way.

Her movement was a little bit sluggish. That was an inescapable fact. Fatigue tended to have that kind of impact on a person. Yet the fish was not about to phone it in. The moment Firebrand let loose his initial volley, Sigga darted to the side. Though a little slow, this time there was not an iota of wasted energy. If anything, the manner in which she evaded the arrows and hid behind the pillars seemed a bit more efficient; a little more calculated. There would be no test of endurance however.

Molten arrows quickly turned her cover into slag, peppering debris in the space the fish had occupied a second previous. By the time the seventh arrow seared across the arena, Sigga had managed to make her way to the closest pillar to her opponent. For a moment it appeared she would stay in cover for too long. As the eighth arrow pierced the column, Sigga rounded the corner in a predictable beeline towards the archer.

She seemed strangley focused, though focus alone wouldn’t cut it. It looked like the novice was attempting something similar to her previous match. Pat, pat, pat, went her bare feet against the arena floor. A sharpeyed observer would have noticed the girl’s sudden absence of footwear. Had she removed them during that extra split-second she hid behind the last pillar?

The remaining distance between them closed quickly with Sigga sprinting straight at him. The final two arrows sailed straight at her. For an instant it looked like they’d find their mark. Then came the first shoe. It wasn’t targeting her opponent this time, however. Synthetic leather and polyisoprene connected with one flaming arrow, diverting its course and hailing hot goo at the speeding fish.

Sigga ignored the detritus as it left tiny first-degree burns along her forearm, flinging her second replacement shoe at the final arrow. It too veered off course, the girl ducking under the melting sneaker. She gave some sort of amalgamation of a warcray, a mix of hiss and shriek, sending over a hundred pounds of stubborn school-girl in a headbutt at the pink-haired man’s solar plexus in an attempted tackle, while her oversized hands tried to hook under his thighs in order to bring the Pro-Hero to the ground.

Either way, Sigga’d made sure to stay glued to him. As long as she didn’t give him any chance to increase the distance maybe, just maybe, she could fulfil the conveniently lax requirement of landing a solid hit. Even if the tackle ended up failing, and she couldn’t pin the man, a flurry of fists would keep him on the defensive. She might not have been schooled in throwing a proper punch, but the only requirement she set up for herself was to have her knuckles connect with some skin. Then her Quirk would do the rest.

The match and pretty much the entire day would leave Sigga with a lot of information to mull over. Though the idea of giving herself some internship-related homework was not on her mind at this very moment, once she got home finding out all the details of Firebrand’s Quirk would certainly be of some use if she was to ever go up against him again. For now all she could do was keep up the pressure.

Her charge hadn’t gotten her that one solid hit she needed to end the match, but it did ease some of the stress running and dodging more arrows would have given her. Her thighs still ached from the earlier run, sending wordy objections through her nervous system as to the way the girl had been treating them today. At least now they were only forced to make short, if quick, steps. So that was a victory in and of itself. No more running.

Most of Sigga’s energy was now being utilized for jabs and slaps, measuring her opponent’s reaction time and reach. Her arms hadn’t been given much of a workout until now. Though she didn’t know how to put a noteworthy amount of force behind her punches, both them and the open palms she sent flying at Firebrand didn’t need much strength behind them. For now she was just trying to keep him on his toes; keep him on the defensive.

Trying to take the archer’s bow away from him hadn’t been given serious consideration. Sigga knew she wouldn’t be able to wrestle the weapon away while he had a tight grip around it. And what use would it be if she managed to snag the bow anyway? Taunt him for his carelessness? Fat chance. He didn’t seem the type to provoke easily. And disarming him wasn’t the primary objective anyway. Nevertheless, it didn’t hurt to give him something else to think about; something to split his concentration.

“Getting tired yet?” the fish goaded, breathing quite heavily herself. She wasn’t listening for his reply, remaining focused on his movements so she’d continue to stay too close for him to use his weapon properly. Though if the man decided to utilize the weapon’s pointy protrusions and swing the thing like a cudgel that would certainly end the fight quickly. And not in her favour.

Just then an idea came to the bald brawler.

Sigga didn’t even review the plan’s potential. Any moment of hesitation would give Firebrand that extra bit of time to pick up any tells her movements might be telegraphing. She simply acted.

Like the jaws of some deepsea creature both of Sigga’s oversized hands clamped down hard on the bow’s central handguard. The absence of spikes here had left the weapon open to her. Large, boney fingers snaked around in an instant with all ten digits interlaced leaving her grip on the weapon as solid as her opponent’s. Firebrand seemed to have considered this tactic, reacting with what would have been a painful shot to her shins. But Sigga was already airborn by this point.

Avoiding the counter was pure luck. The second she had gripped the bow Sigga used all the strength in her biceps to pull herself off the ground and towards Firebrand, both bare feet directed towards the man’s neck and jaw in an upward kick. Her weight alongside gravity tugged the bow towards her as the rest of the fish turned her body into a makeshift spear. Never before had she considered using her Quirk through her feet, but everything she had ever done had at some point happened for the first time. And if her heels managed to connect with Firebrand then this would make for a string of firsts as well.

Her toes sailed majestically through the air, whizzing into the space that had a split-second ago been occupied by a head of pink hair. She tried to stretch; to reach out and extend the arc in which her legs moved towards the man, but for every inch they advanced, the pink hair retreated by just as much. And in that moment Sigga realized her momentum was about to be used against her.

Like a planet orbiting it’s scalding star, Sigga was spun through the air. But she wouldn’t let go. No. She had managed to get a firm grip on the weapon. No way was she going to give up this advantage. If only she could somehow wrestle the bow away from him, then maybe… She barely had time to finish the thought when her orbit around the man suddenly ended. Hey eyes widened in horror as the man let go, sending the fish careening through the air.

Sigga thought a rude word. Then THWACK!

Bow still clutched in her hands, the novice slammed into the pillar before dropping to the floor with a thud. Her world spun around her, but she wasn’t out of the fight just yet. Sigga staggered to her feet, oblivious to the flaming projectile that had already been launched her way. As her vision focused a wave of searing heat bathed her hairless dome with it’s warmth, a flaming hot arrow barely missing one of her headfins. What the duece?!

She ducked, but long after the danger had already passed. Her amber gaze turned back to Firebrand. The expression she wore was one of shock and betrayal. He can just MAKE his own bow?? So used to was she in dishing out deceit it was an altogether unfamiliar experience for Sigga to be the target of such a swindle. If she had felt any sort of connection to the man she might have even felt proud of him having pulled one over on her like that. But now she only felt a bit of shame. Shame for having gone ahead and assumed the bow she had liberated from his grasp was the archer’s only means of ranged assault.

Her brow creased at the remark Firebrand just paid her. Her psychological guard was fully up. The adulation could very well have been genuine, but now the fish could not but presume the words were just another manipulative tactic. What? Did he think she’d lower her guard or go easy on him just because he paid her a compliment?? She wasn’t that simple-minded. Most of the time…

Unaware of that an opportunity to call off the bout had presented itself, Sigga bolted forward before her opponent finished speaking. Her steps weren’t quite as fast as before however. Her body had finished with protesting against all this physical activity and was in the preliminary steps to forfeiting the girl’s right to continue using it. The movements weren’t sluggish, though.

Plap, plap, plap, went her feet as she charged Firebrand head on once more. The bow which she had acquired would now be used against it’s master. Sigga had no arrows though. Probably for the best as she’d be unlikely to hit the boardside of a barn. Bows were weird. So was the way she held this one.

Her grip hadn’t relaxed, with Sigga wielding the weapon like some Klingon bat’leth. It wasn’t ideal. But the girl knew how to improvise if nothing else. The thing could withstand having fire arrows fired from it so it wouldn’t be too far a leap in logic to presume it could withstand heat better than your average bow. In any case, she was about to find out.

Sigga rushed her instructor, ready to attempt deflecting any incoming volley. If she could close the distance without taking a molten bolt to the chest, maybe a few swings of the bow’s limbs might dispel or disrupt Firebrand’s replacement weapon long enough for her to garrote the man with the bowstring. Okay. Yeah. That would be escalating things by a factor, something directly opposed to Sigga’s survivalist ethos. But Firebrand was a cut above your average pro-hero and it wasn’t like he’d let her do as she pleased.