Title:           Raging Minotaur (Part 3 of 7)
Author:          Antioch
Pastebin link:   http://pastebin.com/KbLf3sGF
First Edit:      Sunday 21st of July 2013 03:23:05 AM CDT
Last Edit:       Sunday 21st of July 2013 03:23:05 AM CDT

Training day 20
>Dash has spent the better part of the week watching you practice on the punching bag.
>She not only observes but occasionally involves herself
>showing you better footwork, how to throw punches faster and such
>After a week of this, she takes the next step
>“Did you ever fight in the ring?”
>Still filled with such joy that the two of you are actually interacting once again, you spill out as much information as you can as fast as you can
Yes, I did boxing back home.  I did pretty good in the amateur league for a few years.  After that I did a couple of fights in the intermediate cruiserweight division but I didn’t win any of them. I was gonna train for more but I sort of forgot about the whole thing after I wound up here.
>That sentence played out longer in your head. Despite that, you still have her attention
>“You only lost your fights because you didn‘t have me as your trainer”
>Not anticipating such a bold leap forward, you stammer a bit getting a response out. >You’re not even sure if you heard her correctly
W-what?”
>“You should train more. I mean, not just practice on your bag but build stamina, jump rope, lift weights and re-learn how to box”
>Being both fascinated and a little intimidated by her prospect, you proceed tentatively
Do you guys run boxing circuits out here?
>“Not ponies. But there is a circuit that is ran,  played and watched Mostly by Minotaurs. Though there are some other odds and ends that participate. Teenage dragons, Griffins. That sort of crowd”
Did you ever get into that?
>She gives an indignant sigh
>“No. I would have liked to, but like I said; Ponies don’t really practice boxing. Even Pegasus don‘t care that much. There wouldn‘t be anyone in my weight class to compete against”
Oh. Well, I’m sorry…
>“But you’re in the weight class. You might even be able to compete in the heavyweight bracket”
>The idea of competing in the heavyweight bracket steers the proposition from interesting to terrifying
Whoa! Its a little too soon to think about that
>“There’s no such thing as too soon. You should always set high goals to help keep you motivated. I’ll help you train, do you have any more canvas?”
Yeah, Hang on. I got some on a shelf
>You pull the canvas off the shelf and throw it down on the floor. With some scissors and staples, the both of you start working on improvising a set a focus mitts.
>Even though Dash’s ambitions might be a little too big for you now, you’re still happy that the two of you have a common ground for the moment
>You smile at her as she puts on the mitts. She gives a slight smile back, signifying some mutual interest.
You ready?
>She stands on her back legs, cracking her neck as she balances herself. You suppress a giggle. She really does look ridiculous
>“Ready! Give me a jab-jab-uppercut combo!”
>You toss your punches accordingly; left jab! Left jab! Right uppercut
>She feeds the mitts into your punches, her balance being slightly tipped with each blow
>“Again!”
>You repeat your attack. Her balance is now slightly more adjusted to the force of the incoming punches the second time around
>“Good now give me three jabs and a hook”
>You toss accordingly once more; Left Jab! Left Jab! Left Jab! Right hook!
>The both of you feel the burn from using the crude equipment immediately. Its subnormal but it will have to do for now
>After about 10 minutes of training, you’re ready to sit down and rest but Dash shows no such lethargy
>as you kneel down to catch your breath, she urges you to get up and start punching again
>“Get up, Anon! I want to see an uppercut-jab-overcut”
Dash, I need a bit to rest. I’m tired out
>“Ah, right! I forgot. You don’t have any stamina…”
>She tosses the mitts off with a sharp change of plans in mind
>“Get your running shoes on. you need to jog”
>With nothing but your tiredness in mind, you urge her to take a break.
Dash, can’t we just take this one day at a time
>Not realizing at the moment that such a request could destroy all the bridges you’ve been building, you reluctantly stand up to find your jogging shoes as you don’t believe she’ll take no for an answer
>But to your surprise, she eases up. Quite humbly, as a matter of fact.
>“Y-yeah. That’s fine, Anon. We can work on your stamina tomorrow. I forgot you spend your days at work. you’re probably really tired”
Thank you
>Not knowing how to handle being both surprised and relieved by her sympathy, you inadvertently lean in and give her a quick kiss on the cheek
>She’s wholly unresponsive to it. She doesn’t even flinch.
>You’re not sure if she welcomed it or not but you feel a slight discomfort as you wait for clarification.
>Ready to wrap it up for the night either way, you announce your retirement from the basement
I’m going to make some food
>“Watch your carbs”
>She still hasn’t given you any response to that kiss
>You head upstairs and out of the basement, leaving her behind.
 
Round 3
>You sit on your stool, rinsing out your mouth once again as an ecstatic Dash applauds your flair
>“Anon! That was beautiful! You’re the first fighter who’s ever decked Will!”
>That would go somewhere to explain as to why Will is staring you down with daggers in his eyes
I don’t think he’s gonna take kindly to that
>Her excitement dies down as she begins giving you the plan for this round
>“I know. Stay away from him this round. He’s going to try and make you pay for that. All you need to do is avoid”
>That’s about as good of a plan as anyone can give. You pop in your mouth piece and stand up right as she pulls the stool out from underneath you
>Will’s fixated gaze pierces into you. The very instant the bell rings, he runs across the ring for you.
>Not a typical approach with a boxing stance assumed but a straight up sprint
>Problematically, this leaves you no time whatsoever to get out of your corner. He knocks you back into the post and begins pummeling you cruelly
>You assume your usual defenses hoping to deter damage from the incoming swarm of punches but the ensuing barrages of piercing pain coming in from multiple directions tells you that your not deterring any damage at all
>He was merely screwing around before but now he’s taking it serious and your battered body is feeling it
>You try to see your way to an escape route but the blows strike you with such rhythm rapidity and relentlessness on either and every side of you that its almost as if Will has eight arms.
>Dash shouts to you
>“Anon, get out of the corner!”
>“How?” You wonder
>Doing the first thing that comes to mind, you take the bull by the horns. Literally
>Eating through the flurry of punches, you lunge into Will and grip onto the horns protruding from his temples
>You clinch close to him as to completely close the distance between the both of you ergo disarming his punches of their gained momentum
>You’re successful for a moment as he throws three halfhearted punches into your ribs but after that he simply pushes you away
>You lose your grip and fly back into that death trap. You shake your head dizzily, ready yourself to take another beating and wonder how you’re going to get out.
>Thankfully, Will opens with what might be your only chance of escaping
>Rather than a unleashing another flurry of blinding strikes, he starts his attack by throwing another extremely wide haymaker, the same that resulted in him getting decked in the previous round.
>Looks like he’s a bit of a slower learner
>Quick to identify your only window of escape, You dip beneath his incoming haymaker and slip behind him.
>His arm drifts over your head harmlessly as you make a clean getaway. To an outside observer, the whole sequence might resemble a matador dodging a bull
>As you finish your escape and land behind him, you see his missed punch hijack his body. It pilots him waywardly to the point of losing balance
>For good measure, you turn around and slug him in the temple with a hook punch, causing him to lose contact with the ground
>The combined forces of his own failed punch and your counter send his body flying into the post. You flinch as you seem him crash into it snout first. Even amidst the intense competition in the ring, you still find that hard to watch
>Will lays bent over on the ropes with his face buried in the corner. The Referee steps in to begin counting Will out but Will manages to get up in a lightning recovery before the ref can start the count
>Still, you can see right away that smashing into the post hampered him dreadfully
>That crash dazed him so much that he can hardly keep his balance while standing
>That doesn’t keep him from continuing though. He sprints for you again but this time his body movements are so unfocused and undirected that he almost misses you entirely.
>He narrowly avoids gliding off to the side of you and smashing into the post a second time
>To your great delight, The punches he’s throwing are equally unfocused and undirected
>You can tell he’s throwing them the hardest he has all match, but that adds up to nothing when every single one of them misses.
>You could easily zero in and start pummeling him, though you’d rather not be decked by a lucky punch. Instead you op to do as Rainbow Dash had suggested at the beginning of the round; keeping your distance
>You kite Will around the ring, sure not to get struck in the process. For good measure, you lay down some trash talk so that he’ll stay in pursuit
We eat bulls where I come from!
>His punches become more aggressive…
Did anybody ever tell you that nose ring makes you look like a door knocker?
>…but not more accurate
That all you got, Lunchmeat?
>The bell rings and the round ends before you can get off another insult
>But that doesn’t stop Will. He continues his pursuit in blind rage. The referee grabs him, holds him back and slowly pile drives him back to his corner. With Will seated in the stool and calming down, you retreat to yours