He walked through the park, trying to make sense of last night’s events. He remembered being in high temper with Archer, swinging wide and hard, but it seemed that Archer was still too fast for him. He was able to get a few hits in at least, but he really needed to tighten up his style. He also needed to watch out for tricks, not to get confused when someone did something he found unusual. He didn’t seem to consider being less aggressive, but then again, Fierce didn’t get his name out of a hat.
He found his favorite spot, away from many peeping eyes but still close to a water fountain and near a tennis court, where he liked to occasionally watch the girls play. He looked behind the water fountain to find his sword, as ever nearby, and started to practice.
There was no point in practicing; a No One’s body cannot be improved upon. It is uncannily stronger and more flexible than a normal person, and it can perform any number of absurd actions, but a No One’s metabolism is stopped, and he cannot gain muscle or lose weight. His reflexes won’t get any better, and his strength won’t increase over time. A No One is practically stuck in time, only his mind experiencing each moment going forward. But that never stopped Fierce; for him, his body was his experience, one that wanted to feel everything, and so, out of habit and brash hope, he practiced.
“At it again, handsome?” a voice called as Fierce let out an angry roar after a downward swing.
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