Scorching Slash

My metal fist plunged deep into the soft, plump body of the black Shimaenaga. It was like punching into a freshly made mochi; my fist sank in deeper and deeper—past my wrist, my elbow, and then my shoulder. This was ridiculous! It felt as if my fist was being swallowed by an endless marshmallow.

With a heavy impact, the black Shimaenaga was sent flying, crashing through the fence and skidding back onto the sandy field with a loud thud.

The crowd roared with excitement.

"What an incredible strike! Akatani Makoto, known for his power, has just launched the massive Shimaenaga across the field!"

The announcer's voice matched the rising cheers from the stands, the spectators now fully engrossed in the battle.

But the situation wasn't as good as it seemed. The Shimaenaga quickly got back up, turning to face me. It recovered too fast—did the hit even affect it? My timing had been perfect, hitting it with a counterstrike, but the bird didn't seem fazed.