Itumente Icandelo 3

3rd POV

After the end of the Semifinals, T'Challa and N'Jadaka went onto the stage immediately.

One shared look. N'Jadaka shut out the distraction of the crowd, and the world contracted to one twenty-five-foot circle and one similarly dressed bot as himself with a sword two sword-lengths away from him. N'Jadaka dropped into a light crouch and stood motionless, just waiting. His sword was still. Every movement, every breath and shift and toss of wind about T'Challa became a thing to watch, an indication of where the next attack would come, where his next attack should strike. Where his target was going be in the next instant of battle.

Only the tiny part of the world they inhabited at this moment mattered.

T'Challa was pacing, his sword already in restless motion, in stark contrast to N'Jadaka as he traced roving loops with the point and entirely ignored the noise and people around them in order to focus solely upon her. They had already agreed there would be no rituals, no salutes or gestures before they started--battle began when one of them chose to attack, which allowed for the unpredictability of combat.

It could begin now, or after five minutes of feints, or in the middle of conversation, if one of them decided to start talking at some point. Which would have been an enticing option, actually, if it weren't for the fact that talking to T'Challa could be just as much of a single-combat as a swordfight half the time. They didn't need to make a battle of conversation now--not when they were actually fighting.

T'Challa stepped forward, blade swinging in a mock offense, an experimental probe into motion. N'Jadaka launched straight into the attack. Left, right--he twisted away, jumped back, closed in for the attack again and then reversed once more. Simply avoiding T'Challa's quick parry, he slipped in on his other side for a feint, and as he dodged the attack and responded she took his downswing on her angled blade, sending it skidding away.

Amidst wild shouting from the onlookers, they both backed off, breathless and scowling grimly at each other.

First engagement, first flurry of blows, and both had played it relatively safe. This fight would go on until one of them scored a disabling blow--at this rate, it would last until sundown.

Someone yelled a comment to this effect, and neither of them acknowledged it, although N'Jadaka grimaced fully at T'Challa. He intended to win this fight if it took took until sundown. T'Challa swung his sword in a small flourish opposite him, a grim, defiant little acknowledgement: so did he.

N'Jadaka swiftly punished him for the unnecessary gesture with a ferocious attack on his nearest exposed side, forcing him to cut his flourish short and scoot to defend himself.

It was a minor encounter, and ended with them both backing off again in short order; but it had washed over the temporary personal difference and now they were both focused again, facing each other with the tight and precise fury of battle.

——

T'Challa slid his sword down from N'Jadaka's hilt, aiming at his legs. N'Jadaka leveled a downswing at his shoulder and neck. He lunged sideways to avoid it. Jada drove forward. In the resulting tangle, T'Challa's sword drove into his left leg and he trapped his swordhand between his side and his arm, wrenching it in sideways and hacking at his neck. He ducked and rolled into him before he could land a good blow, sending them both to the ground.

And that was where it got messy, as all good swordfights did. It was why you always carried daggers in battle.

N'Jadaka jumped against his roll and ended up on top, driving her pommel into the back of his head with as much strength as he dared--which wasn't much--as T'Challa dragged him down and sideways by the leg, bowling into him with his entire bulk. Everyone was yelling.

While in the ground, T'Challa kicked N'Jadaka's weapons away and transitioned into a triangle choke.

"STOP! PRINCE T'CHALLA IS THE WINNER!"

Letting go of his opponent, T'Challa sees the sweat he built up over the fight. He gets up and helps up N'Jadaka, both of them greeted to the cheers of the crowd.

He looks over to N'Jadaka's face and sees a huge smile on his face, following his eye line, he sees his uncle, N'Jobu, clapping and smiling for his son.