White flashed erratically along the arena as your jaw crashed harshly into the cement wall. With a strained crack, you stood up - your body aching and littered with cuts and bruises.

The oil slick Vi stood in front of you with a cocky smirk strewn across her lips before you landed a clean left-hook, knocking her smile off.

After a few more intense minutes of fighting, the both of you were shoved into your dorm room, sweaty and injured

A bandaged hand met your back with a foreign tenderness, guiding you onto the chair in front of her mirror

"Drinks later?"

The raspy voice from Vi thrummed through your ears, the same question she's asked you after every tornament.