“Kick his ass!”
“Kick his ass!”
“Kick his ass!”
Kubera felt the thrum of the crowd in his chest. He slowly flexed his hands and feet while tightening the white wraps around his fists and wrists. The only splash of color was his school crest emblazoned on his t-shirt. A yellow mongoose for the north Sasea high school.
His opponent was big, dressed almost identically except for the school crest. The tips of his fingers would barely reach his face if he was standing right in front of him. Good thing he didn’t plan on standing much.
They locked eyes as they walked towards the middle of the arena. After the bow the tall man began to introduce himself, Kubera could hardly focus on the words. The calm focus from earlier was turning to boredom. He had won so many of these low-level battles. With graduation around the corner it hardly even seemed like these mattered. Not when there was something much bigger awaiting him.
With a start he realized his opponent had stopped talking for several moments and he quickly did his intro.
“Kubera West. Senior. Leader of the North Sasea Gang. 45-10”
A moment passed as he shifted into a fighting stance. A short whistle, and then a whoosh as a huge kick swiped at his midsection. Yawn.
Right jab, left straight, right hook. Each sailed by him as he moved closer and closer into his opponent's range. Nobody had landed a blow in him in 20 fights, and it had been another 10 since he’d actually been hurt.
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Eventually, his target fell within his range. Low kick to the knee to weaken the tall man’s stance. Elbow to the liver to lower his defenses. Flying knee to the head as he curled up to protect his midsection. As the last blow landed the light behind his opponent's eyes vanished. He had won, and he felt nothing.
A crowd of his gang members swarmed around him. Case and Daizu, his generals, slapped him on the back. His sister Naomi on the edge of the crowd looked both amused and disappointed like someone had told a dirty joke at the wrong party. Another piece of land had been added to North Sasea’s territory. The opposing gang would probably crumble now with a few members joining their ranks. Soon the new generation would take over. He could finally be free.
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Riding home on his bike, his sister perched on the back. She had his dark complexion and brown almost black eyes, but instead of his shaved head, she had long rolling locks. A vulnerability in the ring to be sure, but she avoided most fights anyways.
The youngest of his 4 sisters, she was always the one who watched over him. His other siblings delighted in hitting him with a new wrestling move or putting hot chilies in his drinks. Their roughhousing had mostly ended since not only had they moved out, but he was the only unawakened one remaining. He suspected at least one of them was actually competing as a racer although it was impossible to tell. Racers were mandated to wear their masks to protect their identities and few people walked around with their spiritual tools equipped. Hell, none of their Paths were unique anyways so it didn’t matter if he even knew them. In 2 days, however, he could join them. Awaken his tool. Choose a path. Form a team. Race for glory. All in a couple of days.