Auditorium Four, Backstage
“E-excuse me?”
“Yes?”
The uniformed man raises his eyes from his electronic clipboard to give Beatrice a half-impatient, half-expectant glance.
“Is there a problem, Miss Swain?”
“No! No… problem. Just… I wanted to know how long until my turn?”
“Of course,” he nods, searching for something in his clipboard for a couple of seconds while Beatrice fidgets in place impatiently.
“Ah, there it is! I’d say… Twenty minutes or so? But don’t be surprised if your name is called a bit earlier.”
“Thank you,” Beatrice murmurs, although her stomach, and heart, drop upon the discovery.
Twenty minutes? She must be scheduled right at the beginning, perhaps even as the opening act.
Seijuro will never make it.
***
Training Grounds
“Hi.”
Seijuro feels the audience’s expectation like a living, breathing creature looming over her body as their cheers vibrate around her.
It has always been easy to forget about herself as an individual, about her worries and fears, when presenting before their eager, judging gaze.
But not today. She’s too angry for that.
“Surprised? I thought I’d do something special for you today. Are you excited to see me?”
Deafening.
Oh, Seijuro has no doubt she is more interesting than whatever the school had planned.
“Well, that’s good then, because I’m the opening act. And I’ll fight all of my opponents now, before the tournament!”
The announcer, whose microphone Seijuro “borrowed”, instantly pales, even as the audience seems determined to overshadow any of their previous screams.
“Make it work,” Seijuro orders as she extends the cableless mic in her direction, “I’m leaving in fifteen minutes no matter what happens.”
Before the woman’s widened eyes, Seijuro simply shrugs, maintaining her hand patiently extended.
She could apologize, but what difference would it make? In the end, they both have their roles to play and now Seijuro realizes there’s little point in pretending otherwise.
“People of Elysium, you’ve heard your Princess!”
She’s tired of playing stupid games.
“Our Masters shall choose three contestants! Each of them will have a shot at challenging our beloved Princess! If they win, they’ll immediately take home one of the prizes!”
None of this would have happened had her father sent her one of the stupid toys in the first place.
“Don’t blink or you might miss it!”
Set down a countdown of fifteen minutes, Seijuro orders the System as she watches the announcer quickly waving toward several school employees, most likely sending telepathic orders of her own.
Ignoring her, Seijuro closes her eyes and stands perfectly still; tuning out her surroundings, including the announcer’s voice and the audience’s cheering.
Even for her, completely emptying her mind at will is near impossible. Still, Seijuro attempts to do just that, watching the countdown in front of her slowly tipping away until the numbers have consumed all other thoughts…
‘00:12:26’
“And now, our first challenger approaches! A round of applause for Julia Wade, Eighth Rank in Martial Arts! Fiftieth-Eighth Rank in Culinary!”
Culinary?
Seijuro opens her eyes, ignoring the audience’s cheers as she measures the average-looking girl eight or so steps away from her, her expression emptied of any emotions as far as Seijuro is able to see.
“May the best fighter win.” Julia Wade bows, joining her open hand and fist together.
“You should have tried a cooking competition instead,” Seijuro retorts with a smile, shadowing the girl’s greeting.
“They’ll still let us participate in the actual tournament even if we lose to you… And besides, who said I’ve already lost?”
Seijuro raises her eyebrow at that, throwing a curious glance toward the announcer as she continues to excitedly list the main attributes and wins from both fighters.
“I’ll see no foul play in here today from either of you, do you hear me?” says an older woman in her fifties or so while stepping in between the two of them, who Seijuro quickly recognizes as one of the school Masters specialized in Formless Water, River Roman. “You’re both experienced enough to know what not to do.”
“Yes, Master,” Julia answers dutifully, while Seijuro simply nods.
Do they know each other? Seijuro herself has studied under Roman before. Given the nature of the Institute’s system, it is common for most students to learn from multiple Masters throughout the years of their apprenticeship in it.
“And Seijuro, I know you requested this situation yourself, but you’ll have no time to rest in between fights… Assuming you’re able to win all of them and keep going. Are you sure about this?”
“I’m not the one you should be worrying about,” Seijuro replies, purposefully smug and condescending as she makes a show of looking down on Julia. “This one thinks she’ll still be able to fight today after facing me.”
River sighs, looking as though she expected something similar, then raises one of her hands high in the air. “I was told to hurry, so… Ready?! Fight!”
Seijuro instantly thrusts her body forward at maximum speed, converting eight steps into a single second before crashing her body against her adversary’s, whose eyes shrink as she ultimately fails to react in time.
Out of balance, but kept standing by Julia’s desperate attempt at maintaining her own footing, Seijuro places one of her legs behind Julia’s and throws the girl onto the ground, where she manages a half roll almost instantly… Only to find herself facing Seijuro’s front kick face first.
Julia does not move again, even as the team of nurses in wait rushes into the ring to carry her limp form for urgent treatment.
Ignoring the many loud voices around her in their excitement, shock, fear, and awe, is a simple task for Seijuro. Instead of glancing toward the small spot of red her opponent left on the ground - or the team of school employees rushing to clean it - Seijuro walks back to her side of the ring and closes her eyes again.
‘00:09:56’
“A-a round of applause for our second challenger, Kameron Stout! Ranking eleven in Martial Arts! Ranking fifty-six in-”
Rank eleven?
Based on the results of the previous fight, Seijuro was sure they’d throw Aden or Melinda at her since they’re the only ones in the school with a real chance of facing her without embarrassing themselves in the process.
Had she gone even harder, Julia might have died for real. She hasn’t fought like this since…
“Man, that was brutal. Been a while since I saw someone straight up carried on a stretcher out the ring from one of the fights at school.”
Still, for such trash to climb onto a ring with her without a hint of fear in their eyes, Seijuro’s reputation as a fighter must have been in a much worse state than she initially assumed.
At this point, does anyone even remember her true nature as a fighter?
“Ah… Hello?”
Once more, Seijuro opens her eyes to find her opponent waiting in front of her.
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She doesn’t feel like smiling but forces herself to anyway in consideration of the audience watching.
“May the best fighter win,” she says to him, mimicking Julia’s bow and words.
Kameron, a rather handsome short-haired boy, doesn’t bother to return Seijuro’s greeting, simply nodding instead.
“That smile isn’t exactly fooling anyone, you know? I can tell you think I’m trash. Don’t worry, I won’t be caught off-guard like Julia.”
Seijuro narrows her eyes at him, maintaining her fake smile firmly in place. Caught off-guard? Is that what he thinks happened?
Not that she knew Julia practices Formless Water, and therefore used the most effective method to crush her?
“Ready?”
Once more River steps in between the fighters, although this time Seijuro notices a tension in the Master’s movements which wasn’t there minutes ago, and that the older woman looked towards Kameron, specifically, before raising her arm.
Seijuro almost rolls her eyes. No amount of preparation shall keep the boy alive in the ring for more than a minute with her, and only years of carefully staged fights on her part have led people to believe otherwise.
No matter, she’ll be rectifying such unpleasant misconceptions going forward. No longer shall she sacrifice her reputation as a fighter in order to play the nice, caring princess.
“I’m ready.”
Only once Kameron has fully assumed his fighting stance, which Seijuro easily recognizes as a Sharp Wind one, does River nod, satisfied, and lowers her arm, “Fight!”
Kameron shoots forward instantly, jumps, then roundhouse kicks, his body easily performing the movement as though gravity has little to say in the matter.
Flashy.
Seijuro absently notices the increasing intensity of the audience’s cheering as she easily steps back to dogged Kameron’s first, second, and then his third kick, all perfectly liked together.
Kameron’s left foot touches the floor a fourth time, his eyes meet Seijuro’s, and he instantly front kicks, hurling his leg through the place Seijuro’s stomach occupied moments prior.
Had she tried to aim for an opening there, it’d have been game over.
Seijuro maintains her distance as Kameron once more shoots after her, interchanging high kicks and low ones aimed at her stomach whenever he fears she might try to approach, seemingly without rhyme or reason to his movements.
Tricky.
Odd angles, and sudden changes of pace… Seijuro dodges Kameron’s kicks for about thirty seconds before making her decision and standing her ground.
As expected, the boy instantly throws a right punch instead of continuing his previous assault of endless kicks, nearly grazing Seijuro’s nose as she is forced to once more step away from him.
Kameron smiles, now interchanging his kicks with sudden punches whenever the princess attempts to break his rhythm...
You know what, fuck this.
Suddenly, Seijuro lowers her head under a round kick instead of dodging back, tilts her head away from a rapid punch, then hurls her open palm against Kameron’s stomach, nearly raising his feet off the ground.
Enough jumping around for you.
…
It happened… So fast.
Melinda can scarcely believe her eyes. One moment, Seijuro was seemingly being pushed back by Kameron’s random movements; Next, the boy was on the ground at her feet, grabbing at his stomach and openly crying from the pain.
Brutal.
Really, there are no other words to describe it.
Was Seijuro simply waiting for the right opportunity to strike? Giving Kameron a false sense of security so he would drop his guard? Trying to grasp the timing of his movements in order to make sure her counterattack would be as decisive as it was?
All of the above?
Why did she instantly attack Julia, but then gave Kameron so much breathing room? Was it really just a cheap attack to catch the other girl off-guard?
“That bitch! Let me go! I’ll fucking punch that disgusting smile off her face!”
Right. Weren’t they friends or something?
Melinda watches Aden barely held back from running toward the ring by another boy with a mix of amusement and annoyance.
Previously, they both insisted on being allowed to fight against Seijuro, only to be told to their faces they were too good. That they might actually win, and humiliate the country’s princess in front of its people.
Then, Julia offered herself; Followed by Kameron, once Aden tried to jump in again.
And now, dozens of skeptical students stare at the desperate eyes of two school employees asking for a third sacrifice; as though they didn’t just witness the brutal executions of the first two.
The audience seems to have gone insane, chanting Seijuro’s name while the person herself gives a light wave in their direction before closing her eyes again, uncaring of the boy being carried away on a stretcher.
“I-I’ll go!”
At last, a tall and muscular boy raises his hand hesitantly, sparking hope in the eyes of the employees egging them on.
“Rank?” one of them asks expectantly.
“Twenty-six!”
Melinda sighs. Since she can hardly stand to watch another execution, the tall girl steps in and taps the boy on his large shoulder.
“There’ll be no glory for you in there. She’ll just crush you, and it won’t be pretty.”
Gazes turn to her quickly once Melinda steps forward and begins walking toward the stage, her eyes daring anyone to try and stop her this time.
…
‘00:05:39’
“What do you think you’re doing?”
Melinda’s voice doesn’t surprise Seijuro, who smiles without opening her eyes.
“I was starting to think you weren’t showing up. Did they give up on stopping you from coming, or was it that nobody else was willing to volunteer?”
“Stop that. I know you’re not like this.”
“Is that so? And what am I like, exactly?”
Seijuro opens her eyes to find her friend frowning, seemingly equally as detached from the commotion of their environment as her.
“You’ve always been distant, but lately I don’t know what’s going through your head. You’re angry, I get that; Angry at the world, angry at your father, angry at yourself for what happened to your mother, and all of us for not caring enough… You’ve always been. But something is different now.”
She’s tired, and the facade is cracking. It takes all but a moment and they’ll all know she has never been their precious little princess at heart. When all of the small imperfections in their perfect paradise are laid bare and the veil pulled from over their eyes, will anybody still stand to receive orders from her family? Without the show, the lights, and the drums, are they really any different from all of those tyrants outside, scrapping by, fighting over the crumbs of a broken world?
“Come at me, Melinda, and prove you’re different than the rest of them; Prove you have what it takes to stand in front of me unashamed.”
“With pleasure.”
River Roman clears her throat, seemingly having heard most of their conversation but determined to pretend she didn’t.
Seeing the judge step forward, the audience screams even more fiercely than before, chanting her name in cult-like devotion.
Vaguely, Seijuro wonders if her little stunt managed to save the numbers for the live broadcast after all.
…
“Ready?! Fight!”
Quickly assuming her fighting stance, Melinda stares at her opponent with laser-like focus, slowly controlling her breathing and preparing for anything; Heavens be damned if she ends up going out like Julia.
“What, not charging in like usual?”
Seijuro simply cocks her head, not bothering to assume any sort of stance as she stares at Melinda over the space in between them.
Now what?
Seijuro laughs, seemingly having realized Melinda has no intention to charge at her.
“Fine then, we’ll have it your way. I can smell your fear, you know? But while it’d be amusing to see for how long you’d stare at me, it so happens my schedule for the day demands otherwise.”
Fear? Is she afraid?
Melinda braces herself as Seijuro begins casually walking in her direction, her heart beating fast as she watches the other girl’s fake smile and sharp eyes.
C’mon, just a little closer you damn monster…
At exactly three steps away, Seijuro stops moving.
“If I charge at her suddenly from this distance, she won’t have time to react… Is that what you’re thinking? Just one more step…”
Melinda clenches her teeth, painfully aware of the audience’s mockery regarding her actions even as she forces herself to ignore Seijuro’s shit-talking.
“All of these years of so-called rivalry, and this is what you have to show me? A cheap ploy to catch me off-guard? I’m disappointed.”
Just one more step. Just more step. Just one more-
Seijuro sighs. “Tragic, really.”
“Give me your worst.”
Melinda refuses to avert her gaze or step back, even though her body seems painfully conscious of what’s to come.
She’ll react to it; She’ll dodge, or defend, and then she’ll have a moment to counter. Even if she is hit, she’ll still hit ba-
Melinda’s vision suddenly grows dark, then flickers, spinning the arena and audience around her, whose excited cheers she is barely able to register.
What? She remembers noticing Seijuro about to move, her muscles tensing for a split-second, and then…
Melinda feels something warm over her lips, jaw, and neck, but instead of focusing on it, she suddenly plants her feet against the ground and punches, aiming the flickering figure in front of her, only to have her air abruptly blown away, searing needless of plain instantly spreading over her middle section...
Melinda lowers her elbow, then front kicks, then punches. Ignoring her flickering vision and lack of hearing, she pushes against the ground and hurls herself after her opponent’s slippery form.
Faster and faster, she launches her limbs at Seijuro as though trying to tear apart the air itself, uncaring for the possibility of a counter… At this point, what other choice does she have?
Melinda screams, daring Seijuro to stand within her striking range again, to stop and fight-
Something soft suddenly crashes against Melinda’s body, grabbing her arm too swiftly for her to react in time, and the arena’s ground, all of a sudden, is too far away for comfort.
Well… Shit.
Melinda crashes against the ground back first, utterly incapable of reacting to soften her fall in her current state, and, for a long moment, finds herself incapable of something other than staring at the blue morning sky, absently noticing its beauty.
A quick overview of her own body reveals a broken nose, broken ribs, and many muscle tears.
Never mind the judge’s count, or the audience’s cheering, as she stares into the sky, Melinda realizes Seijuro is… Strong. Much stronger than Melinda gave her credit for.
Fast, fearless, and unpredictable. A by-the-book example of the school’s three styles into one.
Formless, sharp thunder?
Melinda ends up laughing over her own joke, even as she spits a handful of blood because of it.
“You know what, fuck that bitch…”
Her limps are heavy, but she still forces them to move, rising to a sitting position and then gradually to a standing one, shaking legs be damned.
“I’m up! Stop counting!”
River Roman pauses midsentence to give Melinda a throughout once-over, then shakes her head and sighs. “Show me your guard.”
Melinda does so, raising her fists up to her bloody nose as she forces them to stop trembling.
“S-see? I’m good-d. T-this isn’t over.”
The world isn’t even spinning around her anymore. And as long she breaths through her mouth, it’s like nothing has changed, really! Right?
Melinda throws River the most hard-ass look she can muster, but the woman simply shakes her head again.
“You can barely stand. This fight is over.”
“Wai-”
“Seijuro Aston!” River Roman shouts, raising her arm in the other girl’s direction to signal her decision.
Needless to say, the audience immediately drowns any protests Melinda might have been able to scream, leaving her with no option other than to awkwardly lower her arms.
Seijuro smiles while bowing to her, to the audience, and then to River.
Then she turns toward the announcer, still smiling, and speaks, voice as cold and hard as steel, “If one of those things hasn’t reached my apartment by tomorrow morning, I’ll come looking for you.”
And with one last stare into the woman’s eyes which seems to drain what little blood she had left on her face, Seijuro simply walks off the stage, although not without waving at the audience first.
But without ever quite looking at Melinda.
“W-well…”
After a few moments of what would have been awkward silence were not for the audience’s chant of Seijuro’s name, the announcer manages to recover her bearings enough to bring the mic back to her mouth, and Melinda finally realizes the woman intended for Seijuro to give some sort of speech after her stunt…
“A round of applause for our Princess, people of Elysium! As fierce as she is beautiful! Are you ready for more?!”
Melinda throws a dirty look towards the team of white-dressed nurses awkwardly staring at her with a hovering stretcher in between them, then shoves one of them out of her way.
“I can still fucking walk.”