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After confirming that I was up again after two more sets of matches, I, along with half of the remaining contestants and their attendants was waved into a long corridor lined with benches opposite TVs showing the matches.

One of the first two fights ended pretty quickly, a tall boy let a smaller kid take three swings at him. Then as the smaller kid backed up, the taller one gave him a nod and then snap kicked the smaller boy off his feet, dropping him hard. The larger kid then advanced to pin the smaller one down with a knee and then stopped, posed with a fist ready to smash down into the smaller boy’s face.

The two of them exchanged a few words, then both nodded as the smaller boy yielded with a red face and a frown. Although upset, he still exchanged bows with the taller boy.

The other fight went on for a while, a huge hulking guy with a shaved head was fighting a tall Asian girl with light brown hair.

The girl was better and fought with a similar style to my own, but the guy was taller, nearly as fast, and a whole lot stronger. He could also take a hit as he proved with the girl landing blow after blow, twisting and spinning to get in close, strike, and then get clear.

If this was being judged on points, she would have already won. But the purpose of these fights was to prove who was the best in a real fight, not just a spar.

Then she got a hold of one of his fingers, and put her whole weight into an elbow smash on the top of his arm, snapping his still grasped finger flat to the back of his hand.

The huge boy’s eyes went wide as he flinched back and brought his hand back to his chest as if to protect it, opening himself to let her drop to one knee as she punched him in the groin with a cracking sound.

I was really hoping that was his athletic cup going and not his pubic bone.

Surprisingly the guy wasn’t out, not until he took another few hits and then got knocked to the ground and an older man stepped onto the square with a shout. The woman refereeing the match called it a win for the girl.

Of the four people in the first matches, she had done the best, but I was fairly sure I could have taken her unless she was holding back to surprise someone later in the tournament.

A few staff members with buckets of soapy water and sponges took a moment between the matches to clean up the droplets of blood that had been spilled.

Uncle Dave was suddenly by my side. “Hit me.”

I looked at him. “You were supposed to meet me down here before the fights started. You suck as a trainer and an uncle.”

He sighed. “Physically hit me. I want to be sure you aren't going to hold back after last night.”

Oh. I used the bench to get some height and tried to put my elbow into his temple, landed and spun to try to put my foot in his stomach, and then sent a punch at his throat. Nothing landed, but he nodded in approval.

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Then, after a moment of staring at the floor, he grunted and jerked his head at the screen showing some highlights of the fight between the girl and her opponent. “My granddaughter. Elise. I was never invited to meet her. So I took the chance to introduce myself.”

I stared at him for a moment, then turned to look down the corridor as he locked eyes with a mixed race man with the look of my family, right down to the glare he was shooting at Uncle Dave.

Who in turn ignored him as he bowed to the girl from the last fight following along behind the glaring man. “You fought well girl. You are a credit to yourself and your family.”

The angry man, who I could only guess was Uncle Dave’s son, stopped to growl at his father. “Stay away from her you son of a bitch.”

My uncle shook his head. “My mother still misses you and always showed you kindness and affection. She would be overjoyed to hear from you and to meet her great granddaughter. If you must insult me, call me an asshole and leave the rest of our family out of it Thomas.”

The man glared one more time before turning to grasp his curious looking daughter’s shoulders to turn her away and rush her off.

Watching the two of them walking off, I poked my Uncle in the shoulder. “I’m not going to hold back on her if we end up in a match. I think she has some moves she keeping in reserve.”

He growled. "Yes, her grandmother was the same." he turned to look down at me with a slight narrowing of his lips that passed for his smile. "Show her family their due respect. Take her down.”

I ended up missing most of the second round fights, due to the distraction, and then I found myself standing next to Nina as the two of us waited for our opponents on the opposite of the arena.

Thinking about how she had no, or very limited training to fight, I offered up some advice. “Smile and wait.”

Nina gave me a nervous look. “What?”

“Moving around, or trying to use a defensive stance will let people tell that you don’t have much training. Just stand in one spot and let them come in. You’ll either be faster them them and can get in one hard hit when they get close, or they will get a free hit on you. But you can take a hit better than a human. Be patient and react, then go after them, hard. Don’t give them time to think.”

I nodded to myself, then second guessed my advice. “Unless someone who knows more than me gave you some other advice. If they did, do that.”

She smiled and covered her mouth. “Thanks Sara. My mentor just told me to kick them between the legs, man or woman, then grab hold and keep punching them until they go down.”

Which, really, was pretty good advice. But then we were being called up.

“North. Sara Endora Caine of House Ichiban.” I stepped up on stage. My Mom insisted on including my middle name to make it clear I was connected to great grandma.

“South. Irving Kalberg of the Dakota Thing.” My opponent stepped up on the other side of my square.

And I thought my cousin had been at a size disadvantage.

Irving was well over six foot but was still young enough that he wasn’t filled in all the way. And he would be terrifying once he did since he was already muscular as hell as he stood there in a brown and yellow singlet.

The pale skinned giant had nearly white silver colored hair and even had some darker gray facial stubble already at his age. As well as a confused look on his face. “You smell of wolf?”

Oh. Is he? “Friends and Family. Come talk afterwards, I brought a bunch of them. The girls will like you.”

Then was time to fight.

If I had to fight this guy in real life, I would have already gotten out my Naginata, both to keep him at a distance and do some damage to get him bleeding and weaken him. But using a weapon in these fights was an admittance that you were too weak to do it with your own strength.

My Dad bought into that kind of thing, my Mom, despite all her training, had typically used a gun in her real fights. At least at the start of a fight. As she put it. “Things get messy.

The referee held her hand up between us, then swung her arm down as she raced out of our way.

I had often noticed that after someone called for a spar to start, people would switch from a relaxed guarded stance to a ready to fight stance.

Irving had switched from an intimidating horse stance that showed off the muscles in his arms to something where he held his hands up ready to smack me, the smaller person, aside as I tried to get close enough to do something. Or like he was offering his fingers as a target, like getting a finger broken was an irritation rather than a debilitating injury.

Werewolf. Ding, ding, ding. He’s fighting like a werewolf.

But instead of taking a ready stance, I just stood there. Relaxed and uncommitted. And he again looked confused, uncertain.

Unready.

I charged in, screaming, with my defenses wide open and focused on the space between his hands. A grin on my face. This was a fight, not a life or death battle. We both were out here to win, not to injure, not to kill, or to take away someone's freedom.

Just to beat the crap out of each other to find out who was better.