The next morning, Izai waited for Olav. But Olav never showed. When he finally went to work by himself, and saw Olav was avoiding eye contact, he realized that the previous day’s fight had been a little more serious than he thought.
‘Whatever,’ he muttered to himself. ‘He’ll cool off.’
On the Northern Skyway bridge, Laelia stood alone in the drizzle, her damp white hair pressed tight against her shoulders. She looked like old paintings of Red Nuns from Pulopaini. He was a little intimidated by the image standing before him.
“Where were you? I’ve been waiting,” she asked, her tone colder than usual.
“I was waiting for Olav, but he never came,” he replied.
Laelia insisted he brave the effects of Pure-Sap again. Izai took a sip, and suddenly, the rain made itself impossible to ignore. The damp concrete under his feet pressed into his skin, each crack and crevice more pronounced. He could hear the raindrops as they hit the ground, the windows, and the empty stadium seats. The fresh air was sharp in his lungs, and as he looked above him, he watched as a singular raindrop make its journey from way up in the sky, until it landed in between his eyes.
The normal chaotic noise of the stadium then overwhelmed him – the food stalls preparing for gameday, Amar awkwardly explaining procedures to the guards, the vibrations under his feet threatening to knock off his balance.
Yet, through it all, Laelia’s voice cut through the noise: “Walk up and down the bridge.”
He followed her instruction, embracing the chaos. As the effects wore off, she handed him another sip, followed by another walk. ‘Progress,’ Izai thought, as the once-overwhelming sensations began to dull. Just last week, the surprise sound of a Folk closing his Gale-Cart door had sent him leaping off the bridge in panic. Now, it was just a mere startle.
When the last dose wore off, Laelia’s face softened. “Good progress today,” she said.
“Yes?” Izai asked, feeling a surge of pride.
“Yes. You must get used to the chaos.”
And he was.
“Have you seen Olav?” he asked.
Her face darkened again.
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Later, at the train station, Izai locked eyes with Olav, who was standing just a few feet away from him. But when he tried to approach, Olav put on his headphones, shutting him out. It stung.
‘He’ll get over it,’ Izai tried to reassure himself.
But get over what, exactly? He wasn’t sure if what he said was really that wrong. Who knew what could have happened if Laelia had told the wrong Kin of their plans. This was all over some girl he’d only known for only a few weeks.
Izai’s sadness slowly boiled into anger, and he couldn’t stomach being there much longer.
On the bus, the usual twenty-minute train ride stretched into nearly an hour, crawling through Northern Polassa’s traffic of sedans, mini-vans, and the occasional Sports Gale-Cart floating so low to the ground that Izai wondered how they didn’t scrape the road. But it was fine; at least the roads here were paved and smooth, unlike the cobblestone streets of the South, where there missing bricks in the ground.
As they crossed the bridge, the buildings grew smaller, and some of the Kin grew larger.
“Do I know you from somewhere?” a voice asked from behind.
The bus had filled up, and the local Taur school had let out some of the teens that squeezed everyone together standing in the aisle.
Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.
Izai turned to see a where the voice came from. He studied it closer. It belonged to a girl. A girl of Hanu Folk descent like him. He recognized her but couldn’t place where from.
“Really?’ he finally responded. “From where?”
She studied him, then smiled. “I can’t remember. And it’s going to really bother me.”
He extended his hand as best he could in the cramped space. “Izai.”
She took it. “Kenai.”
And then it him like a GaleStone Push to the face – the night at the Laracassa. ‘Fuck,’ he thought.
“So… Great weather we’re having,” he said, awkwardly trying to change the subject.
“It’s been pouring all day,” she replied, tilting her head and biting her lip.
“I like the rain,” he admitted.
“What happened to your brow?” she asked, noticing the faint bruise still visible from his zoo scuffle.
“I… I’m a Pulser. Got into a fight,” he admitted.
“Pulser, huh?” she said as the bus came to a stop. “Cool.”
The other Kin made way for her to exit.
“If you ever need a Pulser to help straighten things out, call me,” he offered with a smile.
She gave him a playful look. “I already know a Pulser who kicks ass. And she’s an Akila.”
She waved at him as she stepped off the bus.
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Down further south, in Tai’s living room, Izai sat on the slightly dusty couch while Tai was on the phone. On his chalkboard the same notes from last week were still displayed:
Light Duration Cycle – 0.06 0.08 0.06 – 1
Medium Duration Cycle – 0.11 0.08 0.11 – 2
Heavy Duration Cycle – 0.22 0.08 0.22 – 4
“Taught you about Light moves, now it’s time for Heavies, kid.”
They stood outside in the pouring rain. Katalia was absent.
“She’s working through some personal things,” Tai said, raising his voice to be heard over the rain. “She’s got a life too, you know.”
“And the Taur? Did you meet him?” Izai asked. He still felt a pang of guilt for leaving the man writhing in pain alone.
“Soon. I’m planning something.”
“Do you think he’ll be up for it?”
Tai shrugged. “A Pureborn slaving away in a zoo for the rest of his life? I can see it. I mean if you love animals, I guess… But didn’t you say he was around your age?”
Izai nodded.
“We’ll see. The trio is nearly complete.”
Izai now stood before the wooded dummy and its protruding limbs.
“The Medium Duration Cycle is your bread and butter. It delivers the right amount of damage in a reasonable time. Your Light Duration Cycle is there for those ‘oh shit’ moments. Not very strong,” Tai circled the 1 on the board, “but quickly buys you some time. Can you guess what your Heavy does?”
“Riskiest but most rewarding?” Izai replied.
“Exactly. Look at the board,” Tai tapped underneath the number 4. “It gives you double the strength but also doubles the timeframe and vitality cost compared to the Medium Duration Cycle.”
Tai gestured for Izai to step back further in the rain. “First, there’s the build and release method.” He crouched beneath one of the wooden arms, then rose with momentum, landing an uppercut that sent the arm flying into the overcast sky. “This essentially doubles your Essence before a regular Medium move. It’s slower and heavier.”
“Slower and heavier. Got it.”
“That’s the easy part,” Tai said with a smile. “Here’s the more difficult part.”
He stepped back and, with a quick pivot, spun around, his leg slicing through the air. As he completed the rotation, his kick cracked sharply against one of the wooden arms, breaking it off.
“Woo,” Tai cheered before wincing slightly and placing a hand on his lower back. “That’s a Dedicated Heavy. It’s more complex with many moving parts.”
“So, what should I do first?”
Tai continued adjusting his back. “Start with a straight punch. Go Regular, then Medium, and finally the Heavy.”
Izai landed the first straight punch against the dummy. Then, channelling his Essence, he felt a sharper crack as his fist connected. He gathered the Essence in his body, held it for a moment, and then drove his fist into the dummy again. This time, the impact made the dummy wobble slightly, and the power surged through him, raising the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck.
“Proud of yourself, huh?” Tai seemed to notice the triumphant look in Izai’s eyes. “That’s easy. Once you have a good grasp on Mediums, a Heavy like that is pretty straightforward.”
“How do I execute a Dedicated Heavy?”
“You don’t. I can’t teach you that,” Tai said, still adjusting his back. “It’s a bit above my level. Just know it exists.”
“Okay?”
“Now, Mediums are your bread and butter, where most of your moves will come from. Light moves are there for quick but weak attacks. Heavies, on the other hand, slow but powerful and rewarding attacks. Heavies trigger your whole Duration Cycle – Startup, Active, and Recovery. They give you an opening for riskier moves like Throws, Grapples, and other complex shit. Plus, at your stage they’re a good way to practice Signatures and Finishers.” He adjusted his back once more. “I need to lie down for a bit. Keep working on those…” his voice faded as he went back inside.
Alone in the rain, Izai practiced his Mediums – low kicks, roundhouses, jabs, and straights – before converting them into Heavies.