Katalia sat on a cold and firm examination table. Her foot appeared perfectly fine, retaining the same vibrant yellow as her beak, and perhaps more importantly, her talons were unharmed and could fully retract. Each time she shifted her weight, she heard the crinkle of the white paper covering the table. Vilena, a Porenadi Folk lady with greying hair at the temples, sat just below her in a swivel seat. She gently squeezed her foot and moved it from side to side.
“How does that feel?” she asked.
Oddly, it felt like nothing.
“She’ll be fine,” Tai said, perched on a dresser filled with Vilena’s trinkets and artifacts.
Katalia frowned. “I have a fight tonight.”
“And you’ll do fine,” Tai replied, leaning against the wall, his legs swinging idly.
Vilena’s office was a relief from the neon outside thought Katalia. Lately, the city had grown unbearably bright, every corner plastered by screens showcasing Kin in colourful attire dancing. But Vilena’s office was different.
From where she sat, she could see Charmed birds flitting about the room – some zapping in and out of existence, while others multiplied themselves to harmonize the same melody. In the pots scattered around the room, plants that Katalia had never seen before – neither in Polassa nor in Vasotoro – grew along the walls, their leaves and branches leaving intricate designs. The air was occasionally stirred by the gentle tinkle of wind chimes, and a pleasant aroma rose as the breeze brushed passed the leaves and branches.
“Who’s she fighting?” Vilena asked standing up. She smoothed out her long green skirt and adjusted the belt around her waist, which was adorned with small, jingling charms.
“Some Vuyati Folk girl,” Tai replied. “She grew up in a Folkling circus, Pushes her Essence like a GaleStone.”
“Is that a bad thing?” Vilena responded.
“No. No. No. Not really,” Tai sat up. “A SolarFrost that Pushes like a GaleStone is actually not a bad money-making scheme. It will do her well in the future.”
“By the way I don’t think we’re supposed to use that name anymore,” Vilena said with a grimace.
She stood before another table cluttered with bubbling glass beakers and vials filled with strange, colourful liquids. The table also held heaps of crushed herbs and other times that Katalia could not identify.
“What?” Tai squinted his eyes. “Folkling? Taurling? Akilaling?” He waved his hand dismissively. “I can’t keep up with all the politically correct terms anymore.”
“It’s Libri for,” Katalia whispered, “Folkling now.” But before she could correct him on the proper names for Taurling, and Akilaling, Tai cut her off.
“I haven’t kept up with island politics. Excuse my ignorance.”
Tai floated down from the dresser and landed on the floor with the grace of a leaf drifting gently to the ground.
“It’s more of a Global Council of Unity thing,” Vilena added while swirling different ingredients in a beaker.
“Can I fight?” Katalia asked, trying to change the subject.
“Yes,” Vilena handed her a potion. “Drink. I noticed your V-Cores were a little drained.”
Katalia gulped down the potion. It tasted exactly as she imagined water trapped in garbage bins would. She wiped the remaining droplets from her beak.
“Good,” she tried to get the taste out of her mouth. “The gods know I need all the help I can get.”
“Daddy’s training ain’t cutting it anymore huh,” Tai smiled.
Her thoughts wandered back to the fight from the previous night. She had been confident she held the upper hand throughout, but when it came to Push, she had felt uncertain. That moment of hesitation had given the Folk an opening against her.
“I don’t think he can teach me how to Push,” Katalia said, surprising herself with the admission.
“Of course he can’t,” Tai was all too blunt. “He’s a what? PeakBorn Puller. The fuck should he know about Pushing?”
“He was still a GKYA champion,” Katalia felt it an obligation to defend her father’s honour.
Tai waved his hand dismissively again. “He was a regional champion. Back then everyone was a regional champion at some point.”
“Why don’t you join your aunt in the WKYE?” Vilena asked.
She had considered the WKYE. She often thought about how easy it would have been to show up at their academy’s doorsteps with her bright red feathers and announce to the instructors, “My mother was Mariya Feroz. My aunt is Lucia Feroz. I am Katalia Merulato, and I’m a PureBorn.” That alone would have been enough for the instructors to dedicate their time to her.
But it wasn’t what she desired. Her aim was always to become the Global Kai-Yo Alliance World Oja Champion. From the moment she and her brothers emerged from their eggs, through her Talent birth at the age of 11, to the loss of her mother at 15, and up to that that moment on that cold examination table, no other title would ever be enough. She had to be the GKYA World Oja Champion.
“You know I have been thinking,” Tai spoke.
“A first time for everything,” Katalia couldn’t help herself.
“Yes, very funny,” Tai responded. “Picture this. In just under two years, it’s the glorious year of 160. It’s the month of Teriary. The K-Y Finals are being held in Polassa. Our Polassa. The stadium is packed. It’s that time of the night. The Still Tatu Invitational Finals. Three bums wander out hailing from whatever corner of Aradahi they crawled out off. The crowd is meh. Of course they would be. Why wouldn’t they? Anyway. On the opposite side comes out a team. A team that has rarely been seen in Kai-Yo before. A team existing of the First Kin. An Akila. A Taur. And a Folk. Better yet, all three of them sprouting out of this beautiful Yimani Republic of ours. Think of the hope and inspiration…”
“… and the money their manager would make,” Vilena interjected. She gazed towards Katalia. “You’re all set kid.”
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“Yes. Yes. Yes,” Tai motioned for Katalia to stay seated. “I admit whoever manages the image rights to this fictional group would stand to make a lot of money. But the hope and inspiration thing comes first however.”
“I have a team,” Katalia replied. “It’s me and my brothers.”
“Your PeakBorn brothers,” Tai’s voice grew loud. “What happens when you meet three Taurlings…”
“Kerokodi,” Katalia replied. “The correct term is Kerok…”
“Kerokodi,” Tai corrected himself. “What’s going to happen then huh?”
Katalia dropped from her seat. “Thank you for your time, Vilena.” She gave her a slight bow of the head.
Vilena gave a smile back. The Charmed birds were now perched upon her shoulders. “Pleasure.”
“That kid,” Tai rubbed his chin, “I don’t think he has anything else going for him.”
They left Vilena’s room and passed through the dull beige waiting area, which Katalia found a bit sad. Not because it had been ugly and uninspiring, but because she knew it would soon be overshadowed by an onslaught of neon and bright colours that had dominated the outside world. Stepping out, they were surrounded by towering skyscrapers stretching as far as the eye could see. The streets bustled with Folk probably on their lunch hour, while Gale-Carts hovered idly, waiting for traffic to clear.
Tai tugged at her jeans. “As I was saying that kid from last night.”
“Who got very lucky,” she said stepping onto a tram. Tai followed her.
“He had you reeling there for a few moments.”
Katalia tried to ignore it. She tapped her uninjured foot on the ground, then tapped her other foot. Yet, it felt like nothing – a detached piece of flesh striking something, as if it were no longer part of her.
“Sorry about that kid,” Tai leaned against the railing. “Had to think on my feet. Was worried that the kid might be close to Cell-Lock.”
“I thought all Frost-Sap material negated any Talents?”
“It does. Hence why you and the kid weren’t hurt.”
“I was hurt though,” she dangled her foot.
Tai shook his head. “Any thoughts on the proposition?”
Katalia gazed outside the window. Rows of apartment buildings passed by. She imagined telling her father that she intended to leave his training. She imagined what his reaction would be like. Would his feathers bristle? Would his plumage flush deep crimson? Would his wings unfurl so abruptly that they would likely shatter anything that hadn’t been reinforced by EarthSap or StoneSap?
“Remember,” Tai said with a sincerity she had rarely heard from him, “this is your career, not your father’s.”
The thought lingered in her mind as she parted from Tai and boarded a tram, then a bus, and then another tram heading toward the Eastern district. Upon arriving at the Eastern Tram Station, a poster featuring Hana Haro caught her eye. The Kaisita Lady almost seemed purple like the twilight sky instead of a regular blue. Her short-cropped white hair shone just as brightly as it had a decade earlier when Katalia had last seen her at the Netai Stadium, where she wore the WKYE World Oja Championship around her waist. She remembered back then when her mother took her backstage to meet Hana Haro. How nervous she had felt before knocking on that door. And how a smiling Haro opened the door and thanked her mother for her Push techniques. Now, her smile in the poster seemed insincere.
“The first and only Kin to hold both the GKYA World Oja Championship and the WKYE World Oja Championship. Catch her live at the Lin Osson show this Fifday,” read the bottom of the poster.
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There was no glamour in the underground Kai-Yo scene. No posters adorned on the walls. No trained healers on the sidelines in case of emergencies. The promotors had stopped paying Mythic Talents like her. They argued that the experience of fighting another Mythic Talent was compensation enough.
She arrived at the small arena to find the locker room empty. Other fighters were either warming up outside or watching their friends. Katalia glanced at her gear. Each Kin had their own unique attire: the Folk wore loose pants that flared at the ankles, the Taur favoured tight spandex, and for Gila like her, it was black, loose-fitting pants that tapered at the ankle, leaving her yellow foot exposed, paired with a simple black tank top that allowed her wings to move freely.
She looked at herself in the mirror, spiking up the white feathers on top of her head. She spread her wings wide, casting a shadow across one side of the wall. “Let’s do this,” she murmured.
Underground fights were always held in a pit, with the fans looking down on the fighters. This was so any stray Pushes like a fireball or a vine wouldn’t make their way to the audience. In the professional Kai-Yo companies the fighters fought on an elevated stage. Junior fighters would be stationed throughout the arena to redirect any stray Pushes. She had once read that the WKYE even mandated their junior fighters to delay neutralising attacks for as long as possible to enhance fan excitement.
Faces peered down at her from above as a referee with a microphone stepped forward. A feedback screech echoed through the small arena. “Ladies and GentleKin, this is a Classic Oja Match. The first fighter to successfully eliminate their opponent from the outlined hexagon three times will be the victor.” The crowd cheered.
The referee pointed to the Vuyati Folk. Her brown skin softly glowed underneath the warm lights. She wore her long, straight black hair in a ponytail in a manner like Rosea men. Her gear was almost identical to Katalia’s, except her pants flared at the ankles while Katalia’s tapered.
“In this corner,” the referee continued, “originally from Shahala, Ramusayi, she is a Mythic SolarFrost… Diya da Ruka.” Her opponent waved to the crowd, who showered her with praise.
“And in this corner,” the referee said pointed towards Katalia, “originally from Polassa, Yimani Republic, she is a Mythic RiverWood… Katalia Merulato.”
No cheers for Katalia, despite being a Yimani like most of the Folk crowd. It was likely Diya’s first time in the country too, and yet the Folk seemed to welcome her more warmly than Katalia had ever felt in that arena.
The referee motioned for them to come together. “You know the rules. No time limits. First to three.” He stepped out of the hexagon. The bell rang.
Her foot still felt awkward, making her stance feel uneven. She traded a few blows with Diya – simple strikes to the stomach, a kick to the side, and a blocked punch to the face. Katalia timed her moves to control the spacing between her and Diya, adhering to one rule: never move backward. Sideways, if necessary, but never backward.
However, Diya was different from other Folk she had fought. The Folk Fighting Art Belna, like all SolarFrost Fighting Arts, involved the attacker trying to get in your face and strike as hard and often as possible. The Akila Fighting Art Ailado, like all RiverWood Fighting Arts, was more fluid, involving constant movement and striking only when opportunity presents itself. Her father had taught her to fight a mixture of the two.
Diya fought like an Libri, using a modified form of Capta. Like all GaleStone Fighting Arts, it involved grappling. She could tell that Diya was baiting her, trying to lure her into whiffing a punch so she could counter with a throw. Katalia wondered if Diya knew grappling at the Mythic level as a non-GaleStone would hurt herself more than her opponent. But Diya had one more trick up her sleeve.
As Katalia successfully kicked her in the stomach, causing her to stumble back a few steps and near the exit boundary of the ring, she moved in for the final blow. Diya Pushed fire from the bottom of her feet, pirouetted into the air, and landed behind Katalia. She felt a powerful shove as Diya’s feet landed on her back with overwhelming force, dropkicking her out of the ring.
The crowd chanted, “Fly, Vihado, Fly. Fall, Vihado, Fall.”
“That’s not nice,” she heard Diya say to the crowd.
She gathered herself and stood up again. The referee rang the bell. This time, Katalia anticipated Diya’s tricks, trying to control the space once more albeit with the knowledge that any strike could be used for a throw. But Diya continued to use her Push to evade Katalia’s strikes and try to set-up a move of her own.
Soon, Katalia took an ice blast to her torso, feeling a rapid chill that tingled at first, then felt like a thousand pins and needles as it covered all the way to the tips of her wings, before the ice shattered, leaving fragments on the ground. Distracted, she was met with an uppercut to the curved bottom part of her beak, and a kick to her feet that made her stumble out of the ring.
“Tai,” she sighed, recalling the previous night’s fight. “I could have been more ready for this.”
She re-entered the ring, hoping it wouldn’t be the final round. But between the jeers of the crowd, her numb foot, and an opponent who had clearly outmatched her, she felt the need to prove herself as a Pusher. She stood her ground, felt the Essence swirl inside her, and before she could unleash a torrent of water, she was hit by an ice blast to the head followed by a kick that dumped her out of the last time.
The bell rang for the final as the crowd erupted for Diya.