Bile clung to Jay's throat as he spewed what remained of his breakfast into a bucket. He tried to wash it out with some water, but the taste lingered.
Jay wiped the spit from his mouth. Sheepishly smiling up at the worried faces of Lyra and Akira.
“Don’t worry. It happens before every fight. It’s practically a tradition.” He said. Trying, and failing, to stifle their concern.
Akira fiddled with a shiny coin, he glanced between Jay and the clock behind him. Lyra sat slightly too still, her face looked impassive, but that told Jay enough.
“It’s almost time. Are you going to wrap your fists? I could do it for you here if you want?” Akira said.
“My coach used to say wrapping your fists is like touching yourself. Sure, it’s nice if someone else does it. But you always do it best on your own.” Jay laughed. “Still want to help out?”
He couldn’t read Lyra’s stony face, but he imagined a strong internal sigh taking place behind it as she remained silent.
“It would have cost you literally nothing not to say that. But you just had to go and do it.” Said Akira, easing a little bit of the tension in the room.
Jay wanted to wrap his fists not just for protection, but for familiarity. The Conquerors fists would do a good enough job at distributing force, so he didn’t strictly need them. But he wanted them anyway. Maybe it would convince his subconscious that it was just another fight.
It didn’t.
But familiar or not, he had to fight anyway.
Akira handed Jay a package wrapped in brown paper and gestured for Jay to open it. Jay obliged. Inside was a red roll of gauze and a matching red roll of tape.
“I know white is traditional, but if you aren’t wearing red gloves you might as well have red wraps!” Akira said, smile beaming across his face. “I was going to get you some shorts, but I couldn't find anything better than the clothes the sage gave you. So I stuck with these.”
Jay thanked Akira and began to wrap his hands. Jay made sure he wrapped tightly, condensing his hand into a single rock-solid fist. He used extra to ensure his wrists stayed stable and had to fiddle around with his fingers more than usual. He wasn’t used to anything other than gloves above his wraps, but he had to fit the Conquerors fists there now.
“Looks good. Sorry, my gift isn’t red.” Said Lyra. She carefully took off her necklace and handed it to Jay “My family wore these whenever we went to war. It’s an explosive that only detonates after you rip it off. If you are defeated, you can at least take your enemy with you.”
…
Jay thanked Lyra. Their eyes stayed locked on each other until Jay ducked his head to put on the necklace. Jay didn’t know how to feel about carrying a bomb on his chest, but he put it on out of respect for his new friend. People didn’t give out gifts like that lightly.
The ice-cold blanket of composure fought desperately against the fire of adrenaline coursing through Jay’s veins. Twenty-five professional boxing fights, countless amateur ones, and one clusterfuck of a coliseum debut. And he still couldn’t calm his nerves. Jay looked at the bottled lightning he’d placed in the centre of the twins’ living room. Pure energy locked within, yet at the same time completely still.
He saw why he had a good overlap with lightning; his feelings echoed it exactly in that moment.
Jay kept the necklace over his tracksuit, it would be easier to grab there. He pushed his trench knives as tightly onto his fingers as he could, careful not to snag the serrated blades on any of his clothes. He raised his fists and touched knuckles with his two friends, he wished they could be cornering him for this fight.
But in the Second Chance Coliseum, fighters fought alone.
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Jay's journey to the coliseum was a quiet one. He wanted to walk to the coliseum alone as a reminder of where he came from and where he was going.
For his first ten professional fights, Jay walked the entire way to the arena’s dressing rooms by himself. His coaches complained, they wanted to be with him before the fight, but Jay always refused. The stress of preparation, the stress of the walk out, the stress of the fight. Jay needed some silent time before he returned to the madness. He needed the calm before the storm.
When he became a national champion, and posters of his face plastered every other lamp post within a mile of the arena, Jay was forced to end his tradition. He would have loved to keep it up, but fans will be fans, and being stopped for a photo every thirty seconds wasn’t the best way to get into a fighting mentality.
The walk to the coliseum gave Jay at least some of the familiarity he sought after. It didn’t take him back to Earth, the extravagant storefronts of Reveller's Avenue were a far cry from the drab brown terraces of his old home. It took him back to something far more intrinsic. It took him back to being a young hungry boxer, aiming for greatness and ready to fire.
Gone were the crowds, gone were the expectations. He just had to fight.
Jay’s date with the past reminded him once more of his place in the world. He was at the bottom of the mountain. The giant, coliseum sized mountain that he had no choice but to climb.
Jay started boxing because he wanted to be like his big brother. Simple as that. But right now he fought for a simpler reason. An even more base desire. He fought to survive.
The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.
The crisp morning air kept Jay on edge as he neared his destination. Sunlight occasionally peeked through the clouds to give him a warm pat on the back. The coliseum had fights throughout the whole day, and most of the night too. It wasn’t a surprise someone making their second ever appearance was fighting when most people were probably still in bed.
A few others walked along the avenue with Jay but none of them paid him any attention. No matter the outcome of his fight, these people’s lives would continue. If he lived, they’d still make the same walk tomorrow. If he died, they’d still make the same walk tomorrow.
Jay couldn’t decide whether he liked that or not.
No matter what the outcomes or consequences, he had to fight. With each step he drew ever closer to his date with destiny.
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“25 minutes left, what do you think?” Akira said. Lyra’s silence spoke volumes. She anxiously ran her fingers across her bare neck. Come to think of it, had he ever seen her without her necklace before? Akira racked his brain for any such memory but came up short.
Wow, must have been a big deal.
He tried quietly coughing, to nudge her into a response. He got nothing back.
Lyra almost never acted like this. Well, other than her sister’s fights. She was usually far more stoic. Did this mean she also got this nervous when he fought too? Akira hoped so. He gave up on getting an answer, sat down next to Lyra and ordered a drink. He knew better than to push her right now.
The Celestial Swords was the perfect place to watch E grade fights. Walking distance from the fighters exit, but far away enough to be cheap. Even when he unlocked the ability to watch live fights at D grade, Akira liked to imagine that he’d still swing by the place occasionally.
Jay looked quite upset that they wouldn’t watch his fight live, until he found out that they couldn’t. Akira felt honoured that his new friend cared at least. Of course, if they could have made it, they would have. Yet another thing they had to wait till D grade for.
24 and a half minutes left. Nothing more they could do now. Akira knew Jay's power better than anyone. The thunder punch had damaged him far more than he let on. He still felt the bruise now.
And that was Jay's first ever attempt. Of course he’d skipped on practicing it since, but that was his prerogative.
Akira wasn’t gonna give Jay unsolicited advice on Harmony. There was no need, he always asked good questions and Akira had already annoyed enough people with his inability to stop talking. He reckoned Vega would murder him if he brought up his theories on how the heck the trams worked one more time.
He dragged his mind away from theory, a lot more easily than usual, and thought about his new friend making the lonely walk to the coliseum.
Just how strong are you, Jay? And how strong can you become?
In 24 minutes, maybe he’d find out.
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“25 minutes left, what do you think?”
Lyra tried to push Akira’s voice out of her mind. She couldn’t fault him for trying to ease the tension, but she would rather do anything than talk right now.
She tried to scratch her neck, but her stupid stone skin wouldn’t budge.
Why was she so nervous? It was just another fight. Sure, Jay had quite the talent for analysis. He’d be a great person to have on their side during the advancement tournament, even if he didn’t compete. But there were analysts everywhere, provided you had the money. So what was it about this guy that made him different?
When they viewed the Goldenback gorilla fights, it was like they were one mind. Two halves in sync with the other, combining to create the ultimate fight plan. Not that it was a foolproof plan of course. And every plan was limited by the capabilities of the person executing it.
She pulled up Jay's rankings. They were almost criminally low. Depending on the outcome of their plan, that could all change soon. Her eyes dropped to the centre of the table, to one of Jay’s laughably low ratings.
Strategy
902
How had that one been calculated? She was rank one, and he’d kept pace with her.
Jay was in for a major upgrade after the fight.
If he survived
That was the reality of the coliseum. Potential didn’t mean anything. Planning didn’t mean anything. If you didn’t win, everything becomes worthless.
What use is a brain full of knowledge when it’s splattered across the gravel pit.
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Golden flames licked Vega’s back. A chime signalled the end of her meditation. An ancient man, face pockmarked with spots hunched over her. She pressed her finger to his golden flames and snuffed them out with ease. The hot embers barely staining her hands.
Another useless sensei. Another wasted week.
“What’s the time?” she barked at the elderly man.
For someone who claimed to be the sage of golden flames, he hadn’t shown much wisdom over the past hour. His mouth hung open, and he only bumbled a response once Vega’s hairline fractures started glowing orange.
“S-Seven in the morning”
Huh. The new guy’s probably fighting soon. Nice.
Vega didn’t spare the sage another glance. She walked out of his temple, which was just a cave on an uninhabited island a day away from Arenara Fortunis, and back onto the beach. It was time to head back. Lyra had probably found a good training spot for her by now.
Vega walked along the seafront. Looking for the sailors she’d hired to bring her to and from the fake sage’s island. Nothing. The rowboat she’d been dropped off on was nowhere to be seen. Vega couldn’t even make out a ship on the horizon.
She put her hands on her hips and looked at the endless blue expanse in front of her.
“Ah Fuck.”
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Selena watched the storm sage scrunch up another sheet of paper and zap it with enough power to kill half of D grade. The ashes joined a growing pile beside his desk. A gust of wind would scatter them out of the tower eventually. But the sage hadn’t noticed the pile yet.
“You’re nervous, aren’t you?” she said, loud enough that she was certain he heard. Which meant it was loud enough that she was certain he was ignoring her. Apparently being a once in a generation harmoniser didn’t translate to social subtlety. Oh well.
For someone so intelligent, her teacher certainly acted like a child sometimes. Luckily, she knew how an easy fix for this situation.
Selena turned so her back was facing the sage. She checked the time. Five past seven. Almost time. Might as well put on a few fights before. Grumbling about how boring they are would at least give him something to do.
She played the fights, accidently making her system visible. She then made the screen large enough for someone sat behind her to get an okay view if they craned their neck.
Or tried to discretely move to the side.
A not-so-quiet footstep kicked a pile of ash behind her.
Sometimes she wondered if she really was fooling the storm sage, or if he simply enjoyed the game. She had many questions about the man. Most of them she doubted she’d ever find an answer to. Maybe Jay would be able to extract more from him than she had. The new guy had certainly piqued the sage’s interest. He’d come up in conversations unprompted multiple times since walking out of Tranquillity tower. Oh well. She cared about the sage’s knowledge, not his attention.
Besides, she also wanted to see the man fight. Anyone who the storm sage paid so much attention to, regardless of circumstance, was someone to keep your eye on. There wasn’t just one person in the room who wondered what Lightning Leonard would bring to his second fight.