Chapter 55
I stared at the mat in front of me as if it might somehow come to life and attack me back.
I was waiting to be called for the next match.
It was Friday, the last class of the year, and my emotions were a tangled mess.
Happiness and sadness clashed, swinging back and forth.
I looked at my friends with an ache in my chest—this was the last time I’d see them as training partners.
After the tests, everyone would go their separate ways.
Most would join the armies and stay together; others would return to their cities.
Few would remain within the walls, and those weren’t my friends.
So for me, this was my last day with them.
Adele and Lorena were fighting, and Adele lost. The Yonserian stepped off the mat and had to pass by me, avoiding me like I was contagious.
Every training session was like this—she’d see me, look away, and keep her distance, alone and lost in her own thoughts.
By now, almost all the students had already fought, and I was buzzing with anticipation for my turn.
My feet wouldn’t stay still, and anyone watching would’ve thought I was dancing in place.
This would be my last fight, so I was determined to win.
But looking at my opponents, I wasn’t so sure I could.
The options were Hiro, Aish, Breno, Naoki, and Ethan.
It seemed Zion had saved the toughest for last, and I stared at him, trying to figure out what he was playing at. He just stared back, challenging me.
“Kyller and Breno,” Zion announced, flashing me a teasing smirk. “Get on the mat.”
Breno and I locked eyes from where we stood waiting, a mix of excitement and mockery passing between us.
He smiled at me and threw a teasing wink.
I straightened up, trying to project confidence despite my jittery nerves, and walked toward the ring.
This would be my revenge for four years of beatings and taunts.
“Get up there, zoozi! Kick that chicken’s butt,” Aish joked beside me, patting my shoulders for encouragement.
We climbed onto the mat, elbowing each other, grumbling, and laughing. Zion seemed excited too, like he’d been waiting for this fight. We got into position. My heart was pounding, but from excitement, not fear. This was my last chance to beat Breno—maybe the fourth-best fighter in the class.
“Stretched enough for the beating?” Breno asked, getting into stance. He held his fists up in front of his face, knees slightly bent.
I smiled at him and settled into my own stance.
“I hope that smile doesn’t die when you’re flat on the floor.”
“You weren’t like this when you were begging me to go easy. Should I teach you some humility?”
“And should I teach you how to put your teeth back in place after my fist rearranges them?”
Breno and Zion laughed together, and I held back a smirk.
“Begin!” Zion called from below.
I saw the first attack coming before Breno even got close; his eyes flicked to my stomach and his hands set up for a punch, so I dodged left, using his focus on the strike to kick his ribs.
The kick landed perfectly, and the impact knocked him slightly off balance.
He looked at me with surprise, and I smiled, taunting him.
He came at me again, this time trying to throw me off balance.
Breno faked another punch, but I caught the muscle tensing in his thigh—his body shifting weight to one leg so he could strike with the other.
I dodged the punch, pretending not to see the next move, and when he kicked at my leg, I shifted to the other, already targeting his supporting knee.
My kick connected, and Breno dropped to his knees with a dull thud.
The students expected me to mount him, but I didn’t.
I was usually at a disadvantage on the ground—Zion was still working on that with me.
Breno’s smile faltered, and I tossed my braid back, watching his every move.
“Don’t forget to smile!” I taunted, circling him.
He got up fast, panting, and reset his stance.
His eyes gleamed with warning—a warning that now he’d fight with everything he had.
He came at me faster this time, throwing rapid, explosive punches; his fists flew at me, but I dodged and blocked with perfect timing.
He was good, but Zion was better and faster, so I was used to this speed.
A punch grazed my ear, and that split second was enough to break my concentration.
Breno grabbed me by the waist, driving his shoulder and head into my side.
He was trying to take me down, and his strength forced me backward, throwing me off balance.
When we slammed into the ring’s protective fence, the impact drove all the air from my lungs.
He pinned me there, but I refused to go down, so I started hammering punches into his ribs, trying to make him stop.
But in the process, his elbow swung toward my chin, and I couldn’t dodge.
The impact rattled my brain and made my teeth clamp down, biting into my tongue, and the taste of blood flooded my mouth.
But he didn’t let up and managed to wrap his legs around mine.
With a twist, he threw us both to the floor, tangling us together to pin me down.
I landed a punch on his nose during the fall and used the opening to drag my body upward.
Whenever someone took me to the ground, I usually counted the fight as lost, but this time I’d fight back.
Zion had taught me only one move to escape a situation like this, and I needed to be on top.
Through punches, grunts, and headbutts, I managed to get on top of Breno’s stomach, and he grabbed my arms to keep me from hitting his face.
I grew more frantic, trying to wrench my fists free, but I’d barely get one loose before he snatched it again.
I tried the move I’d used on Adele, but Breno dodged when I pulled him, pushing back and keeping our heads apart.
I couldn’t break free, and Breno thrashed beneath me like a furious bull.
My legs clamped onto his sides so hard I was shaking, and he roared in pain.
For a few seconds I held control, but bit by bit he was pushing me toward his chest, trying to free his hips and stomach from my weight.
He suddenly released my fists, wrapped his arms around my waist, and buried his face in my stomach.
From that angle, I couldn’t land a hit—I was completely off balance.
I had to stretch my arms out and plant my hands on the floor or he’d topple me.
Then, with most of his lower body free, he started rotating to get out from under me.
I could feel his muscles straining as he turned—first his legs, then his hips.
With that, I could no longer pin his chest to the floor.
Thinking fast to keep from being dragged, I grabbed one of his arms as he threw me to the side. But my legs still gripped him around his torso.
Seconds before he could escape completely, I pinned his wrist to my chest, then pulled my legs up, hooking them under his armpit. His eyes went wide—he realized where I was taking this fight. And I smiled, throwing my victory right in his face.
He thought I was at a disadvantage sitting on his chest, but in reality, I was slowly working my way around his arm. Breno tried to twist free, but all he could do was curse—because that was the moment he lost.
Once I locked my leg into his armpit, I threw my body to the floor, dragging him down with me.
As I swung my other leg over his chest, I brought his arm along and trapped it between my crossed ankles.
A perfect armbar, just like Zion had taught me.
It wasn’t one of the ten moves from our private sessions, but one of the many techniques I’d picked up in academy training—I’d just been too zoozi to ever try it.
Breno crashed back onto the floor, his arm wrenched between my legs, and screamed as I cranked it.
“Give up,” I shouted, pushing his arm to its limit.
I looked up at the ceiling—the same ceiling I’d stared at during all those fights I’d lost, where I’d been humiliated and overpowered over the past four years.
A smile spread across my lips. Breno tried to move, but if I pushed any harder, I’d dislocate his shoulder.
“Last chance. Give up!” I shouted, my voice raw with emotion.
I won. I’d actually beaten Breno. I kept the pressure on, but I didn’t want to hurt him.
A few seconds passed, and then his body went slack.
I craned my neck to see his face, and he was looking at me with a smile.
Pained, but genuine—this was one of the best feelings I’d ever had in a fight.
A fair match, hard-fought, against a stronger opponent.
I had won.
I heard his other hand slap the mat—three taps signaling surrender—and the students applauded as I let him go.
Δ
“When did you get so good?” Breno asked, sitting up and massaging his sore arm and neck.
“Probably while you were between the lieutenant’s legs,” I teased, settling behind him and working on his back while channeling my gift into the muscle I’d damaged when I wrenched his arm.
“Congrats, Kay!” Hiro walked over, shooting Breno a mocking grin. Breno pretended to be deeply wounded. “And no, I’m not going to give you a hard time. I know what it’s like to lose to someone a foot shorter than you.”
“Still crying about that, Hiro?” Aish sauntered over with a catlike smile.
“Everyone knows I let her win,” Breno said defensively, then let out an “ow” when I dug into his strained muscle.
“Sure. Everyone knows you saw her working around your arm and just let it happen because you wanted to,” Aish said dryly, stopping beside Hiro.
“Exactly. It was all part of the plan!” He glanced at me sideways and winked.
“You’re such a sore loser,” I teased, running my fingers through his hair as he laughed.
“I really am. You spoiled me.”