Unity of the Divided

Sustenance Decider

I slept terribly last night. The reality of what today brings haunted me through the night, as if my ignoring of the sustenance decider had stacked with each time I pushed the thoughts from my head and toppled over.

"Concentrate," demanded Tora as she swings at me once more.

"You'll have to be more specific," I pant as I try to catch my breath, "my brain seems solely fixed on the horrors of this evening at your command."

She purses her lips, sending me a hard look, "your brain seems to have lost intelligence points if it cannot defer what I mean by the context of the conversation."

I dive and roll away from her approaching fist, putting space between us so I can breathe. We've been training hand-to-hand combat since dawn and my form has been anything but consistent while my head is astray.

"Kick her ass Crea," yells Tezerra from the side of the training area as he waits to take over. At midday I'm his, allowing equal parts of the day to train in the two elements of this evenings decider.

I roll my eyes, bending and resting my palms on my knees as I stand. I'm grateful for the feather stuffed padding on top of the marble floors as I stare down at my booted feet. My back aches enough from how much I've hit the floor, I can only hope I'll be better focused in the arena later.

A low growl from Tora has my head whipping up. I look from her to Tezerra then to where they both stare at the wooden doors. I see nothing and my brows pull together as I stand straight.

My words of confusion die before they're spoken as the doors swing open and two people walk through. I tense at the sight of them and scan their bodies quickly, the representative of Watille and his single male support he brought stare back. Their confident footsteps do not faulter as they find an area and claim it for training. It was only us here, no one wants to give away their capabilities this close to the deciders, but the space holds enough room for all six competitors and their support if we'd wanted.

The twins continue to stare with stony expressions, orange eyes narrowing while analysing their movements. Their enhanced senses would've told them they were coming yet they make no attempt at hiding their displeasure at the sight of them. I myself am having a hard time refraining from making a snide remark in their direction.

My eyes catch the representative and I watch them dip as he does a quick sweep of my appearance, a frown pulling at his mouth. It's like he's coated me in filth the way his eyes on me makes me feel and suddenly I'm desperate to bathe. I match it with a look of distaste, the sight of him leaving a sour taste in my mouth and my body poised to fight at a moment's notice.

No words but hateful insults swirl on my tongue and I decide he's not worth my breath. I turn and start towards the door, Tora and Tezerra flanking me immediately. I hope he's happy that he's managed to drive me out, that twisted satisfaction blooming when he scores against me. That's how Nen was, still would be if I saw him again – not by choice I add – it's how he always was when he represented. Hope for something different in this man is non-existent.

Before me straight, shiny mental weaves together to form an arched door that hides me from the expecting rectangle arena. Already the crowd is alive, an electric buzz in the air swarms from bodies desperate to be entertained. I'm curious to know how they think I'll rank, if anyone's betted on me winning. If I were one of them I'd laugh at anyone who did.

Low drumming begins and I rock from foot to foot. The countdown has begun. Louder are the drums and the audience start to clap in time. As I shake the stiffness out of my hands I think of the other representatives standing solo with their own doors, what thoughts they hold, whether they're still or pacing, their plans.