Fable (on hiatsu)

22. Numbered Combat

The host called out the first two numbers, quelling temporarily the restless crowd. Her fruity voice covered everyone's racquet.

"Number eight against number forty!" She called, beckoning them to the empty dance floor.

Jo and Issa's breath caught in their throat. They were both pale from the close call they just had. Jo's seat number being seven and Isaa's forty-six. Toby suddenly grabbed my sleeve.

"Craft!" He hissed, "What are we supposed to do if we get picked? We can't fight!"

I paused for a nanosecond, coming up with stupid possibilities. Then I simply went with the most obvious (but not... painless) option.

"Go there, get hit and pretend faint. You'll be conceded the loser and it will be over in a flash." My friends gave me a horrified look, "Well, if you do get hurt, Issa-san has amazing herb potions that can cure practically anything except some alien diseases. And I can make them for you guys, for free."

I felt pretty good about that last part, helping my friends, you know? But Issa-san was glaring at me with an expression of 'thanks-we-are-already-low-on-customers-and-now-you-do-this? We-are-going-to-have-a-talk-later'. And so, I was conveniently worried when the fight started.

Number eight was a tall, tall, tall person (we were all wearing cloaks and masks, what else can I say?) that must have been at least four meters tall. Number forty was of average height, but I could see a whip-like tail poking out from his cloak. The fight started and Forty jumped at Eight. 40's hands emerged from the deep folds of its brown coat. The fingers glinted cruelly under the soft light and I realised they were actually razor blades.

The outstretched fingers tore easily through Forty’s coat and drew blood. At least, we think it was blood. It was electric yellow and glowed faintly. Forty then retaliated by kicking Eight. He kicked it several times, aiming for the vitals; the head, the legs, the chest, the lower body, the neck and so on. Unfortunately for Forty, Eight was as nimble as a monkey and as flexible as a cat. It dodged every kick and crawled up Forty’s legs, stabbing them with it's blade-fingers. Forty, however, had quite enough blood to spare (being so huge and all, though he was as thin as the average person). They raged on, fighting for ten minutes.

Long enough to get freaked out about who was going to be picked next.

Plum held my hand tightly. She was as worried as I was about the fights. Though our reasons differed, neither of us felt the want to participate. Issa-san was regarding the fights with interest. He was practically undefeatable when it came to combat, but he had nevertheless been horrified his turn had almost been so soon. I reasoned that he and Jo were probably out of harm's way by now. They wouldn't pick out of the same series of numbers. But well, you couldn't be sure either.

The fight ended. Forty won, by finally connecting a blow to Eight's head. The loser fell to the ground in a tired heap, humiliated and sweaty. It was taken off the dance space by a pair of assistants and put on the sides, where they asked if it needed any medical assistance. They asked Forty the same thing, to which he answered negatively and took back his seat.

"Okay then! We have our first winner of the night! Let's all give a big round of clapping for Skygrazer!"

We all applauded, half-heartedly. There was no sign that could identify where the Spirit who had taken a student was, nor was there any sign of the student himself. This wasn't looking too good. We should ask Issa-san if he had seen such a Spirit yet, after the fights were over, though.

"Now then! For the next batch! Number seventy-five and number thirty-one!" She announced.

Half an hour and two fights later, we were starting to relax. None of us had been chosen as of yet, and things were looking up. There were only two people left to be chosen. Even so, a tight knot of nerves had us on the edge of our seats.

"And here's the last fight of the night! Drum roll!" We all slapped tables, stomped the ground and made a quick sound not unlike that of a drum roll. "And here we go! Numbers fifty-eight and seventeen!"

I felt my body solidify in lead. My eyes were frozen solid, looking at the lady as she answered questions from the crowd, waiting for the two of us to stand up. She had called my number. She looked around, waiting, knowing how shocked we were. Seventeen. A figure in the back got up hesitantly and made its way to the front.

She had called my number.

Oh, no.

"Hey, Craft, isn't that your number?" Issa-san asked his voice was tiny, like someone speaking through a tube a hundred miles away. I nodded slowly, my head felt light, like when you're dehydrated or about to be sick. I got up, trembling, and walked to the front. My legs somehow sucked up the courage to continue (because I sure didn't have it) and managed to walk straight.

In the dancing space, I could see everyone stare at me and my adversary, a burly fellow who had a very thick cloak, probably made of bear hide or something. I had to reassure myself that my mask concealed my face and my cloak, my clothes. A deep breath. I could do this. Exhale. Have fun, it's not every day you get an excuse to go all out!

The Ref suddenly called out.

"Begin Match! FIGHT!"

The burly fellow rushed me, but I tried to keep my cool. Think, imagine he's Ziu! You don't want to be smothered under a ton of joyful dog do you? NO! Then dodge!!! I rolled to my left, half a second to get my bearings and he was back. A powerful punch nicked my arm and made it almost numb. I continued to dodge almost every attack, but I was running around with ideas as to how I should defeat him. Giving up wasn't an option, he would probably break my collarbone or worse. My blood pounded through my ears. My breathing was ragged, all over the place. And under the pain, under the fear something bubbled up irresistibly.

I laughed; this was fun! Being totally and completely in the present, no future, no past, just you and your opponent.

My thoughts went exactly like this: Screw subtlety, lets bash his face in.

And so I did. I focused and released the dam I put against my spirit powers (you can't just go around leaking the stuff) and my body immediatly began to glow a bright gold. With a laugh, I hoped over the raging giant, reaching high enough to almost touch the ceiling, before landing in a crouch and launching myself at him from behind.

The full on punch hurt, my knuckles bled a bit, but the giant groaned and stumbled forward a bit. Well, if that wasn't a good sign, who knows what is? So I followed up immediately by 1.jumping out of the way (he was mad now) and 2.using my 'magic'. I lifted a hand and shouted

"KUTSU!" (meaning agony). My hand was covered in a dense swirl of gold light that I proceeded in using as a hammer. WHAM! The giant cried out in agony (each word I use does what it means~) and collapsed on the ground.

"The winner is number seventeen!" The host called out to everyone, though the outcome was pretty obvious.

I sealed away my spirit power, the golden glow dissipating in the air. Then I took a deep breath, trying to calm the constant hammering of my heart. My body almost seemed to pulse in time with it, as I could feel the blood pounding through my veins, energized by adrenaline. Plum rushed over, as did all of my friends.

Toby's eyes were wide open and a huge smile had taken over his lips. Jo was grinning in the same way, as were Issa-san and Plum. Plum gave me a big hug, and helped me sit down. We were all abuzz from my victory. Then reality took over and we remembered that we had a lot more to do before Hallowe'en would be over.