Mercy and Time

The private rooms that trainers were given at a tournament like this were shockingly impressive. They weren’t wide, but they were long enough to have a bed, a table, and a private restroom. Charlie Circle had sickly green wallpaper. There were framed, black-and-white portraits of various tech tycoons. The CEO of SolveCorp dangled over the toilet. I wanted to throw him into it after eating the slop his company produced. It wasn’t worth ruining the plumbing. My window looked out over the rim of the circular stadium, showing the crashing waves of the ocean below.

I snapped my door locked and started a warm shower. Before I could step in, more sparks hissed off my hands. Even little niceties were too much to ask. The mirror revealed long bags under my eyes. There was a faded, almost invisible scar across my neck. Two little pinpoints like the ends of teeth. That had never been there before. A scab split down my forehead between my eyes. I hadn’t hit my head on anything. I kept waiting in front of the mirror to turn back.

A chill ran down my back. I sprinted back to the door and forced the lock back open, making sure the door remained just barely ajar. If I turned back while it was closed, I wouldn’t have had an easy time unlocking it, much less opening it. The little breeze coming through the cracked open door was a little too cold. At least, goosebumps formed on my arms. Someday, I’d tell everyone what happened to me, but not until I was back as a human permanently. In the meantime, what would happen to the reputation of the champion stuck as a Kichi? What would people offer Zane to have me instead of him? As far as obsessive fans went, Zane was an idiot, not a monster.

This kind of thing was a legend once it was over. Until then, it was a nightmare. Fever dreams were opportunities to some. Fantasies to others. Having turned back in the first place, only to lose that humanity again, was almost worse than not having a glimpse of it at all. Now, my own hope was more vividly a mirage. I was counting down the moments until water degraded back to sand.

Two minutes. I took a deep breath, already risking being late. My foot tapped against the ground. The champion that didn’t show up against some nobody was twice as awful a story. I’d expected to have gone back by now. They’d come looking for me, and I’d disappear completely like some roguish hero. That wouldn’t be humiliating. But if they found me as me, simply refusing to face some beginner. There were worse things in the world than my on-and-off affliction, even in the hands of a too-adoring fan.

I forced my way through the lower levels of the stadium past the courtside seats. The spectators mumbled to each other. They pointed at me. Their whispers, thunder. Eyes, hunger. I blinked and they were as tall as if I’d changed back, shadows drumming down the stands and washing out the field like a dark cloud passing overhead. A deep breath, and I was still standing tall, as myself. The field was bright with spotlights and flickering cameras. I planted my feet in my box, grinding at the soft dirt with my shoes.

My opponent was a stubby man with a powdered wig, a torn eyepatch, and a pegleg. All the worse that he came from a landlocked city. His good leg tapped up and down within the chalk box drawn for him in the field. “Yer the champ’n?” He scoffed, “An’ I been an ol’ man since before ye left yer mudder’s belly!”

I walked up to his box and offered my hand casually. I smirked as he shook it, “I wish you the best of luck… uh… Captain?”

“Bah!” He waved me away as I paced back to my box and took my position, “All ye darn kids accusin’ an ol’ man of bein’ some buccaneer! I’m a construction foreman, damn it!”

“Oh, really?” I slashed my arm out to the side, a Capture Ball pinched between my middle finger and forefinger. With a flick of my wrist, the ball expanded elegantly to its full size, “I guess I’m a professional battler, lately. You’re here. I’m here. Maybe it’s proof we both deserve a raise!”

He laughed to himself, “Attagirl, ye sound half a century wiser than ya look!”

“Everyone else is just a whole century dumber,” there was always this side of my personality in front of the cameras. Cocky but cute. Bratty. This me would never have followed some stupid kid’s orders.

The referee held up two flags. Both of our Capture Balls left our hands in that moment, whirring open to reveal Nidlord towering over a decrepit, old Wizzel. Its legs creaked as it tried to move, and its fur had gone gray. I scratched the back of my head, “Nidlord, just knock it out carefully. There’s no need to…”

Nidlord groaned. He swung his arm down, barely snatching the Wizzel by its tail as it tried to hobble away. It dangled from his claws as he made a point of holding its wiry body out to the audience. They jeered and laughed. I stared at it. Helpless, it was helpless and alone. Nidlord flicked it across the arena, sending it careening into the metal wall. There was a snapping noise as Wizzel screeched down to the ground, falling down in an oozing pile of fur. The front of its body bent completely around the back, and its legs wrapped around themselves completely. Nidlord stomped and put his arm out. He flexed for the audience and mimed kissing his muscles like a professional wrestler might. Nidlord gaped at me as I immediately recalled him, a decision that was inundated by yells and boos. Even Zane, sitting in the front row, scratched his head.

“A-hem… Well played, but I have…” Flynn, my elderly opponent, ran his fingers over two more Capture Balls. The next one revealed a Barnak. The little sea type resembled a colorful stalk of coral with little, wide eyes. My Ummerfron raced across the field and danced around it, taking quick paw swipes at the opponent until it could break through and rend it with its teeth. Roaring applause. Flynn sent in a Kichi next.

My hands sparkled with little bits of electricity. The Kichi looked up at me quietly, she sniffed at me, and her eyes sparkled with a sense of familiarity. “Be gentle!” I demanded of Ummerfron. Its sleek, black body bounded forward on four clawed pads as he pounced on the little rodent. I recalled Ummerfron before its attack could become lethal. Kichi couldn’t fight anymore, regardless. The crowd was moaning and roaring like I’d stolen something from them.

Flynn stumbled up to me. He shook my hand as he admitted defeat, “Y-yer better than most, champ’n”

My wrist shook as a surge of electricity ran down my arm, “I-I’ve just got…” I winced as the jolt slammed through my spine and dispersed throughout my body, “Experience… That’s all.”

“I didn’t mean yer good at battlin’. Yer no better'n me there.”

“Uh-huh…” I blinked, “Go, get them to the stadium nurse. It’s not fair to send them into an impossible fight like that.”

He rolled his eyes as he waddled away, “Then, fight in a tournament meant for champ’ns!”

A tall woman with braided hair sprinted up to me. She shoved a microphone in front of my mouth, and she was bouncing on her knees like a little sibling. She might have been thirty-something. “So, Champion Cyan, why did you call off your Capmon in this battle?”

I looked into the news camera behind her and shrugged, “There are more matches in the tournament. I wanted them to save their energy so that I could crush everyone like that.”

“This new strategy…” She thought out loud, “The crowd seems quite angry about it.”

“Then, they can come and battle me, themselves… another time, of course. If you hate my strategy, beat me with it.”

“Could you beat everyone in this arena?”

“I couldn’t beat any of them in an actual fight,” I smirked, “I mean, they should try fighting in the arena, not just giving the orders. It’s different.”

The reporter laughed wildly, “Oh, you’re too funny, Cyan!”

“Yeah, I’m joking, of course. If the fans want to see me at my best, they’ll have to watch until the finals. Until then, I’m basically just resting.”

I went backstage. Zane was there waiting, his battle was next. I had no idea who his opponent was, but I found myself rooting for him enough to sit in the stadium and watch it. I would have preferred staying in my room, but somehow I just needed to see that he was okay.

He scratched at the dirt in the box like I had, moving his feet in the same pattern exactly. He’d been watching that closely. His opponent had two badges to his one, but Zane forcibly walked up to initiate the handshake himself. That was supposed to be the responsibility of the higher-ranked contender in a tournament like this. The crowd mumbled, and some cheered at Zane’s provocation. His opponent scoffed.

Zane turned to me. He smiled when he saw that I was watching. The referee grabbed the two flags to start the match.