This Time I'll Play My Game to Win

Kairo stood at the pitch-field's center. He closed his eyes and fell into a memory of the only type of activity he could think of that was close to combat for him. Field hockey.

The memories stirred up dormant competitive feelings he had laid to rest after an ultimate defeat. Uneasy flutters in his heart, made his chest feel heavy with old anguish. The feeling began to escalate into a crushing pain, the more the emotions of losing sunk in. All the long hours of his high school field hockey club training, and the sacrifices to win nationals, had been taken from him at the National Cup match of his final school year.

"But I won't let it happen again. The combat I choose is my field hockey game to win." When his eyes opened, he felt empowered with energy that soothed his aches.  "This world forces me to do these trials to live. So it has no choice but accept my decisions.  I'll do this my way."

"Combat trial chosen. Please prepare for the fight." A woman's voice announced across the stadium.

A whirling vortex of greenish energy appeared before Kairo.

"Enter the preparation space."

Kairo exhaled unevenly as he stepped inside. 

A gym locker room appear around him. It was the same type he had used at his old high school. His mind lapsed into a memory of his old hockey team, bolstering each other's bravado and competitive ego with arrogant pep talks.

Winners win, losers lose! We're winners! His old captain would shout before the start of every match to stir up the team's morale.

"Yeah. Winners win." Kairo repeated, something he absolutely had to achieve to live. But he had made his decision and was prepared to defeat his enemy.

He opened the locker that used to be his, figuring if the room was drawn out of his memory, it would replicate everything to be the same. Sure enough, his locker contained his uniform, stick and lucky item: a Heyo Cat white kitten plush doll that was used on his team's last win.

He changed into the familiar uniform of white and blue striped short-sleeved nylon shirt, blue shorts, white knee-high socks with shin guards and dark spiked boots: slipped on his mouth guard and sweat bands then pepped himself for the match.

He wasn't sure how the combat would work as hockey required a team of eleven players, but soon brushed this doubt aside when he easily pictured a solution.

"I'll carry the whole team on my own." He felt confident he could do this, as back in the day he was both the Center-fielder and Play-maker; completely arrogant with invincibility feelings before each match. Even times he'd boast he could win the matches by himself. Of course, no one took him seriously. If anything, they appreciated his show of self-assurance.

"It's why our final match loss hit me hard. And why I never played again."  But, this loss consequence would be no more. It was his game for his life. He would fight solo, playing by his own rules to win the trial with a crushing defeat. The arena acknowledged this.

Feeling confident he was ready, he made his move.

The whirling vortex swelled with intense energy when Kairo returned to the pitch, geared up with his hockey stick in one hand and his lucky item balanced on the other.

"Combat trial: one-on-one goal match where players score in their challenger's net. Auxiliary tools prohibited. Restoration aid allowed. The ball must stay below one meter within pitch boundaries. Losing players start a new play. Out-of-bounds violations lead to player forfeiture and loss, and severe challenger punishment. All combative methods to block and score a goal are permitted. The player with the most scores at full-time wins." A woman's voice stated the rules around the stadium.

Kairo placed the doll down and stepped onto the pitch to stand at the center of the halfway line.

A countdown began. His challenger materialized before him.

He was a helmetless scruffy guard in red-black leather armor. His buzz cut sharpened his squarish chin where two scars ran deep impressions on his left cheek. His meaty hands wielded a shiny, bluish saber-like hockey stick. Its hook was almost like a scythe.

"Hmm, I guess full contact is allowed." Kairo's eyes narrowed with determination.

The guard licked his chops with a maniacal squint in his gray eyes. "Fresh meat for the slaughter."

Now, normally any other time Kairo would be cowering before this chad, who looked like he was about to do a number on him. But this was field hockey! And he was a devil with a stick on the field.

"Bring it on, beefcakes." He fired back with back-talk, which had the man roaring with excitement.

"Great! Let's have a bloody fight." The challenger raised his stick to the light to make it glint with his killer intent. "I'll make sure your death is slow and not too miserable."

Their trash-talk was paused when Lyon entered the stadium and a grand announcement was made.

They were then given the signal to start.

Kairo scoffed and stood tall as he tossed the ball into the air.

The crowd fell into a hush and leaned forward.

The ball landed on the pitch with a thud, and the match began.