28

Sion and Scima walk into the arena. Unlike in Scima’s previous duels, which were mainly attended by whoever happened to take an interest nearby, they’re surrounded. Not only the number, but the people themselves are far more than passersby. For the first time, Uro is watching. He was convinced by others that Sion would win, and he developed an interest just from that, without even knowing of their bet. Tenka watches standoffishly on his lonesome, wondering if he’ll be able to see the strength Sion was not able to show him. Linea watches with a bored expression. She still does not have much care for these sorts of physical duels, and she is only there to watch Sion, who she has begun to see as some sort of compatriot. On her shoulder is a small construct allowing Headmaster Mirus to watch the fight from afar. In front of Linea, Anima, Eva, and Theyni sit in a row. Far away from the bustle of students, Valere and Rebello sit calmly.

“It’ll be quite an interesting fight, don’t you think?” Rebello takes a long drink before answering.

“All I’m here for is watching those two brats I hate beat each other.”

“You’re an educator, but you talk like that. Surely that can’t be right. Well, my reason for being here isn’t quite that different.”

Sion and Scima get close before they begin their fight. Scima smiles widely, his skin aglow. Sion has a tense look on his face in stark contrast.

“Well then, Sion, let’s get this started.”

“Alright.” Sion instantly swipes with his fist. He lands a quick blow against Scima’s nose. Blood begins to drip down over Scima’s mouth. His smile only grows larger.

“So it’ll be like that, Sion? If we’re gonna do something so fun, then what’s the point of looking so dour.” Scima draws his blade with a swift cut in a casual motion. Sion takes a step back, but a small scratch is made on his cheek. “Smile!”

Sion takes a strong step forward and drives his fist forward once more. A large burst of blue light pours out from his shoulder in all directions, It flows down his arm. As Sion slams his fist into Scima’s side, the light seeps inside. Scima can feel the power pulsate around inside of him. He had never felt a blow so deep inside him before. Scima staggers back. As Sion takes another step forward, Scima creates a bright flash of light. Sion is caught off guard and instinctively covers his eyes. Scima lunges forward with his blade. Sion twists out of the way, the side of his torso suffering a small cut.

“There’s nothing for me to smile about, Scima.”

“What’s the point of living if you can’t even find a reason to smile?”

“Don’t pretend to be philosophical.”

Sion throws a quick straight at Scima’s face. Scima leans his head back just as the blow is coming. Sion is just barely too slow to make contact; all he can do is cut Scima’s lip as his fist passes by. Without raising his head back up, Scima thrusts his blade towards Sion’s stomach. Sion turns into it, deftly letting Scima pierce only right above his pelvis, coming out of his side. Sion steps forward along the blade and slams his fist into Scima’s jaw. Even still Scima is smiling.

“You’ll keep going after something like that? You’re a total monster.”

“If it lets me take another step closer, then it doesn’t hurt at all. And you’re still standing too.”

“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

Sion slides off the blade as he steps backwards. Scima lets him. The moment he’s free to swing he does. The slash is weak with so little preparation, but it’s sudden. It cuts into through skin, but the edge of the sword gets stuck within the muscles of Sion’s chest. Sion pulls himself off the sword and throws another punch. It leaves behind a bright red mark on Scima’s face.

Sion throws two more punches simultaneously. Both his fists are wreathed in blue wisps of light. One goes right for Scima’s chest. Scima grabs Sion by the arm and stops it. The other curves towards Scima’s side. His other arm occupied, Scima slams his blade into Sion’s side. It doesn’t cut deep, but does lodge itself inside Sion’s flesh. Scima lets go of the hilt and grabs Sion’s other arm, stopping the blow just before it makes contact. Scima smiles at Sion. Sion slams his forehead into Scima’s.

Scima staggers backwards, pressing the bottom of his palm against his forehead. He shakes his head a couple times. Sion has to do the same as he pulls Scima’s sword out of his body and throws it aside. Scima looks at Sion once he’s recovered. At last Scima’s smile has left his face, overtaken by something dark and stormy.

“Sorry, Sion. You’ve knocked some sense into me. Playtime’s over. I won’t let you beat me.”

“You weren’t serious before?”

“Nope. Thank you for being strong.”

With a sudden burst of speed Scima begins to run. He picks his sword up off the ground and keeps running. He circles around Sion, then slashes without closing the distance. Sion turns to face Scima, only to be greeted by an approaching flash of light. Sion is sure Scima didn’t have enough time to build up a full slash, but he cannot help but to put up his guard. The slash passes through Sion without so much as a scratch. Sion lowers his guard and sees Scima beginning a charge. Sion begins to run to meet him. However, without being close enough to make contact, Scima thrusts his sword forward. A beam of light shoots out, but as before, Sion knows it cannot hurt him. Sion trusts in his instincts and presses on. However, he feels a sudden, piercing pain in his shoulder. He grits his teeth in pain and stops to take a new stance better suited for the current situation. Sion lowers his body and prepares to make a sudden move. Scima looks down at him with cold eyes.

“I can charge my attacks even as I use blanks. You’ll never know which is real and which is fake.”

Sion lunges forward, letting one leg lag behind, then flips his body over with a kick. Scima flicks his blade up so that the edge stands between him and Sion’s leg. Sion clashes with the blade, his leg clad in blue. As they struggle against each other, Sion throws his upper body, at the moment hanging down below his waist, up at Scima with a sharp twitch. Sion grabs hold of Scima’s waist.

Sion draws his raised leg back. In this backswing he tries to force Scima along, throwing him to the ground in a single simple motion. However, Scima, with his focus honed and his sword free once more, stabs at Sion. Sion can only knock Scima slightly off balance before letting go to protect himself.

Scima’s blade glows as he readies another attack. He takes a step forward and swings. Sion flinches away from the beam of light, but notes it would have done nothing. Again Scima takes a step and swings his sword. And again Sion dodges out of the way of a harmless slash. They do it once more. At that, ducking beneath the light, Scima dashes forward, his blade still aglow. Scima thrusts his blade forward. Sion takes a small, quick step back, enough to avoid the tip of the blade but certainly not a burst of light that might follow. However, even as Sion prepares to guard against it, no magic comes. Instead, Scima stops his thrust short and begins to spin. As the blade comes closer to Sion light begins to streak in a bright arc behind it. Win is certain that this blow will be the real one and prepares accordingly. He throws himself into the swing, wispy blue lights hardening on his side. Sion feels the intense weight as the sword slams into him.

Sion looks at Scima, his eyes still cold, and resolves further to win this fight. He braces against the blade at his side and tries to take a strong step forward. However, Scima suddenly flashes a light. Sion winces, and in doing so loses just the smallest bit of tension in his body. Scima overpowers him and sends him flying away towards the edge of the arena.

They hadn’t decided if the match could end like that, but Sion takes no chances. With blue clad fingers he pierces into the stone right at the edge of the arena. He stops suddenly, the jolt of force pulling painfully on his shoulder. With just one arm to support him, Sion keeps his body hovering over the grass. His arm as the axis, he flips back onto the raised stone platform. He rolls his shoulder as he walks towards Scima.

Scima swings his blade, once more covered in light. The arcing light comes straight at Sion, but he does not flinch away. The light passes harmlessly through his chest. Scima again begins to talk, his voice still dull and distant.

“How did you know it was a fake?”

“I didn’t think you would kill me.”

“Sion, why are you fighting so hard?” Sion answers him.

“To make you apologize.”

“Why do you care so much about that?”

“Scima, what you’re doing is improper.” Scima dashes forward and slashes at Sion. However, the swing is not nearly sharp enough. Sion grabs his blade and stops it, a small cut now drawing blood from his palm.

“I thought you of all people would understand.” Scima’s voice is trembling.

“Why would I? We barely know each other. We shouldn’t be much more than acquaintances, if you think about it.”

“So I was the only one who thought we were friends? You were mocking me behind my back this whole time?” Anger swells in Scima’s voice, and yet Sion remains perfectly.

“No, in spite of that, I’m sure we’re friends. And I’m sure you’re good at your core. That’s why I can’t understand you as you are now. So let’s talk. With our honest feelings this time.” The corners of Scima’s mouth lift against his will, his smile returning once more.

“After all this? Sorry, but the truth doesn’t come naturally to me. The only honest thing about me is violence.” At last Sion smiles.

“That’s fine.”

With a thin line of blood streaking down his arm, Sion pushes Scima’s sword back into the scabbard. Sion swings his fist, landing a solid blow on Scima’s cheek. Scima returns with his own strike, a quick one right below Sion’s eye. They keep hitting each other in silence, standing in the center of the arena, all without a single spell. Skin against skin, flesh against flesh, a conversation between bone and blood. Scima lands a punch right over Sion’s heart, his fist scuffed from their sudden brawl. As he swings back, Sion begins to talk once more.

“Why won’t you apologize?” He strikes Scima’s shoulder.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.” He strikes Sion’s stomach.

“Why do you keep saying that?” He strikes Scima’s side.

“I need to make the world fear us. Fear Dracabana. That’s how we survive.” He strikes Sion’s jaw.

“Why is it better to have enemies that fear you than no enemies at all? Isn’t it better to be bound to others with friendship rather than violence?” He strikes Scima’s cheek. Scima has no answer. Sion strikes him once more. Scima’s voice grows quiet with the audience’s gaze fixed on them.

“It’s the only way I can prove I’m the strongest.”

“But if you follow that path to the end, won’t you become alone one day?”

“That’s fine. All I need is to be strong in the end, strong enough for nobody to think of challenging me.”

“Why is that all you need? Why do you want to be the strongest?”

“I have to be the strongest or…” Scima can’t find the words.

“Scima, from now on I’ll keep challenging you, and we’ll keep talking. As much as we want from now on. I won’t let you end up alone. And I won’t let you fall to darkness either. So let’s finish this fight of ours.” Scima glances over at the stands and smiles.

“Would you look at that, Anima’s cheering you on, Sion.” Sion follows Scima’s gaze. In the stands he sees Anima. She really does seem to be cheering, but not in sync with Eva and Theyni beside her.

“It looks like Eva and Theyni are cheering for you.” Scima laughs sharply before quickly collecting himself.

“I thought they were the ones who asked you to win?”

“It was only Theyni. I suppose they just don’t want to see you lose in the end. Should I let you win? You have me outnumbered two to one.”

“Sion, to be honest, I only did what I did because I couldn’t stand Uro being above me as though he were in any way superior. And, y’know, more to the point… If we counted our own cheers then you’re the winner, three to two.”

“I’ll give you a proper finish.”

“Thank you, Sion.”

Sion throws one more punch, wisps of blue light flying around him. He slams his fist into Scima’s stomach. Scima gets knocked back. The blow resonates inside of Scima, pulsating around inside of him. It feels as though it should hurt, yet Scima feels no pain. All it does is shake around inside of him. Scima falls to the ground and surrenders, the blow deeper inside of him still running its course. Sion stands victorious and extends his hand down to Scima.