Chapter 9: what happens when a birthday girl fights?

Chapter 9: what happens when a birthday girl fights?

November 14th 2024 (Revamped on 23th April 2025)

After Tariq home-ran Gateau into the horizon…

“I saved the town—”

He looks around.

The city was a wreck. Buildings had chunks torn out, fires crackled in the distance, and car alarms sang in chaotic harmony. Beeping. Shouting. Sirens.

“Oh.”

Tariq tiptoed away.

“I’ve got a whole destroyed house to worry about…”

His voice dropped to a mutter.

“…but that fight just proves one thing. Every Disposition user is a ticking bomb. Even us.”

⸻

Meanwhile… Back with Harith and Amina.

“Yo, Harith. You know what day it is, right?”

Harith tilted his head. “What day? April Fool’s? Mother’s Day?”

SMACK.

Amina slapped her own forehead, letting out a dramatic sigh.

“You forgot my birthday.”

“Oh…”

Harith scratched the back of his head, face flushed with shame.

“Happy birthday, Amina…”

“Yeah, yeah. Save it. Bring me a real gift instead.”

She was licking the cream off a chunk of cake left from the earlier fight. She didn’t realize it was part of the monster Harith had defeated—Torta.

Moments later, her eyes widened.

“Oh no…”

Sugar rush: Activated.

Amina launched herself at Harith, tackling him out of nowhere.

“WHAT?! What’re you doing?!”

“—I’ll take you on a date!” she blurted, cheeks flushed. “Best restaurant in town! And the newest phone model! Not taking no for an answer!”

“Y-Yes sir…”

She poked his chest, dreamily.

Harith shoved her off, trying to regain composure.

“Klutz. What are you doing?”

He looked her up and down, visibly disturbed.

“You’re hallucinating.”

Amina blinked. She was hallucinating. She hated to admit it… but part of her enjoyed it.

“That thing made me drunk or something,” she mumbled.

Harith crossed his arms. “You’re proving my point. Who eats things off the floor?”

“You win…”

She turned away, arms folded. Embarrassed.

“I was joking, by the way,” Harith said. “Didn’t you want to try that new Koshari flavor as your gift?”

“HECK yeah! Let’s go—”

But before they could take another step…

“Yo, guys! Wanna buy something?”

A petite girl with an awkwardly wide smile approached them.

Harith gave a polite shrug. “Uh, actually, we were just—”

“Anyways!” she interrupted. “Would you like… this plant?”

She held up a fake plastic plant, clearly from some dollar store.

“It’s blessed! Brings good luck!”

Harith raised a brow. “Good luck comes from Allah, not… whatever that is. You Shia or something?”

The girl twitched.

“And! It’s 600 pounds! Originally 1200!”

She waved a paper sign like a weapon.

Harith squinted. “That same ‘plant’ was at the market last week for 5 pounds. You serious?”

“You’re just broke.”

“I am broke. You think that’s some kind of insult? I once jumped out a moving Tuk Tuk just to avoid paying 5 pounds.”

The girl’s face contorted in confused disbelief.

Then…

Harith sensed it. Something moving behind him. Reaching for his pocket.

Without hesitation, his fist surged with electricity and punched an invisible chest.

A body dropped.

“I told you I’m broke. Wanna check my wallet too?”

Amina stepped in, irritated.

“Enough of this. You suck at scamming and even worse at stealing.”

Her voice cut through the air like a blade.

“Woah… Amina’s definitely on her period,” Harith muttered.

“You gonna beat me up now?” the girl taunted.

She eyed Amina up and down.

“You two came from Tariq’s house. Thought you’d be… nicer.”

(Wait… she knows Tariq?!)

Both Harith and Amina froze. But they decided to ignore it—for now.

Harith smirked.

“Yo Amina. Haven’t seen you throw down for real. Go ahead and feast on ‘em!”

“Sure,” she replied. “I’ll do more than feast.”

Harith somehow pulled out a folding chair and popcorn like it was WWE night.

“LET’S GO!”

⸻

The petite girl wore a dark blue collared shirt tucked into formal black pants. Her long black hair was undone. Her nails were sharp and polished. Something about her felt… off.

Amina formed a translucent blue blade from her wrist—five inches of concentrated energy. Another blade followed on the other hand.

“Look at your outfit,” the girl mocked. “Did your mom knit that for you?”

“Speaking of fashion…” Amina smirked. “You look like a divorced dad working at a dead-end job.”

Amina charged. Her blade sliced down—something fell.

But it wasn’t the girl’s head.

(It was a clone?!)

“Plot armor…?”

The real girl smirked.

“Glad I guarded with a clone. Or I’d be chilling with the mummies.”

Her voice rang out. “It’s called a simple outfit. Something you’ve clearly never heard of.”

“I don’t diss people’s outfits while looking like a worn-out Walmart employee.”

The girl crouched and touched the ground.

Suddenly, a stone clone launched her into the air.

“She’s dangerous. Fights like a barbarian. But my Facsimile Disposition will win if I play smart…”

Two more clones rose from the ground, pelting Amina with stones and gravel.

Amina tensed. She swapped her Katar for a round shield.

The impact still knocked her back.

(This ain’t just pebbles…)

She charged forward, forming blue boots around her feet.

“Boots?! You’re a joke!”

Another clone uprooted the ground beneath her. Amina didn’t notice until she was midair.

“She flung me…?”

Amina gritted her teeth and shifted the boots into combat gloves. Air began to whirl around her fists—she was winding up something big.

She landed—BOOM.

A punch straight for the girl’s head.

The girl barely defended with an air clone, but it shattered.

Her eyes widened.

(Pure strength. A barbarian indeed…)

Amina didn’t stop. One right hook. One left. Three rapid jabs.

The girl dodged most—but one landed.

Her arms bruised. Blood trickled down.

(Even blocked hits hurt…?!)

“WOOHOO! GO BIRTHDAY GIRL!”

Harith tossed popcorn in the air.

The girl was now sweating. This was real.

Amina grinned.

“Ha. You thought?”

She created a flexible blue staff and swept the girl’s legs.

THUD.

The girl landed on her back.

“I’ll pancake-ify you!”

Amina formed a massive blue hammer, leaping toward the fallen girl.

(If I don’t dodge… I’m dead.)

The girl summoned a distant clone that pulled her out of harm’s way just in time.

Panting on the ground, she retaliated—summoning a clone right beneath Amina.

POW!

Amina was punched midair. Her stomach took the hit—blood escaped her mouth.

(Not bad…)

She fell rapidly… then formed a blue parachute midair.

(Should’ve expected that.)

More clones tried to snipe her with gravel midair.

A rock struck her cheek.

Blood again.

“D-damn you! I’ll mark you too!”

She landed.

Then…

“…What’s your name, skilled thief?”

“…Zahra. Zahra al Nasikh.”

“You get three seconds to guess what’s gonna happen to you.”

“I’m outta here!”

She ran—

SNAP.

A blue rope pulled her into the air, caught in a net.

“You scarred my face. I’m returning the favor.”

Amina raised her Katar.

But then—

“Amina, stop!”

Harith?

Nope. He just pulled out his phone.

“Wait… You’re right!”

They both began snapping pictures of the humiliated, trapped Zahra.

“Let me out so I can kill you both!”

“Nope!” Amina replied.

“You look like a rat in a cage.”

Then—

“Wait… is that… Zahra?!”

Tariq sprinted toward them.

“She’s a good person! Our friend!”

“…Stop me when I care.”

Amina slightly sliced Zahra’s cheek with her Katar.

“There. Now we’re even.”

“…That settles it?” Tariq said, blinking.

He looked at Harith, still seated with popcorn.

“Seriously? You just watched?!”

“Wasn’t gonna miss the live action!”

“Good job, Amina!” Harith cheered.

Amina freed Zahra, and the group returned to Tariq’s place—what was left of it.

Zahra gawked.

“Dude… what happened to your house?!”

“Long story. I’ll explain everything…”

Tariq stood in front of them, eyes focused.

“…It all started when—”

To be continued.

Character spotlight:

Zahra al Nasikh: just the side NPC you’d see in every video game. Except she’s bad at scamming people. And her Disposition is exactly what the juice had to fight off in 1945 nein times.