Arc 3 - Chapter 48: Luke vs Kenji

(Reverence 5, 59 / 10:02AM)

Laying in the back of the adobe, was a garden full of cottonwood trees. Light green leaves spread throughout the grass, the blades were yellow, leaving the garden look abandoned. But in the dead center of the garden, was a ring. And around the ring, many Pacithiests stood around with trailing eyes.

Standing on the other side of the door, Luke saw it all patched and fixed. Even though its hinges creaked, the young man felt its old attire begin to crumble. Hearing the sound of his beating heart, he took a step forward, and pressed his hands on the center…

—Here goes.

And pushed the door open.

All the soldiers turned toward the opening door. Silence filling the garden air, Luke froze, as if his soles were glued deep into the ground below. Feeling their gossip, along with their murmurs, his face grew pale the more they stared at him.

But he breathed in and out, before pushing forward.

—Hey Gwen…

Filling his lungs with air, he jabbed both of his hands into his pocket. Keeping his head low, he ignored their stares, along with their gossiping eyes that reeked of pity. The more he walked closer to that ring, the more his eyes slanted inward.

—Watch over me.

Placing his hands onto the base, he pulled his body up so that his knees strained the mat. From there, he lifted himself so that his boots pressed on that same mat. But he noticed something…

—Wait where’s Mr. Sumiko?

Looking around the ring, he couldn’t find any trace of him. The trees, the blades, nada. Feeling like he was about to turn insane, he narrowed his eyes and balled his hands.

He glanced at every soldier, but he couldn’t determine whether he hid or stood. Like he jumped between different choices, he trailed his mind with thoughts. But the more he tried, the more it—

—His back hair rose.—

Widening his eyes, he quickly turned behind, and noticed an old man standing perfectly still. Spiky white hair, and wearing that same karate gi uniform, his hands were in his pockets. Same sandals, same everything, his eyes were expressionless and lacked any emotion.

“Have you ever sparred before Fenix?”

“Several times.”

“Then you know the rules. Whoever forfeits is called the loser, and whoever remains standing is called the victor.”

Luke gave him a nod, and he slanted his eyes inward rather than out. Seeing that he looked defenseless, it was like the old man didn’t take him seriously. In fact, he noticed Kenji crack his neck, which allowed stress to release from his old brittle bones.

Until he took off his karate uniform. Or rather the fabric that covered his chest.

Allowing it to fall on the ring, his chest and stomach wasn’t that of a senior. Indentured in abs, along with a gleaming chest, he housed titanium muscles that could simmer the iciest of eggs.

Every female soldier blushed, as the old man took them all by surprise. But as for the male soldiers…

“Wish I had abs like that…”, “Yeah no kidding.”, “Man, I need to train more.”, “Maybe you need to eat less.”

Admiring his physique in interest, they bobbed their heads in collective agreement. Whether they could, or if they can try, it would be a monumental struggle to top Kenji’s abs and chest.

And then all turned toward Luke.

Sweat trickling from his face, the young man took off his black leather jacket. Once it nestled on the ring, he pulled his shirt up, which smudged and swirled his hair. Letting it drop, both of his chest and stomach were for the world to see well.

He was skinny, but he wasn’t scrawny. Having not that much of a chest, he had abs, as they hardened under the burning sun. He felt a couple of smug grins press his way, mostly from the women who were the same age as him.

“Well, he is kind of cute.”, “Eh. Prefer muscle over cuteness.”, “Too skinny. I could slightly see some of his ribcage.”, “But you don’t see a man like that every decade. He has pretty eyes.”

As for the men…

“If he could work out just a bit more.”, “Nah, the dude needs meat.”, “He just needs some bulking.”, “Think he’s better in agility?”, “Agility? What type of man chooses that over muscle?”

Luke ignored their comments, as words such as those were nothing to him. Focusing on the old man at hand, he had his toes stationed within his boots. Making a fighting stance, he saw Kenji… push his hands in his pockets.

Staring at Luke with sluggish eyes, Luke felt like he was preyed upon. Like a pet lion about to pounce on its prey, Kenji’s irises move in teleporting speed. He knew he was analyzing him, analyzing his body.

“Strike first. I want to see just how well you fare in offense.”

Without thinking, Luke pushed his body forward like a spring.

Pulling back his right hand, he had it already curled into a fist. Feeling like his knuckles were snapping in two, he reached the old man who stood still. Springing out his arm, his fist—

Something stopped him.

“What…”

Like a bear getting caught in a bear trap, Luke tried to pull out, but he felt fingers dig into his skin. Nails digging into his bones. Trying his hardest to get out, he heard his shoulder pop, but unknowing to him…

Kenji let go.

His feet losing the grip on the mat, he fell flat on his back. He quickly got up, with his right hand swelling from the old man’s nails. Along with his shoulder, it was almost dislocated from exerting his strength.

“For a man that almost twists his shoulder, you look as if you might do it again.”

Feeling his breath harden once more, he leaped forward. Pulling back his right hand, he had it low against his hip, while lunging to the right.

Having his left in his pocket, he had himself within Kenji’s blindspot. Taking that one second window, he reached Kenji’s left side, making him spring his arm and hand once more…

“Yet you don’t learn twice.”

But Luke didn’t strike. Having it thrown though, it was like he saw a picture of that boy’s fist, because the main attack…

Was below.

Kenji’s eyes didn’t widen, as he felt a singular strike struck his knee. Feeling his body wobble, he didn’t falter, but kept his back straight.

“Here!”

Pulling out his left hand, Luke thrusted it forward and opened his fingers. It was grainy, it was white, and most importantly…

It headed right for Kenji’s eyes.

Not a single groan emerged from him, making Luke move his right foot back. Pulling back his fist as well, Luke slid his right foot, his eyes intending the damage he inflicted.

“It may be true that wits and smarts determine a true man’s battle…”

—His hand was dug into once more.—

Feeling his whole body remain still, his feet were frozen solid. With only the desert wind blowing against his face, he stared right into Kenji’s soulless eyes.

Before gasping out saliva. Spit staining the mat, his whole face turned cherry, and his breathing failed. Drool running down his lips, his own knees gave out, and the pain came.

“Yet some men need far beyond luck.”

His shins slammed hard.

Moving his hands toward his stomach, his eyes widened while his fingers scrounged his skin. Relentless gags mesmerizing his ears, the air that was trapped in his throat clogged his heart. Like his own body tried to suffocate him, his senses wallowed in flames.

—What can I do… what should I do…

Kenji stared down, and placed his hands on his hips. His spiky hair blocking out the sun, a dark shadow had swallowed the young man’s being. If his vision blurred, then looking up wouldn’t suffice.

—What can I use? What should… no … how can I beat him? Why? Why did I—

“Now to test your defense.”

As if a bolt of lightning ran up his body, his nerves acted like a superconductor. Sweat, cold sweat, everything in his body fluctuated the sweet release of coldness; while arching his head all the way back.

Hearing some of his tendons snap, the sudden whiplash was enough to lose the hold on his shins. Slamming the back of his head against the mat, his eyes only sterilize white.

Everyone took a step back from the ring, as Kenji pulled back his right foot. Noticing a dark purple bruise on Luke’s chin, it swelled, while blood released from the corners of his lips.

“You don’t even have a speck of Togo, but I can drill it in you.”

Still lying on the floor, Luke tried to inhale whatever oxygen he had left. As if someone had stabbed his chin, a couple of tears steamrolled out of his eyes. But once he felt his hair rise, it was then when he wailed his arms and legs.

Hitting the mat once more, his arms and legs jumped and throttled. Stopping shortly, he still couldn’t see through white eyes. Balling his left hand, he dug his nails, to allow blood to escape. Trying to soar with strength, trying to surmise anything… his stomach squeezed in on itself.

Like someone threw a bowling ball into his liver, he vomited out saliva deep from his throat. Wanting to pour out his stomach contents, what he could do was gag and gag and gag. Having his right hand clutch his stomach, no air pushed in or out, while his body burned.

—It hurts…

He heard a crack.

Rolling through the ground, he couldn’t trace what’s real or what’s fiction. He couldn’t trace anything at all. His mouth flapping open, he wanted to yell, he wanted to scream, but his cheeks perplexed in a mix of purple and red.

—It hurts… it hurts…

Hearing another crack, he felt his spine rattle like an enraged rattlesnake. Feeling a liquid travel down his chin, his ears took in nothing but static. His nerves malfunctioning, the sweat that tried to cool him off only worsened that burning feeling.

As two more stabs were felt.

—It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

He felt his nose collapse into himself. Then came his cheeks, which swelled in a stinging sensation that riveled a thousand bees. His whole face felt like it caught fire, while continuing to roll.

Flinging his arms and legs, his toes and fingers jabbed him like needles. Every time he rolled, he heard his bones shift inside. With his vision now turning red, it was a crimson that wasn’t filled with fury. He was far from feeling angry, as he vomited blood from the depths of his throat.

—It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts. It hurts—

The kicking stopped. Blood blanketed his right cheek. Having his eyes roll to the back of his head, his nose was split into two… while a piece of his chin showed bone.

All of the soldiers were silent, and none of them whispered nor spoke. And above all, there were four prominent figures surrounding that ring.

“Jesus…”

David raised his hand toward his hat, and lowered it to his side. Looking beyond injured, his left hand balled, and so did Christian and Pacifica. For such a man who led an elite group, he laid in a small pond of his blood.

“You didn’t have to go that far…”

For Luke, everything burned. Within his eyes, he could only see whitish red. Unable to see what lay in front of him, all he felt was the mat that cushioned his body. His broken chest creaking with every breath, he tried to get up, but his muscles were torn.

“Luke…”

His fingers didn’t quake, nor did they twitch. Unable to move, his open mouth excreted more of his blood. His thoughts scrambled like some jigsaw puzzle, but he heard a voice.

“Luke…”

It was a woman’s voice, drenched in honey. Feeling his fingers twitch, it was only once.

“Get up Luke…”

He heard the beating of his own heart.

Overriding his senses, it was a faint beat that pounded his eardrums rather than his chest. The iron worsening in stench, his nerves flared, but he strangled all of his cheeks muscles that swelled blue. Hissing air through his mouth, his teeth were used as ventilators, as another wave of electricity soared in him.

“Save everyone.”

His body shaking and trembling, he lifted his head, and shook his fingers that erratically twitched. As his eyes began to clear, he saw the world in red. Closing his mouth, he pulled his right cheek from the ground… and glued his palms on the bloodied mat.

[You can’t run from your own story.]

He rose.

Everyone glued their eyes on the lifted man, whose hands were motionless against gravity. As if the world was on his shoulders, the weight tried to push him down; to make him grovel in pain. Even though he stood only on his shins, his knees buckled hard on the floor…

As he looked up at the old man.

“I … I can’t…”

With one boot, he rose once more, and steadied his body on the other. Feeling his body wobble, his thighs down to his calves shambled in stress. Bloodied face, bloodied eyes, gravity wanted to push him down more than anything. But he wouldn’t allow it.

“I won’t kneel.”

He pushed his eyes on Kenji.

Coughing out blood, it ran down his chin and throat, before staining his chest. His whole body hunched forward, his breathing was labored in the thickest strain Kenji heard. So much so, Kenji loosened the coldness of his eyes.

“You bleed, yet you still stand. For a young man such as yourself, you have wept and cried, bled and whined, yet you push forward.”

His own soldiers admired the way Luke stood. Even Iris, who always displayed a cold face, felt her cheeks loosen its wrinkled state. She dropped her hands to her sides, and felt no need to raise or place them.

While Christian and Pacifica stared with holy eyes.

“So why don’t you rest? Why won’t you allow me to take your place?”

Luke couldn’t take a step forward, mostly since his calves groveled in stress. His body shuddering like a drunken man, he used all that he could to move his right hand. Pushing it into his pocket, his right arm bulged.

Before taking out a switchblade.

“How can I rest, if my friends aren't?”

Having both of his hands on the blade, he flicked it open, and moved it toward the left side of his chest.

Having the tip steady on his skin, he tapped it two times, before digging it lightly. Slicing it across, everyone gasped. But once he glided it to the right side of his chest, he dropped the switchblade.

“If I can’t show my faults with a lowered head, then who am I to be called a leader?”

A wall of blood flowed from his newly engraved scar.

Standing unshaken, Kenji kept his eyes and face still shuddered with no emotion. But for a split second, he felt his hand twitch, but he balled it into a fist. Thrusting it in the air, he garnered everyone’s attention, including Luke.

“I hereby forfeit the match.”

Lowering his hand, he rested it onto his thigh. Keeping his back perplexed and straight, he stared fully into the eyes of a barely standing man.

“Because of my loss, I declare Luke Fenix… as the winner of the match.”

A roar of cheers pampered the air.

Many Pacithiest soldiers clapped and shouted, with jeering loudening against their ears. Still like a statue, Pacifica and Christian did the only thing possible; they smiled. David clapped with the soldiers, while Iris stared into Luke’s soul. Trying to decipher him, it was a collision of voices that deterred her from even trying.

“Hey David, was there ever a time my father delivered a beating like this?”

“Many times. Every man he has faced many, he made sure that they’d never get up in front of him. But Luke broke it.”

Pushing themselves into the ring, Pacifica and Christian had only to jump into the mat itself. Once their knees buckled straight, they sprinted to where Luke breathed with hardened nostrils.

Reaching such a statured man, they quickly wrapped themselves around him, their smiles all brightened and perplexed in joy. In fact, Pacifica began to shake him.

“You did it! You damn did it!”

“Shit man you look like, well, shit! Come on let’s get you walking!”

Trying to reciprocate that same smile, all he could do was lazily grin, before closing his eyes. Slowly nodding his head, all of his body tilted forward…

Making himself succumb to unconsciousness.

“We should patch him up first before he wakes up.”

Opening his mouth wide, a loud snore immediately throttled his throat. Shutting his eyes, and upon wallowing in his exhaustion, the two dragged him out of the ring while he slept.