43.i A Diamond Body

~ Bodhi ~

The monk absently chewed away at their thumbnail as they balanced in a squat on the back of a stadium seat. Their clear gray eyes watched the arena like a hawk, anticipating everything that could possibly go down in the next few minutes.

At the moment, every Sun was undergoing a holy peach screening to ensure that no one began the tournament with an unfair advantage. The contestants were divided into several single file lines. Volunteers equipped with litmus test kits took quick samples of each monkey’s saliva. The results were instant. So far, no one’s acidity levels had raised enough concerns to be disqualified.

Bodhi thought back on the things they had told Sun Ritsu on the way to the stadium that morning.

“The first trial will most likely be something swift and brutal. Borderline unfair if I had to guess.”

The end of Sun Ritsu’s unglamoured tail tossed back and forth behind him in what Bodhi assumed to be nervousness.

“Not that I don’t believe you,” the sun clone replied, “but what makes you think that?”

Bodhi shrugged and gestured vaguely to the overcrowded parking lot. “There are too many Suns at the moment. The matches will drag out and become redundant if they keep the majority of these challengers around. So I assume that they have a solution for that.”

Ritsu’s gaze shifted to the concrete. “So then, what should I do?”

His question made Bodhi’s memory spark, taking them back to their first glimpse of Sun Ritsu in battle. Several trolls were coming at him all at once and he had dodged them all… while he was asleep.

Whatever was going on with Sun Ritsu’s inner Immortal was no joke. That spirit was very strong.

“Bodhi?” Ritsu repeated, the uncertainty rising in his voice as they all drew closer to the stadium. “What should I do in order to survive the first round?”

Down by their ankles, a nervous Ham Song grunted his urgent feelings. While Sun Seven, who was quietly drinking his protein shake, glanced out of the corner of his eye at Bodhi with a mixture of curiosity and expectancy.

“Nothing,” Bodhi said. “In your case, I think the best thing is to not think about anything too hard and do nothing.”

Ham Song was already frothing at the mouth in protest. He didn’t outright charge at Bodhi, but he muttered angrily to himself as he pulled ahead, his porky ass trembling with every utterance of: “Do nothing! Nothing they say! Tch!”

Needless to say, Ham Song had elected to sit far away from Bodhi once they took their seats inside the arena. The monk was fine with this. They needed to focus on the competition and analyze each potential player going forward. There was a lot you could tell about a spirit’s ability levels in this sort of environment. All it took was the right eyes and sense of judgment. Bodhi had both in this case, even if they didn’t speak on it often.

There was, however, one thing that Bodhi couldn’t determine by just watching. That was the strength and level of potency in each contender’s staff.

“Seven.” Bodhi called.

The sun clone scooched closer to the monk.

“Yo.”

Bodhi took advantage of the mandatory holy peach screening to ask for Seven’s help.

“If we’re going to be any use to Sun Ritsu in the future, I’m going to need intel on what kinds of other quarterstaves we’re working with.”

“On it.” Seven grunted as he swung his short legs over the row of seats and landed in the aisle.

“You want anything while I’m out?”

A couple of cold six packs, three heavy gourds, the keys to a distillery.

“No. I’m good.” Bodhi hesitated. “Actually, can you bring me a cup of ice?”

Seven gave a two-finger wave. “You got it, Sifu.”

Seven was off and Bodhi went back to scanning the competition.

Sun Tie Quan. He was dangerous. This was a big guy with thick wavy hair that reached his broad shoulders and came in a shade of dark bluish gray. He had an even darker silvery beard to match. Like many of the contestants, his garb was a mesh of traditional and modern silhouettes. Tie Quan sported some kind of stretchy athletic pants combined with a leather-rich armored vest that boldly tapered at the shoulders. He looked bored as he waited in line for his test.

Guess he has nothing to worry about, Bodhi thought, tossing out the hope that Sun Tie Quan would be disqualified early.

As far as Bodhi could measure, Sun Tie Quan was one of the contestants who didn’t carry his staff around in the open. Did he keep his staff shrunken down like Ritsu? If that was the case, then why would he make such a big deal calling Ritsu out for having a small weapon? Bodhi’s questions were in Seven’s hands now. It was best to focus on the quarterstaves that the monk could actually observe.

Next, the monk scanned the crowds for Sun Zhaoling, the clone that had kept Sun Tie Quan and Sun Ritsu from coming to blows the day before.

The Barefoot Sun – that’s what Seven had referred to Zhaoling as. It was no mystery why. He had the simplest garb out of everyone there – a white t-shirt with some matching sweatpants – and he was indeed barefoot. In fact, with how calloused and hairy his feet were, he looked as if he had never worn shoes a day in his life. The glamour around his feet seemed weak too, giving him the feet of a white-handed gibbon more than anything else.

Perhaps it was that true ape essence that left the Barefoot Sun one of the only sun clones without a tail.

Zhaoling had a staff, that much was evident. He carried it strapped to his back, the only indication that he was taking this tournament seriously. For someone who dressed so plainly, his weapon was rather ornate and special. It looked like it was made of glass, but Bodhi knew that looks could be deceiving.

Sun Zhaoling scared Bodhi even more than Sun Tie Quan because of how calmly he carried himself. The ones who were the least arrogant and proud were oftentimes the most fearsome opponents.

Bodhi honed in on three more notable Suns.

Sun Terra was a rock style martial artist with a quarterstaff that seemed to double as a two-headed clubbed weapon. Sun Shan was definitely one of those overzealous fighters who had lightning oozing out of his ears. His hair was infinitely spiky, yellow and sparkling with visible spiritual discharge.

Lastly, Bodhi picked up on the energy of an unlikely contestant. Unlikely because of how young and very short he was – a rookie contender known as Sun Yong Kid. At first Bodhi thought the name was a coincidence, but upon further inspection, they realized that Yong Kid was a literal child. He barely came to four feet, had a shiny bowl haircut that rustled at the slightest breeze, and damn near perfect humanizing glamour. The one exception was his tail, which was crayon red.

Like Sun Zhaoling, this young contender also carried his staff out in the open. His weapon was suited to his size, made out of metal, and covered from end to end in popular cartoon stickers. Bodhi wasn’t sure what it was about this Sun that held their attention, but if a spirit that inexperienced was willing to enter a competition of this magnitude, there had to be a reason.

It was when Bodhi was trying to figure out what that reason was when Ham Song sidled over to them and struggled to climb into the slippery folding seat beside them.

“Is it just me or does our benevolent monkey look like he’s sweating bullets? He knows this isn’t the actual start of the match, right?”

Bodhi noticed it too. “I may be wrong, but something tells me that Sun Ritsu had himself a little midnight faceoff before all of this. Sweet immortal peaches may have been involved.”

Bodhi could practically hear Ham Song’s snout quivering as he took in this new information.

“He what? With whom??”

Bodhi folded their arms, stifling their own frustration with not knowing the answer.

“He wouldn’t say and I didn’t ask.”

“So then we’re doomed.”

Bodhi briefly closed their eyes and shook their head. “I don’t think so. The way Ritsu metabolizes peaches is kind of different. At least from what I can gather, he seems to burn right through them no matter how many he’s eaten.”

Ham Song went quiet for a moment before agreeing. “You’re right. Most sun clones can make their Immortal States last over a period of hours or even days. So either Ritsu doesn’t choose to do that or–”

“He simply can’t.” Bodhi folded their hands under their chin and resumed their analysis.

They smiled when they saw Sun Ritsu walk back to the waiting area with negative test results.