A Fighter's Story

Chapter 12 (4/5): Game Start!

"Who is this, Russel, you speak of?"

"It's... It's no one." Tyler blushed.

"Your city words amuse me." The two shared a soft laugh until an object collided with Smokey's head. Tyler stopped in his tracks; he saw a small round stone on the floor beside Smokey's skull. There was a tiny drop of blood running down his head as he laid prone.

He looked for the thrower, finding the largest Cal brother standing with a handful of stones. An evil smirk across his face as he absently tossed one of the stones in the air. Tyler's anger grew, "You coward! How can you be that big and refuse to fight us head on?!"

Tyler awaited a response, but only got silence.

"GAH! Is that even legal?! Using foreign objects?" He looked to the ref for an answer.

"Anything is legal in Brawl Ball."

After an unapologetic shrug, Tyler relaxed. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, and rationalizing the situation. He could hear the crowd growing anxious at the lack of action. The entertainer in him wanted to show-off, but this match was less of a show and more of a battle for respect.

"We're up by one point." He rested his foot on the ball, "All I have to do is score this one goal and we- GAH!" He ducked an incoming rock. "Hey, I was talking!"

His opponent frowned as a response.

Smokey tried to grumble something out, "I don't know the custom of city combat. But we don't wait for speeches here."

"Fine..." he blew an exasperated breath. "Then I'll monologue while I beat him." He kicked off, dashing forward straight for the chest of the boy. The oldest Cal brother released a volley of rocks in his direction. With a bird's grace Tyler dodged the hailstorm. Ducking and weaving around them easily as he continued to push forward.

His movements required him to jump sporadically from his left to his right. During these moments of strafing, he would spurt out another line. "You see while I might not be as strong." He shifted so fast it was like he was disappearing, "But I'm defiantly ten times as fast as anyone you've ever seen." He dodged another stone, now standing a few feet away from the large boy. "Now watch this drive."

He kicked the ball up then sprinted full tilt. He saw the boy moving forward to grab the ball but with his superior speed, he easily knocked it between his legs and slid through them like a penguin on ice. The Cal boy took a swing at him, missing wildly and allowing Tyler to make a clean getaway.

The city boy stuck his tongue out playfully as he rushed for their goal. It was so clear, so open. The few flowers that peppered the ground were glistening with morning dew. He could hear the crowd's raucous screams. Some were excited to see him land the finishing blow, others were booing at the sight of a city dweller beating the Cals. Even if he had some help from the village's gold standard.

As he listened to the sounds of mayhem, he heard one voice pierce through the crowd. A girl screeching his name at the top of her lungs. He looked for a sign of one of the village girls. They had grown very fond of him; it wasn't unlikely for one of them to be calling for his attention. But when he looked for the voice, the group of girls he saw didn't seem to be saying his name.

His dribbling slowed down as he searched the crowd closely. His heart stopping when he finally saw her. Standing up, her bright-red pigtails bobbing in the air, was Jessie. The girl he had fallen for long ago was now jumping for joy at the sight of him. He saw her vibrant smile, that adorable look that he had grown addicted to. He lived for the chance to see her look at him like that. And now he was drunk on it.