8 is fate // Stray Kids

1

Pain exploded in his jaw. He knew he could finish this fight in seconds. He felt his fingers twitch, the urge to fight back was immense. Still, he tried to suppress it, he had to. He spat out blood and braced himself for the following impact. He could see the punches long before they landed. Stomach, chin, nose. He let the first two connect but evaded the last one. Broken noses were a pain in the ass.

A swift step forward and he had invaded his opponent's range. Again, he felt his fingers twitch. It took all his self-control to pull his punch, dropping his guard in the process, leaving an opening for the opponent to strike back which was used without hesitation.

His opponent was a mage in his forties. Quite fascinating, how much the man sucked although he had the ability to use magic. Such a waste o-

Before he could finish his thoughts, a kick was delivered straight to his guts, pushing all the air out of his lungs, forcing him a couple of steps back. He tried to keep a straight face, but a smile started to form on his lips. He could feel the impatience of the mage build, his eyes flared in a violent green. A telltale that he had used his powers. He had clearly hoped to finish the fight with that attack. And the boy couldn't deny that he was also praying for the fight to end, the sooner the better. This has been dragging on for way too long. Every part of his body hurt. Even though the mage wasn't strong, being beat for almost fifteen minutes was simply too much. He could feel the crowd getting bored and restless, this match was way too one sided.

His eyes slid over the crowd until he found the face he'd been searching for. His boss noticed the glance and shook his head. With a heavy sigh the boy turned his attention back to the mage, bracing for the next impact. Stomach, ribs, cheekbone. He acted as if the blows had thrown him off balance, creating another opening for the mage. He let himself get cornered, enduring the punches and kicks, feeling his already sore body getting bruised even more. He made a sluggish attempt to counter which was easily blocked. He could hear the crowd going wild, probably glad to see the fight coming to an end. The eyes of the mage began to flare in an even stronger green, while his attacks became stronger too. All he could do was to endure the blows that were raining down on him and count the seconds for it all to be over.

Once in a while, he attempted a counterattack. He didn't need to act sluggish anymore. His whole body felt numb and on fire at the same time. Blood clouded his sight and infiltrated his nose and mouth, making it hard to breathe. And although all he wanted was for the fight to end, he kept standing, clearly to the frustration of the mage.

But then – finally – his boss lit a cigarette. The boy let one last punch connect with his eyebrow, before going down. For good this time. Everything that followed seemed to happen in a blur. He just stayed on the floor, spitting out blood, trying to catch his breath, to ignore the pain, suppressing the urge to retch, because he knew there was nothing to throw up but stomach acid and blood.

He waited for the hall to clear out, enjoying the quiet that followed. He stayed there in the dark for a while before he found the will to stand up. He carried his aching body to the tavern that was connected to the underground fighting rink. A short stop to the bathroom was necessary to wipe the blood off his face. He usually tried to avoid looking at his reflection in the mirror but today he stared at the mirage that was supposed to show him. At times it was hard for him to recognize himself, to accept what had become of him. His golden eyes had turned dull, his cheeks were hollow, cuts and bruises covered his tan skin. His dark hair was much longer now, he contemplated if he might be able to tie it back at this point. He had always been slim but now he was purely made of skin, bones and lean muscles. He stared at the stranger in the mirror before pulling his eyes away and leaving the bathroom.

The noise of the tavern hit him hard as soon he entered. He ignored his pounding head and went to find a seat in the back, sliding through the crowd without being noticed. A groan of pain and relief escaped his lips as soon as he sat down. Just like every day, he pondered why he stayed here. But the answer was always the same: This was still better than the alternative.