The Dancer & The Magician (Hisoka Romance)

Chapter 4: The Cooldown

I run a bath of cold water and dump ice in it for my sore muscles. Most of my superficial bruises are still intact and swollen. My body feels like a balloon of pain with a needle threatening to pop it. Smooth jazz plays in the background to help calm me down. The ref's last call is still burning inside my mind, even though I'm trying not to think about it. Of all my wounds, my loss is the rawest one. I'd been waiting to be the first fighter in the arena to knock Hisoka down. Wipe that smug look off his face while also turning him on with my strength. Now that dream's ruined.

I arrived at Heaven's Arena to become a better fighter. All of my missions since becoming a hunter, tracking down beasts, criminals, retrieving lost hunters, traveling to ancient societies, have been for this purpose. Having traveled around the world, I want to find new places to challenge me.

I don't mind losing if it's to a worthy opponent on fair terms. I'm willing to learn from my weaknesses. But I haven't found anyone worthy in a long time. Most fighters at the arena are outcasts trying to make up for being bullied and ignored for so long. They come to Heaven's Arena to make names for themselves built in fear and power. The closest thing to love any of them will ever experience. It's easy to see how they feed off the crowd when I watch their fights and study their techniques.

My resolve is built on myself not others, whether crowd or opponent, though their adoration can be nice. Any mission that has the promise of increasing my fight, I take. I know what it's like to be weak and beaten and I have no intention of going back to that or allowing it to happen to others if I can help it. That's the difference between me and most opponents. What makes me quicker, sharper, tougher. Quite sad really how shallow and short-lived most of their careers will be.

When I got to the 200th floor, most of the fighters were drooling nerds around me. Others saw me as a joke, a woman who needed to be reminded she didn't belong here.

An American fighter named Jesper came up to me in the hallway of our suites and pulled my chin between his knuckles. "I can't wait to break you. If you're still pretty afterwards, I'd like to buy you dinner," he said. I smiled at him, let him squeeze my jaw so hard it left bruises. I wanted him to enjoy his first and last moment of power.

He came in an armor of rocks, manipulating stones to pulverize his opponents. The rocks hung out of his tall, bulky muscles like a cliff. I didn't even bother trying to absorb his nen ability. I made quick work of him by crushing his boulders, face, and chest in under 5 minutes.

Afterwards I walked over to him as he lay in a pool of his own blood and rubble and whispered, "I'd be happy to buy you dinner, even though you'll have to suck it through a straw." I could feel the lightning in his eyes, and there was nothing he could do about it.

That's how most men in the fighting world are. In order to gain their respect, I have to take their power away from them. Too bad I couldn't do that with the ref tonight. When I beat Jesper, the crowd soared for me, but that's not why I did it. Crowds are easily swayed like leaves in a breeze, loving you in one breath, hating you in the next. Jesper was just a message to the rest of the fighters in the arena that they'd have to give their all when they stepped to me.

Having to prove myself worthy happens everywhere I go so it's quite dull to do at this point. What did touch me was that I noticed there were more women in the stands cheering me on. I can't help but hope that one day I'll see more female warriors, that they'll be more than just employees behind the counter.

The smell of grilling tofu, radish, and broccolini brings me back to the present. Cooking gives me something light and pleasurable to do with my hands. Tonight I decide to make a protein bowl on a bed of quinoa. I put my plate in the microwave and a cover over the leftover food on the stove when I hear a knock on my door.