"During the Neoclash fights, the Champions are prohibited from wearing any kind of armor unless it's directly implemented into their bodies or artificial limbs. The hardest allowed material for Champion's clothing is hard leather."
Official Neoclash Rulebook
I spent many weeks training both by myself and with the Champions in the community. When Ryan bought me, it was still cold outside. Now, the summer is starting to exhibit its powers, even though it's not as hot and gruelling as it was in the Dead Zone.
The flowers in my garden finally started to bloom and I have my own beautiful flower bed. They grow stronger, just like me. They motivate me as I work out among them. But they also serve me for relax. When I tire myself, I just sit among them and admire their beauty. Different shapes, different colors.
Just like the Champions.
I realize there are actually many similarities between Champions and flowers. They are all different, but each one is beautiful in their own way. They want to grow, to thrive. But they require care and attention. Their beauty is well deserved. And so is ours.
I used to run my obstacle course only once. Later, I managed to run it two times. And now, it's a minimum three times plus I added some new elements. For example a rope stretched between two trees and a bag filled with sand hanging from a thick, durable branch. One helps me with my balance training, the other serves me to hone my fighting skills.
Both Odin and Scarla notice my improvements and they're not afraid to let me know.
Scarla is a strict teacher. She didn't give up her stick yet, but she smacks me less and less. After my ability to stand on the rope is acceptable for her, she makes me walk on it. To my surprise, it's easier than I expected. As she said, balance became my sixth sense. I have to use my arms to keep myself up less and less. I'm still not even close to Scarla's mastery, but I'm already able to walk the rope rather quickly.
Surprisingly, Scarla's balance training proves to be useful in the second part of my training. First, both Odin and Scarla try to teach me a new move, usually some kind of kick, which is logical considering where most of my power lies. Scarla's training helps me to use my other leg as a pivot more efficiently and also helps me land smoothly when I try to perform jumping kicks.
First, I try the move out on Odin's hand which serves me as a boxing bag. Then, I try to implement it during my fights with training dummy. Thanks to my mentors, I manage to reach a satisfying B-rank and my highscore so far is 177. However, they both claim entering a second-league tournamment is useless when my score is lower than 300. So I have to keep trying.
I practice my new moves on the boxing bag I made at home. I try to execute them faster, stronger, more technically perfect. From time to time, I also jump aside, duck or cross my arms in a blocking move, like I would if I had a real enemy in front of me. I quietly recite names of the moves I make:
Roundhouse kick. Front kick. Evade. Crescent kick. Block. Axe kick. Jumping spin crescent kick. Evade.
I try to focus the most on the last mentioned kick. It's Scarla's signature move and she told me that if I execute it well, it can award an instant Fatal point. It's a move I tried on Odin during our first skirmish, but now I realize how foolish it was to try it without any practice.
After my training, I head back home to have some water and a chocolate bar to replenish energy. I look at the calendar hanging on the wall and realize it's twentieth of June. If I remember correctly, it's my birthday. I'm sixteen today. The Castaways in the Dead Zone didn't make a big deal out of birthdays, but they also didn't forget them completely. One thing was always present - the Castaway birthday song.
Since nobody is going to sing it to me here, I have to serve myself.
Another day, another night, another year, another fight;
You're strong enough, you're still alive;
You're strong enough, you're still alive;
I wish you a year that's full of light,
I wish you a year that's full of light,
Another year, another fight.
I remember my father's voice singing this song to me. Sometimes, mom sang it, too. On rare occassions, a few other members of our Tribe joined. When I was little, the song sounded scary, intimidating to me. But later on, I realized it's actually full of hope. Surviving a year in the Dead Zone is an important achievement and the song uses simple words to give me credit for it.
I recall that once, when I was seven or eight, my dad took some food from the Tribe's depository to give it to me as a birthday gift. It was strictly forbidden. Several Tribe members found out and beat dad up. They couldn't be too rough because of dad's weak heart, but he received some beating anyway.
He smiled at me with bloodied lips, ensuring me it was worth it.
Starting from my eleventh birthday, it was up to Isaiah to sing the song for me. His coarse voice isn't suited for singing at all and he can't hold a note even if his life depended on it, but it was sweet to see him trying. When I was thirteen, I was sick with a heatstroke during my birthday. That day, Isaiah added something else. A soft kiss on my burning, sweaty forehead.
During the two following birthdays, I was hoping he'd repeat it.
He never did.
Without her noticing, I observe Zoya as she returned home. First, she obliterated a liter of water and then polished off a chocolate bar so fast it makes her a worthy opponent for me. Then she looks at the calendar and stays like that for a while.
Then she sighs and starts to sing.
I'm already used to her Castaway folk songs. She has pretty nice singing voice and the lyrics tell me more about the Castaways' mentality. Judging from her expression during some of the songs, she also tries to make her own. But this one seems to be familiar to her, like she heard it many times before.
When focusing on the lyrics, I realize it's some kind of... birthday song? Yeah, it would make sense considering her look at the calendar. She didn't tell me. God, what should I do now? I'm not good at celebrating birthdays. It's a reason number 78 (the last one so far) why I don't like socializing with people.
I could just walk away and pretend I saw nothing. But Zoya... she deserves something.
Another year, another fight.
Damn right.
However, I want it to be a surprise. That's why I have to wait until evening. When the sun slowly starts to set, I casually bring up: "Your next training session is tomorrow. Maybe you should train some more today, to not disappoint Odin and Scarla."
Zoya nods zealously. "That's what I planned to do anyway!"
She's gone in a blink of the eye. Her hard work is truly admirable.
As soon as she leaves, I enter the internet and order a few things from several different websites. I don't wait for too long - the delivery is done using drones who look like tiny aeroplanes. They arrive within an hour, landing on Zoya's garden and dropping the item. Then they just fly away.
I just hope Zoya didn't notice the strange objects landing on our backyard. But I presume I know her well enough to know she's fully focused on her training.
I prepare the stuff I bought - it's really clear that I have no clue how to celebrate birthdays. My own birthdays don't differ from any other days. I just buy a huge chocolate cake to celebrate it. There's also nobody to greet me on that day. Well, Austin Halliday sometimes remembers, but he's usually so busy with work he has no idea what's the date.
After an hour or so, I'm done. I have to find Zoya.
Just as I expected, she's spending a lovely time with her boxing bag. With pure focus and determination in her eyes, she rains kicks and punches on the bag which sways on the branch. Kick, kick, several rapid punches, jump aside, crossed arms, another series of kicks.
Her sports top and shorts reveal the changes on her body. There are no more visible ribs on her midriff which is still flat, but not horribly thin. It's starting to get some shape and even slight curves. There are some actual muscles on her arms and thighs.
Don't get me wrong, but she's actually starting to look good. Her face is no longer sunken and bony and reveals her natural tomboy appeal. She's still petite, but I'd now consider using the word lean rather than thin or skinny. There seems to be no connection between this fighter and the Castaway I bought months ago.
"That's all you can do?" I mock her with a smile. "I presumed they taught you better!"
Her focus even deepens, if it's possibe. She jumps high in the air, stretches out her leg, spins to gain momentum and then delivers the bag a crushing kick. I hear a loud crack; the branch used to carry the bag breaks and the bag collapses on the ground with streams of sand leaking on it.
"What about this?" she smirks at me and wipes off the sweat from her forehead.
"Uhm... much better," I admit. I presume such kick would kill an average Healthy if aimed at head. "Can you knock it off for today and come home?"
...
As soon as Zoya steps inside, her jaw drops.
There are balloons hanging from the ceiling and changing colors - a technology called "pigment alternation" which is quite popular on cars and clothing. I purchased a holographic node which conjures giant letters spelling HAPPY BIRTHDAY, ZOYA! across the whole room.
On the table, there is a big bucket of fried chicken and fries (one of Zoya's favorite foods) and a pack wrapped in colorful paper. And to top it all, I bought some flowers. Since Zoya dislikes fresh-cut flowers (or dead flowers, as she calls them), I purchased several flowers in pots to accompany the orchid on the window.
For a second, Zoya is speechless.
I don't remember the words for that Castaway birthday song she sang, so I go with the traditional Happy birthday to you song that seems to transcend centuries. In DIANA, we had to sing this song to a Chinese scientist named Yuu Tu-yooyu. Trust me, it was pure horror.
"How... how did you know?" she stutters after a while.
"I heard you singing in the morning. I hope I interpreted it right."
At that moment, Zoya spontanneously hugs me tight. I gasp in surprise - I have zero experience with so close human contact. Her thin arms wrapped around me feel... strange, yet pleasing. I try to hug her back.
"Thank you, Ryan," she says. "This is something... new to me. I guess I'm just not used to being loved. Or in other words... I lost everyone who seemed to love me. My parents. Isaiah. In the beginning, it seemed you're just a self-centered twit. But you can be pretty caring when you want to."
Good news: I probably didn't screw up that much.
Since I have no idea what to say, I try to act bold. "Okay, okay. I think we had enough of sentimental speeches, didn't we? I spent some of my hard-earned money to get you something nice. I'm really too broke right now to buy you a pentop, but I hope you'll appreciate it."
First, she smells the flowers with a childish zeal. "They are... beautiful," she voices. Then she rips the paper on the pack and gasps loudly. There's a chic blue blouse and an elegant knee-long black skirt. I noticed how much she liked such lady-style clothing when we visited the mall for the first time and how sad she was when she had to leave them there and choose more practical clothes.
There seems to be a girly side of her she doesn't show very often.
She changes right in front of me. I understand they probably didn't have the time to worry about such things in the Dead Zone, but I still think she should work on her sense of shame because she's making me insecure. She approaches the mirror and spins several times in her new clothes.
"This is perfect!" she cheers.
"So you don't always have to look like a street thug when we go out," Ryan smiles.
The new attire reveals her feminine side. And it's clear she's pretty. Not perfectly pretty like models, her face is still quite specific, but her almost childlike charm is undeniable. It may seem that I'm starting to harbor romantic feelings towards her, but that's far from truth. We are two different worlds, moreover ten years apart. She's too bubbly and optimistic for me.
And then, there's my list of reasons why I don't have a girlfriend.
She became my family. My sister. And such family bonds are often stronger than a bond of lovers. I have a hard time admitting it, but I enjoy her presence. Her determination, purity and curiosity are changing me, like it or not. I like her. And that's an emotion I haven't felt in ages.
Zoya grabs the bucket and starts to munch on a chicken strip. "This is the best day ever," she smiles.
"Once you become a Champion, there will be lots of pain," I reply. "I wanted to make it a bit easier."
"Remember, Ryan? No pain..."
"No gain, I remember."
She gives up the training for the rest of the day and we spend it by eating chicken, watching TV and talking. Even though she seems to be satisfied with the day, I wish I could do more for her. She deserves it. But the money from my emergency cashcard are slowly getting thin and I'll have to find a job sooner or later.
But until then, I'll just enjoy watching Zoya's progress.