Eve of the Choosing Day

Sometimes, even though food – tempting, delicious food, food that makes you crave more, eat until you can't eat it anymore – is placed in front of you, you suddenly feel like you don't want to eat it. You can't eat it, you just can't, your stomach twists and turns around, squirming, clenching itself into a small ball, simply defying any attempts to digest food. You feel like you want to puke if you do eat.

That dilemma was what Douglas was facing now, seated on a sturdy wooden chair, in front of his favourite chewy brown rice. Plates piled at least an inch high with vegetables and smoky meat were placed barely an arm's length away from him. Yet looking at them made him feel like vomiting.

His stomach couldn't, wouldn't, calm down, no matter how many times Douglas tried to relax. And how could he, really, if tomorrow was the day that would decide how he spent his life? How could he, then? Nothing would let him relax.

Choosing Day.

Was there some kind of reverse psychology working around it? In the past, ever since he came here, he had waited, rather impatiently, for the day to come. Now that it was near, he suddenly wanted it never to come, or just curl up and die. He never wanted to –

'''Eat something, Douglas,'' a soft voice said quietly, making the aforementioned start slightly and look up abruptly. His eyes locked gazes with Amber, a redhead whose naturally straight hair was tied up into a ponytail. Her thick fringe fell, almost covering her eyes. The eyes, which gave Amber her name, stared unblinkingly into Douglas's own eyes. Straight nose, high cheekbones and full strawberry-red lips ended the picturesque look.

Douglas, unwilling to eat in the very likely event that he would retch because of his squirmy stomach, smiled lopsidedly, shaking his head. He couldn't. Just couldn't. No point in trying to, if that was the case.

''Nervousness, I'd imagine.'' A voice said. Douglas looked at the speaker, another ward. Matthew, his name was, though many called him Matt instead. He was the average-looking boy: brown hair and eyes. The only thing about his features worth remembering was that there was a severe outbreak of pimples, nothing more. Matthew started to ramble on about anxiety, until Douglas got sick of it. His eyes met with Amber's briefly, who smiled sympathetically. She could see how tired Douglas was of the lecture. He always marvelled at her paitence; how could she actually endure it? But that was probably why she was best suited for the Diplomatic School ''Erm... Matt, about just now, I didn't get that point, could you explain again?'' Amber asked Matthew, giving Douglas a clear way out of this mess. Smiling gratefully, he cast a quick glance at Matthew, who was all too pleased that he had a question, thus demonstrating his wealth of knowledge. Quietly, Douglas got out of his seat, ghosting to the door, which was thankfully open. Mouthing the words Thank you to Amber, he sneaked out of the room.

&&&

Did it just rain? Douglas mused to himself as he laid down on a patch of grass. As mentioned, it was slightly damp, lightly soaking through the clothes Douglas wore, causing him to shiver slightly. Lazy, however, to get up, Douglas stayed put, staring up into the blackish-blue night blanket which was dotted with tiny stars that alternatively flashed on and off.

Douglas was in a small clearing he had found when he was making one of his frequent exploration. A tiny stream ran nearby, providing water to the nearby trees. As a result, trees were growing around the area, but ultimately, flowers and weeds grew the closest to the water source. There was only a small area that wasn't covered with any plants, and that was where Douglas was lying on. His arms acted as a pillow, if hard and uncomfortable, for his head.

Slowly, as he grew less aware of his surroundings, Douglas began to hum, a lullaby that his mother had sung to him before. There was no words to the song, just the melody, soothing him of his worries. Halfway through the song, he heard a crack resound through the trees, then a few muffled curses.

Shit! Douglas thought, scrambling up hastily. It was pure good luck, then, that he had been humming the song softly, thus giving no warning to the three idiots out there that he knew of their presence.

The three fools, as he had named them, were Samuel, Brian and Joe. They were burly fifteen-year-old kids, who had decided that they despised the wards, or more specifically, Douglas, as he had only been living in Whitby Fief for the past two years. They seemed to make it a goal to track down and beat up Douglas, though it was only on rare occasions that they managed to accomplish their target. How they found out he was here, Douglas had no clue, but it was too late anyway – they were too close for him to run now. Seeing they had only one goal in mind, Douglas benefited from the last few, fight-free moments by doing quick stretches, preparing for the fight

Just as he completed his warm-up, he saw the trio break out of cover, coming into plain view. They were in the common arrowhead formation, with Joe at the front. A tall boy, eye-level with Douglas, he had a smashed nose that was courtesy of Douglas. He'd never gotten over the blow. Now, as he saw his target, he smirked, ''Well, well well, what do we have here, eh, boys?'' Though Joe was the weakest fighter of the three idiots, he made up for it with his sarcastic tongue. Cliché, Douglas thought, hearing snickers.

Making sure his voice dripped boredom, as if it was too below him, Douglas sighed, ''If you're here for a fight, just go ahead and do it.''

Joe's eyebrow and mouth formed an arch and an unbelieving O respectively. Turning to Samuel and Brian, he exclaimed in mock surprise, ''Oh my God! To think that the rug rat is actually this violent!'' More sniggers, then, Joe added, ''But, I guess that's natural. Although, since you're looking for one...''

In perfect synchronization, Samuel and Brian stepped forwards, besides Joe. Both held the threatening look of a stevedore, which wasn't much. They just looked stupid. Their arms crossed, they walked slowly to Douglas, grinning their heads off. The latter rolled his eyes, thinking all the show was for nothing. In an attempt to provoke them, Douglas said, ''Come on, be faster. Or...'' He paused needlessly, then continued with a smirk, ''Are you two just too afraid?''

That did it. Like idiots, which they were anyway, they lost their composure and charged forwards at Douglas, roaring out their challenge to him

Being the faster of the two, Brian was the first to reach Douglas, his arm drawn backwards for his famous upset punch. Douglas sidestepped out of the way, pleased that just behind him was a tree. Brian's fist thudded into the trunk, which somehow managed to absorb the blow, seeing it was only a young tree. The same couldn't be said for Brian, though, who howled in pain.

Instinctively looking at Brian, Douglas had only kept his eyes off Samuel for a second, but it was enough for the latter, who delivered a powerful middle heel kick. All Douglas felt was a sudden explosion of pain in his right side, then a brief flying experience. He came crashing down onto the forest floor, pain filling his entire frame, punishment for his distraction.

Forcing his eyes to focus on Samuel, Douglas saw the former running to him, rage boiling up in him. He raised his arm, intending to pummel it into Douglas's stomach, but sadly he was just too slow. Douglas rolled out of the way, the right side of his body yelling out protest. He couldn't afford to pay any attention to them, though, as he completed another roll and barely missed another stomach-pummeling punch.

He couldn't perform another roll, that much he knew. He got up swiftly, grateful for his speed, but which didn't help much for his balance. He wobbled slightly, feeling his head rather dizzy. Ignoring it, he aimed a kick at Samuel's knee, intending to cripple him.

His aim was true, his heel connecting perfectly with the shin bone. Samuel yelled out in pain and automatically grabbed his knee pathetically. With a snort, Douglas brought his elbow up and smashed it into Samuel's nose, feeling a satisfying jolt up his arm and an equally pleasing crunch.

As he glanced away from Samuel, he heard a twig snap. He glanced around at the sound, then ducked as Brian sent a punch flying towards where Douglas's face had been. The latter slammed his foot down the arch of Brian's ankle.

Douglas wondered vaguely how could Brian yell so loudly and still have enough energy to bellow painfully, without sounding hoarse. But he did, and blocking out his shout, Douglas shoved his fist into his stomach, then taking advantage of Brian's momentary distraction, jabbed at his solar plexus.

With both of Joe's men taken care of, Douglas looked at the said person. He made a show of shaking his head in disappointment, saying, ''I'm curious – Joe, tell me why you get them to fight me... unless, of course, you need them to protect you, 'cause... you know, they are rather burly.''

That did the trick. Joe, already enraged, roared and charged forward like a bull. Douglas, seeing that, simply sidestepped when Joe was a meter away, then stuck out his foot, sending Joe crashing headlong into the forest floor. Joe got up, trembling with suppressed anger. His eyes burned with anger and his fists were clenched and shaking.

In a way, Douglas found that amusing.

As if sensing what he felt, Joe started towards him again. He was nearly running, drawing his fist back for a punch. Douglas, too quick for him, jumped up, kicking Joe's back in a flying side kick. He stumbled forwards, and Douglas, landing on the balls of his feet, hit him squarely on his neck.

A groan and Joe went down, like his two friends. Just to kick him further when he was down, both figuratively and literally, Douglas leaned down and whispered in his ear, ''Well, I guess that the rug rat is still rather strong, eh? Maybe you should pick a weaker target next time.'' Standing up, he allowed himself the luxury of kicking Joe, then walked away, nursing his bruised knuckles. He was sure a bruise would appear, if it hadn't already, on the side of his body, where the bastard Samuel had kicked him.

Preoccupied with this, it was no wonder then that he didn't see a shadow detach itself from a tree trunk and move silently over to examine the injured fools.

&&&

The door leading to the dormitories of boys swung on its hinges silently, as Douglas entered the room. The wooden door swung back, creaking ever so slightly, causing the figure to freeze immediately. Several seconds later, satisfied that no one was waking up, Douglas relaxed, mentally cursing the door.

He walked stealthily to his bed, making sure the bed didn't creak when his weight was on it. When he was finally lying on top of it, staring up the ceiling, he began to feel strands of worry and anxiety all over again. He wondered about tomorrow. His choice was, of course, BattleSchool, but even though he was tall, he was slim. Yes, despite that, he was still strong, but if anything, he had learned that people tended to judge others based on their first impressions – their appearance, in short.

Nervously, he swallowed, trying to calm down.

Breathe in... breathe out.... breathe in.... breathe out...

Gradually, through that form of relaxtion, his eyelids grew heavier as his body relaxed. His breathing slowed down. Sleepily, the last thought he had was of another choice, another choice he could take...

A/N: So this is my... second fic. First for this - I was doing the fic Amy. But after the exams the entire stress and stuffs got to my head and I forgot the pass. DD=

Okay, so yeah, doing this again. I'll apologize if a) my grammer is too bad, b) it seems like I'm ripping off the actual RA or another fic. I'm looking for a beta, to solve my grammar problem (I'm an Ah-Lian =DD), and urm... I need insipration!

R&R please! =DD