Chapter 1: Maron and Soaka

The first thing Maron felt was the sharp slap on his forehead.

"Wake up, man… We're going to be late for school," came the voice of his friend. Darkness slowly lifted away and revealed Soaka to be his waker. "You know Mora won't have that."

Brushing his dark hair from his face, Maron lifted himself to a seating position and gave a quick nod. "Yeah, I know." With a drowsy feeling, he rubbed his eyes. "Listen, go tell her to put breakfast on the table. I'll be down in a couple of minutes." Soaka rolled his eyes and left the room.

Sometimes it wasn't easy, but normally it was. Being the adopted brother of Soaka had always put an awkward strain on things, but their friendship prevailed in the end. Mora, though… Well, as a mother, Maron had trouble communicating with her. Having Soaka play messenger was a bad habit. It was something that he had recently attempted to start remedying.

After throwing on a random outfit, he left his room and ran downstairs. "Morning Mora," he said. There was no food on the table.

"Maron, I'm not a servant," she said off-hand. "Breakfast is ready, but you get it yourself."

"Sorry."

That he was adopted was unmistakable. Him and Soaka looked nothing alike. Dark hair vs. blonde hair, taller vs. shorter, eye color was a no-match… Only a sense of style and a humor was common between the two of them.

After a quick breakfast, the two rose from the table and headed for the door. "Be back at the usual time, Mom," Soaka said. "Usual time" meant right when school ended. Maron was way too socially awkward to do anything else but hang out with Soaka, and by proxy, he barely had much of a circle of friends to speak of. As a matter of fact, beyond Soaka's girl friend and whoever happened to sit with them at lunch, it was fair to see the two had more tormentors than friends.

"You know, I've been thinking," Maron started.

"Always a dangerous thing when you do that."

"Yeah, yeah." Maron stopped for a moment. They still had another mile to get to school, so whatever he had to say must've been important. "Seriously, though. I'm thinking about moving out."

Soaka opened his mouth, prepared with a response to this. This was not unexpected. There were two speeches Soaka spoke fluently, and one of them was body language. Maron seemed to speak it a lot, and Soaka was a great receptor. Everything he did gave off a signal of, "GET AWAY! MUST GET AWAY!" Soaka would have none of that. So, his voice started to give the prepared words…

Instead of getting a chance to speak his mind, a car pulled up and stopped next to them. A brand new vehicle… A green one. Ah, so it was Johnny… Sam… just what the two needed.

"Well, Maron and Soaka!" Came his voice. "I'm still trying to find you two a couple of nicknames that aren't so… Fucked up."

Maron rubbed his hand against his face vigorously. "Johnny…" he started. With a deep exhale, "Please, not right now." Johnny, maybe not listening and probably not caring either way, stepped out of the car. "It's been the same thing since grade school, man. Just this one time, leave us alone."

That was a bit out of character for Maron. Normally he just listened to whatever it was Johnny wanted to say and shook it off afterward. If he was assertive, who knew how the other two would react?

"Hey, buddy… You need to relax."

"I'm not your buddy, guy."

Johnny and Sam laughed a bit at that. The two of them never got a rise out of the two… which really, why would they keep coming back? Finally, ten years of pointless bullying were paying off. Sure, Maron was socially awkward, but it's not like he was an obvious target. He didn't look odd, act odd, or have much physical weekend. That's just the way it was, though. The entire baseball team seemed to like taunting them, and occasionally shoving them against walls and that sort of thing.

"Maron, you're adorable when you get angry." Sam decided to join in.

"I'm serious man, fuck off."

"Y'know, Sam," Johnny said. The sidekick raised his eyebrow. "He's like a puppy when he's mad. Sure, it might be a bit scary, but really, it's just plain-old adorable."

Sam chuckled a bit and then shrugged. "Well, can you blame the guy?" Soaka knew exactly where this was going to end up, and it was not going to be pleasant. He shifted his weight towards Maron, not knowing when it would happen. "Never really had a dad that could man him up!"

It was a bit too quick for Soaka to take the necessary action. Maron lunged at Johnny and Sam like he'd never seen. First his whole body moved, and then his fist came right after it. Then his body started falling away when he realized it went through air. He never even had a chance to hit Johnny.

On the other hand, Johnny had a chance to hit him. He took it, with a fist straight to Maron's gut. As soon as he relented, Maron double over in pain, but Johnny decided it wasn't enough, and swung upwards.

He felt it cave in a bit. The cartilage gave way and a burning heat spread throughout his entire face. It sent him flying backwards, and he thought he'd nail the ground with his head. Lucky for him, gravity met its match in Soaka, who caught him under the arms. Maron didn't need to look down to know what that warm feeling was going down his face. He'd bled plenty of times before.

"Get out of here, damn it!" Soaka said.

Johnny smiled and turned. "Get your puppy back on a leash there, Soaka… Could get you into trouble next time he yips." With that, they leapt into the car and took off.

"You look like hell," were the first words Maron heard from Surrell. There were a few moments he'd rank as his worst or most embarrassing: realizing his dad was long gone, finding out Mora wasn't even his mom, accidentally breaking her wrist when she tickled him once… This was going on the list of embarrassing ones.

"You think this is bad?" She nodded. "You should see the other guy's knuckles."

Surrell smiled and looked at Soaka. "Nice to see he hasn't lost his humor." Soaka looked skeptically, then shrugged and agreed. "Anyways, don't you have gym with him after this?"

"Yeah," Soaka said. "Him and Sam… go figure." Then he stopped for a moment and took a gander at Maron. That body language was flaring up again. "Gym with the two school bullies," he continued, "Doesn't get much more soap-opera than that, I guess."

"Not unless I actually hit the motherfucker."

"Maron… you've had enough fighting for one day, don't you think?" Just like Soaka to say something like that. The bell rang. "Well," he put down what was left of his sandwich and looked to his friend, "Time to face the music." He gave Surrell a quick peck on the lips, "See you later, huh?"

"Yeah." They stood up and began leaving. As if to remind him that he couldn't escape his embarrassment, Surrell called after him, "Take it easy on the knuckles this time."

It was really starting to get to him. Walking through the school with caked blood to start the day was not on his "favorite things" list to start with. Then the word started spreading like wildfire that Johnny decked him twice. At least his stomach didn't ache at all anymore. What's more, he was surprised to find that his nose wasn't as broken as he originally though. After the bleeding stopped, it didn't bother him the least. Still, that didn't stop the wave of taunts from everyone. Even the ones who normally left him be had to get a word in… It as really starting to get to him. Ten years will do that to a guy.

"Hey," Soaka said. Maron looked at him. Apparently, he had zoned all of the way into the locker room. "You okay, man? You look you're kind of… losing it."

Maron opened his mouth to speak, much had Soaka had earlier in the day. As if to repeat the events, Johnny cut him off before he could say anything. "Well, if it isn't Fido!" he said. He almost bashed his head into the locker at the sound of the voice. "Fido, what is it boy? You look upset? Somebody fall down the well?" Sam followed close behind him. "Sammy, little Fido-

"Maron." He stopped Johnny dead in his tracks.

"What's that boy?"

Maron turned to face his tormentor once again. "Maron, you jackass. My name is Maron." Soaka actually put his head into the locker, though not quite as violently as his friend had considered.

"You've certain gotten a bit bolder, Maron," Johnny told him. "Dumber, but bolder… Fair trade, I guess."

"You'd be wrong on that account." The voice wasn't Maron's. It caught him off-guard, actually. Soaka decided to chime in for a change. "Bolder for wiser is not a fair trade."

"Looks like your yipping to, huh Sparky?" Johnny chimed in.

"Soaka." Maron clinched his fist so much that his nails dug into his palms. "His name…" It all happened so suddenly that he'd hardly remember it in the future. First thing he recalled doing was swinging at Johnny again, but it wasn't like the first time he did it. This time he just… well, he lost it. Everything around him faded except Johnny and Sam. His arm became light, his fist nonexistent, any resistance disappeared.

It was all easy for him. He managed to hit Johnny right across the chin, though it didn't down his adversary. As a matter of fact, Johnny swung right back afterwards and knocked him into a locker. Sam stepped forward to assist his friend in the job, but Soaka sprang in, and just like Maron, he was all-focus. Not knowing how to fight, all he could think to do was duck down and ram Sam into the lockers behind him. The entire metal structure almost toppled from the force, and with enough time to recover, Maron managed to grapple Johnny to the ground. Through a series of struggles, he faintly felt the blows delivered to his body and face, but he was fully conscious of the ones he returned. The two were on even ground. Somehow, some way, between the gap of class and the morning, Maron equaled Johnny. Soaka bested Sam, as his opponent fell to the ground and he pummeled away. Whatever it was, they didn't know. All that mattered was that they could stand up for a change.

Stand up was exactly what Maron did when a hand grabbed his collar and yanked him off of Johnny. He didn't need to look behind him to know what voice said, "That's enough you two!" Coach Carpenter, selectively yelling at Maron and Soaka. What a surprise that was, considering that they just went toe-to-toe with some of the star baseball players.

"Our names are Maron and Soaka, you got that?" Maron shouted. He kept on yelling similar things, with an increasing amount of swearing, as Carpenter dragged him away. "Soaka and Maron, goddamn it!"

Carpenter kept tugging, and Maron could fight it. He still was in the zone, but he couldn't fight against whatever strength it was the coach possessed. All he knew was that as Carpenter flung him into his office, there was one thing on his mind. When Soaka followed him, without being dragged, the same thing ran through his mind. Just two words summed up the entire situation for him. "We're fucked."

As Maron settled down, he felt a great weight against his entire body. His face ached, his stomach turned, all of his limbs burned… He was in pain, he was exhausted. Soaka seemed a bit better off than him, but his heavy breathing gave away enough information. It echoed off of the walls in the room as Carpenter entered the room. After ten minute of agonizing wait, the coach was finally ready to reveal whatever it was he and the school had in for them as a punishment.

He sat in his chair and rolled over to his desk. In the action, he'd risen so quickly that it flung out from underneath him. "Let's have a talk, boys," he said.

"Could we just cut to the chase?" Maron asked. He didn't want to sit around and wait to be told how deep the two of them were in it. Soaka nodded as he asked. "I'm in enough pain as it is."

Carpenter ran his hand through his short-cut hair and exhaled strongly. "First, I need to ask you a few things."

"No, really… this is bad enough as it is," Soaka spoke.

Carpenter laughed a little bit when he said that. Was the man actually enjoying this? Punishment must've seen welcoming to a man who just saw two of his star players hurt. "You two never really try in this class, do you?"

Maron and Soaka gave each other a quick glance. The hell was this guy all about? Given the situation, class effort seemed pretty far down the list in terms of concerns. Soaka decided that he'd be the talker for this little exchange, and said with a slow voice, "No… No not really."

"Do you ever do anything physical outside of class." Soaka started, but Carpenter stopped him, "I mean… Physical training. Do you ever lift weights, jog… anything of that nature."

"… No."

"Well, I must be the idiot here," Carpenter said, but he never quite completed that thought. Instead, he rolled over to a file cabinet against the wall, opened it, and began rummaging. After a few brief moments, he gave a quick nod and pulled out a single, thing folder. Neither needed to ask to know what it was: records of their past exercises. "Seriously, do you think I'm an idiot?"

"Well," Soaka said, and he had to choose his words carefully, "You're out high school gym teacher." Hopefully, that didn't sound as arrogant as he felt it was.

"True, true," Carpenter responded. "You see, there's one small problem, though." Another worried exchange of glances. What was this man on to? Small problem? Maybe to him, but for Soaka and Maron, it was gargantuan one. What if they were suspended? What would Surrell say to them? "Now, Johnny and Sam are both in the 900-club."

"The what?"

"The 900-club. Basically, between their maxes on bench press, dead lift, and squat, they can lift at least nine hundred pounds. Johnny damn near made 1000." He could see that neither of the two of them knew quite what the hell that meant. "Last time we measured the two of you was three weeks ago," Carpenter told them, "well, you were closer to 500, and that was a surprise to me, even."

"So?" Soaka asked. Where was the man going with this? "Just because they're stronger than us doesn't mean we aren't willing to put up a fight."

"Yeah, but I've see those two fight before. They're plenty capable. What you two did, though… well, you just don't see it happen that often."

"Listen, I'm sorry," Maron finally cut it, "but I have repeat this: could we cut to the chase, here?" Never being the most patient man, he was surprised he'd lasted this long in the conversation.

Coach Carpenter ran his hand through his hair again. "Well, basically what I'm saying is this: you two have potential." Then he cracked his knuckles and adjusted himself. Clearly, he was having trouble finding the right words to say. "I have an offer to make, I guess."

"What's that?"

After a moment of silence, Carpenter finally decided to speak. "Listen, I'll make a trade with you. This business between you two and Johnny and Sam… Well, I can make it go away, if I'd like. Not the personal tension, but the scrum you guys just hand. The school won't make any punishment necessary at all, if…"

"If…?"

"Well," he said, "the two of you, as I said, have potential. The martial arts team here," suddenly the two sat straight up. What was this man on about? "Well, let's face it: the martial arts team here is shit." They almost laughed, but not quite. "Not only are the fighters a bit, um, flimsy, but none of them have the ability to do what you two can." They were about to respond, but it seemed that he still hadn't found the right words. "They do, I mean. Everyone does, it's just that you two channeled it so naturally."

"Channeled what?"

"If you really want to know," he said, "then take the offer. If not, suspension combined with lack of knowledge will the downside."

By the time it was all said and done, the choice was obvious. No need to prolong the conversation, really. Both of them knew what to say. Suspension was not an option, and Maron was far too intrigued to not know what Carpenter was on about. Sure, he never worked out a day in his life, but Maron always felt that he had a natural athleticism about him. Ever since he raced on the playground as a kid, he had a speed about him that was inexplicable. Knowing just what it was that drove this forward was far too tempting to pass up.

Soaka, on the other hand, was a bit more hesitant. In the end, though, remaining in school was more important than having a distraction like taking a sport. He could manage the split-focus. Plus, his mother would have a lot less to say and worry about if they took this route. The decision became clear.

"Right then," Carpenter finished. "Your training starts next week. Come to my office on Thursday and I'll fill you in on the rest."

Little known to any of them at the time of that agreement, what Carpenter discovered had been more than just potential. His decision to have the two trained in martial arts would have an impact greater than anyone could ever foresee, and it all started with a high school rivalry. Things had changed for good.