Ch. 14: Sunburst
Grigia's name appeared beside mine, and immediately my heart sunk. I gulped as the entire crowd—that I'd taken particular care to being concealed by—split through the middle to expose me. All eyes on me. A million thoughts penetrated my mind: Why me? What do I do? But I couldn't avoid because I was trapped in Jiemma's Sabertooth; because Shatner had traveled from Council Hall to measure the guild's development; because, strangely for someone like me, I'd rather stand up by myself and get beaten then hide like a coward. I was done taking their taunts. I decided to show everyone that Rogue Cheney wasn't Sting Eucliffe's deadweight. Even if I was destined to lose, I swore to myself I'd put up a fight. I was not going to let them do as they pleased with my anymore. I was going to stand on my own. No more living on my knees. Besides, he had humiliated one of the new girls right in front of me. He had to pay; and I was going to ensure that.
Even so, even as I thought chivalrous and uplifting thoughts, my fists trembled until my arms cramped. It had been decades since I fought someone voluntarily, since the last time I went into a fight with the best of my abilities, with the intent to eliminate.
But it had been longer since I leapt into a fight in full knowledge that I'd only do so much.
"Get over here, Diablo," Grigia called, obnoxiously loud in the otherwise tense and deathly silent room. Sting, as always, stood in front of me with his shoulder almost touching my chest. A firm, nonverbal command to stay back and let him handle it. But like I said, I wasn't going to let him carry the burden of being my shield anymore. I was never content knowing he had been for so long; only now, I had made up my mind to do something about it. So, willing down fear, replacing half of my familiar mask for a more natural countenance, and mustering up as much gumption as I could, I stepped around my brother and faced Grigia with unflinching eyes.
People hooted and snickered. "He's finally grown a pair, huh?"
"Doubt it! Watch him piss his pants!"
"You think he'll unleash his magic again?"
"I think he'll get beaten into submission like a damn dog."
Someone purposely bumped my shoulder. But all I cared about was landing one hit on Grigia. I knew I could land more, but one was all I needed. Thankfully, Jiemma had grown bored of this little quarrel and left the training center. But Shatner remained as a representative of the Council. He eyed me closely as if I were an alien species with slit eyes. Sting shoved his way to the front in a final attempt to stop the fight. I glanced at him and gave a sure nod, as if I knew what I was doing.
Just one hit. That's all.
Direct eye contact was sustained between me and Grigia until I made it to the sparring circle. My eyes strained to meet his, unnerved by his dominant stature and overwhelming build. The sunburst light above us burned my skin until sweat dampened my neck. My only thought was: then what? I knew I was going to have to fight hand-to-hand, but what was I going to do after I got that treasured punch? Would my body take control of itself and keep beating him?
My racing thoughts were what blinded me from foreseeing the first hit. It came like a viper and struck me hard in the eye. I landed on my back and rolled to the side to evade an earth-shaking stomp intended for my sternum. Howls and cheers took over the room, bouncing off the walls—I felt the stabs of their eyes on my back as I struggled to my feet. Grigia socked me one more time, and then I saw nothing but crosshairs lay out across his face. Without thinking, I rammed my fist into his nose and watched him fall back to nurse it. Blood gushed from between his fingers. "Damn it," he said. "Nice swing, cankee."
That's where I made the choice to drop my stance.
Grigia heaved at me. I didn't find the time to brace and merited a relentless, prolonged beating. I was already coughing blood by the time he unleashed a full swing to my face. A final dismissal after two kidney shots. The force spun me around and before I could comprehend it, the floor rushed towards me at an incomprehensible speed. What was worse was seeing Sting's shoes right in front of my nose. My blood stained the toes. I couldn't hear his words over my ringing ears, but I heard his barking voice, felt his protective hands on my back. And I knew I couldn't stop there and let Grigia walk away unblemished.
One more hit.
Grigia cackled and cheered with his crowd. "C'mon, Cheney. Give up! I really would hate to pound in that girly face of yours!"
I coughed and got to my hands and knees, but the more I moved, the heavier my head felt. My vision slipped between focus and blur as blood dripped on the cement. Every part of me was shaking, begging for mercy. But I was too fed up to let that stop me. I slowly stood, turning my bloodied face away from Sting, and turn to my opponent. One more time, I thought. That's all I need. Any more would have been overkill.
"You sure do got a death wish," Grigia said when he finally noticed me standing there. I kept quiet and took stance a second time.
Long story short, he won that time. But not without a nasty black eye and bruised joints. I flipped him twice and knocked him around with a hard kick before I let him beat on me more. Shatner's eye was something I made sure to avoid. I made the mistake of showing a fraction of what I'm capable of. He's been suspicious of me since. I took extra care to feign weakness. By extra care, I mean that I pretended to be surprised by Grigia's notorious bone-crushing right hook and faked tears, forced myself to throw up, even. I gave up my pride for distance from the Council, and held out a hand between us in surrender, begged for the match to end. Handed my rightful victory over to him. I still remember how livid Sting was while he helped up the stairs and into the tub that night. He told me not to let them see me cry anymore.
And Grigia? He couldn't have been happier. Well, perhaps so, if he didn't have a broken nose. Like I said, that was only a fraction of my abilities.
But now…
This time, I won't be so considerate. The other thing Sting told me: if they want a fight, give it to them. Today, I'll be sure to do just that. I'm generous like that, especially to trash like Grigia. That bastard wants a fight—he'll get a real one this time. No more sparing those who shouldn't be spared.
Frosch whimpers on my shoulder, his lanky tail wrapped loosely around my neck. He shivers from the cold, as the training room has always been kept under 70 degrees. My fists squeeze together until the knuckles turn icy white. "I hope you don't get hurt, Rogue," he says.
"Don't worry." I choose a softer tone to speak in and give him a disarming smile. "You've seen what I can do. He's not going to hold back, so neither will I." If I make the same mistake, Grigia will surely kill me—least for a while. He might be able to with that monstrous body mass; and being the sly savage he is, he'd be sure to do it slowly. Painfully. "This will be over before it starts."
"Fro thinks so, too." Frosch saves me from my nerves with a wide smile and raises his paws in the air. "You'll show Grigia who's boss!"
"I intend to." Adrenaline rushes through my body, sinking into my bones and making them stronger. The closer we get to the center, the louder, more stifling the noise becomes. I have to catch my breath at the many heads turned toward us, watching, waiting. Everyone is frothing at just the thought of another fight down here. It's always hyped up like a professional match, but really, especially with an opponent like Grigia, the hidden objective is to get the other guy to give.
Fear has no place in my heart this time because of this stone-written resolve. Mercy is an overstaying neighbor that I will allow no access to my conscience; Grigia will pay for what he did. Their ecstatic stomping matches the quickened pace of my heart, an energy so immense that Frosch crawls into my arms and covers his ears. "It's okay, buddy." It'll be quieter soon enough.
When Grigia and I lock eyes through the flock, I know for sure that this time, one hit won't be satisfying. Not even twenty or forty. Without looking his way, I set Frosch next to Orga and Rufus, wrapping my ascot in a coil around him. "You sure you want to do this?" Rufus asks.
"I haven't this sure in a while." The echo of my shoes on cement is swallowed by all the excitement.
"Rogue. You just got cleared from execution!" I sniff around for Yuki or Milady. Neither are here. Rufus steps in front of me. "Hello. Rogue. Are you listening?"
"I heard you."
"Master Sting just cleared your name from the Council's eye."
"I know."
"—And Madam Aena placed you, both of you, on house arrest! Room arrest, actually!"
I sigh and glance at him. "Rufus. It's fine. Watch Fro for me?" He shakes his head in disapproval, but I don't stick around for further argument. Between the lanes of cheering Tigers and some townspeople, I stalk toward the fighting ground. My fists grow moist; my heart rate speeds; I'm trembling, waiting, but I'm not in the least afraid. We stand before each other now, undaunted by the other man's leer.
Grigia opens his arms wide and hovers over to the crowd. "Let's get this thing started, huh? Who wants to see the baby dragon cry?!" Half of the crowd uproars, but all I focus on is him and his goddamn arrogance. He rushes back in my face. "Brace yourself, pretty boy."
"Take your own advice." There's a moment of silence. We already know the rules—no magic, no weapons, no overkill. As if the last rule applies to someone like Grigia. Or me. Not again. Orga puts his arm in the air and slices down quickly. But at the first twitch of his finger, my opponent yanks the first opportunity for himself. Grigia's fist aims for my skull, and I see a flash of white, then black. I stumble back to catch my balance and squint through an already-bruised eye at his cocky cheering. His arms pump up and down, amplifying the crowd's noise. His back's to me. It's considered dishonorable to some to attack an unsuspecting enemy, but he's not worth pulling any punches. He may be a guildmate, but he's not family. Besides, I wasn't taught to be honorable.
I sprint toward him—light on my feet, as to remain incognito till I want otherwise—and slide across the floor, scooping his ankle out from under him. When his back hits the matted floor, I rise to a knee and drive a fist directly into his nose. The crowd winces as the charge of bone on bone slices through the cheering.
My Shadow insists: ~Kill him now.~
I step away from Grigia as he cradles his face.
Frosch catches my attention, whimpering to himself. I assure him with a nod, catching sight of Grigia's fist coming full speed towards my face again.
This time, I stop it with my palm and twist it; next, I secure my knees to each side of his neck, twisting the joints together, in a flip. Before he can let out a cough, my momentum forces him forward, landing harshly on his back with a slam that echoes through the halls. I hold him down in a chokehold with my legs while stabilizing his captive arm under my body. A simple takedown.
Orga cheers, or something between a hoot and a laugh. Zenith, under the ear-splitting commotion, encourages me to finish the fight. But I let go and make distance between myself and my opponent. I want him to feel more than just a body slam. He wobbles to his feet; I lower my body to a ready stance. He shakes off the dizziness from his head; I watch him, unblinking, and wait for the incoming charge. He earned what he has coming to him the second he thought attacking me was a good idea, and making him realize it was just the opposite will be my pleasure.
He rushes like a stampede with a pair of crazed eyes set on mine, a ravished countenance for my suffering, and two clinching fists reaching for my neck. He swings; I catch his wrist and take a second grip on his arm; before he can react, his arm is twisted unnaturally by the other shoulder, and his body is rolling across my back. I slam him under my weight to the floor. The crowd gasps. Adelphi screams. My feet restrain his neck, and his arm is trapped in my grasping legs and arms. Something under my knee pops, and he winces. Just as I'm about to rip his arm off, I notice Yuki fearfully watching from behind Rufus, holding a teary-eyed Frosch in her arms. The crowd holds steady, shaken to the core—I can read that much from the dilation of their eyes. Rufus bows his hat in an attempt to shield Yuki's eyes—wait, Yuki? I stare at her, and she stares back. Orga watches me dangerously, ready to pounce if I move a single muscle.
The rage swelling in my chest is resolved for what I know I have to do: show mercy. Phones are out, cameras beaming white light, as if this is a moment to savor. I squint from phone to phone, already imagining the video—the monstrous, bloodthirsty scowl on my face, Grigia nearly suffocating under my weight. A monster preying upon some unfortunate soul. The thought of the court of Magnolia brings my body to a halt. I can't do this, not here before the people I love. I won't let them see me like this.
Slowly, my grip on Grigia's arm lessens and I get off him. He rolls on his back and breaks out in heavy laughter before getting to his feet, eyes ravage and malicious. He wipes the blood from his nose on his sleeve. "Aw. You got scared for me, didn't you, mutt?" I clench my teeth, but that's as much as I'll let him see. Anything else would only feed his pride. "Oh," he smirks, "you don't like that? How about Chinaman? Mutt?"
He orbits me with that damn look on his face. I watch him, waiting for his comeback or preparing for another assault—I can't tell which yet.
"I see through you, Cheney. You're trying to be the good guy. Play the innocent guy and step down, right? Trying to prove yourself to them all. But really, everyone knows how this is going to turn out." His right foot pivots unnaturally on the arch—a misstep—so I strike in that millisecond of an opening. I knock his face hard with the back of my fist to stun him, and then send him a distance away with my opposite shoulder.
"Enlighten me," I say, resetting my subtle stance.
"You seem eager to get your ass kicked," he regards, spitting out blood onto the floor.
Frosch whimpers to the left. I search for him—
Grigia pounces me right then, fist ramming into my gut before he drives his knee to my side. I tumble at Zenith's feet and this girl, Adria. Coughing in a daze on my back, I hear him chuckle. "Ooh. How'd that feel, man?"
"How's this look?" I stick my middle finger up at him. He just laughs harder. I banged my head on the way, a peculiar pain that makes my ears scream. But regardless, I get to my feet and wait for the fogginess to clear.
Grigia shouts, "Why do you even bother—"
I rush him and knock him back with a double-footed kick. Catching myself with my hands firmly on the ground, I thrust all my weight forward again and land perfectly on my feet. The crowd—led by Orga—cheers. Adelphi, clinging to his arm, never breaks her gaze on Grigia. Kagura flashes in my mind, but I shake that thought away and narrow my eyes. My opponent staggers to his knees. Under his hiked-up shirt, I can see the corner of some marking on his lower back. I squint and get closer for a clearer view. I've seen that mark before. The pinwheel. Finn. Is Grigia going to be targeted next? "Grigia," I hurry to him, though his back is to me, and place a hand on his shoulder. "Where did you get that—"
Out of his posterior pocket comes a knife, and it slashes across my arm. I create more distance between us and hold my arm, pulling my hand back to see it stained with warm blood. I break into defensive stance with my legs ready to make rapid maneuvers, my hands ready to disarm, and my eyes ready to seek a striking opportunity. His face pinches when he gives a twisted smirk. "Can't do all those flashy moves if you're bleeding out. I noticed your healing is inconsistent."
My heart pummels against my sternum, inducing a longstanding rattle to my expecting hands that yearn to garrote him where he stands. "Doesn't matter to me."
"Hey!" Orga shouts. "What are you doing, Grigia?"
Grigia gives another lunge towards me, but I catch his arm and twist to disarm. I'm successful, but then he yanks out another blade. He tries to jab it in my side, but the metal tastes nothing as I evade in a shadow. My fists are swallowed by magic and I take a step towards him. Orga barges in the middle of us with both hands out, pointing at each of us for our offenses with fingers infested with magic. "I said no weapons and no magic! This match is over!" The crowd boos and shouts for an all-battle, but his word is final.
Immediately, I turn and motion for Frosch to stay away.
But right as I take that first step, my feet are kicked out from under me, and I land on my elbow. Something pops. Pain seizes the entire right side of my body to numbness. Rufus and Zenith come to my side immediately. Rage, though, blocks my better judgment; I move past them, a shadow-infested claw ready to maim. I toss the knife, boosted with my magic. It stabs handle-deep in the wall inches from Grigia's head. Orga cuts me off with a huge hand to my chest and holds me there.
Then I collapse.
The last thing I see is Daryk slam Grigia against the floor. Grigia's smirking lips form the word: monster. The word slices through me and I shed layers of shame, guilt, and silence. The truth is as blatant as the blood running down my arm. I shiver as a small puddle of red spreads under my side. Yukino appears just as my world turns black.
It's always black.
##
Lector told me Gajeel was still in town, but only for a while longer. So, against Sting, Lady Minerva, Yukino, and Orga's wishes, I forced myself out of bed and out the window. I had to see him, y'know? It was now or never. I have to make things right, little by little, or else I'll regret it later.
"You look like you've jumped through hell," my brother says, staring at my slung arm and bruises. He inspects me thoroughly with sharp eyes that slice off layers of my pride with just a glance.
I force a laugh that slowly becomes genuine the more I realize how nervous I am. "No, no, I'm fine. This isn't as bad as it looks."
"If you say so, pipsqueak." He takes a half step away. "See ya around."
"I, um—"
Right when he plants his sharp eyes back on me, I freeze. "Huh? What is it now?"
Gathering all the nerve in me, I pull out a small square case and hand it to him. A videogame. "I didn't think you'd want a huge thing, y'know? But I figured I'd get you something." He stares blankly at me—meaning his usual menacing frown. I feel myself sinking into my coat. "Or something."
"Oh, yeah? All right, then." After an awkward silence, I clear my throat and pull my scarf up to my nose. He turns the small square case over. "Heh. How'd you know I still play my DS? You stalkin' me or somethin'?"
"Levy told me." He hums in approval and meets my eyes, and just like that the temperature collapses, and the air seems heavier. I have so much to say to him, but all that's repeating in my head is: how dare you leave those people behind. "So, I was thinking—"
"Listen, Ryos. I don't got time for this. I have things to do."
"Oh," I disregard the gape on my face and nod appropriately. "Yeah, totally. I didn't mean to keep you." Frosch stares between us. My heart seizes and twists into itself, pausing, bracing, hoping. It forms a shield within itself and I slip inside for safety. "Happy birthday."
He half-heartedly places a paw of a hand on my head and turns on his heel. "Thanks, pipsqueak." But truthfully, does he even give a damn?
I stare at the back of his head, waiting for him to change his mind or keep walking. Either is fine with me. Clenching my fists in my pockets, I halt and fight the urge to demand his attention. "I'll see you later then."
Frosch sighs and grabs a hold of my leg. "Rogue?"
"It's fine." I kneel down and scratch behind the eye of his frog suit, masking hurt with a warm smile. "Let's go back. I'm in dire need of a bath."
"Aye, aye." He doesn't believe my nonchalance, but raises his paws in salute. He goes on about some strange combination of ice cream he threw together at Floyd's last time we were at Fairy Tail, but my mind screams to a higher volume than his voice. I rub the strain from my eyes. Why do I even bother? I try to show him that I'm strong, that I'm worth something, that there's no reason to be ashamed of being related to me. It seems the more I try, the farther he gets. It's the same damn thing every time.
Why do I even bother?
Why do I even fucking bother?
