The others in the black sector and I walk down the corridor in silence no one seems to want to bring up what happened in our combat class which is good because I don't want to bring it up either but then no one's talking at all which is awkward. I turn my head to the right and catch 122 looking at my right injured cheek; his eyes look apologetic and full of sympathy. I roll my eyes but when I do, I notice that to my left 110 is looking at me with the same look; a look that makes me feel like a sick dying puppy. She's never given me this look before, I suddenly become frustrated that everyone now thinks so low of me to pity me.
'Can everyone stop looking at me as if I'm a dying puppy' I speak through a taught jaw, loud enough so that everyone can hear me but it wasn't hard seeing as it's silent.
130 who was walking in front of me turns around and stops close to my face staring me directly in the eye and says, 'I told you, you should have hit her back and showed the class that you are not a force to be reckoned with'
'Hitting her would have made me looked weaker' I reply with my voice low but it doesn't quaver.
'Whatever you say' 130 continues to walk forward but then after a few steps whips around to look at me, 'are you coming to practice with the fourth years or are you going to stand there feeling sorry for yourself?'
I clench my jaw but don't retort.
I walk briskly next to 130 hoping that the fourth years will lighten his mood and mine. We're in the elevator and 130 presses the button for the floor above us and we ride up to the hum of the elevator as it lifts us. 130 steps out of the elevator not looking back to check if I was following, it's because he's angry with me and I know why. He thinks I've hurt the pride of the black sector and in turn hurt his pride which he wears like armour. I try to distract myself from the thoughts about the combat lesson and ask, 'So… where are the fourth years?'
'They are in their combat room, which is at the end of this hall' 130's voice is plain.
'Oh okay' I reply softly. A moment passes as we stroll down the bland grey stone corridor which is poorly lit giving a dull and chilling effect.
'Let's forget about that combat lesson, shall we?' 130 smirks as we near the end of the hall. 'I want to just enjoy this free period… without thinking about it'
'Good idea, I don't want to mention it either' I reply quickly as we have reached the combat room's door.
130 knocks on the combat room's door sharply, I raise my eyebrow at the roughness of the knocks but don't question it. A fourth year opens the door, 89 and at stares at us with confusion in his eyes but then realisation washes over him.
'Oh yeah, the third years were going to join us today' he said this matter-of-factly as oppose to an insult or sarcastic remark.
'It's only the two of us today' 130 replies with a strong voice, 'but don't be complacent…'
'Oh sorry tough guy' the fourth year mocks but he opens the door to let us in anyway. As we walked into the room it was full of fourth years; all of them of course from the black sector. They cocked their heads in our direction for a second and then continued to watch the two fourth years fighting in the centre of the room.
The design of the combat room for the fourth years is different to ours, I thought to myself. Where ours has a long glass window stretching across the whole of the room allowing people to watch us from the hallway but from the inside it looks like a long mirror preventing us from seeing the hallway. Theirs' however, hasn't got a window at all which makes the room appear caged and isolated. The shape of the room as well is square and the wall is a light but dull grey colour unlike ours which is white. My eyes wonder back to the fight in the centre of the room.
I watch as these two fourth years fight; it was hard to say which one was the better fighter at first but I was mesmerised with the way they fought, it was aggressive but it wasn't rough it reminded me of a dance.
One of the fourth years; his shirt reads 96 but I've never seen him before. He throws powerful punches towards 72 but they are all dodged or returned with blocks. Every so often 96 will manage to slightly hit 72 and the impact is responded with 'ooos' and 'ahhs' from the crowd until eventually 96 swings his fist and actually gets a good hit on 72 which causes him to fall to the ground, hard. Knock Out.
96 bows out of respect and symbolism for the ending of the game and grips 72's shoulder to help lift him up from the ground. 72 is winded so breathes at an unsteady rate but he clenches his jaw and doesn't show any pain. I feel a sense of awe and pride through 72's bravery and 96's professionalism; this is why I honour the black sector's fighting etiquette.
'So, who's the new kid?' 96 says walking towards me.
'I'm 145, I'm in third year actually' I say trying to mimic 130's strong tone.
'Oh wait, I know you! You're on Level 11, aren't you?' 96 speaks surprised but impressed at the same time.
'Yeah' I laugh to myself, 'you say that like I'm famous'
'You are sort of famous, you're only one level below me' he says it with a smile on his face.
I smile proudly and reply, 'only one level? Well you're definitely a better fight than I am' my eyes stray to 72 who was on the floor and back to 96.
'Don't be so modest' 130 says then moves his eyes towards 96, 'I bet he could beat you in a fight'
I feel a heat rising beneath my cheeks but I suppress it as the crowd of fourth years 'ooooo' at the chance of witnessing us fight.
96 uses his thumb and first finger to caress his chin as he assesses the challenge. Finally he looks to me with his hand out as if to shake my hand, 'I accept the challenge. To make it fairer, let's assess a range of combat skills. How does that sound?'
I shake his hand firmly and he returns with a tight hand squeeze, 'How about we make this more interesting?'
'But it was already so interesting already' 80 one of the fourth years in the crowd jeers.
'How about a wager for this bet' I suggest still holding 96's hand tight.
'I like it! How about, if I win you will buy me a tattoo and if you win I will buy you a tattoo?' 96 suggests, 'I've been meaning to get a tattoo anyway'
'Now you can get it for free!' 77 jeers.
'I wouldn't be too sure' 130 snaps back, 'one of the skills tested should be aim and I know 145 is good at that'
'Alright then' 96 doesn't look phased, maybe he's got a good aim as well. I wish 130 would stop boasting on my behalf. 'As long as one of the skills tested is also hand to hand combat' 96 uses his free hand to caress my injured cheek but the gesture is sinister, '…he's obviously not good at that'
The crowd laughs and whispers amongst each other as my cheeks flush a bright shade of red, I can feel it. I look to 130 and he is shaking with rage but to my surprise he bursts out in laughter but his laugh is considerably louder than the others so their laughter dies down quickly to stare at him. They all look at 130 dumbfounded at why he is laughing so loudly even after the crowd has stopped laughing.
'You think he got that doing hand to hand combat?' 130 laughs uncontrollably and then has to recover himself before saying, 'it was his girlfriend – well ex-girlfriend after she found out that he was after somebody else. Girls here are dangerous. Nobody even saw her swing the punch until it had hit 145 in the face.'
I was stunned that he would lie for me as he rarely lies and especially this easily. My lips curve into a smile, 'yeah, that bitch. It doesn't even hurt' I don't lie as easily.
'Well let's hope you can handle your punches better than the way you handle your girls' 96 jeers but he wears a friendly smile.
I laugh in response. Saved, I sigh.
'That's two, we need one more to make it best out of three' 80 suggests. 'Something more neutral'
There is a moment of silence but 89, who opened the door for us breaks the silence by walking towards the weaponry cupboard. He opens it and brings out something which reflects sharp light into my eyes when he lowers it; it's a Samurai Sword. I have read about them before so I know what they're called but I have never used one before.
'A Samurai Sword' I gasped.
'I've never used one before' 96's eyebrows furrow in worry, 'we haven't had that lesson yet and that means 145 hasn't used one either'
'That's why it'll be perfect' he grips the sword with two hands as required for the Japanese sword, circles it above his head and sweeps it down in front of him. 'That's what they do in the manga I've read' he smiles, the sword in his hand shines light onto his Asian features.
'Then, it's settled' I say and release my grip from 96, my hand is red and sweaty but I'm determined to win.
I have to.
