CHAPTER 1: THE CITY IS AT WAR
The city is at war
Playtime for the young and rich
Ignore me if you see me 'cause I just don't give a shit
The city is at war
Bless the young and rich
With designer drugs and designer friends
- "The City is at War" by Cobra Starship
"Your foot is off one inch to the side of where it should've been," jeered my sparring partner, Julian Garcia.
Cling, clang!
"Your eyes are looking at my ear. I can totally see how high you're aiming for," I retorted while avoiding an incoming head attack by an arnis stick.
Whoosh, whoosh!
"Like I said earlier, keep on your toes," he grunted, swinging his weapons towards my ankle in an effort to sweep me and lose balance.
Whoosh, whoosh!
"And you better work on your attacks," I muttered, simultaneously jumping over the sticks.
Whoosh, whoosh!
Oh yeah. I'm good.
Julian went from attack mode to normal as he let his arms almost relax against his skinny frame and started talking casually. "You alright?"
I lowered my arms as well and raised my eyebrows.
Any good martial artist would have considered his relaxed position, thought he was bluffing, and attack. Any good martial artist would have sensed the tenseness in his elbows or paid attention to the relative angle of his knees. They wouldn't make a mistake and turn their back against Julian Garcia. The most feared, cunning, intelligent, male black-belter in the studio.
And I didn't sense it. I, Anastasia Michalkva, the only martial artist of equal ranking to Julian Garcia in this studio, the only one who had the guts to raise her hand when Sensei Ikau asked "Who'd like to spar Julian?," the only one who fought for dominance. I didn't sense it.
And the next thing I knew, he knocked my arnis sticks out of my hands, made an X around my neck with his weapons, and rammed me against the wall. The surprise caught me off balance, making me slide down towards the floor in agony. Apparently my back couldn't absorb the shock of colliding with the wall. I just sat there. Gasping and breathing heavily. While Julian was grinning mischievously over me. He removed his X-TRAP, kneeled next to me, whispered "Having fun yet?," and walked away.
Quietly, I ran to the dressing room. I wanted to change into my school clothes. But I also wanted to skip school because of the amount of pain I felt. I wanted to run away from the stares. I wanted to run away from the whispers. I wanted to run away from the "OMG! Did Julian just defeat Anastasia?" I honestly couldn't understand what was wrong with me. I honestly couldn't understand why my mom switched me from afternoon to early morning martial arts classes. It doesn't help it if I walked to school like a stiff board, so I decided to go home. Walking home that day, I guess I felt, I dunno, stupid?
Maybe I slacked. He HAS been my sparring partner for quite a while now. Ever since I got that black-belt. I used to be able to beat him at everything. Maybe I needed to reread "A Martial Artist's Guide to Sensing Your Opponent's Next Attack." Maybe I should've reworked my fighting pattern. Julian might've found me predictable.
Maybe I didn't want to hurt him?
…
…
…
Nah.
It was like I didn't know myself anymore. Like I was playing doctor with myself: trying to diagnose my virus and treat it before it gets out of hand. That morning, I got so into with my current problem, I wouldn't notice until it was too late that a more deadly problem faced me head on.
And if you asked me how it felt to be run over by a school bus. I wouldn't remember a thing. Apparently my brain couldn't absorb the idea of dying in one world and entering another.