Like No One Ever Was

Tightening my belt one last time, I stepped out of the changing rooms and into the massive auditorium. I wonder what they use this place for when they aren’t hosting national martial arts tournaments?

“Hey! Looking good Nemona!” Dendra called out from across the room, waving at me from the bleachers. Jogging over, I dodged around the other competitors getting ready and idling about on the outskirts of the tournament mats. None of the matches had started yet, but there was some unspoken tension in the air driving most of the children away from those arenas.

Each of us is waiting for this moment, to test ourselves and see how well we can do. If we’ve honed our bodies enough to- eww is that kid picking his nose with his finger? Oh god, he ate the booger, eww eww eww. Really hope I don't have to spar against him, I know we'll be wearing gear, but still.

So, not everyone was taking it quite as seriously as I was, but there was still a general feeling of excitement in the air. Especially from my ‘fans’. I picked up the pace as Mom started cheering beside Dendra, somehow even louder and more enthusiastic than the teenager.

“I’m really glad you’re here Mom, but you can probably save the cheering for when I’m actually in the ring,” I said as I reached them.

“Oh, but you look so adorable in that ‘gee.’ Besides, with your father unable to make it I have to cheer twice as hard for the both of us.” O’Nare countered and I consciously refrained from sighing. She’s like this because she cares- well, no. She’s like this because she’s weird, but she shows support (however unusually) because she cares.

“Osu! She does look great in her gi,” Dendra said, subtly correcting my mother's mispronunciation. “How ya feeling, champ?”

“Like I’m not the champ,” I deadpanned, waiting for a beat to add: “Not yet, at least.”

“Haha! That’s the spirit.” The older girl was excited, though with my quick eyes, I did pick up on how her gaze would dart down to my new green belt.

We’ve been training for over a year now, but given the master-apprentice style training we’ve been doing, we never focused on ranks before I entered this tournament. I actually had to talk her into giving me this belt rather than entering as a White Belt. Not that she needed a ton of convincing to accept that I was a cut above the beginner class. She needed a bit more for Green, since with how the competition range worked, this meant I could be facing other kids up to Brown Belt level, the level before Black Belt.

Gazing out at the other martial artists, seeing some of them practicing and stretching, I wondered how many of them were appropriately judged. In my world I know some schools would deliberately under-rank fighters for tournaments like this, just to try and win prizes, I’m curious how much of that is true here. Generally, I find this world to be so much kinder and more honest than my old one but… people are still people, and some are still willing to act cutthroat and cheat for a tiny bit of prestige, no matter the universe.

“We’ve got fifteen minutes before the matches start, let’s get that blood pumping! Osu!” Dendra snapped me out of my thoughts, releasing her Meditite. The Psychic Type ran me through some of the stretches I knew by heart, but the familiar practices helped calm me down.

Touching my Aura helped calm me down, felt like lifting any burdens I held and tossing them aside like I could float on air. Which, I could. I made sure not to do so here, however. Good way to get accusations of cheating tossed around. Aura may not be widespread knowledge but Psychic powers are. Also, I don’t think most of these kids know how to actively use their Auras.

Unconscious use was common enough amongst fighters, or even just very physically active people in this world, so I didn’t try to fully tamp down on my Aura.I could do that, and it honestly felt odd and a little unsettling, both in how much weaker I was and how my senses were dulled, but also in that it felt like I was trying to hold my soul separate from my body. For this tournament, I just held the sense of it being there, feeling it without guiding the force in any way.

It helped settle my nerves, which was a good thing because there were delays, so the tournament took closer to thirty minutes than fifteen to start. Eventually, a slender woman in a sharp business suit stepped onto the middle of the floor, microphone in hand. “Welcome, competitors, friends, family, and fans, to the 137th annual Paldean Youth Karate tournament. I am Hannah So, and I’ll be your announcer for the day.”

There was a round of polite applause before she continued, outlining the different events. There were form and weapon rounds, and the different sparring divisions, divided by age and belt level. I’d be competing in the Green to Brown Belt under twelve divisions.

The brackets were posted up and I saw my name as the second match and began putting on my gear. The rules mandated us kids wear helmets, mouth guards, gloves, and footguards. The gloves were pretty light, with open fingers and padding that covered the wrist, going over the knuckles. The footguards were a bit like foam shoes without a sole and extended up the leg to cover just below the knees. All my protective gear (save the clear mouthguard) was black and shiny.

Longer hair sure is a hassle, I thought as I pulled my ponytail through a small hole in the back of my headgear. Maybe I should cut it? I don’t have to keep with Canon Nemona’s hairstyle, do I? I hope no one thinks I’m completely new just because of the gear and me not having participated in any of these before. The extra height from the growth spurt I’d recently had was appreciated, but the new rounds of clothing shopping weren’t.

“It’s over, three points for Lilah Evergreen!” The announcer called and I turned my eyes to the middle arena where that fight was taking place. A girl about my age stood victorious over a boy a year or two younger whom she had tossed down. The referee made sure the fighting stopped and motioned for each competitor to bow to each other, which the boy did slightly more begrudgingly after standing up than his victorious counterpart. Then they cleared the arena and it was my turn.

“Wish me luck,” my voice was slightly muffled behind my mouthguard, but they both understood me. Mother jumped to cheer for me again, dusting my cheeks crimson. You can at least wait till the fight begins!

Dendra just said, “Break a leg, Osu!”

“Isn’t that for actors?”

“Why would an actor need to shatter a tibia?” The confused martial artist asked, and I groaned, not sure if she was playing me or if she truly didn’t get that saying.

I was saved from having to find out by my name being called, and so I walked up to the stage, directed to one corner by the referee. On the opposite side my opponent, ‘Bill Watkins’ stepped up to the stage.

“You’re kidding me. You’re under twelve?” Possibly a bit rude of me to ask, but he’s like six feet tall! The ‘boy’ in question simply nodded, then after a second in a deep voice added: “I turned twelve right after the check-in last week.”

Right, I remember that. It went by pretty fast, just a standard registration, and check for the weight ranges for some of the older divisions too. Something we unfortunately don’t have here.

He was quite broadly built as well, and while it was hard to tell underneath his black gi, from the few signs I could see he was quite muscular as well, especially around his upper half.

I should aim for the legs then, those are likely his weakest area. I’d been unsure about the matches being point-based, but it might just work out in my favor now. If he’s just a really big kid, he might not be that well-trained, his teacher’s just relying on intimidation- The announcer’s voice cut through my thoughts, dashing my hopes. “Our second match, we have the independent Nemona Glitterati versus the reigning champion, Bill Watkins of Eden Martial Arts!”

Behind Bill, a man with a tuft of hair and an eyepatch over his right eye, and a jagged scar enthusiastically cheered his student on. Spurred to action, I could hear my Mother and Dendra cheering just as hard for me.

The referee called the two of us to our marks, each of us giving a bow to him and then to the other. With that done we each took a stance, getting ready. Bill’s stance placed his guard a little low, though given the size difference between us, it was probably a smart call. Could I strike at his face? Maybe, but not accurately or fast enough that he wouldn’t block. I’ll need another strategy.

The bell rang and the time for strategizing was over, the large boy moving in slowly. He sent a few punches my way, each powerful and clean, but no true commitment behind them. Doing the same myself, we tested each other out. Eventually, I went for a roundhouse kick against his thigh, only for him to catch it with a meaty palm.

With a chuckle he lifted my leg, likely figuring I’d be caught off guard or that he could throw me. Instead, I used it, letting him support my weight as I lifted my other foot and snapped it straight up, bypassing his guard and smashing the ball of my foot into his jaw.

He immediately dropped me and I broke my fall on instinct, slapping my arms palm down against the ground. Rolling back up, the referee called the point in my favor, stepping in between us and waving us back to our sides. Bill rubbed at his chin as best he could through his helmet, eyes watering a little.

He took a moment to shake it off, and once we both confirmed we were ready to begin again, the signal was given and he was back at it. This time he rushed in, sending a flurry of blows at me from every angle. Blocking as best I could, I tried to avoid letting him box me in, but that just led to taking heavier shots, his longer reach was able to compensate for any evasive maneuvers I pulled off. My arms are going to have some nice bruises after this, I winced as his punches hammered into me.

He wound up for a haymaker to finish up his combo, and I saw my opening. Ducking my head slightly I raised one arm and lowered the other, going for a double punch, one aimed at his head and one aimed at his body. In truth, only the body one had power behind it, but I hoped the head strike would get his attention.

Instead, he pivoted and moved his feet rapidly, changing what would have been an overhand strike into a straight that slipped past my guard and rocked my head back. Blinking back stars, I dimly heard the referee call the point.

God, that guy hits like a truck. Resisting the urge to ‘shake it off’ (fearing it would only make my throbbing head hurt worse), I calmed myself down, taking some deep breaths and refocusing. That stung, now it's time to get my head back in the game.

The next round was similar to the prior. I met him back with more aggression this time, but it just led to my bones getting rattled further. Striking low with a kick he simply backed up, avoiding the roundhouse and rushing in while I was turned. Spinning around with the force, I moved to meet him with a spinning back-kick.

Bill grabbed me by the ankle and roughly threw the leg aside, showing he had clearly learned from last time. Pulling back for a punch I raised my arms up to block on instinct… and he smashed my guts with the other hand.

Breath escaped me as I doubled over. My opponent was already walking away as the point was called. Swallowing back some bile, I slowly uncurled, nodding to the referee as he asked if I was still able to fight. Not entirely sure about that, to be honest, but- no, I’m not giving up here. I’ll see it through to the end, even if I lose.

Calling on my Aura I centered myself, feeling slightly rejuvenated. It’s no Roost, but it helps. If I used it more, I might- no, I don’t need this to win. I’m not the best at ‘seeing’ Aura, but I think I could feel it if Bill had some significant power here. He’s bigger and stronger than me, I can deal with that.

The referee asked again if I was fine to continue and I nodded sharply, getting back to my spot, an idea in mind. The bell rang once more, and this time I took the initiative, rushing in with my flurry of straight punches. Though deceptively simple, the sheer rush of very fast attacks caught Bill off-guard, especially with my ‘combo’ showing no signs of ending.

Pushed back, the large boy tried to pivot into a hook punch to get around my onslaught. In response, I instantly gave up on the punches, dropping low. Placing one hand around the heel to prevent him from stepping back, I rammed my shoulder into his knee. With nowhere left to go, Bill toppled backward, arms flailing outwards as he did so. With a vicious grin on my face, I rolled myself forward, over his body to lie half-sprawled on his torso, arm cocked back. Letting loose, I struck the still-dazed boy in the face.

“Break!” The referee called, pulling me off of him. 2 - 2, all tied up. This is the last point, either way.

“You can do it, Nemona!” “Go get him! Show that big dumb jerk what you're made of! Break his face!” The cheers behind me brought a smile to my face, and I readied myself. Can’t let them down in my first match.

We squared up, circling around each other for a quarter of a minute, slight shifts in our stances countered by the other, before on a shared impulse, we each moved in. His punches were as fast and strong as ever, so I moved to deflect them, trying to avoid taking them head-on as I maneuvered him around me. Given the differences in our weight, it was more me pushing myself around him, but it still served the job of getting me around him.

He was no slouch in defense himself, at one point catching a hook punch of mine with the edge of his wrist. From there he launched an open-palm strike at my head. Catching his arm with my blocked hand, I pulled his forearm down, diverting the blow and shifting my body to punch with my free hand. While I had opened up his guard somewhat, Bill’s other hand was free to slap mine and transition into another punch, which I maneuvered around by circling my arm to push off against him.

Whenever I had an opening around him, I tried to strike past his guard, however, any punches or kicks I attempted to land were blocked or dodged, as he’d react to my new placement and shift around almost as soon as I moved there. Then I’d have to deal with his nearly overwhelming offense once again.

Both of us were sweating and breathing heavily as the announcer called that thirty seconds were left in the round. Forget what happens if we go to the end of time in a situation like this. Whatever, worry about that later. Bill was looking to wrap this up as well, my fellow competitor pulling back for a big swing.

Fool me thrice- well that ain’t gonna happen! Rather than be deterred, I step in, pushing ahead to where the blow would come from. My guard was still up just in case he pivoted, but he didn’t have any real power he could throw behind it. Instead, he switched into a cross from his other hand, which I weaved under, moving in closer. As I did so, I let my arm drop into a hanging punch that caught him in the gut with enough force to crack a brick wall.

He simply wheezed a little, taking a step back. What is this guy made of? I didn’t have time to ponder that as the referee stepped in and both of us shifted back on reflex. It took me a moment to realize what the man was saying, and what it meant. I scored the match point… I won! I won the match!!

I caught myself as Bill bowed to me and quickly returned the same, making sure to bow low to try and show respect and make up for getting distracted. I didn’t think he noticed as he swiftly turned away. He stoically marched away, brushing past his teacher and fellow students before collapsing in front of a giant man in the bleachers.

“I’m sorry Daddy!” My defeated foe cried out, his voice still eerily deep as he wailed. The man in question simply hugged his son tight, telling him he ‘did a good job’ and ‘fought well.’ Right, easy to forget that guy is somehow, only just twelve.

Awkwardly, I shuffled off the arena, returning to my Mother and Dendra. “Osu! That was incredible! What a passionate fight!” Dendra cheered, pumping her fists up. When she saw me grimacing lightly, she asked “What’s wrong?”

“My head is a little sore,” I said, slightly downplaying the throbbing pain I felt. My sensei wasted no time in helping me remove my helmet, pulling out an ice bag and pressing it against my head. A small hiss of relief escaped me as I held onto it.

“I can’t believe the nerve of that boy! To strike you so hard, why I should-” Before my Mom could utter any threats I tried to wave her down.

“It’s fine! He fought well, it was a clean match.” Looking over I still saw him clutching his father, and I frowned. “I should go thank him for it.” Quickly leaving, hoping it would defuse O’Nare’s overprotective streak, I walked over to him.

With the mats being used for practice or events I had to walk all the way around, getting a look at some of the other competitors. Some of them are using some pretty advanced techniques, I noted as I passed by a girl flashing a blunted sword around, the blade flowing like a whip through the air. Off to the side, I saw an older teenage boy pulverizing a couple of cement blocks his teacher had placed between two wooden stands.

I wonder how many of them are using Aura, knowingly or not? It was a difficult aspect to measure. At least for me. Some of them more than others would radiate an ever-so-slight sense of ‘danger’, but unless I saw the person sitting down, I couldn’t tell if it was my Aura telling me that or just environmental cues. Or even then if I’m not just imagining the feeling and there actually isn’t anything 'special' about someone.

Finishing my long route around, I climbed up on the bleachers on the other side of the room, walking towards Bill and his father. The boy was still sniffling, but the father turned to face me.

“Is there a problem, ma’am?” He stood up as well, his towering height covering one of the lights high above and shadowing his face so it was hard to make out the details, though I could see that his buzzcut hair was short and gray, a slightly lighter shade than his son’s.

Tone is standoffish but slightly deferential. Maybe an undercurrent of worry? Probably recognizes who I am/knows who my parents are. I dressed pretty casually, so often people wouldn’t recognize me, or wouldn’t connect the Glitterati name with two of the biggest companies in Paldea. Those who did either tended to act fawningly or nervously.

Adopting a bright, child-like grin I chirped “I just wanted to thank your son for an incredible match! This is my first tournament and what an awesome way to start it!”

Bill stopped sniffling at that and turned around to face me. “Thanks. You did very well too.” Then after a few seconds, he bluntly tacked on. “You need more confidence.”

Keeping the ice pack on my head, I nodded. “Yeah, that’s fair. Still a little nervous about all of this.” We fell back into silence and I wracked my brain trying to think of something else to say, to leave it less awkward than this. Since he offered me some unsolicited advice I can do the same, right? “You might want to work on dealing with opponents that get in close,” I offered.

“I will! Not many kids our age are brave enough to rush in like that.” Not brave enough, or not reckless enough? Either way, I let out a laugh and felt Mr. Watkins relax beside us. We happily chatted a bit more before I left, heading back to my side of the arena.

***

The following matches passed by far less eventfully. There were out loud wonderings about if my victory was simply luck, but those whispers quickly died down as I won match after match.

A few competitors gave me some struggles, but my unique style and more advanced strategizing skills usually backed them into a corner. A few got a point off of me, and the wiry boy, Miguel got two with an aggressive style that matched my Vertical Run and other strikes, but in the end, I managed to eke out a victory with a duck and sweep as he went for a high kick.

“How do you feel?” Dendra excitedly asked me after I stepped off the podium and received my (comically oversized) trophy. The teenage girl was bouncing around, joy radiating off of her. I smiled, more in response to her happiness than my own feelings.

It’s nice to win, definitely. But after all that work I put in, I should be feeling on top of the world, right? And I’m just… proud of my achievement. Whatever’s bothering me doesn’t matter. “I feel great! Thank you so much, sensei. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

The introspection could wait, I decided as I adopted a broad grin and waved at the fans, chatting with some of the other competitors. A lot of the other kids were interested in what I learned, and while I didn’t have many answers for them about my previous styles, I was able to point them toward Dendra.

My teacher was swamped with requests and excited demands from energetic martial artist kids, leaving her a little overwhelmed. Good. It’d be nice if she gets some more students. She had Tulip and myself, but she’s been too lonely for too long.

O’Nare boldly strode through the crowd declaring “Ah, my daughter, you shone so brightly today! True Glitterati brilliance flowed through you! Unfortunately, even shooting stars must pass by, so we have to leave.” Grabbing my hand, she gently pulled me forward, cutting a path through the throng of people.

“Thanks, Mom,” I whispered to her once we were near the exit. She saw how I was feeling and gave me an excuse to leave.

“It wasn’t a problem at all, my dear. You did remarkably today, oh I’m so proud of you,” She said, hugging me tightly, which I returned. “Oof, so strong now. Our little girl is growing up so fast. I’ll have to show your father the videos as well!”

"Send it to Cyan too. I know she's in the middle of school, but hopefully, she'll have time in between her classes."

"I'm sure she will- oh maybe she'll have time to pop by for dinner tonight and we can watch it as a family..." My mind drifted as my mother eagerly gushed about how great the tournament was. I'm glad I won, but I feel like something is... missing? I don't know, probably just tired.

***.

I did feel a little better after I got home and sent messages to all of my friends about the tournament. All of them had tons of encouragement and praise to shower me with, which felt nice. The full night's rest and a large breakfast the morning after helped, too.

Also, it's just nice to realize how many friends I have now. Arven, Friede, Amethio, Lacey, Carmine, and Kieran… When did I meet so many great people?

Tulip saw the trophy in person, the model coming over to my house for our next training session. “Very impressive, you did quite well.”

“Thank Dendra, she’s the one who taught me.” For some reason, I thought I caught a flash of red on the model's cheeks. “Some of those blocks against Bill would have been impossible without all the training she gave me… why didn’t she compete in this tournament?” I didn’t think about it earlier, but she could have competed in the under-eighteen contests.

“The coaches aren’t supposed to be competitors.” Tulip shook her head. “Don’t worry about it, she’s had more than her share of victories there. I’d say I’m glad the bragging is done with, but now she just brags about you.” The elegant teen had an airy tone, but the small upward curve of her lips belied the enjoyment she derived from Dendra’s exuberance.

“Uhuh. So, what’s next, teach?” There was an ever-so-soft sigh, unhearable by someone with normal perceptions. Likely caused by the fact that she can pierce whatever facade I put on and feel all the emotions behind it. Now she’s looking at me sharply, no with an odd expression- she’s reacting to me reacting to her reacting me. Aghh.

“I was going to say we should begin with your Aura Sight, but you feel unbalanced right now.” She sat down on the edge of the cliff we had been standing on, overlooking the vast ocean that stretched out to the horizon. Usually, it would help, and I suppose it still does, a little. Just not enough to make up for the rest of the turmoil I’m dealing with.

A lesson I’d had beaten into me several times was not to try Auric Techniques when in the wrong headspace. Even if my time with Tulip was limited, she would shut down a lesson if I was trying to push when I shouldn’t. Something I’m grateful for, even if it can be frustrating at the moment.

While ‘Aura Sight’ was supposedly a common technique, as far as those went for Aura Users to learn, my attempts with it had been less than fruitful. Any enhancement I managed for my vision just extended my normal eyesight even further, let me pick out even more details. Handy, but not what I’m going for. To see the more esoteric invisible energies of this world is what the Technique should do.

I wasn’t lying to Arven when I said it took a lot of hard work. Even with my prior breakthroughs, it felt like nothing else came any easier. I could at least console myself with the steady, if slow, progress I was making overall.

Sitting beside her, I just let the cool wind wash over me. “I’ve been making good progress with my air manipulation,” I mentioned, raising a hand and letting a ‘blade’ of air shoot out in front of it. “About as sharp as a butter knife currently, but I’ll make something like an Air Slash one of these days.”

The teen beside me didn’t prompt me or say anything, letting me come to things in my own time.

“Everything’s fine. So why do I feel so…” I searched for whatever it was that I was feeling. “Constrained? Wound up?”

“Maybe you need a chance to spread your wings?” Tulip suggested, raising a hand, pointing up to the Wingulls above.

“Hah. Maybe. That trip to Kitakami was good, might do something else like that.” Doesn’t quite feel like the right answer, but that’s all I’ve got for now.