I sat at the edge of the training hall beside the boy I had just fought. Apparently, his name was Dishant Varma. From what I gathered, he had a reputation for beating on weaker students while refusing to spar anyone considered elite. He sat with his arms folded, refusing to look at me as though acknowledging my existence would somehow make his loss more real. Fine. Fuck you too. I didn't want to talk to him anyways. I watched the other students spar. Or at least I tried to. None of their matches held my attention for very long. Not when June was standing on the other side of the room. She was not sparring yet. Every time she looked toward someone, they suddenly found something else to do. One boy hurried to get water. Another began tightening equipment that already looked perfectly secure. A third became deeply interested in stretching his shoulders. Eventually, a few of the larger and more impressive-looking students gathered enough courage to challenge her. The first boy was nearly twice her size. For a moment, I was actually worried. He lowered his head and charged, throwing his arms around her as though he intended to tackle her straight through the floor. June took a small step to the side. One foot appeared in front of his ankle. Her hands guided his shoulders in the same direction he was already moving. The boy stumbled over her leg and crashed onto the ground. June was on top of him before he could turn over, raining down strikes toward his head until he slapped the ground and yielded. The entire match lasted less than five seconds. My jaw hung open. A much taller boy challenged her next. He kept his distance, using his long arms to jab at her from beyond her reach. June barely moved. She tilted her head away from one punch, shifted her shoulder past another, and allowed the third to pass beside her cheek. The taller boy stepped forward. June also stepped forward with him. Her fist struck him in the face at the same moment his foot touched the ground. She drove another strike into his stomach, hooked around his elbow into his ribs, and finished with a round kick that chopped into his thigh. His leg folded beneath him. He landed on one knee, grabbed his thigh, and immediately yielded. Another girl stepped forward. The instant the match began, she leapt away from June and brought both hands beside her right hip. A faint light began gathering between her palms. I had no idea what she was doing. It didn’t matter. June crossed the space between them before the glow had finished forming. The girl managed one surprised squeal before June smothered her arms and drove her backward beneath a storm of strikes. That match might have lasted three seconds. It did not matter who stepped in front of her. June was untouchable. To my left, several students wearing faded, battered gambesons had gathered around a sheet of paper spread across an overturned crate. Ah. The poor white kids. Small stacks of coins rested beside different markings. One of the boys tapped a finger against the sheet. “She’s finishing the next one with her right hand.” A red-haired boy beside him shook his head. “Nah. Left. She’ll slip it straight through the guard.” Another student leaned over their shoulders. “Kick.” The first boy looked at him. “A kick?” “Aye.” “Against whoever comes up next?” “Aye.” “You’ve got more coin than sense.” The boy who had chosen the kick grinned. He had a softer, lilting accent than the others, the words rolling together differently. “Ah, sure, put your own money down if you’re so certain.” “I have.” “Then quit worrying after mine.” They were gambling. But no one was betting against June. They were betting on how she would win. I could understand why. Betting against her was not gambling. It was just handing over money. Eventually, a boy with short black hair stepped onto the ground. Unlike most of the students, he wore a plain white gi tied with a dark belt. He stopped across from June and bowed deeply. June returned the bow. The gamblers immediately became more interested. One of them sat upright. “Oh, hell. Mamoru.” The red-haired boy leaned forward. “Think he takes her this time?” “Not a prayer. Right hand.” “Left,” another said. “She’ll put it through his guard.” The Irish boy pushed another coin onto the kick. “I’m staying with the kick.” “A kick?” the red-haired boy said. “Against Mamoru?” “Aye.” “You daft bastard. She’ll break her bloody shin.” The Irish boy shrugged. “Then I’ll lose a coin.” “You’ll lose more than that if you keep betting like an idiot.” “Ah, would you stop. She’ll kick him.” Students who had been sparring elsewhere stopped their matches. Even some of the older students moved closer. Apparently, Mamoru was someone important. He settled into a compact stance, his fists held near his face. His breathing was slow and deliberate, each inhale filling his stomach before leaving through pursed lips. June raised her hands. The atmosphere in the room changed. It was difficult to explain. Neither of them had moved yet, but everyone had gone quiet. June attacked first. She drove a side kick directly into Mamoru’s stomach. He absorbed it without taking a step backward and reached down to catch her leg, but her foot was already gone. He lunged after her with a straight punch. June shifted only far enough for it to miss and struck his face with the heel of her open palm. Mamoru’s head turned. To my surprise, he barely reacted. The strike had landed cleanly, but it did not seem to hurt him. He swung back. June was no longer there. Her movements were incredibly efficient. She never retreated farther than necessary. Her strikes had no windup and travelled along the shortest possible path, as though she were always choosing correctly. As though she were incapable of making mistakes. Mamoru continued advancing, but every punch found empty air. June’s palms touched his forehead, jaw, and temples while her feet stabbed into his stomach, hip, and thighs. She never struck him with a closed fist. She never kicked him with her shin either. When she attacked his legs, she used a stomping motion with the sole or heel of her foot. When she attacked his body, she used straight kicks with the ball of her foot or the bottom of her heel. I didn't understand why, maybe that was just her style? Mamoru appeared to be taking most of the strikes without much difficulty, but his breathing gradually changed. The slow breaths became sharper. Each impact forced a hard burst of air from his mouth. His attempts to strike back became less frequent while June’s attacks came faster. She struck high. He covered his head. She kicked low. He lowered his guard. After several exchanges, Mamoru appeared to recognize the pattern. Whenever June’s hands moved, he protected his face. Whenever one of her feet left the ground, he tightened his arms around his body. June struck his head twice with open palms. Both attacks met his forearms. She drove a side kick toward his stomach. He dropped his elbow and stopped it. The gamblers leaned forward. “There!” The red-haired boy pointed. “He’s got her now.” “Has he bollocks,” another answered. “He has. Look at him.” “Aye, I’m looking. She’s still on him.” The boy who bet on a kick leaned farther forward, eyes fixed on June. “Ah, no. She’s teaching him.” The others looked at him. “Teaching him what?” He didn't answer and just kept watching intently. Mamoru had finally adjusted. He had stopped trying to counter altogether, but for the first time, June’s attacks were not reaching him. I slipped a hand into my pocket. Nothing. I did not own a single coin, but I had still decided how I would bet. June was going to finish him with a kick. She stepped forward and snapped an open palm toward his face. Mamoru blocked it. Her other hand followed immediately. He blocked that too. June’s left knee rose, and her foot stabbed toward his stomach. Mamoru folded his arm across his body. The kick struck his forearm and stopped. June pulled her leg back and turned. Mamoru immediately covered his body, bracing for the back kick. June jumped. Her body spun, but instead of driving her heel straight into his stomach, her heel rose sharply at the final moment. Her heel shot upward over his guard. Something shattered. It sounded like glass breaking, but the sound had not come from anywhere in the room. It echoed somewhere behind my ears. Just a moment before June’s heel struck Mamoru beneath the chin. His head snapped backward. He collapsed onto the ground. One of the senior students serving as referee stepped between them and waved the match over before kneeling beside Mamoru. The gamblers exploded. “OHHHH!” One of them grabbed both sides of his head. “Bloody hell!” The Irish boy shot to his feet. “I fucking told you!” “You said body kick!” “I said kick!” “You said body!” “Did I fuck!” “You absolutely did!” “Ah, away with you. Pay me.” The red-haired boy slapped both palms against the crate. “Pay him nothing!” “Pay me my bloody coin!” “You cheating Erse bastard.” “Cheating?” He held both hands out, offended. “She kicked him, didn’t she?” “In the head!” “Still attached to his body, last I checked.” That started another argument. Coins changed hands while the students shouted over one another. I barely heard them. I looked from Mamoru’s fallen body. To June. She was staring directly at me. My stomach tightened. I immediately looked down like a coward. I stared at the dirt for a second. It was still terrible flooring. I looked back up. June was still staring. And her gaze captivated mine again. Except this time it felt like two lasers were going through my pupils and cooking whatever remained of my brain. She didn't look angry at me, but she wasn't looking at me with a particular fondness either. Maybe staring silently from across a dirt fighting hall was considered romantic. Probably not what she was doing, but I could hope. Her eyes dropped to my chest. I knew what she was looking at. I resisted the urge to look down too. She was looking at my mismatching name tag Her gaze stayed there longer than I expected. When she looked back at my face, her expression had changed. I couldn't tell what it was. Maybe it was anger? No, maybe grief? That made even less sense. Maybe that was just the way her resting face just naturally is? June turned away. Several Zhanghua students immediately gathered around her. One of the girls spoke quickly. I couldn't understand what she was saying, but she was demonstrating the final movement with her hand. A boy shook his head and said something in their language. June said something too quietly for me to hear, even if I could hear it I wouldn't have understood. They followed her toward the side of the hall, still talking excitedly. She didn't seem particularly interested in being congratulated. I looked back toward Mamoru. He was sitting up now. One of the older students was checking his eyes while Mamoru looked thoroughly annoyed about it. I had known she was going to kick him. I knew why he lowered his arms when her leg moved. I knew he'd stopped attacking because every attempt just gave her another opening. And I knew she'd spent half the match teaching him what to defend. I had understood all of that and I didn't know how I did. But the one thing I definitely hadn't understood. I replayed the last few seconds in my head. June turned. Mamoru covered. Her heel changed direction. Something shattered. Then she hit him. I frowned. There wasn't any glass in the room. But I heard it just before her foot touched him. I was sure of that. Something had shattered first.

Chapter 18