⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ Chapter 1, part 3 The arena was quiet. Dust drifted through the air where Razor Horn had slammed into the stone wall. Cracks spread through the arena floor beneath him. Tiny pebbles rolled across the sand. I didn't lower my guard. I kept my kusarigama raised. My heartbeat pounded louder than the audience ever could. Don't assume. Smoke curled around the shattered wall. Then— A groan. Razor Horn pushed himself upright with a shaky laugh. "...Heh..." His legs trembled beneath him. "...Still standing." I exhaled through my nose. "Then stay down." Tiny sparks popped across my fingertips before racing along the chain of my kusarigama. The audience leaned forward. Even Levi was quiet. I flicked my wrist. The weighted end shot across the arena and wrapped around Razor Horn's ankle before he could react. His eyes widened. I pulled. Hard. The rhino yokai lost his footing, crashing face-first into the sand with a heavy— THUD! The arena shook. For a heartbeat… Silence. Then the audience exploded. "OOOOOOHHHH!" Levi practically screamed into his microphone. "SHE BAITED HIM INTO THE WALL AND TOOK OUT HIS LEGS! BOLTING BLADE IS ABSOLUTELY UNSTOPPABLE!" The cheers echoed through every corner of the Battle Nexus. "EEL GIRL!" "EEL GIRL!" "EEL GIRL!" The referee hurried between us, raising one arm. "Razor Horn is unable to continue!" He pointed toward me. "Winner... BOLTING BLADE!" The arena erupted once more. I lowered my kusarigama. Razor Horn let out a tired groan as he rolled onto his back. I walked over, stopping a few feet away. "...Can you stand?" He looked up at me, surprised. After a second, he let out a dry chuckle. "...Yeah." I gave a single nod. "Good." Razor stared. He didn’t seem mad or defeated. Just confused. "That's it?" he asked. I tilted my head. "What?" "You win, and that's all you say?" Razor retorted. I looked back at the crowd. The cheers were deafening. "What else am I supposed to say?" I questioned. Before Razor could say anything else, his second rushed over and helped him to his feet, guiding him toward the exit. We kept eye contact as our distance increased. I expected anger. Maybe frustration. Instead, Razor only gave a small nod. Not surrender. Not defeat. Just respect. I turned to the crowd and raised my arms, encouraging the screams to grow louder. The cheers returned instantly. They loved Bolting Blade. They always had. “OH, would you look at THAT, folks?! No fear! No hesitation! Bolting Blade stands tall once again!” Levi announced as my combat aides ushered me back to where I came in. Levi's voice followed me back through the tunnel. "Bolting Blade! The undefeated champion!" The crowd repeated it until the sound faded behind me. “Beautiful conclusion, Ms. Nelson. Absolutely stunning.” One of the staff said. I gave them a thankful nod before I scanned the tunnel to see anyone I recognized. I saw Nixon in the busy crowd of backstage workers. Their antlers stood out above the crowd, clipboard still in hand as they checked over the next match's schedule. For some reason, my shoulders relaxed. “Nix!” I called out. Nixon's ears shot up. They turned around, their expression softening when they saw me. Nixon walked toward me, struggling not to jab anyone with their antlers. “Sorry. Excuse me. Antlers. Coming through. Sorry again.” A smile tugged at the edge of my mouth. “Good match,” Nixon said when they finally reached me. “Thanks.” Their eyes narrowed. “You're injured.” I blinked. “No, I'm not.” Nixon looked down at my arm. I followed their gaze. A thin line of blood ran down my sleeve. “...Oh.” They stared at me. “You didn't notice?” I looked away. “I was busy.” “Busy winning?” I nodded. Nixon sighed, but there was no frustration behind it. More like they had expected this answer. “You know, most fighters celebrate after a match.” “I did.” They raised an eyebrow. “You encouraged the crowd to scream louder.” “Exactly.” “That doesn't count,” Nixon replied. I tilted my head. “Why not?” Nixon adjusted their clipboard. “Because that was Bolting Blade celebrating.” A pause. “I was talking about Victoria.”
Nixon held my gaze for a moment before looking back at my arm. “We need to get you to the medical room.” They concluded. I rolled my eyes. “Nix, I’m fine.” “Ms. Nelson, there are actual papers that tell me that you should go to the medical room.” Nixon gestured to their clipboard. I looked at the clipboard and scoffed. “Are you actually using paperwork against me?” I said. “Yes,” They replied. “And besides, the audience would like their champion unscathed.” Nixon started walking to the medical room without waiting for me. “Wha-... You know what? Fine. You win this one.” I muttered sarcastically, jogging a bit to keep pace with Nixon. The walk to the medical room was quieter than I expected. Usually, the hallway behind the arena was filled with noise. Fighters preparing for their matches. Staff running around with equipment. Spectators trying to get a glimpse of whoever walked by. But right now, all I could hear was Nixon's footsteps beside me. And my own. "You know," Nixon said after a while, "most people would be celebrating after winning a semi-final match." " I already told you. I'm thrilled." "Encouraging thousands of people to scream your nickname is not celebrating." They deadpanned. "It worked, didn't it?" Nixon glanced at me. "That is not the point." I looked away. The problem was... I didn't really know what the point was. Winning was supposed to feel good. I knew that. The crowd loved it. The staff praised me. My name echoed through the Nexus. So why did it feel like something was missing? The medical room doors slid open before I could think about it any longer. Nixon gestured to the chair near me. I stared at Nixon. "...You know, for someone who isn't my parent, you sure give a hell lot of orders." I retorted, "And for someone who is injured, you sure argue a lot," Nixon replied. I sighed and sat on the examination table. ixon carefully unwrapped the torn part of my sleeve. Their expression changed the second they saw the cut. "It could have been worse." "I know." "That doesn't mean it wasn't bad." "I know," I repeat. They looked up at me. I looked away. "...You really do hate admitting when people are right, don't you?" "Depends." "On what?" They question. "Whether they're right," I reply, watching them walk to the supply closet. Nixon stared. Then they laughed quietly. A real laugh. Not the polite ones they gave fighters before matches. For a second, I forgot about the crowd. Forgot about the championship. Forgot about Bolting Blade. I was just sitting in a medical room with someone who knew me. The door suddenly swung open. "MY DARLING CHAMPION!" The voice chimed. I immediately knew who it was. Nixon straightened. I sighed. "Auntie..." Big Mama stepped into the room with a smile wider than the arena itself. "There she is! My undefeated star! My shining eelver lightning bolt!" She opened her arms. I stood up automatically. The hug was warm. Familiar. The kind of hug I'd known my whole life. But when she pulled away, her eyes immediately went to my cut arm. Her smile didn't disappear. But it changed. "Now..." she said softly. "Tell me exactly how this happened." “Look, Auntie, it's just a scratch,” I said, trying to pull away slightly. “It's not even that bad. I don't even need a bandage wrap, but Nixon here decided to play doctor and—” "Big Mama, her arm was bleeding. This is the third time she has attempted to argue with basic medical logic.” Nixon interrupts. I look at them with narrow eyes. “…Did you seriously just use my own medical records against me?” Nixon blinked. “No.” A pause. “I used your pattern of behavior.” I stared. “Your choices of betrayal are getting suspicious.” I said. Nixon simply returned my stare before continuing to prepare the bandages. Auntie covered her mouth, clearly failing to hide a laugh. “Oh, my stubborn little eel,” she said, shaking her head. “Some things never change.” I crossed my arms. “I’m perfectly capable of handling myself in the ring,” I reassured her. “I know you are, Vicky-boo.” Auntie Lena’s voice softened. “That’s never been the problem.” For a moment, nobody spoke. Then Nixon gently took my arm and began wrapping the bandage around the cut. “The problem,” Nixon added, “is that you believe being capable means you don’t need help.” I opened my mouth to snap back, to tell them they were completely full of crap. Then closed it. Because unfortunately… They had a point. “…I hate when you’re both right at the same time,” I muttered. Big Mama smiled wider. “We try our best.” Auntie cooed. Nixon didn’t look up. “We don’t.” ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚ ⋆.˚ ᡣ? .?˚
