Lord-Campione
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Chapter 012: Tournament
🕑 Added 2024-10-01 00:19:47 +0000 UTCAs the weeks turned into months, Ethan’s progress was undeniable. He wasn’t the same kid who had walked into the dojo unsure of himself and overwhelmed by the older students.
Well, he still gets his arse whooped and handed back to him on the regular, with a lot more sass than strictly necessary.
But there was some progress!
One late afternoon, Ethan found himself in the middle of a particularly intense sparring match with Ryan. The dojo echoed with the sounds of footfalls and controlled breaths. Ethan’s heart raced as he ducked under a wide swing, then swiftly retaliated with a well-placed kick that connected with Ryan’s side.
Didn’t hurt as much as it could, the weight difference was too great, but it worked well enough.
“Nice one!” Ryan said, momentarily caught off guard. He quickly regained his footing and advanced, forcing Ethan to backpedal.
“Thanks! But you’re not going easy on me, are you?” Ethan quipped, smiling through the exertion.
Ryan smirked, his eyes glinting with challenge. “Never. If I go easy, you’ll never learn. Keep those hands up!”
Ethan’s laughter echoed in the dojo as he adjusted his stance, focusing intently on Ryan’s movements. The adrenaline surged, the thrill of the challenge propelling him forward…that, and the threat of a heavy ass-whooping the likes of which Ethnic parents could only applaud.
But just as he was about to launch into an attack, Colleen’s voice cut through the air.
“Alright, boys, that’s enough for today!”
Ethan reluctantly dropped his guard, panting heavily. “Come on, I was just getting warmed up!”
That was a lie, he was going to get beat up.
Still, you gotta keep appearances.
Colleen walked over, her expression playful…maybe, it was hard to tell with her. “We train hard, but we also rest hard. There’s a balance to be found. You’ll have plenty of time to improve. Plus, you don’t want Ryan to suffer too much, do you?”
Yes, she was being playful.
Probably.
“Please! I can take whatever you throw at me!” Ryan feigned horror.
“Yeah, right,” Ethan chimed in, grinning. “I’d hate to see you cry like a baby after a spar.”
As the students gathered their things before Colleen could get a broom and chase them out like the ‘unruly children’ they were, Ethan felt a certain warmth in his chest.
It felt right.
After class, Ethan lingered, his thoughts drifting. Colleen noticed and approached him, her demeanor shifting from serious to even more serious.
Yeah, she had the emotional range of a teaspoon.
“I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said, crossing her arms. “You’ve come a long way, and I think you’re ready for your first real competition.”
“A competition? Like a tournament?” Ethan asked, thinking about it.
From experience, he knew it was much more efficient than sparring if he wanted to measure his ability, it lacked all those thoughts and holding back you’d get from people who see you on the regular and started liking you.
That, and you’d be fighting people closer to your age.
(“Exactly. It’s a chance for you to test what you’ve learned, face off against other students, and gain experience. It’ll be tough, but I believe you’re ready,” she said, nodding encouragingly.
“When is it?” He asked.
“In a couple of weeks. I’ll provide the details, but I want you to think about it. It’s a big step,” Colleen advised.
Now some people in this situation would likely refuse, or accept and purposefully hold back and get beaten up in order to ‘stay under the radar’ and ‘not arouse suspicion’ as if they were the second coming of Kakarot.
That wasn’t his style.
“I’m in.” He confirmed, having thought about it and coming to the conclusion that nobody gave a shit about some pee-wee doing martial arts.
Colleen smiled, her pride evident…or was it constipation? Again, it was hard to tell with the lady.
“I expected nothing less. Just remember—win or lose, it’s all about what you learn.” She said before leaving, “Now get out of here.”
. . .
As the days passed, Ethan threw himself into his training. He upped his workouts, focused on technique, and practiced relentlessly. Every class was an opportunity to refine his skills and prepare for the upcoming tournament. He visualized each match, imagining himself executing the techniques he had honed over the past months.
One evening, after a particularly intense session, Ethan found himself sitting on the edge of the mat, wiping sweat from his brow. He was exhausted but exhilarated. Ryan flopped down beside him, tossing a water bottle at Ethan.
“Feeling ready for the big day?” Ryan asked, taking a swig from his own bottle.
“Definitely,” Ethan replied, taking a sip. “But I’m still a bit nervous.”
“Everyone messes up,” Ryan said, shrugging. “The key is to learn from it. I’ve eaten my fair share of canvas during competitions, trust me.”
“Yeah, but you make it look so easy. I don’t want to be the kid who gets knocked out in the first round. ” Ethan chuckled.
Now that would be a bad start for his saga.
“You won’t be. Just remember what Colleen taught you: focus on your strengths. You’ve got speed and agility in spades, and you can eat hits with the best of them, fuc—-fudging cockroach. Eh, use that to your advantage,” Ryan encouraged, clapping a hand on Ethan’s shoulder and hoping he didn’t catch him cursing, Colleen didn’t like that one bit, “Besides, if you do get knocked down, just pop right back up like a spring-loaded toy. Make it look good!”
“Great advice,” Ethan replied, rolling his eyes but smiling nonetheless. “I’ll make sure to add ‘spring-loaded toy’ to my resume.”
“Attaboy,” He said.
“What’s a fuck though?” Ethan asked innocently just as the lady in charge came within earshot.
Ryan could only gulp.
. . .
The day of the tournament arrived. The venue was buzzing with activity, competitors warming up, parents and friends chatting with a good portion wondering why they were sacrificing their week-end for something like this, and the distinct scent of sweat filled the air. Ethan’s heart raced as he surveyed the room, taking in the sight of ‘fighters’ stretching, practicing their moves, and mentally preparing.
Pee-wees, the lot of them were, with the oldest kids around being sixteen years old. And the rules would limit the amount of damage they can dish out, most only going for some technique and point hoarding to get ahead.
But it was still his first time fighting in a competition, kiddie wrestling notwithstanding.
It wasn’t exactly a formal thing, but it was something.
“You ready for this?” Colleen asked, giving him an encouraging smile.
“I think so,” Ethan replied, trying not to think about how it would feel to get embarrassed by someone his age.
He could handle being beaten by older kids and teenagers, there was no shame in that.
But someone his age? Now that would be a shame.
Not big enough for him to use his telekinesis though.
Cheating wasn’t below him, but here? That would just be lowly.
Colleen grabbed his shoulder, her gaze steady. “You’re here to learn, remember? Focus on your techniques, not on winning. You’ve prepared well. Trust yourself.”
“You’re right. I’ll do my best.” Ethan nodded, feeling a sense of calm wash over him.
As the matches began, Ethan watched as students were called to the mat. The first few bouts were intense, showcasing the variety of techniques and skill levels. He took mental notes, studying how his potential opponents moved, how they struck and defended.
As predicted, most of them were grabbing points, the teenagers being much fiercer for obvious reasons. More than a couple kids started crying after being thrown on the floor, but that was also expected.
Finally, his name was called, sending a jolt of adrenaline through him…then he remembered that he’d be fighting a kid, so the excitement dwindled…then he remembered that he was also something of a kid himself, and it came back at least in part.
The announcer’s voice boomed as he stepped onto the mat.
“Next up, Ethan Cain!”
He took a deep breath, shaking off the nerves as he faced his opponent—a tall, muscular kid with an intimidating presence.
Just kidding, but he was quite a bit bigger.
The boy smirked, and Ethan felt the urge to throw a slipper at the rude thing.
The referee signaled for them to begin, and Ethan launched into action. He remembered Colleen’s advice, the many times he got his cheeks clapped because he forgot that he lost that muscled, adult body of his, utilizing his speed and smaller body size to blitz his opponent before he could think or react.
It worked, allowing him to put a few jabs on the foes, the referee counting each one.
The first few exchanges were exhilarating; Ethan felt like he was dancing, moving in and out of range, landing a few solid hits.
Quite a change from fighting teenagers with at least a few years of self-defense and mixed martial arts under their belt.
Much easier.
But the taller boy quickly adjusted, using his barely superior strength and endurance to corner Ethan. The next few moments felt like a whirlwind as he fought to evade powerful strikes. He was knocked back, his instincts kicking in.
‘Gotta keep moving,’ He winced, the kid packed quite a punch.
With each hit he took, he reminded himself of why he was there. This was his chance to prove not just to others, but to himself, that he could rise above challenges.
He steadied himself, watching his opponent’s movements, looking for more openings.
In a moment of clarity, Ethan saw it. The boy was too focused on his size, overcommitting to a swing. With a burst of speed, Ethan dodged, then countered with a quick strike to the ribs. The boy staggered back, clearly surprised by Ethan’s refusal to start crying because he took a direct hit.
A frequent outcome in the previous matches.
Ethan seized the opportunity, pushing forward, determined to show what he had learned. Barely thinking, relying fully on instincts and muscle memory to guide his movements, adrenaline surging as he landed a combination of hits, evading the heavier attacks and guarding weaker ones.
Finally, with a well-timed move, Ethan executed a sweep that took his opponent off balance. The boy fell, hitting the mat with a thud, and the referee called the match in Ethan’s favor.
“Technical victory.”
He stood there, breathing heavily, the exhilaration washing over him as the small crowd applauded politely…for the most part.
He did his best to ignore Ryan who took it upon himself to compensate for his parent’s absence, cheering loudly and very embarrassingly.
Colleen’s proud smile from the sidelines bolstered his confidence. This was just the beginning. As he moved on to the next round, Ethan felt a sense of purpose solidifying within him.
. . .
As the tournament continued, Ethan faced more opponents, each match a mix of triumphs and learning experiences. He wasn’t always victorious, but each round brought valuable lessons, and with every setback, he found the strength to get back up.
All of his matches concluded with technical victories, not a single knockout; the same thing went for nearly all the matches in the tournament.
After a long day, Ethan finally found himself in the final match against a skilled competitor.
This opponent was quicker and more agile, but Ethan was determined. The match was fierce, both boys exchanging blows, neither willing to go back home after so much trouble.
Not for the first time, Ethan considered using some subtle telekinesis to end it, he had already proved his growth.
Fortunately, it wasn’t needed.
As they neared the end, both of them were clearly fatigued, but Ethan recalled Colleen’s teachings. Focus. Control. Be smart. With renewed determination, he sidestepped a wide kick, countering with a swift jab to his opponent’s ribs. The other boy faltered, and in that split second, Ethan capitalized, executing a perfect throw that sent his opponent to the mat.
The referee signaled the end, and once again, the crowd erupted. Ethan stood there, breathless, as his victory sank in. He had not only succeeded in the tournament, but he had also proven to himself that he was capable of overcoming adversity.
This was just the beginning. He was on a path not only to becoming a fighter but to becoming someone who could stand tall against the challenges life threw his way, even without telekinesis.
As he walked out of the dojo that evening, the sun setting behind him, Ethan felt a swell of excitement for what lay ahead. He was ready to embrace whatever challenges awaited, armed with the skills, confidence, and determination he had cultivated at Chikara Dojo.
The journey was only just beginning, and he had so much to learn, yet he couldn’t wait to see where it would take him next.
