James Dean

The entire world slowed down.

I laid there, head throbbing, hearing my pulse in my ears.

I refused to let go of my blade. Even when he snatched me up by both of my braids, forcing me up onto my knees.

Couldn’t help but think it was my fault.

Thought looping in the middle of a fight.

God that was so stupid, Uno.

Clarity hit me the same time his fist did. My amber eyes gave their familiar blinkity-blink… Just in time to look up into that rising fist he sent my way, standing over me.

“OOGHF!” He rolled me away with that punch. I heard them panting too.

We were all pretty fucking winded.

Wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep this up.

I got up and caught a hop-kick in the chest.

It hurt.

Rolling backwards over a shoulder, I got back onto my feet and dumbly pressed into them, screaming my charge. Jordan Concorde 11s pushing into the ground with every rushing step as I leaned full forward.

Full commit.

My blade sent resonance energy arcing and crackling away, whirling into them. We went back into the duel with renewed energy. I could tell we were all fighting on fumes. My body sparked, fizzled and crackled, diffusing what few impacts my resonance could as they swung in on me, as I burned through reserves like a hedge fund.

And only about half way through it did I realize something.

I was getting TORN. THE FUCK. APART.

For every three clanking smacks of a blade I defended, two more battered my frame. My screams mixed with my grunts of defiance, my roars of combat. Their own joined in an almost constant series of male sounds.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I registered feeling at home in it. Even in the pain. I knew this place well.

My shirt was smudged in dirt from rolling over the car, from rolling over the ground, from repeatedly getting knocked, punched, and kicked down.

Oh. And also from getting smacked up like a DJ set. Every now and again they thought it was funny to open their hand and slap me. An insult to my masculinity.

It pissed me off.

I only then realized they had backed me around the car twice. I’d gotten no further in my advance but I felt the fatigue starting to set in hard now.

A shin slammed into my stomach and bashed my back against the car door, pinning me.

I felt a rib buckle.

Not good.

Lifting my arm high, I used my elbow to bash his knee joint once, twice, a third time. He screamed each time but tried to hold me in place as his allies swarmed in.

He howled and let me free on the fourth.

My blade swung like a baseball bat.

Pop. Left. Pop. Right.

Turning the blade over to end the fight for a nearby buddy of his with a wild, lucky swing that caught him just right across the collar bone.

I watched his upper chest sink in brutally, then he fell away.

Two down.

I stood there panting, looking at the other six.

No wait… three?

Wait, when did I…

I blinked, still panting hard, my sword arm dragging the weapon like a thousand pound weight as I took a few steps further. Gripping my side from the stitched pain, I turned to get my bearings, looking back at the two parked cars.

One guy was slumped over the passenger side door.

I had to rewind in my mind.

I ran around the car. Yeah. Check.

Oh, right, he jumped over the driver's side door and tried to cut me off. I opened it, he fell, I slammed it again, he busted his chin on it.

Out like a light. Right.

Three down. What about the other two?

I heard tires squeal behind me. Turning around to look, the second of their two cars took off with two people in it. They were shouting something in Hindi. One of them was the guy whose ribs I was positive I busted up.

“Heh… they ran from me. Yeah, I’d run from me too. I’m fuckin’ amaz— AHH!” A sword bashed me across the back.

Pay attention Remb… Kelevra!

Why the fuck would Mido even give me that stupid name?

No time to rabbit hole. Getting my ass kicked.

Why the fuck did I turn my back on the others again!?

Slammed to the ground, blades came raining down from all of them.

I rolled several times, avoiding stabbing, poking, hacking swings as they chased me, taunting and laughing.

Forcing myself up, but not entirely without injury, I caught another blade across my rib. The one they buckled earlier.

I even made a sound that let me know.

Not. Fucking. Good.

Flashes and pops of white were sparking off of my frame every time they hit me with a blade. My inner resonance defending my skin. The passive defense of a Dharma Yog. But I worryingly felt it draining.

Ghosts weren’t built for sustained fights. Hunters a bit more, but I was an underperforming one of both.

One of my attackers swung his blade in hard at me and I met it with my own. He stepped in close and I mirrored it, our eyes meeting.

He said something in the standoff, but I couldn’t hear it.

I was just focusing on not passing out.

I didn’t wait for his buddy to push me. I shoved forward and pushed my shoulder into the body in front of me, breaking our blade lock, smashing him against the car.

The sound he made let me know his rib caved.

I could relate.

“Tissue clinic,” I panted a word or two of advance.

Shoving off of him and turning, both hands pushing, one against the back of my blade, the other with the handle, bashing the blade edge into a face that was charging the flank he thought was weak, I grunted from the impact.

He ricocheted off of the edge of my sword and fell backwards.

Then his head ricocheted off of the pavement.

Our impact stumbled me backwards onto the injured man behind me who groaned in pain. I immediately flung myself off of him, stumbling forward, tripping over the unconscious man in front of me, but maintaining my footing.

“Shit- … sorry, man… I forgot you were…”

All of my weight went onto my sore ankle and I groaned, stumbling again, accidentally stepping all over the downed body I’d already kicked twice, tripping on him.

I fell hard and rolled off of him.

“Oh—f- fuck.. sorry…” I said after collapsing to the ground.

My lungs were on fire. My body was on fire.

My arms hurt, my legs hurt. I wasn’t just running on fumes, I was running on battery acid and balls.

In my head? I had the most elegant, awesome, cool fight of my life.

It was surreal.

“I think I was cool just now…” I panted, my side starting to feel like a gunshot wound. My amber eyes were bouncing all over the place in thought, my head racing at the speed of my lungs. “Yeah… I was.” I nodded, sure of it.

In reality? It was about halfway that. The other half was me getting pelted with blades from every direction. Whether I wanted to admit it or not, I may have one but I got my ass kicked.

Bad.

I felt a hitch in my side again and grabbed it, crawling on my back away from the body I’d just downed.

And stepped on.

And fell over.

And apologized to.

What the hell, right? I didn’t know if I should feel bad for me or worse for him.

Was I really that desperate for approval?

… Yes.

That stung in the feels to think about.

Just being honest.

I kicked him in frustration, “Fucker.”

Then it occurred to me…

Two drove away…

Three… four…

Five… six… seven…?

I heard footsteps.

Looked up in time to see him step out around the car.

Every part of me didn’t want this.

“You gotta be kidding me!” There was eight. Pushing up onto all fours. “Okay, bud… just gimme a sec,” I panted, lifting a hand.

Getting onto my knees, my arms felt like weights at my sides so I let them sag. I looked up at him, recognizing his face.

“Oh, hey… Make your time… What’s good, man? Sure you don’t wanna just drive away too? Neither one of us is enjoy this.”

He cracked his neck like an 80s villain.

God damnit.

He came in, latched onto my shirt lapels like a high school bully, snatched me off of the ground and slammed me against the one car remaining. My back hit it so hard he shoved all the air out of my lungs. The car frame shook.

I grunted out a sound that I regret to admit sounded sexual.

Just being honest.

Then I said something worse, my eyes dancing all over his face.

“… God damn you’re strong.”

Why was that arousing?

He was a big boy. Tall, strapping. Kinda fugly in all the wrong ways though.

Sloppy beard too. Not that I could talk shit.

I couldn’t even grow one.

“GRK!” His fist reminded me I was in a fight when it bashed into my stomach, dropping me to my knees in front of him.

Then his knee bounced my head off of the car.

Hard.

The sound that came out of me was something between surprise and crushing defeat.

Cus shit got hazy after that. Real hazy.

I was clear enough to realize he just hauled me back up though.

And clear enough to register the part where I fucked up.

When he beat me the fuck up against that car.

I couldn’t help but think about going to school in Meridian while I took that ass whooping. Dropped my sword…

Dvar’s sword.

I kinda felt helpless again.

Grunting. Desperate. Guttural.

God damn I hated getting beat up. I don’t think people realize how bad it hurts.

Still wasn’t bleeding though…

When he panted his way to a stop and I collapsed, I licked my lip.

Tasted it.

Oh.

Still wasn’t bleeding a lot though.

One of my braids snatched a harsh sound out of my lungs as he hauled me up by it.

I glared up at him, sitting up on my knees, one of my eyes shut by the sun, a line of blood running down from my nose.

“Go ahead. Say it.” I said with a savage grin.

“Say what, China Doll?” He rasped.

“That I got a pretty mouth.”

We both let out a winded chuckle.

His turned into a sharp grunt.

Right around the time I punched him in the fucking nuts.

That big tall moosie slowly collapsed in front of me while I slowly got myself up to my feet. I had to use the car.

I honestly couldn’t believe I was still standing.

I took a few steps back, hand on the car to support myself. Then I ran those steps forward and PUNTED that fucker in the face while he was on his knees.

“FUCK you…”

His head snapped back and he dropped.

I huffed like a runner, proud of myself as I stumbled over to grab Dvar’s sword.

I dragged my sore, sorry ass back towards the diner, listening to the edge of his sword drag the ground at my side. I couldn’t even lift it anymore.

Dvar was standing outside of the door on the phone.

Still.

But I was alive. I was still standing…

Fuck, I felt like an action hero.

I looked down to see my shirt was torn. God knows where my tie went. Somewhere in the chaos I lost it.

I noticed my abs.

I didn’t have screaming muscles or anything but... Whatever… I was soft-boy sexy right now and I knew it.

I stood up tall and looked at Dvar, hoping to see his impressed face.

Was I that desperate for approval?

… Yes.

Still just being honest.

This was the part where I said something cool, right?

I really couldn’t believe it. I fought my own fight. Most of the time I was with my platoon or the battalion. Most of the time victory was pretty much a guarantee. I didn’t have a single person with me this time. Even when I walked out of the restaurant, I didn’t have Dvar’s cloud of safety over my head either.

I just proved I was worth the purchase didn’t I?

I deserved a spot under that blanket of safety he provided, right?

Wait… why did I associate his presence with safety?

My body hurt too much to want that thought at all.

But wait!

I forgot about my moment. My James Dean moment.

It was still here. I looked at Dvar and blurted the first thing that came to my tired, out of breath and adrenaline high mind.

I threw my fist into the air like The Breakfast Club and shouted, “SHORT KINGS STAND UP!”

Dvar lifted a hand.

“Pretty Boy!” He hissed with a snap. “I’m on the phone.”

Instantly deflating me.

My arm dropped, my shoulders slumped and my lip curled.

Frown mode 9000, Dvar.

Frown mode 9000.

Asshole.

But then I coughed, blood dripping down my chin onto the front of my white button up.

I lifted my hand, droplets of blood landing in it. Confused.

I looked up at Dvar.

Dvar looked at me.

His phone slowly lowered.

His face was genuinely concerned.

That scared me a little bit… sure…

But I was more pissed about getting drops of blood on my Jordan Concorde 11s.

“Aw man, my shoes…”

Dvar ran to me.

When the curtain of consciousness closed, the last thing I felt was him catch me.