“One, two, three, slip.”

Seth struck Andrew’s open hands with fast, snapping punches. Jab, cross, hook. He slipped under the incoming open-handed strike, and landed a light leg-kick on Andrew.

“Good. Again.”

Seth threw out the combination, getting his blood flowing and his hips and shoulders loose. Jessica watched from the bed.

“Sprawl.”

Seth shifted into high gear as one of Andrew’s horrifically precise double-legs came at him. Seth’s elbows found purchase in Andrew’s shoulder and he flung his hips and legs as far back as he could, out of reach of the iron hooks of Andrew’s arms. Andrew shifted his weight, arms going up as he dipped past the elbows, a shoulder burying in Seth’s gut as he clasped his hands in the small of Seth’s back and squeezed. Seth knew what came next, he had less than a second to react.

Seth dropped his weight to the floor before Andrew could bring the strength of his legs to bear, wrapping his legs and pulling Andrew into guard. The fall loosened Andrew’s grip just enough Seth could set up for a sweep… Andrew stuffed it. Seth kicked and they separated.

“Jesus, Andrew,” he said. “Jayson doesn’t have a ground game like that.”

Andrew shrugged as they stood to their feet. “If you can handle my takedowns, you can handle anything he has. Set back up. Check, push-kick, back kick.”

The two worked Seth’s primary repertoire of combinations, the clock inching closer and closer to midnight.

“Alright,” said Andrew. “Relax now. Twenty minutes until you’re up, so just let your nerves chill. Stay loose.” He sat down next to Jessica.

Seth bounced on his feet. His energy was up now, there would be no getting it down until after the fight. He was on, and so was the void. All thoughts of CFA were fading from his head, his only focus was on Jayson now. He thought about the gall of Madeline to go straight for the one person he knew he’d mentioned time and again while they were dating as his rival. Had he been the one… No. Jayson was at the tournament, not auditions where Emma had first tipped Seth off from. He didn’t know if that made it better or worse that Madeline was already off to the next conquest.

All of it served to fuel his anger. This time, he would put this rivalry between him and Jayson to rest for good.

***

Seth stalked through the house, shirtless and shoeless in his black fighting trunks, mouthpiece in hand. He drew stares from the few partiers in the house who cared more about the alcohol and music than the fight, but it wasn’t the exposure of his lean body that did it, it was the look of murder drawn across his face that pulled the glances. Seth threw open the front door and stepped out onto the pavement, standing at the back of the crowd with Andrew and Jessica as he crossed his arms. The last fight before his was going down.

Seth recognized the drop-in blue belt from a earlier in the week. He was going head-to-head with another similarly-sized kid. It was a slugfest. What school was he from? He definitely had the Kyokushin style ingrained into him on some level, but beyond that Seth had no clue.

The drop-in tagged the other fighter with a low-kick to the leg, followed on with a straight shot to the gut, and ended it with a same-side elbow to the face.

“What’s the time, Andrew?”

“Eleven fifty-seven.”

Seth nodded, beginning to bounce on the balls of his feet as David announced the winner from the center of the cage. Seth’s eyes darted around, scanning for his opponent. There, a third of the way around the cage, right on the edge of the crowd. Kissing Madeline.

The irony of that making him angry wasn’t lost on Seth, but that didn’t stop the emotion from coming. It was an insult, directed at him, by the both of them, and it had backed him into a corner. Seth felt bloodlust rising in his chest, accompanied by the same kind of desperation a wild animal caught in a trap would feel. He was that animal, and this cage was that trap—a trap he’d been trying to walk out of until this gauntlet had gotten tossed down in front of him.

“Hey.” Andrew's hand landed on his shoulder. “That’s you, get in.”

Seth hadn’t even heard the announcement. His world came back into focus as he strode up the steps and into the cage, popping his mouthpiece in and looking around at the crowd. Jayson stood opposite the cage from him, wearing gold and red fighting trunks. They two had started very physically different when they began training at CFA all those years ago, but at some point in the past year, Seth’s hard work had surpassed Jayson’s natural athleticism, at least as far as conditioning was concerned.

Seth had never fought Jayson no-holds-barred before, and as David walked around the ring, announcing the ‘rules’, screaming and hyping up the crowd, he felt a flash of fear that that might change things. His mind wandered back to all the times Jayson had wiped the floor with him. That victory at Grand Island was one out of hundreds of matches between them. Had Seth gotten lucky?

He locked eyes with Jayson, who drew one finger across his throat and slid the gesture into a middle finger raised across the ring. Seth felt hesitation stir within him. What was he doing? Ms. Tull and Coach John expected more from their black belts. Not this violent bloodsport. Seth shook his head, blinking, trying to clear the rage, the hesitation, the uncertainty. He looked to the door of the cage. David stood there.

“Fighter are you ready?”

No, no, he wasn’t. This wasn’t right.

“Fighter are you ready?”

“I’m gonna beat your ass like the bitch that you are, Seth!” Shouted Jayson, barely audible over the thump of the music.

Seth glanced at the door again. He had to get out.

“Let’s get it on!”

Jayson stalked across the ring, guard up as he closed the distance to Seth.