Niko and Teddy stood near a display of classic comics in a tall glass case.

One caught Niko’s eye, an old Marvel edition of A Princess of the Changing Winds. It was probably the book—the original novel and not the comic adaptation—that had changed Niko’s life the most. He’d read it in the third grade. And then reread it every summer after.

He’d forgotten there had been a comic book run of the novel in the 1970s. The colors were bright, and the illustrations not quite right. The princess, the sage old teacher in the book, had always been older in Niko’s imagination. Seeing the characters gave Niko a bad case of nostalgia.

Teddy snapped his fingers in front Niko’s face. “Focus. We both can’t afford anything in those cases. And those old Marvel editions of Princess went only had the flash and not the flesh of the story. So, let’s talk about Stan Howling.”

“Maddy said he wasn’t too terrible. But that name. Stan Howling. What is he?” Niko asked.

Teddy wiped his face. If Teddy was walking, he was sweating. “He’s a Third and Fourth Study Sunfire, Mars Belt, but close to Venus.”

“A Sunfire?” Niko wondered. “With that name?”

“Artist names are like band names. It’s easy to come up with bad ones. I think he was going for the surprise name. Like, I’m Stan Howling, and I could be any Battle Sign, and you won’t know, until I throw my first fireball.”

“Third and Fourth Studies,” Niko repeated. “That’s odd as well.”

Third Study was offensive prana attacks. Fourth Study was for defensive energy skills. It was a little strange that he didn’t have First Study abilities, since most people started there, imbuing their punches and kicks with prana. That was the traditional way to do things.

Before his terrible decision, Niko had been a Mars Belt Quintessence, with First and Second Studies; he’d had a physical attack as well as a defensive maneuver, utilizing his speed. But he’d lost his Second Study. Now he was a Mercury Belt, weak, rusty, and worthless. He wasn’t a Battle Artist anymore. This was a bad idea.

Teddy, though, had other ideas. “He doesn’t have a Second Study, Niko.”

That made him grin. “You think if I get in close, keep him off balanced, he won’t be able to hit me with fire.”

Teddy shoved him. “See? This is a great idea. It’ll get you moving in the right direction. I mean, come on, you were born to be a Battle Artist. You haven’t been yourself since you gave it up.”

Niko didn’t think that was the case. People simply liked to put you in boxes. If you biked to places, you were cyclist. If you wrote a book, you were a writer. In you went to church, you were religions. It helped with birthday presents. You could always buy a guy another set of Artist robes because if they fought twice a year, they were an Artist.

Teddy searched Niko’s face. He must’ve seen the doubt. Teddy pushed beyond it. “We have a bit of a problem because Stan isn’t a slouch when it comes to simple sharira attacks. And he seems like kind of an Arena ass.”

“Like how much ass are we talking about?” Niko didn’t like where this was going.

“Like mule levels of ass.” Teddy frowned. “So Maddy asked him to fight, and he took it that he’s the next big deal. Like he’s featured on the website, so that means he and Andrew J. Coffey are basically competing at the same level.”

Niko blew out his breath. “One of those guys. He’s not young, is he?”

Teddy shook his head. “Middle-age. Hobbyist. Trying to break in.”

“As Stan Howling.” Niko surprised himself by looking forward to the fight. His chances of winning were slim to none. Yet, a slim chance was better than no chance. And if he took too much damage, the Arena Master would call the fight. Maddy wasn’t going to take any chances. Again, her small con couldn’t handle any bad publicity.

Teddy shot him a finger gun. “As Stan Howling. Are you going to compete as Niko Black, like in the old days? Nikodemus the Blacksmith, the badass, the best of the best?”

“No, just Niko is fine.” Kowalczyk, in Polish, meant blacksmith. That sure fit his family. “I never liked Niko Black as a name.”

Vanessa’s boyfriend’s cousin showed up with the robes; they were ripe and soaking wet. The guy must’ve fought a water-based sign, a Woda, a Luna, or an Erosion. The green room was a conference room, cleared of chairs, with a table on one end. There was an empty bowl of tortilla chips, a full bowl of thickening salsa, and a selection of diet sodas. All the bottled water was gone. The big pot of coffee was empty, though there was a smaller pot of cooling decaf.

Teddy winced. “Okay, this isn’t exactly the green room. It’s more like an off lime. But we don’t need anything fancy. We’re about the fight, not the frills.”

Niko unbuttoned his shirt and stripped it off. “What’s this ‘we’ you’re talking about? Even back in the day, it wasn’t like we fought together.”

“Ouch, bro.”

Niko felt the air turn sour. Teddy’s face darkened a bit. This was dangerous, talking about their past together. It hadn’t been all roses.

Teddy turned his back on him. “I’ll give you some privacy while I defend myself. First of all, you know I’ve supported you since seventh grade, when I saw you fight. Ah, even as a little Mercury Belt, your First Study attack was mighty. The Mighty Kowalczyk! Isn’t that what you fought under?”

Niko put on the top shirt of the robes and grimaced as the damp material touched his skin. Putting on wet clothes was terrible. And wet clothes that smelled of someone else’s body odor? Maddy was going to owe him big. But this was as much for Teddy as it was for her. “Yes, the Mighty Kowalczyk.” There was a name that made him grimace. He wanted to put his friend at ease. “Even I wasn’t around for you, you were always there for me. There wasn’t ever ‘we’ but there’s always been a ‘we.’ You know?”

“Yes, I do know. If it wasn’t for my asthma, I’d be fighting Stan Howling!” Teddy made a fist as if he expected something to happen. Nothing did. His birthday was September 5, so that made him a Gravitas, but Teddy had always been a Second Study fighter, when he fought. While Teddy loved the Arena more than most people loved chocolate, he’d stopped fighting. He blamed his asthma, but Niko always thought there was more to it than that.

Niko finished buttoning the twelve buttons that went from his right collar to his left hip. He pulled on the pants. More wet clothes madness. He cinched the belt. The robes were the color of a muddy green river.

Yet when Teddy turned, he beamed. “Oh, dude, it’s so good seeing you in your Artist robes. Seriously, can’t you feel how right this is?”

Niko raised his hands over his head, stretched, and then fell into a fighting stance, feet shoulder width apart. He bounced back and forth. “I can’t believe this is happening. It shouldn’t be happening, but I’m kind of glad it is.” He tried to temper his excitement. “But we both know I’m not going to win. I’m a crippled Mercury Belt against a Mars Belt. Best case scenario, I don’t die. Worst case? Stan doesn’t want to give the people a good fight and takes me out in the first round.”

“Crippled?” Teddy asked.

His friend didn’t know the truth. No one did. “Cusp, you know, I’m a total cusp between Quintessence and Luna. Crippled.”

Teddy pursed his lips. “Yeah, there’s been a ton of cusps that have kicked major butt. Franklin Wash in the 1930s was a cusp Artist, a Jupiter Belt, who won the 1937 LBA Championships with a Discordant sign study.”

“Franklin Wash went on to fight in World War II. Right?”

“Bingo. A cusp who punched Nazis in the face. There you have it.” Teddy dug into his pocket and took out his phone. “A text from Maddy. Are we ready to rumble?”

Niko bent over, stretching out his hamstrings. “No, I’m not ready to rumble.”

“Ready to win?”

Niko’s muscles were as tight and constricted as his core. “Let’s just say I’m ready to give another lesson for my teacher to use with me.”

“A thousand losses is a teacher. A single victory is a pause.” The big guy knew his Pranad.

Niko straightened. “But you know, it would be nice to pause for a second.”

“Do you think that means you pause to enjoy? Or is it just some bit of lost wisdom?” Teddy asked.

Niko wasn’t sure, but he thought he knew. “One victory isn’t the deal. You pause because it doesn’t mean much.”

That put a smile on Teddy’s face. “What’s the deal then? What matters in the Battle Arts? Tell me, great master.”

“The deal? Battle Artists battle. That’s the deal. Win, lose, or die, a true Battle Artist is in a constant state of creation and destruction.”

“This feels like old times. This feels like the start of something.” Teddy’s voice was soft, like he was talking to himself. “Creation and destruction. Not sure I get that. Boil it down for me.”

Niko remembered his high school sage, what he always said. “A lot of people will talk about the Arts, especially other Battle Artists, but not many will really practice them. In the end, the deal is to do it.”

“Then let’s do it.” Teddy laughed.

It did feel like old times, which scared Niko. It frightened him far more than what Stan Howling might do to him. Or that Andrew J. Coffey was going to watch him fight. The celebrity Artist was there, standing with his arms crossed, in the sparse crowd around the Arena.

The day had gone from mildly annoying to straight-up terrifying. A guy’s day off shouldn’t be so fraught with danger and intrigue.