Part 3: The Ones Chasing the Flame

Ulu: Clench your fist, swing it, pull it back, swing again. Her arms are sore, but her palms are still burning.
Ulu: I chased after her—watched her practice and practice, spending all her time and energy, making herself burn all over, like a real little flame.
Ulu: Time is like an endless wrinkle—deep, sedate, and difficult to explore, climbing from the cheek to the center.
Ulu: It makes me so happy to see her still so young at heart and full of life.
Ulu: The closer I get to her, the more I feel ablaze.
Ulu: I know I’ve never truly been extinguished. I’ve never fallen back into that lightless abyss.
Ulu: But this feeling is different from when I saw her before.
Ulu: Did you pick up those stones because you heard my voice?
Ulu: Do you remember Malingee or the sports game? Are you still you?
Ulu: I think my long slumber is about to finally come to an end.
Ulu: Faster, even faster! I need to talk to you face to face ...

Coach: Spathodea, strike faster! Pay attention to where you put your feet!
Spathodea: Okay!
Coach: Keep your distance, don't let your heels hit the ground!
Coach: Keep on your toes and tense your ankles! Throw your fist out!
Spathodea: ...Okay!
Spathodea: Take a deep breath and let your body sink down naturally... Step back with the strike...
Spathodea: Yeah!
Coach: Faster!
Spathodea: Focus... Focus...
Spathodea: Relax... Just grab that spark...
Coach: One-two! Quick!
Spathodea: Same direction...!
Coach: Good, now stop!
Coach: Grab a towel and wipe up that sweat. Have a rest, then come find me by the ring.
Coach: I'm going to check on the others. You alright?
Spathodea: Um... I’m, I’m fine! Thanks!
Wooden benches don’t make for the most comfortable seats. But at the club, they’re a hot commodity.
After offering a breathless greeting to her peers, she moves her sports bag from the bench and tries to squeeze out a little space for herself.
This is precious break time.
Spathodea: Gotta keep my elbow firm, I let it slip too much, and I took too many steps back...
Spathodea: The footwork and punches—all the key points seem simple enough when you look at them on their own...
She takes out her notebook from her bag and flips to her schedule, checking it carefully.
The page is densely packed with dutifully written training plans accompanied by cutesy doodles.
Spathodea: Where am I gonna find time to do these special exercises...? There’s already too much to do...
Spathodea: sigh Putting it all together is like trying to do the most difficult homework imaginable! No... it's even harder!
Spathodea: If you wanna dodge, there’s no way you can attack, and punching wildly without thinking just leaves you wide open...
Spathodea: ...
She extends her left arm, clenches her fist, and swings it toward herself, then promptly lets her fist hover in front of her nose.
After several futile attempts, her hand finally returns to her side and strikes the bench with a sonorous thud.
Spathodea: Woah! If a fist flies in front of your face, of course you’re gonna want to dodge it!
Spathodea: Spathodea, Spathodea, be a brave girl wherever you are.
Spathodea: Don't make Coach angry. He has a good enough temper, most of the time, but he’s even scarier than a Tasmanian devil when he gets real angry...
A hulking shadow envelops the little girl. Her whispering no longer a secret.
Coach: Oh, a Tassie eh? You think those chattering fur balls are really as scary as I am?
Spathodea: —!
Spathodea: C-Coach! When did you...
Coach: Don’t worry, I just wanted to talk to you for a second.
He waves his hand, casting away the noisy marsupials and their childish banter.
Coach: I like to be direct, whether I’m talking to an adult or a child, it doesn't matter. It’s good for you to hear the undiluted truth.
Coach: You sure you still want to carry on with boxing?
Spathodea: What...? Of course, I do! You mean I didn't do well at all today, did I? I understand!
Spathodea: I was thinking about it just now—I've been focusing too much on defense, so when I do punch, it’s just not strong enough!
Spathodea: I can do better! I’ll put in more time...
Coach: Nah, you performed great in today’s training.
Spathodea: Huh...?
Her litany of pleas came to a sudden stop.
All the words she had prepared in her mind vanish into thin air, and the expression on her face becomes emptier than her pages of unfinished homework.
Coach: Kids these days are just like Tassies, howling on without even stopping to take a breath...
Coach: Look over there. You ever noticed the photos on the wall behind you?
Spathodea: Of course! That’s Gans, and... that’s Burns! Patrick, and...
Coach: And this is Spathodea.
His finger points to the end of the line of photos—a blank space waiting to be filled.
Coach: She received... won the golden belt in a big competition.
Spathodea: ...!
Coach: I’ve taught a lot of kids, and very few of them have shown any real talent, but you’re up there with the best of them.
Coach: And they certainly can’t deal out the kinds of sharp, fast blows you can.
Spathodea: Can I really do it? Could I win a golden belt?
Coach: You’ve got what it takes, for sure. If you choose to go down this road, you can achieve whatever you set your mind to.
Coach: The problem now is that you gotta make a choice.
Coach: Boxing’s a lot of fun, and of course, I know you love it just as much as I do. I don't need to sell you on it.
Coach: But I need to make sure you understand that the things you’ll face on this path will be completely unlike anything you’ve experienced before. Your life as you know it will change forever.
Coach: I'm not just talking about intense training. The expectations on you will be a lot stricter...
Spathodea: I can do it... I’ll do anything—
Coach: Nah, don't make a choice like this lightly. You have to think carefully before making a decision.
Coach: I want you to talk it over with your parents.
Spathodea: ...I understand.

Mia: Keep up, Flammy! We’re almost done picking up pebbles!
Mia: Come, I found two really flat ones for you.
Spathodea: ...
Spathodea: ...Oh! Thank you!
Sam: Did I see Coach chew you out today? Oof... But he lectures me every class; it's not a big deal.
Spathodea: No, not at all. He asked me if I wanted to try becoming a professional boxer. I've been thinking about it non-stop...
Spathodea: I want to say yes, but he said it's a big deal... and I should talk with my parents first.
Sam: Wow! A professional boxer!!!
Just a few words are enough to ignite the children's awe and imagination.
Mia: Flammy, if I bring you a T-shirt tomorrow, think you could sign it for me?
Mia: That way, when you become world champion, I can hang it up in my room!
Sam: Oh, and could you give me your autograph! Wait, gimme three—no, make it ten!
Spathodea: Autograph? Don't be silly—what autograph?! If you really want me to sign something for you, feel free to rip a page out of my homework book!
Sam: Don't get your knickers in a twist! You don’t have to do it if you don’t want to... You still playing with us today?
The pebble stuffed into her palm by her friend began to heat up slightly.
The weather is perfect for Malingee, with sunlight leaking through the leaves and glittering dust permeating the air.
Take a deep breath and let the warm, fresh air rush into your chest.
Spathodea: breathes out
Spathodea: I’m playing! Of course, I’m playing! Just watch, I’m gonna make you all fall in a shower of petals— Ouch!
Fatigue and muscle pain finally catch up with the lively girl.
Mia: Are you alright, Flammy?
Spathodea: Nah, yeah, just got a bit of a muscle ache... I'm fine. When I go home... I’ll give myself a massage!
Spathodea: It’s pretty common, don't worry... I’ll still come first!
The choice she has to make will only be temporarily put on hold, it won't go away.
Sooner or later, she'll have to make a decision.