Part 4: Beyond the Flame

Ulu: I watched her become a bright flame—from the size of a small stone, swelling to the point where a single palm could no longer hold her.
Ulu: Her flame is constantly changing, its outer glow flickering out an endless dance in an instant.
Ulu: Sometimes, fire can burn too fast, can burn low, and die out. But the embers glow still.
Ulu: Have I managed to get closer to her? Or am I even further away now?
Ulu: I assume my flame is brighter than before. Now I can see clearly the pattern on her clothes ...
Ulu: Flammy still prefers bright colors, and she’s just as straightforward and practical as I remember.
She advanced another small step down that path of flames.
Ulu: Soon, I’ll need to shake the ash from my body to see if I'm still a bright, burning flame...
Spathodea’s Mother: Are you awake, Cookie? Your friends are waiting outside.
Spathodea’s Mother: There’s some salad and milk on the table. If there’s anything else you need, take a look in the fridge. We’ll be back later tonight.
Spathodea’s Mother: Don’t quote me on this, dear, but I don’t think professional boxers sleep till noon...
Spathodea: ...
As the sound of her mother's footsteps fade. The child whimpers and rolls over.
Spathodea: ...Hmm.
The cheers of the audience, the praise from her coach, the sweat dripping from her fists... Everything disappears, like those happy memories of dancing over redwood branches, gradually they slip away.
The crowd’s cheers turn into prodding calls, crawling into her sore ears from outside her window.
Spathodea: Huh...? Eh?
Stretching out a hand beneath the blanket, she grabs her alarm clock and drags it under. A split second later, she screams and leaps off her bed.
Spathodea: How can that be the time?! Oh no... I said I’d meet up with my friends... I’m late!
Spathodea: Mummy... Did mum come to my room? Was I dreaming? Good grief!
She stumbles and crawls toward the window, opens it with one hand, and pokes her head out.
Spathodea: Wait for me! Please! Just wait a minute—I overslept...
Her friends are downstairs, laughing and horsing around.
Sam: Sleepyhead! Sleepyhead!
Mia: Don't worry, Flammy! We only just got here!
Spathodea: I... I just need to brush my teeth first—
Mia: Flammy, you're usually up early and waiting by the door for us... What's the matter, has the training been wearing you out recently?
Upon hearing her friend's concern, the girl scratches her head awkwardly.
Spathodea: Heh... I fell asleep last night at the dinner table while biting into a sandwich, scared my mum and dad half to death.
Spathodea: But I slept so well! I feel so calm after training, and my hands always feel so warm.
Spathodea: What about you lot? I heard everyone saying a few days ago that they’re holding a tennis tournament nearby—
Mia: ...
The gentle girl remains silent for a few seconds before averting her gaze.
Mia: Homework and volunteering have kept me busy... I don't think I'll be able to play tennis next season.
Sam: Oi, same here! I’m gonna be working on my survival skills, fishing, and the like, so I can show off next time I go on holiday.
Sam: If I catch anything over ten pounds, those other kids are gonna worship me like a god for the whole year!
Sam: Fancy giving it a try? We could go to the lake this afternoon?
Spathodea: Me? Nah, I’ve got boxing practice today. Sorry, Sam...
Sam: Oh... Yeah, sorry, I forgot...
They are still friends. They still look the same as they did before. Not one of them has suddenly become "just some kid" to the others.
But still, Spathodea lowers her head and rubs her fingers against the boxing gloves hanging around her waist. But still—
It seems that some kind of change has already begun to take its toll on them.

Spathodea: breathes out
The girl’s dinner of stew and pigeon is as delicious as can be, but it still fails to fill her heart.
Spathodea: I had dinner with my mum, saw my friends, and went to training... It’s been a pretty full day.
She mumbles to herself, pushing her spine against the door panels. From the gap beneath the door, the light of the corridor melds with the warm yellow of the room.
Spathodea: My friends... have their own lives, and so do I...
Spathodea: I ... stand by my choice still.
Spathodea: Is this really necessary? Can things really change so fast?
Spathodea raises her head and looks toward the ceiling. The soft light of the desk lamp shines on the photo by the window, reflecting a spot of light onto the ceiling.
Spathodea: I'm going to be in a real ring.
Ever so gently, she continues to herself.
Spathodea: The champion gets a belt... a golden belt... It's not pure gold or even gold-plated... It's just golden—
Spathodea: It’s a friendly fight, but even so, it’s still a golden belt.
It didn't feel so out-of-reach to her as it once was. As long as you jump up high enough, like grabbing at those brilliant leaves, everything is within reach.
But pressure follows close behind.
Spathodea: ...What if I freeze up in front of my opponent?
Spathodea: ...What if I’m not good enough when the time comes?
Spathodea: ...
She switches off the dazzling light and collapses on the bed, her head filled with unanswered questions.
Spathodea: I'm just a kid. I haven't even been in a real boxing ring before.
Ulu: You are the most remarkable priestess there ever was, the best companion there is, and my most important friend!
Spathodea: Will Coach make me stop training if I can't keep up?
Ulu: I trust you, Flammy! I'll do whatever I could to help you, to share my flame with you ...
Spathodea: They said arcanists are physically weaker than most humans. Is that just something I can't fix, even with all the training in the world?
Ulu: Don't be so down on yourself. I’ve seen how much effort you’ve put into this! Do you still remember what the whole point of the Uluru Games was in the very beginning?
Spathodea: I remember that voice, echoing with my words among the rocks...
Ulu: Peace, love, justice ...
Spathodea: Mutual assistance, and health.
Spathodea: This is what sports are all about.
It feels suddenly as though a flame is rising up in her stomach.
But in her hesitation it silently subsides.
She turns over, presses her cheek firmly against her fluffy pillow, and closes her eyes.
Spathodea: I’m thinking too much again. These thoughts aren’t gonna help me.
Spathodea: I should just sleep early and get up at the crack of dawn... Squeeze in a couple more sets of footwork...
Spathodea: However this ends, all I can do is give it a go and see what happens...!
She endures the burning sensation in her stomach, trying to channel all of her energy into calming herself down, hoping to fall asleep as soon as she possibly can.
Spathodea: Sleep... Sleep...
Spathodea: Sleep... Spathodea...