Part 6: Sugar and Salt

Ulu: Almost... I've almost got her back now.
Ulu: She will burn within me, and I will make her shine brighter than anything else in the world.
Ulu: We are as close as tinder and flame.
The flame’s tongue and the hem of the tiny figure’s clothes are now separated by only a fine line.
This long, scorching, flickering road of blazing light is about to reach its end.
Ulu: As soon as we’re together again, we’ll have a huge, gigantic hug! Then... Then we'll go back to the field together and see what it looks like now!
Ulu: Maybe you’ll remember those days rowing the canoe, climbing rocks, or picking silver grass and wild fruit!
Ulu: You just need to bow a little and put your hand in me ... Just like what you did before ...
Spathodea: Oi... move- please... Get out of the way!
Through the twisting jungle of limbs, she finally reaches the entrance to the rest area.
In an environment as hectic as this, it is nearly impossible for a single voice to reach anyone's ears clearly.
Spathodea: Strewth... There are so many more people here than last time...
Spathodea: I... Hey! Sorry, I just need to... get through!
Spathodea: Erm, sorry! Whose foot was that?
Fortunately, her destination is not as far away as she imagined.
Spathodea: Finally— Ah... Just need to open the door...
Spathodea: Hi, I’m helping out with the competition, currently on patrol duty...
Spathodea: Is there anything anyone needs here?
Impatient Competitor: Yeah, you can stop blocking the door. Get out of the way, kid.
Spathodea: O-Okay!
Spathodea: Huh?
As she moves aside, an odd thing seizes her attention. The fighter's bandages were tied too loose.
Spathodea: Excuse me, sir—just a moment... I think your bandage isn’t right—
Liam: Hello again, little brawler! Come to see the fight?
Spathodea: Liam!
It was a not-so-unexpected encounter. It seemed like he called out to her purposefully ...
Spathodea: Oh, I gotta tell you something about that fighter just now! His bandages—
Liam: Don't worry 'bout it. Come on, sit down over here.
He leads Spathodea to a relatively quiet corner.
Liam: You’re a smart kid. Listen, the next time you see something like that, don't go shouting it out loud for everyone to hear.
Liam: Find the right opportunity to point it out to the referee or one of the managers, but don’t show a fighter up on the spot.
Spathodea: Huh...?
Spathodea: But the rules say your bandages gotta be wrapped up tightly before the fight starts...
Spathodea: If the referee sees they’re not tied according to the regulations, they’ll get penalized, won't they?
Liam: See how you remember the rules so perfectly? You reckon that fighter could’ve possibly forgotten the rules just now?
Spathodea: But when you fight like that, there’s a bigger chance of putting your joints at risk! Or getting a fracture...
Spathodea: Why would he do something like that...?
Liam: There are fighters who make a living winning every fight, and there are those who make a living by losing.
Liam: Sometimes there are fighters that will let themselves get beat ... they agree to take a fall.
Spathodea: N-No, that’s—
That word finds themselves stuck in her throat, cold, thorny, and unwilling to breach the light of day.
Liam: You're right, it’s cheating. I know what you're thinking, brawler ... Yeah, he’s turned his back on the code you’d expect from an athlete.
Liam: But he'll get a guaranteed payoff for it—enough to pay his school fees and the fees for his brothers and sisters, too.
Liam pauses for a moment before continuing.
Liam: You’ll come up against all kinds of opponents in money matches. This is just one kind that isn’t even worth mentioning.
Liam: Some people fight for their dreams, even if they’re the only ones who believe they’ll ever come true. Some fight because it’s the only choice they have.
Liam: I wonder, what do you think might be going through your mind if you had to stand in the ring with him?
Spathodea: I’d think it’s not fair! If I won like that... does that even count as a win?
Liam: So, would you go easy on him? Pull your punches?
Spathodea: I sure would! I wouldn't want to injure the guy...
Liam: Then you might end up being the one who gets hurt.
Spathodea: No... but...
The loose bandage enters her thoughts, and sticks there.
This is a reality that exists outside the rules of the sport. Sometimes things have to go a certain way, sometimes paths change from their original course.
Spathodea: I don't understand...
Liam: Scratches and bruises can heal up with nary a trace.
Liam: But muscle and bone damage can throw a huge spanner into your career.
Liam: An arcanist’s strength doesn’t lie in their physical ability.
Liam: When he finally recovers and wants to get back in the ring to carry on making a living...
Liam: He’ll still be young, but his body might not be able to keep up. His identity as an arcanist will always be hanging over his head like a dark shadow.
Spathodea: ...
The words were like cold fingers, poking their way down her spine, causing her to tremble slightly.
Liam: So he’ll be passed over and fall from whatever position he made it to, constantly falling behind.
Liam: At the same time, all the competition prize money and opportunities start to dry up, he has fewer and fewer opportunities to actually fight.
Liam: But it's not often you see this kind of fight-fixing going on in such a small money match.
Spathodea: ...Thank you for teaching me about... this side of things.
Spathodea: Did Coach ask you to tell me about all this?
Liam: Course not! Has hearing all this got you frightened?
He reaches out his hand toward Spathodea with a piece of chocolate in his palm.
Liam: Here, take it. It’ll give you a little energy boost when you need it.
Liam: Everyone who’s seen you fight is hoping your career will last a long time—that you won’t end up faltering on the path to your goal.
Spathodea: ...I’ll keep my guard up and take it slow.
Liam: Good to hear. Eat something, cheer yourself up a bit, and go enjoy the fight.
Liam: It's just about choices.
She places the chocolate still wrapped in its brown plastic coating into her pocket.
Where it can accompany a small roll of bandage, a keychain, and a cloth for wiping her gloves.
Spathodea: Wow! Thank you very much...
Spathodea: I’ll see you next time then, Liam!
Liam: See you next time, little brawler!

It takes many times her previous effort to eke out a path through the frenzied crowd.
She can vaguely see the edge of the ring. One of the neutral corners was littered by bags filled with bloodstained cotton balls.
The fight is still underway, and some people are still loudly shouting the title or name of a certain boxer.
Coach: Hey kid, you see Liam?
Spathodea: Huh? Oh! I ran into him just now in the rest area...
Spathodea: Coach, is Liam a big fan of boxing?
Coach: Liam? Course! He loves boxing so much that even after that injury took him out of fighting professionally, he still takes on whatever boxing related jobs he can find.
Spathodea: He used to be a professional boxer...?
Coach: His photo’s up there on the gym wall. I thought you'd recognized him.
She scanned the photos one by one. Until she reached the spot right in front of the blank space reserved for her.
An athlete whose last name she couldn’t pronounce.
Spathodea: I didn't know he was an arcanist...
Coach: An arcanist? Hah, nah, he's not an arcanist, but he has quite a few friends who are.
Coach: Alright, then—we’re not too busy now, go ahead and slack off. Go take a break, if you want.
He gives her flame-embroidered gloves his customary pat.
Coach: Go on, kid.
Spathodea: ...
Spathodea: Think I'll just sit here for a while... Just a little while.
Spathodea: What he said...
Spathodea: It's all so different from the way I thought things were.
Spathodea: Isn't it enough to just follow the rules and focus on fighting with all you’ve got?
She takes out her old gloves from her backpack, puts them on... and then takes them off.
She finds it relaxing—to slip into something so well-worn and familiar felt like being wrapped in a protective blanket.
She examined the scuffs on the outside leather, remembering how each one got there.
Spathodea: My opponent just now... He bled so much.
Spathodea: It must’ve been so painful. His family had to be really upset seeing all that.
Ulu: That’s right. I still remember that afternoon when you fell over, and we were all on the verge of tears worrying about you...
Spathodea: ...I grazed my elbow pretty badly last time. Mum was so worried...
Her wounds hadn’t fazed her, but thinking about her mother's concern makes the little girl feel somewhat guilty.
Her own unanswered cries had never really fazed her, but somehow seeing her dearest friend in tears made the little flame blaze with frustration.
Ulu: You can ask your friends and family, you can ask me, and then you can make a decision you’ll be happy with...
Spathodea: It’s just a choice. I can make my own decisions.
Spathodea: I already need both hands to count the matches I’ve won, and I’m the captain of the school boxing team.
Ulu: We’ll stand on the playing fields of the Uluru Games once again, Flammy!
Spathodea: Those other things are just distant possibilities.
Ulu: Flammy...?
Spathodea: ...sobs
The flame flickers restlessly, as though vanishing and suddenly reappearing.
Tearing open the wrapper and pushing out the sweet contents, the aroma of cocoa lingers in her nose.
For any child, this is the taste of happiness.
Status and money are not things she usually pays much attention to. The ideas introduced to her just now are like a dark slab of frosted glass over once rose-tinted glasses.
Everything has been obscured. She doesn’t understand any of this, and the unknown is exactly what scares her.
The chocolate melts against her warm palm.
Spathodea: sobs I...
Spathodea: I... want to hear the story of the Uluru Games.
Ulu: Don't be upset, Flammy! We have so many, many stories—you can listen to as many as you’d like!
Ulu: I’ll never shout at you again... I’ll never argue with you again...
The flame shrinks once again, her flowing tears almost extinguishing her completely.
Spathodea: What am I doing? I shouldn't be sitting here crying like this...
Ulu: No, Flammy...
Ulu: ...
The flame silently goes out.
Spathodea: ...
Now is the time. She nibbles the edges of the chocolate bar, then... she takes another bite, then a bigger one.
The sensation of cocoa and oil sliding over one’s tongue proves a boost to her morale.
The subtle saltiness in her mouth doesn’t pervert the flavor of the chocolate.
It is still a wonderful treat popular among children her age.
Spathodea: I want to be in there! In that ring ... once more.
Spathodea: Not only for the Uluru Games, but for my next fight’s ring, and the next fight...
Tears flow down her face to her neck and into her collar. Seizing the collar, she wipes her tears, smearing them.
Sweat seeps between the lines in her palms and the spaces between her fingers, stinging her sore skin.
Just like after every training session.