by Billy Wong
As a meeting of the Fighters Club drew near, it came to hold more of his thoughts than anything else at school. He wondered if he would see familiar faces there besides Elliot, like if Charlene, Peggy, Quinton or any other trained classmates had joined. It was possible they could have joined the Martial or Combat Club instead, if they were less hesitant about diving right in than him.
The night of the meeting arrived. Rupert entered the science classroom where it was held to find Meg standing with Elliot and another boy from his class by the teacher's desk, on one corner of which a chunk of red meteorite rested. She stood atop a short plank of wood, for no reason he could think of other than to look taller. "Sorry about being late. I had some extra time after dinner so I thought I could get a little reading done, but lost track of time."
"Don't worry about it, it's only a few minutes." Meg turned to the club members, mostly boys but also a handful of girls, sitting in the classroom seats—easily pivoting the wood under her feet to keep it under them as she did so. "Since the others have already met Elliot and Jaime, let me introduce you to them. This is Rupert," she said with a hand on her chest as he walked next to her, "the legendary Breastslayer."
Over a score of gazes instantly focused on him, most full of wariness, a few intrigued. Rupert couldn't say he liked the way Meg called attention to the deed that had brought him infamy, but supposed his identity couldn't be hidden and she only tried to lighten the mood with humor. He waved at the club, from which pockets of murmuring rose. "Should he really be here?" a boy with a bull tattooed on his neck asked. "This is supposed to be a place to talk and share, yet who knows what we can say without setting that madman off?"
"I'm not prone to react to words with violence." But he could hardly fault them if they didn't believe it, when he had turned a fistfight into a steel-swinging bloodbath.
"Rupert is a good person," Elliot said. "He went out of his way to help me when he didn't have to."
A ponytailed girl with sinewy arms shot him a dubious look. "Why should we trust your word? Even rapists and murderers have friends and people who look favorably on them." But Rupert not so much, at least before coming here.
Meg raised her palms. "Calm down guys, I have it perfectly under control."
"He nearly killed you before."
"I'm standing in front of you, so it wasn't that close. Besides, he surprised me. I'll be better prepared to deal with him if there's a next time." Into his ear, she whispered, "I'll know to let you 'win,' so you won't go berserk trying to." Maybe she shouldn't have said that though, as he might remember it and not accept her surrender easily if they did fight again.
"We should trust in her judgment," said a flabby boy who leaned heavily back in his chair, looking little like a warrior of any sort. "She is our president and an accomplished warrior of the Free Fangs, after all."
"Thank you for the vote of confidence, Duane. Besides faith in me, we should keep an open mind with regard to understanding and forgiveness. Some people are shaped by their experiences to have quirks that may not be considered ideal, but it doesn't always mean they're bad at heart. We should try to help those who for one reason or another don't fit perfectly into society, rather than ostracize them." The words seemed a bit deeper than he would've expected from her, but then being a former monster hunter she probably knew something about being an outsider herself.
The club quieted down, though he figured he still had a ways to go before earning their trust. "We were going to share stories after being introduced," Elliot said. "Maybe you should go first."
Rupert tensed. "Stories about what?"
Meg placed a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, you don't have to share your life history if you don't want. Club is too short to do that justice anyway. Just tell us a tale of warrior deeds, whether your own or something that inspires you."
"I'm not very used to telling stories. Let the others go first."
Jaime, the boy from his class whose shaven head and coarse goatee contrasted with his smooth youthful features, kicked things off. He told of himself fighting for money to help pay for food for multiple siblings, which got some looks of sympathy. Many who turned to fighting from a young age came from a poorer background, though others belonged to well off families and were trained to uphold their honor. Rupert fit neither of those categories, his parents falling squarely in the middle. He likely wouldn't have had motivation to train as a warrior if not for reasons more specific to him.
After Jaime concluded by stating the family business had found enough success with the help of his winnings to fund his education and sat down, Elliot was up. Instead of talking about himself, he started, "Once upon a time there was a prince whose mother had been known as the strongest and most feared warrior in the world. Because she wasn't married when she had him, she hid his identity and let his father raise him. But after she perished in battle against a dark god, the kingdom was bereft of a ruler which it desperately needed. So the prince's father unveiled him to the masses, and he took the throne. But the world remained in turmoil as the dark god's children continued to strike at humanity, giving them no peace. Then the god itself resurfaced, and-"
"Isn't this story about Saint Prince Julian, the current monarch of Aerilea?" a girl interrupted. "If so shouldn't the main character be his mother Julianna who returned from the dead, saved the continent and became known as the Saint General after letting him stay in her former position?"
Meg gazed curiously at Elliot. "Let him continue. It's rare to hear this story told from the perspective of the revered Julianna's son, and having met the woman I doubt she'd mind somebody giving him the spotlight for once. I do wonder how this will fit into being a warrior tale, though."
His eyes took on a nervous cast, but he went on. "As the dark god's spawn threatened to overrun humankind, the prince went in search of power to protect his people as his mother once had. Journeying to the wellsprings of magic, he collected a fragment of power from each. Upon gathering them from every corner of the continent, he was able to enter the spiritual world and met the goddess who granted the late queen her power. She blessed him, and the prince transformed. From the realm of gods he emerged, clad in skirt and brassiere of magic silk! Protected by the goddess' garb, he twirled his divine fan to part the god's miasma and brought the fight to him. He bludgeoned the evil one about the groin and rump, causing him to howl in pain. Finally he smacked his foe's jewels up through his body into his throat, and he choked to death. Thus darkness was driven from the land, and man ushered in a new era of peace."
Laughter rippled through the room. "That was not the tale of our Aerilean royal family," a boy got out between guffaws. "Though it certainly began like it."
"How did you come up with that?" Meg asked. "It was rather... unusual, especially near the end."
"I actually didn't. It's from my younger sister, who made it up on a stormy night after Julianna's impermanent death. She's gone now, a tragic accident. Nobody else has ever heard that story before, and I just saw a rare chance to share it... to share a part of her so she won't be forgotten."
The club's mirth had died an abrupt and complete death, as no one would have anticipated such a depressing explanation behind that zany yarn. "I'm sorry," Meg said. "But if you don't mind me asking, is there a particular reason that inspires you as a warrior with only a tenuous connection to real fighting?"
"It inspires me because it came from her. She looked up to me and always encouraged and expected me to succeed, despite seeing me fail many times. So even if I can't be the strongest or smartest person, I want to excel to the best of my ability. I know she's watching me somewhere, and wish to make her proud."
"I appreciate you sharing, and believe you will." He sat down as Jaime had. "Your turn, Rupert?"
Those two would be hard to follow. "I still haven't decided on my story. Let some more people go and maybe they can help me chose."
She lowered her voice so only he, standing next to her, would hear. "Or put it off until the me
eting ends so you won't have to. I can tell you're going to be popular already. But since I should follow my own advice and not push too hard, do as you like."
Students continued to tell stories, whether of their own past or heroic deeds by others they held in high regard. "It seems our time is up," Meg said eventually. "Maybe we'll do another story day next meeting, for those who didn't get a chance."
"I feel like this doesn't lend itself to as dynamic discussion as other things we've done," chunky Duane said. "We should have another free chat." Voices and nods expressed their agreement.
"All right, if that's what the majority prefer." She gave Rupert a flustered look for having indeed avoided contributing. "I just hope everyone will be able to participate."
As all left the room, Elliot walked alongside him. "So why didn't you share a story? I get that you might not want to expose your past, but surely there are other tales you enjoy?"
"I'm boring. My favorite tales are the ones everybody already knows."
Elliot smiled. "That attitude reminds me of what you said when I asked for your help. But how would you know you're boring or not a good teacher, if you never try?"
"I just don't have the vigor for that kind of thing."
"You have the vigor to train hard and become a warrior near the match of our exuberant president."
"That's different." He shrugged. "Besides, my initial training took place long ago."
The other youth blinked. "How long could it have been, when you can't be much more than eighteen?"
"Let's just say I was a wee lad when I acquired the bulk of my skills."
"But why, why would a little boy need such deadly knowledge?" Rupert didn't answer. "Never mind, I don't mean to pry."
Good that Elliot at least knew when to back off. Even if he was forced to make himself more accessible by the circumstances, it would be best if nobody rushed into trying to be good friends with a person like him. They briefly walked together in silence, then parted ways.
Weeks passed with Rupert attending club meetings but continuing to avoid being too much of a presence, and still spending his free days in solitary pursuits. Patrick dropped by club now and then, but they didn't see that much of him. He was probably busy studying and making cliff notes for Meg. Though Meg had promised not to force Rupert to open up against his will and adhered to her word, she seemed displeased as if she'd wanted him to progress faster. His only thought in response to that was, she shouldn't blame him for her holding unrealistic expectations.
Chapter 4
One morning on their way to class, Elliot asked Rupert, "Think we should try asking Peggy if she wants to join the Fighters Club? She certainly knows how to fight, and I still wonder what her preferred weapon is."
"I don't know, I doubt the pigtailed princess has room in her schedule for another club. I heard she already belongs to five—the painting club, the cooking club, the dance club, the pottery club, and of course the flower club."
Elliot looked at him with a raised eyebrow. "And where exactly did you hear such detailed information?"
"From her."
"You eavesdropper! I've never seen you talk to her, so what do you do, hang close by listening in on her? I guess you must like her."
He shook his head quickly. "It's not that. She's so small it would feel wrong, like being with a little kid. I'm just curious as to her favored weapon and fighting style, like you."
"And she hasn't mentioned it in almost a month we've been here?"
"Not to my knowledge. The girls she usually associates with aren't the type to be interested in combat, so it's understandable."
"Maybe I could try talking to her. I mean, I'm neither as intimidating as you nor as reluctant, so it's something I could help you with instead of the other way around for once."
Rupert exhaled. He didn't want the boy to feel like he owed him something, since he wasn't one to keep track of debts in either direction. Favors were done by the choice of the giver, who shouldn't think they would necessarily get anything in return. But in this case, Elliot's view could benefit both of them if only mildly. "Go ahead. You could probably use some practice speaking to girls."
"You're one to say that." He had a point, but then he was the one who sometimes expressed interest in girls whether due to their looks or things they did, while Rupert didn't have much interest in girls or boys.
Later when he got a chance in the break between history and math class, Elliot approached the group of girls Peggy chatted with and they exchanged words while Rupert watched from afar. He walked back over with face red. "What did she say?"
"That her battles are fought by a person with big balls on the end of their stick."
"She uses such dirty humor, and in front of other girls? The pipsqueak has a surprising tongue on her."
"She probably eased her friends into it, so they're used to her by now. I wonder how Meg would get along with her, they're both spirited child-sized girls. Anyway, I figure she meant she doesn't normally fight and lets men do the heavy lifting for her."
"She's clearly trained though," he said glancing her way, "and well trained at that. But I suppose that doesn't preclude her from not liking to fight. Her favored weapon might be a hidden dagger or something similarly subtle for emergency use alone. Did you tell her about the club?"
"I was taken off guard by her joke so it wasn't in the smoothest of ways but yeah, I mentioned it."
"What did she say?"
"That she's busy, but she'll look into it." Elliot paused. "By the way, speaking of club, why don't you ask Meg next time we're there if she can help you get a weapon? I doubt even the student council president could retrieve the one confiscated from you, but she might know the right people to find you a new one."
"No need. While it might not violate any official sanctions, acquiring a new weapon would probably go against the intent behind taking mine away and alarm the faculty." Even without a weapon, he could handle himself better than most. Besides, not carrying one might reduce the potential for disaster should he get into a confrontation—at least until he got his hands on one at the very scene.
#
After their next club meeting, Meg stopped Rupert on the way out. "Can I ask you about something?"
"I guess." He averted his gaze.
She simply waited for him to meet her eyes before speaking, and he lost the battle of wills. "Listen, I said I wouldn't force you to do anything and I won't... but it seems to me like this club isn't the best fit for you. We mostly just talk about things related to fighting and you aren't much for talk, so I was wondering if you might be interested in something else we're doing."
"What?"
"I'm starting to plan a tournament between entrants from all of my clubs, and maybe even people outside them who want in, to promote interest in them and martial training in general. I imagine a lot of the competitors will be from the Combat Club since they're more physical, but-"
Rupert shook his head. "I can't participate in anything like that."
"Hey, wait until I finish! I wasn't going to ask you to fight, I know that would be a bad idea. But we'll need knowledgeable referees and maybe judges for the matches, since we haven't decided if we should make it possible to win by points yet. I could do that myself, but would rather watch the fights without having to focus on the rules. So what do you think, might that engage you more than sitting around chatting?"
"It might. After the tournament though, won't I just go back to this 'unsuitable' club?"
"No need to look so far ahead when we're just thinking about something that might be good for you to do for a while. And it's not like you don't have the choice to transition to the Martial or Combat Club after, although I don't know if the latter would go well. Can you engage in heavy sparring at least without treating it like a 'real' fight and going overboard?"
After a moment of silence, he replied, "Depends on how heavy it gets."
"I assume that means there's a breaking point you can be pushed past,
but at least it sounds like you can spar to some extent without issue. It's not a primary concern for the time being anyway, since you haven't even switched clubs yet. So, would you like to stop attending the Fighters Club meetings and join me and Pat when we prepare for the tourney instead?"
While he might not contribute in the meetings that much, he somehow felt hesitant to abandon them altogether. Some of the discussion among the club members, like one they'd had about the part being a fighter played in their daily lives, could hold his interest, and Elliot seemed to appreciate him being around. Being that he rarely spent much time with the boy anywhere else, he found he didn't want to cut ties with him. "Would it be okay if I kept coming to meetings, but also helped you and Patrick out on top of that?"
Her forehead crinkled in surprise. "You being that sociable? I didn't think you had it in you for more than one non-solitary activity."
"Class is a non-solitary activity."
"I was just exaggerating. Plus class is mandated, I was talking more about voluntary ones. I see I underestimated you though... or have you changed?" Maybe not that quickly, he thought. He might just be learning more about himself. "Of course it would be fine for you to do both. Meet me and Pat in the library after dinner tomorrow, we'll catch you up and go from there."
It was a bit strange to him that the two of them had been doing this alone, and didn't have assistance from anyone else they trusted more than him when they'd been here a semester longer. But then perhaps they'd just started the planning stage, in which case it would make sense to keep it between themselves for now and not have recruited much help yet. Still, why him? It might be because Meg viewed him as a more "serious" warrior than most of the students, more qualified to stand with the likes of her and Patrick. And who could really say she was wrong? Though it wasn't something to take pride in, he had killed before.