She walked across the gymnasium, determined. A sort of necklace wrapped around her neck, except the ends curved back around in a loop instead of connecting in the back. The design of the neck-bit showed her status as a level 1. Her curly brown hair was pulled back in a low ponytail, tied with a brown band.

The words that had so long ago been spoken to her came back now. “That is your neck-bit. It shows your status. You start out at level 1, the loser level as so many others call it. Get used to being thrown around. It’ll happen at least three times a day.”

And Makile had been right-she had been thrown across the room several times that day, and every day after. Every day until today. Today, she would beat Chiffon, and she would go to level 2.

She stopped in the center of the gymnasium and pulled a small stick out of her brown belt, twirling it in one smooth movement with her right hand. Both hands found each other above the girl’s head, and pulled apart, now each with its own chafft, as she spoke. Her voice was sweet and melodious, even and controlled, with a whimsical note to it, although she spoke threatening words. She took a defensive stance.

“Let’s go.”

“Who is it you wish to fight?” chirped a defiant voice that seemed to emanate from the very air itself.

Kyira did not falter. “It is you, Chiffon, and I will not lose.”

“Won’t you?”

The older man appeared behind her and put her in a headlock. She kicked her leg back and hit him on the thigh, struggling to get free. Although she was only fourteen, Kyira was strong, and Chiffon lost his hold on her. She pulled away and tuned to face him.

“Let’s go,” she repeated.

“So we shall,” came the reply.

She jumped up into the air and kicked at his face. He caught her ankle and twisted, throwing Kyira to the floor. Hard. She waited only a split second to get up, rolling to do so. A thin line of blood trickled out of her nose, and another at her lip, as she swung out with her right chafft. She caught him on the side of the face, and a red line took shape where he was struck. He glanced down at it before jumping to the side and hitting the back of the girl’s legs with his foot. She dropped her right chafft as she fell, but did not waste a moment to roll back up on her feet. Chiffon lunged at her and pushed her back on the ground, kneeling over her. He held a knife to her throat, leaving a line of blood across her neck.

As she struggled against him, the knife rubbed her skin, and she stopped.

“Knives are against the rules, Chiffon. Have you not been taught?”

He ignored her smart-aleck comment and smirked. “Have you not been taught that the world does not always follow the rules?”

“I didn’t have to be taught that.” With that last comment, she twisted, throwing Chiffon to the side and jumped up. He jumped up as well. Kyira started to jump forward at him, but instead swerved to the side, swooped down, and picked up her chafft. She spun around again just as Chiffon threw his left chafft at her. It hit her in the stomach and she gasped. She reached out and grabbed his wrist as he swung at her with the knife. It sliced through her cheek, leaving what would become a scar. She twisted his wrist the other way, and the weapon dropped. She kept twisting until his back was to her, and, before he could react, she kicked his shins, sending him to his knees. She whipped her left chiffon across the front of his neck and caught the other end with her right hand. She jerked backwards, forcing his chin up.

“Beat ya’,” she asserted, pushing the chiffon against his neck harder to remind him of her hold.

“Good. You passed.”

Kyira released her teacher and handed his knife to him. She turned and walked towards the door. As she was nearing it, Chiffon ran up and placed the point of his knife to the area between her shoulder blades. “Never, never, turn your back on your opponent.”

He dropped the knife and let her walk away.