Chris did not expect that he would ever be able to feel better from talking with this eccentric Leone boy, but he had to admit that his words calmed his unfolding internal conflict. Therefore, in the morning, his mood was completely different, and he did not hesitate when, after the transplantology class, he went down to the pulpit where the zirka stood.

“Erzketau-kri,” he nodded, greeting the coordinator.

“Newman-kri,” the Zirkaazte also nodded, smiling softly and as if expecting a new performance by the board.

“I want to offer you... um, a... bet?”

“A bet?” Zirka raised an eyebrow, clearly confused.

“Well, maybe not a bet, rather a match. I challenge you to a battle contest and if I win, you will take me to the team.”

Zirka was taken aback, he even pulled back slightly, bowed his head, and either coughed, felts laughed. It turned out the second, because when he raised his head again, a broad, toothy smile, an image never witnessed by Chris before and ever, flashed on his face.

“So you give up?” asked Erzketau clearly having fun.

“Wh-... why is that? I'm more serious than ever! Choose time and weapons,” Chris demanded with all the seriousness he had.

“You are, because...,” he breathed out without finishing, deciding something for himself. “Okay, let it be your way. Just no complaints then,” he tapped his band, scrolled his timetable for a bit of a minute, swiped screen away, and replied, “tomorrow, at three in the afternoon. I choose the bo¹ staffs as a weapon.

“Looking forward to it, kri,” Chris responded enthusiastically, but walking vigorously out of the auditorium, he had this only thought: “Help me Freya!²”

***

Chris faced a difficult task. It wasn’t an easy one before but he hoped that it would become one after he’ll talk to kri. However, it didn’t. Yes, he pulled zirka onto tatami and tried to establish his own rules, but the second part of the terms didn’t work out the way he expected to. He wielded bo well enough, but sparring on those, you have to observe a certain ritual and sequence of movements, and keep a distance that is very difficult to shorten. With the staff so long, the opponent will be protected in a way and a highly skilled opponent will just play around not letting his rival close enough for a strong strike. Yet, Chris needed exactly the opposite; he needed the opportunity to get to Erzketau’s body as close as possible. With routine blocks-attacks, they could easily stand for five, ten, and as many minutes as they’d like. He pondered and weighed all the experience he had while training with the zirka. One of the difficulties is that this opponent won’t be easily exhausted; zirks were tougher. Not only adult males, but also the whole race is generally physically stronger.

On the other hand, Chris cannot drag the fight too long; he will become exhausted sooner than his opponent will. He needed to rock the opponent, tease, and infuriate, then it will be possible to play on zirka’s fuse and carry out a contact attack. But how can he establish a contact when they’ll be dancing at a seventy inches distance from each other!?

With such thoughts, Chris went to bed and woke up with them next morning. He stretched, had his breakfast, and went off for the obligatory auditorium hours. Then he came to the gym to warm up, and now, at five minutes past three, he stood opposite the sarcastically grinning zirka and tried to probe him with his gaze before they started, assessing the situation while he could.

“Well, Newman-kri, let's determine the criteria for ending the fight. Losing an instrument?”

“I suggest until the first touch to the floor,” Chris declined zirka’s choice.

“Hm, are you purposefully making it easier for me?” Erzketau allowed himself to smile openly, exposing a row of sharp teeth. Despite the fact that zirks’ teeth were evolutionarily blunted, the sight could make one nervous a bit. “In that case, at least fight in full force.”

“Never intended to do otherwise,” Chris grabbed the staff with both hands, stepping a little to the side, hinting his circling direction. “Don’t be gentle with me today, or I’ll assume that you refused me all this time for a reason not serious enough.”

Zirka only squinted at it and went clockwise. Having circled the space twice, the zirka suddenly became all springy and abruptly went on the attack, so Chris only managed to put the block on his left and right, stepping back little by little.

“You weren’t really thinking that I would play in giveaways?” Not caring about opening on both sides alternately, the zirka continued to make sweeping attacks, while maintaining the distance between them at a maximum length, just as Chris has feared.

Although the fact that he decided to play aggressively had its advantages. Chris only had to get himself together, concentrate as soon as possible; seems like the professor decided to pin Chris to the floor earlier by all means.

The world narrowed down for Chris to the radius that the opponent indicated with his bo. His eyes registered blurry movements, not concentrating on the image as a whole, but clinging to small details, when it could help to react in time – dodge the foot, not run into the wall, round the gaping spectator, and beat the blows all the time.

Tuck-tuck-tuck – staff sang to the beat of the fight.

Tuck-tuck-tuck – blood thumped in the temples, sharpening the hearing.

Everything around was filled with breath. Their breathing: short, sharp, shallow breaths and exhalations; quieter, deeper, subdued breathing of those, who watched their fight. Occasionally cacophony was diluted with shrills like: “Oh, almost got it!” or “Whoa, he dodged it nice”. How many were there? Who came and when? The unnecessary questions, unnecessary information. Both are focused only on each other. Grab, get, block an attack, and block the retreat.

“Mmgh!” His left side twisted with sharp pain, the poke fell on the lower ribs.

Chris bounced back, grabbing the staff with one hand, pointing it to the floor, preparing for the swing. This was bad, the distance is getting bigger and this is the third missed strike; the first went casually on the elbow, the second more sensitive hit Chris’s ankle, zirka made a perfect low lunge to knock him. He had to do something, and had to hurry up while the brain tries to escape the growing pain. Erzketau, meanwhile, also drew back, mirroring the movement of Chris’s staff. Just a second for exhaling – and lunging for attack again. His jaw tensed, eyebrows converged on the bridge of the nose. Is he also on the edge? Or preoccupied with something else? It doesn’t matter, nothing matters, Chris need to find a defense gap and try not to be hit again.

¹ bo – light, smooth wooden staff, 180 - 270 cm long; used in eastern martial arts;

² Freya – other names: Freyja, Freyia, Freja; in Norse mythology, a goddess associated with love, beauty, fertility, sex, war, gold, and seiðr (a form of magic relating to both the telling and shaping of the future).