Burn (37 page)

Cinder again turned toward the mats. Kuriko made sense, in a way, but Cinder thought it ridiculous to hinge
the quality of an entire discipline on one rookie’s performance. She looked back at Kuriko and came to two conclu
sions, both of which she shared with her. “I won’t let my
sensai down,” she said evenly. “And you’re a bitch.”

* * *

The arena quickly filled with spectators in the stands,
competitors on the floor, and media in the broadcast
booth. The mingled conversations sounded like the hum
of electricity, and excitement rippled throughout the
building. Sitting on a three-tiered portable bleacher
behind the Sheng Li table, Cinder’s heart lurched when
the lights went down, plunging the venue into semi
darkness. The lights came back on with the loud blare of
a Cheap Trick song and thunderous applause, over which
came the voice of the announcer, a local sportscaster
named Duff Brownley.

“Welcome to the fifteenth annual International
Martial Arts tournament broadcast live from the heart of
the Midwest, St. Louis, Missouri,” Duff announced.

“ ‘Missourah?’ ” Cinder whispered to Zae, repeating
Duff’s pronunciation.

“He’s from Springfield,” Zae said. “A lot of the folks
down there say Missou
ruh
instead of Missou
ree
.”

Duff introduced the dojos, their representatives
standing to applause. Cameramen from each local net
work affiliate, as well as those from ESPN and a few
other cable networks, moved between the dojo stations,
panning over the fighters. Cinder bowed her face when
the cameras shot Sheng Li. She resisted the urge to jump off the bleachers and hide beneath them.

Once the matches started, she forgot about the cameras.

Sixteen fights took place at once, one on each mat.
Cinder tried to follow more than one at a time until a
Sheng Li fighter took to the mat, and then she gave her full attention to her dojo-mate.

Sionne fought in the heaviest weight class. He made
quick work of his opponent, collecting his three-point
w
in in nine minutes. Cinder was sure that the match
would have ended in five minutes if Sionne had been less
generous. When Sionne took to the center mat for the
final, he didn’t hold back. The mighty Samoan displayed
incomparable agility and flexibility. He scored his third
point six minutes into the match with a slicing strike to
his opponent’s midsection to collect Sheng Li’s first gold
medal of the tournament.

Gian gave Sionne a standing ovation. “Let’s keep it
going,” he shouted above the noise of the crowd as Chip
took to the floor in his weight class.

Cinder watched Gian cheer his fighters. He defended
them when their competitor fought dirty and praised
them even if they lost a point in a valiant effort. He
looked so handsome in his white
gi
with the new Sheng
Li emblem embroidered on the back. High on pride,
Cinder began to look forward to her match.

Zae’s running commentary, which rivaled that of
Duff Brownley, ended when Chip squared off against a
fighter from a rival dojo, the one to which Clarence Blake
belonged. Cinder smiled, watching Zae more than Chip.
Zae’s hands were clasped tightly under her chin. She cheered each time Chip scored, winced when he was
flipped onto the mat. When Chip scored his third and
winning point, Zae flew to her feet, clapping and
cheering for him.

One by one, Gian’s fighters earned gold medals,
which were awarded on the center mat. The excitement level went up after the medalists returned to their respec
tive stations.

“This is the moment we’ve all been waiting for,” Duff
began from the control booth. “The Exhibition round!”
Gian walked Cinder to the eighth mat, where she
would meet her first opponent. “Are you nervous?”
“Yes,” she whispered.

“Are you scared?”

She nodded.

“Don’t be.”

She laughed, the sound brittle and hard with nerves.

Gian took her by her upper arms and gazed into her
eyes. “You’re ready for this. I wouldn’t have you here if
you weren’t.”

“I know.”

“I really want to kiss you now.”

“Don’t,” she said. “Sionne and Chip might get jealous
since you didn’t kiss them before their matches.”

Gian chuckled. “Go get your three, baby.” And just as
he had to Chip and Sionne, Gian sent her to the mat
with a swat on the butt.

Cinder bowed to the mat, and then she stepped onto
it. It seemed to have more give than the firmer mats at Sheng Li. She reminded herself to account for that once
her match started.

In a traditional
gi
the same shade of yellow as her hair,
Cinder’s opponent took to mat eight. “Hi,” the young
woman said, offering a hand to Cinder. “I’m Bunny
Dearborne. I fight out of American Krav Maga in
Fenton. This is my third IMA tournament. I had a baby
three months ago, so I thought I’d get back into tourna
m
ent action by competing in exhibitions first. How long
have you been fighting?”

“Not long.” Cinder swallowed hard, unsure which intimidated her more—Bunny’s experience level, or the
fact that she seemed to be hopped up on amphetamines.

“I’ll go easy on you,” Bunny said with a wink. “We’ll
give ’em a good show.”

Bunny’s continued jibber-jabber kept Cinder from
hearing the names and dojos of the fighters paired on the
other mats. The woman shut up mid-word when Duff
said, “Fighters ready?”

A chorus of battle barks answered. Everyone on the
mats struck their fighting poses.

The fight buzzer sounded.

Cinder’s heart leaped into her chest. With the shriek of a banshee, Bunny’s pleasant smile morphed into a
homicidal sneer. She charged, fists flying. On automatic,
Cinder went into defense mode. She dodged right,
avoiding Bunny’s left fist. She ducked left, allowing
Bunny’s right foot to sail past her rather than make con
tact with its target, her right hip. In the quick second it
took Bunny to reset her balance, Cinder threw out her
right arm, spun to punch with her left hand, and finished
with a low kick that left Bunny on her butt.

Three bells sounded from Judging Table Eight.

One of the two judges raised a placard with the word
V
IXEN
printed on it in neat block letters.

“In thirty-nine seconds, Vixen wins on mat eight!
Vixen makes it to round two!” Duff announced.

“I’m so sorry,” Cinder said, genuinely concerned as
she helped Bunny off the mat. “I didn’t mean to do that.
You came at me so suddenly, and I just reacted without
thinking.”

“What are you?” Bunny asked as they left the mat,
her eyes wide in shock. “A ninja?”

Bunny never got her answer. Gian, Chip and Zae
swept Cinder into a huddle. “That was awesome, girl!”
Chip said enthusiastically.

“Damn,” Zae whispered emphatically. “You took
your fighter down faster than I took mine!”

Gian, his arm around her waist, walked her back to
Sheng Li’s station. “I think you caught their attention,”
he said quietly. “Look.”

Cinder followed Gian’s gaze. Spectators cheered her
and clapped, some shouting, “Vixen!” as she passed their
section of seats.

“I’m Vixen?”

“I had to think of a name for you on the fly,” Gian
explained. “I was at the registration desk, and you and Zae were going into the locker rooms. You looked so
good. I couldn’t call you Sexy, so I decided on Vixen.”

“Because I’m a fox,” Cinder groaned.

“I should have named you Champ.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Cinder scoffed. “Bunny scared me into the fight. I didn’t have any kind of battle plan other
than to keep her from beating my butt.”

Back at their station, Gian sat Cinder on the lowest
bench of their bleachers. Massaging her calf muscles, he
said, “I don’t know who you’ll meet in Round two.” He
l
ooked over his shoulder. “Weight and experience don’t
factor into the exhibitions, so you might get someone a lot bigger than you are.”

“Bunny had to outweigh her by twenty pounds,” Zae
offered from the middle bench. “She took care of her with no problem.”

“From what I’ve seen so far, I’d put Cinder up against
any—”

“Congratulations, Gian.”

Gian turned at the familiar voice.

Karl Lange stepped up to him. He wore a black
gi
tied
with a gold
obi
. Around his neck hung official IMA vol
unteer credentials.

“You gotta be kidding,” Gian grumbled.

“I wouldn’t miss this tourney for the world.” Karl’s
black eyes glittered at Cinder. “Ever since I got fired from
Grogan’s, I’ve been taking whatever work I can get. IMA
was glad to have me. They don’t often get volunteers with
my level of experience and knowledge of the sport.”

“Is there something I can help you with?” Gian asked
impatiently.

“Yeah, actually. I’m here on official IMA business.
One of your fighters has a wardrobe problem.”

Gian rolled his eyes. “What? Who?”

“Aja Oshiro didn’t remove her sandals before she took
to mat one for her exhibition match.” Karl snickered.
“She was disqualified.”

“We got an exemption for Aja,” Gian nearly shouted.
He reached around Karl and took a piece of paper from the table. He shoved it in Karl’s face.

Still smiling, Karl took it and glanced at it. “I guess
you did. Too bad the judges didn’t know that before they
gave her the DQ. Better luck next time, G.” He dropped
the exemption on the table and moved on, a slight
bounce in his step.

“What a dick,” said Cory, who had won his exhibi
tion match and arrived as Karl delivered his news. “He
knows Aja
always
fights in her sandals.”

Gian gathered his fighters. “You guys have to be
careful out there,” he said. “Karl’s working this thing,
and, obviously, he’s working against us. Zae, Cory,
Cinder, you guys are fighting in round two. Make sure you observe all the protocols and rules before, during,
and after you step on the mat. I need to find Aja and see
if I can’t get her DQ reversed.”

Cinder watched Gian go. He had never looked more
magnificent. His posture and demeanor set him apart
from the other fighters, elevating him in such a way that
heads turned to follow his progress.

I love you,
Cinder thought. She swelled with pride,
adoration, and respect for the man who had taught her
how to drop a fighter in thirty-nine seconds.
I love you,
and I’m going to make you proud today . . .

* * *

Zae toyed with her first- and second-round oppo
nents before beating them. While the crowd loved her
showy antics, her third-round opponent wasn’t so easily
amused.

“
Poor thing,” Cinder murmured to Gian, commiser
ating with the fighter facing off against Zae. “I’d hate to
have to fight someone so much bigger than I am.”

“Cory can handle her,” Gian said. “He’s a goofball in
the dojo, but he knows how to settle down and turn it on
once he hits the mat.”

Cinder was impressed with Cory’s performance. Zae had four inches and thirty pounds on him, but his youth
and experience gave him the match. At the end of it, Zae
and Cory were the only duo to hug after leaving the mat,
much to the crowd’s enjoyment.