Chapter 12 – Judo

  The car ride passed in silence. Ashe could hear his father’s nerves, the restless rustle of fingers worrying at a pant leg, the way his breathing ran just a touch too fast. Ashe didn’t say anything, afraid that one wrong word might shut this whole plan down.

  Quiet streets gave way to the chaos of the city: honks, shouted conversations, engines rumbling on all sides. He’d never liked the city much; too many sounds, too many people. It wasn’t built for someone like him. But this was where he needed to be, so he swallowed the discomfort.

  When the car finally screeched to a stop, Ashe lurched forward in his seat. They were there.

  His father spoke before Ashe even reached for the handle. “Be careful. Don’t do something stupid.”

  If only he knew how on-point that advice actually was. Ashe just nodded and opened the door.

  His dad was at his side in seconds, helping him down, unfolding his cane for him. A flicker of irritation rose in Ashe’s chest. He hadn’t planned this part. In his head, he’d just slip out of the car and his dad would drive off.

  Instead, his father walked beside him, guiding him toward the Judo Academy. Ashe’s mind raced, scrambling for an angle.

  His father’s footsteps grew louder as they approached. Ashe felt the cool brush of indoor air as he reached for the door. A bell chimed as it swung open.

  He caught his dad’s arm and turned toward his voice. “Let me do this alone,” Ashe said. “I need to be independent.”

  For a moment, his father didn’t answer. Ashe was almost sure he was fighting tears.

  “Okay,” his dad said at last, voice thin and cracked. “I’ll go run some errands. If anything, anything, is wrong, call me. I won’t be far.”

  Ashe let out a silent breath of relief. “Don’t worry, I will be fine,” he said, and stepped inside.

  As the door shut behind him, his senses ran headfirst into a storm.

  The sharp tang of plastic and sweat burned his nose. Bodies thudded against mats, the rhythm of grapples and falls crashing in on his ears.

  For a moment, he just stood there, stunned, his carefully constructed plan scattering. Only a small ember of it remained, like the ghost of a dream he couldn’t quite remember.

  Apparently he’d been standing there too long, because a man’s voice called out, “Do you need help?”

  Ashe cleared his throat. The plan slipped back into place, the real reason he was here.

  “Yeah. Do you know where the Guildhall is?”

  “Over there.”

  The man clearly hadn’t realized Ashe was blind. That part was always awkward. Ashe lifted his cane slightly.

  “I’m blind,” he said. “Can you give me directions?”

  The man’s next words came out stumbling, like he’d been smacked with a bat. “Oh—sorry. Uh, yeah. Just out the door and to the left.”

  Ashe nodded. “Thanks.”

  He couldn’t walk out immediately; it had barely been a minute since his dad left. So he lingered, facing the door, counting out another slow minute before finally pushing it open.

  The outside world slammed into him. Fresh air rushed into his lungs, a relief after the gym smell. But the honk of cars, the shuffle of feet, the layered city noise all felt strange and too bright.

  Transitions were always like that for him, moving from one soundscape to another, his brain needing a second to catch up. With a quiet breath and a steady mind, he turned to the left and located the next door with little trouble.

  He pushed against it and, inside, the clang of steel. The smell of rust and sweat mixed into something similar to the Judo Academy. As he walked closer, he heard a group speaking and headed for them. Once within earshot, he spoke up.

  “Do you know where registration is?”

  The group turned on their heels and faced him. For a second they didn’t speak as they inspected him.

  “Are you blind?”

  “Yep. Do you know where registration is?”

  They had turned before the question had even landed, brushed him off before he had even gotten to registration. Great start, he thought.

  Then someone behind him tapped him on the shoulder. “It’s over here.”

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  Ashe turned and followed the girl’s voice and her footsteps until she stopped.

  “The line is here. Do you need me to stay with you?”

  Ashe shook his head. “No. But thanks. I’ll just listen when they move and follow.”

  “Okay.” The word was already faint as she drifted further away.

  He stepped forward each time he heard the shuffle ahead. When he could finally hear the receptionist, fifteen minutes must have passed.

  “Coin or test?” the girl said, to someone further up in the line.

  He took the coin out of his pocket and clutched it in his palm like a child scared it would jump free from his pocket.

  When it was his turn, he squeezed the coin one final time, then he slid the coin across the table. He could hear her picking it up and then inspecting it. But she dropped the coin, with a clatter. She had seen him.

  A teenage kid, a walking cane in one hand, wearing a hoodie and sunglasses inside. It must have been an unusual sight. For a moment, silence held. He could hear the swoosh of air as she waved her hand in front of his face.

  “I can still hear you.”

  She stuttered. “Okay. This is new. If you could please move to the side, I’ll go ask the guild leader what we do with you.”

  He knew it wasn’t going to be easy, but he’d still hoped the introduction would go more smoothly. Somehow, he’d expected that, despite his blindness, the coin would be enough—a sign that he was worthy.

  The seconds passed slowly and he could feel eyes boring into his skin. His neck and spine tingled as he stood there.

  Finally, a woman’s voice rang out before him—old, ragged. “So how did you get this coin?”

  “I beat a portal like anyone else.” Exhaustion was clear in his voice.

  “Yeah, right.” The old woman groaned. She was getting on his nerves when he finally gave up fending for himself. He could tell it was a losing battle; without proof they would think he had bought or stolen it. And he needed this. If he failed, he'd be stuck on the sidelines, clearing only the weakest portals. Alone.

  “Let me take the test and see for yourself.”

  She spat out the next words between clenched teeth. “If you lose, we take your coin and you’re gone. Banned from this place.”

  His mouth started to move, the words beginning to form. His secret, right there on the edge of his tongue. But nothing came out. If they didn’t even believe he’d cleared the portal, how would they ever believe what he could really do?

  His stomach lurched, his mind went hazy, and panic began to overwhelm him. But it was too late. Silence fell. Even those around him stopped in their tracks and stared. He wasn’t quite sure what he had just done, but he felt the edge of danger creep in, the uncertainty. His make or break moment was near.

  -

  Before he knew it Ashe’s feet were on the mat, his heartbeat in his throat. Everything had moved too quickly. Someone had tried to stick a dueling sword in his hand, but he had refused, preferring to use his walking stick instead, something he was familiar with.

  The mat was harder than a mattress but softer than he had expected. Whispers echoed out as the crowd built, a disadvantage for his blindness. He would have to hope his precog would work, that dull pain was the crutch he needed right now.

  “Fight.”

  The word rang out, a surprise to Ashe. Before he knew it, he could hear footsteps closing the distance. That dull pain, its distinct throb, rang out, blossoming from his chest. He stepped sideways, the dull wooden sword running along his chest.

  He completed the spin and tried to find his opponent again, but oohs from the crowd drowned out everything. Even his thoughts struggled to keep up. With the added intensity, the crowd had jumped from a distant noise to the only thing he could focus on.

  His concentration slipped and pain shot out from his arm. He moved, but too slowly, the dull hit of wood against bone shooting up from his elbow. His funny bone vibrated, but it wasn’t very funny.

  It overwhelmed his senses, drowning out where his ability searched for the pain. He was drowning in it, the pain, the sound, the smells. It all attacked him; he didn’t know how to regain his balance.

  But he funneled his mind and advanced toward his opponent, reacting on instinct as the pain flared up. This was how he could control the fight. He’d already earned his place; his opponent hadn’t.

  His walking stick met wood with a thud.

  Dull pain lanced his face as he ducked beneath the sword. His opponent’s momentum carried him forward, and Ashe slid a step behind him, turning as he moved, then whipped his opponent back. He screamed as pain lanced across it.

  But it was short-lived. His feet thudded against the mat harder, louder than before. Perfect. Pain lanced his forehead. He was going for the head, even better. Ashe swerved his head and rolled to the ground, kicking toward the sound.

  His heel slammed into something solid. A heartbeat later, he heard someone yell, “Timber!” Then, with a thud, a large body made contact with the mat. Voices went silent and then roared to life. Ashe didn’t know what to do with himself; instead, he fidgeted with his walking stick as he stood there, the center of attention.

  The cheers of the crowd rubbed against him in the wrong way, a cheer for pain, a cheer for someone’s despair. It felt like the crowd was there for entertainment, not to finish this war.

  His skin crawled and his mind tried to find a way to escape when a hand wrapped around his shoulders. The old lady. The smell of cigarettes and perfume was overwhelming. But he didn’t protest. He let her arms guide him into another room. Inside, quiet settled over him, the chaos from before gone.

  “Sit.” The old voice rang out.

  He nodded. Walking stick in hand, he rubbed it against the floor until he found a chair. His body was still stunned, stiff, even as his mind ran a hundred miles an hour.

  As he sat down, the woman before him spoke, his mind only half paying attention. “Would you care to explain how?”

  After a few seconds of silence, he ran his fingers through his hair, an attempt to calm himself, to find a reason that wouldn’t give away too much. “My ears, ma’am.”

  She laughed, more a bark than anything he had heard before. “Come on. Don’t lie to me.”

  He naturally sank his head as he spoke, aiming to make her feel bad for questioning a blind person. “Really. I am quite good with sound. He was louder than most, it was quite easy.”

  He knew it wouldn’t satisfy the questions she had, the doubts that must be running through her mind, but it calmed her for now.

  He heard nails rasp lightly against skin, a restless, itchy sound usually a sign of deep thought. “Okay. Maybe you’ll share it later.”

  Ashe didn’t say anything. His eagerness would only cause more questions. Instead he nodded slowly. “So how do I sign up?”

  “Just a second, let me get a sign-up sheet. I can write it for you.”

  He relaxed a little more. It seemed the questions had passed; he might have succeeded today. She grabbed his hand and shook it.

  “Welcome.”

  She hadn’t even asked for his name. That was strange.