Post by Sora Weaver on May 24, 2021 16:52:40 GMT -5
After Sin S3E3
The training room after Sin was full of winners who didn't look like winners. All three members of the unStable were being examined after the main event beatdown courtesy of the Left Hand. Both Jin Min-Jun and Aphrodite IX were being tended to by various Revo1 personnel. They featured grimaces as they were prodded about their pain.
Then they looked over at their partner.
Sora sat on a training table alone, watching his friends get help. It's evident he wasn't feeling good, just one look showed agony radiating off him. The match with Anya had taxed him, the post match assault left him even more battered.
And yet...
"We just got dismantled out there," Jin asked? "Why the fuck are you smiling???"
Sora looked at Jin, indeed wearing a weary smile.
"Because they're scared."
=========
19 years ago
It wasn't pleasant, but it came with the territory. Sora had been in therapy for a myriad of issues since he started school. Socialization issues, anxiety, you name it. Sometimes when he was in crisis he just would shut down entirely. That's usually when the call came. Someone had to coax him out of his own head. Teachers usually failed because they didn't understand. Even his own mother got frustrated with him, making things worse.
His father was the only one who had a chance. He'd had a lot of practice, unfortunately.
This was different though.
Sora sat in front of his father, his face and clothes stained with blood. A cut on his cheek, cotton in his nose, and a growing black left eye. Sora had been physically bullied before, that wasn't the new part.
The training room after Sin was full of winners who didn't look like winners. All three members of the unStable were being examined after the main event beatdown courtesy of the Left Hand. Both Jin Min-Jun and Aphrodite IX were being tended to by various Revo1 personnel. They featured grimaces as they were prodded about their pain.
Then they looked over at their partner.
Sora sat on a training table alone, watching his friends get help. It's evident he wasn't feeling good, just one look showed agony radiating off him. The match with Anya had taxed him, the post match assault left him even more battered.
And yet...
"We just got dismantled out there," Jin asked? "Why the fuck are you smiling???"
Sora looked at Jin, indeed wearing a weary smile.
"Because they're scared."
=========
19 years ago
Sora's father was used to being called to his son's school.
It wasn't pleasant, but it came with the territory. Sora had been in therapy for a myriad of issues since he started school. Socialization issues, anxiety, you name it. Sometimes when he was in crisis he just would shut down entirely. That's usually when the call came. Someone had to coax him out of his own head. Teachers usually failed because they didn't understand. Even his own mother got frustrated with him, making things worse.
His father was the only one who had a chance. He'd had a lot of practice, unfortunately.
This was different though.
Sora sat in front of his father, his face and clothes stained with blood. A cut on his cheek, cotton in his nose, and a growing black left eye. Sora had been physically bullied before, that wasn't the new part.
"You're telling me SORA beat up a kid?"
Was his father's response when the principal called. The teachers had pulled Sora off a known bully in his class, not before Sora had busted him up more than thought possible. The other kid was on his way to the hospital, with his parents squawking about lawsuits and consequences. Typical suburbia nonsense. Though as they sat alone now, Sora's father was just confused.
"What happened son? Why did you beat that kid up?"
Silence.
"Son, please. I'm not mad. I promise. I just need to know what happened."
Silence.
"Sora...please..."
His father was pleading now, because he didn't know what else to do. He knew if he got aggressive, Sora wouldn't say a word. This was art, not science. A delicate balance to coax Sora's mind into unlocking. There was no brute force here, more a tight rope walker in a typhoon. Balance and a lot of luck.
Sora opened his right hand, which had been clenched. Inside was a tiny action figure, some Japanese thing all the kids at Sora's school were obsessed with. Sora's father didn't recognize it though.
Sora opened his right hand, which had been clenched. Inside was a tiny action figure, some Japanese thing all the kids at Sora's school were obsessed with. Sora's father didn't recognize it though.
"Did you steal that?"
Head shake.
"Why do you have it?"
Silence
Then
"Barry."
Progress.
Barry was Sora's friend, and to say he was worse off than Sora was an understatement. They had met through therapy; their therapist thought they'd be good friends. They were; they had that understanding that kids have which adults are too jaded to understand. Both Sora and Barry's parents were happy; their children found some normalcy. Sora despite his issues was the bigger, stronger one. Barry meant well, was a kind soul, but he lacked any hardiness. He was an easy target for the predators that roamed preteen hallways.
Then
"Barry."
Progress.
Barry was Sora's friend, and to say he was worse off than Sora was an understatement. They had met through therapy; their therapist thought they'd be good friends. They were; they had that understanding that kids have which adults are too jaded to understand. Both Sora and Barry's parents were happy; their children found some normalcy. Sora despite his issues was the bigger, stronger one. Barry meant well, was a kind soul, but he lacked any hardiness. He was an easy target for the predators that roamed preteen hallways.
"So if that's Barry's, why do you have...wait. Did the kid you beat up take it?"
Nod.
"So when he took Barry's thing, it made you angry?"
Another nod.
"And when he didn't give it back, you beat him up?"
More nods.
"OK but son, we've told you before violence isn't the answer. Use your words to diffuse conflict, or find a teacher."
Silence. Progress halted.
"Nobody listened."
"Nobody listened."
"What do you mean?"
"He didn't listen. Teachers didn't listen. Nobody cared. Barry was crying."
"OK but..."
"He deserved it."
Silence from Sora's father.
Father and son looked at each other. Sora's blood covered face made his father uncomfortable. They had raised Sora to be an empathetic individual, but not a violent one. They preached a doctrine of peace in their house; all the parenting books said that was the right way. Yet in the recesses of his mind Sora's father was proud. Proud that his son cared so much about his friend he'd put himself in danger for him.
That didn't make things any easier though.
If Sora was a fight risk, this meant things were going to be different. A new challenge on top of so many.
The principal came into the room with a generic speech. Can't have this happen, unacceptable, legal liability, etc etc. Sora was suspended for three days under their zero tolerance policy. There was no discussion. Justice served without a chance for defense.
The principal left. Sora's father bent down to his son's level, wiping away some of the blood off his face before bringing him close in a hug. After a moment, Sora returned it before starting to cry. His father knew it was coming. It always did, even when Sora was at his most defiant. The emotional crash hit like waves against a seawall, powerful and unending.
Father and son looked at each other. Sora's blood covered face made his father uncomfortable. They had raised Sora to be an empathetic individual, but not a violent one. They preached a doctrine of peace in their house; all the parenting books said that was the right way. Yet in the recesses of his mind Sora's father was proud. Proud that his son cared so much about his friend he'd put himself in danger for him.
That didn't make things any easier though.
If Sora was a fight risk, this meant things were going to be different. A new challenge on top of so many.
The principal came into the room with a generic speech. Can't have this happen, unacceptable, legal liability, etc etc. Sora was suspended for three days under their zero tolerance policy. There was no discussion. Justice served without a chance for defense.
The principal left. Sora's father bent down to his son's level, wiping away some of the blood off his face before bringing him close in a hug. After a moment, Sora returned it before starting to cry. His father knew it was coming. It always did, even when Sora was at his most defiant. The emotional crash hit like waves against a seawall, powerful and unending.
"It's OK Sora. I understand. It's going to be OK."
As he held his son, Sora's father said the words. In his head though, he wasn't sure.
Was this a one off event? Was this the future?
If only either of them knew.
=========
I have to win this tournament.
Not for the reasons everyone else wants to. Not because I want fame, riches, titles, or even what the tournament is called: glory. Those are valid but selfish reasons. Those are for those focused inward, who can't see beyond.
Winning for me is winning for everyone except a select group of people. It means another victory in my war against the Left Hand, it means one step closer to driving out the darkness in this company. It means a better, more peaceful world for everyone.
It's a burden though.
While everyone else can sit by and focus on themselves, the Jason Ryans and Sierra Silvers of the world can crow about using I every chance they get, I don't have that luxury. I've NEVER had that luxury, because I don't care about myself. I'm fractured, not worth caring about. They aren't either, but they've been hoodwinked by their own inflated egos. It means they won't last long in the tournament, because they lack conviction. They're buzzards, hoping to pick the bones of a carcass while calling it a kill. When in reality they're filthy scavengers claiming to be great hunters.
I know what I am, because I know what I'm not.
I'm not the hero, not some white knight riding in to save the day.
I'm just a person standing up against what's wrong because it's the right thing to do. One man, standing against others, clinging to a singular thought that guides me:
I can change things.
I can give up my body for the worthy cause, because who cares if it breaks. I'm just another soul in a pool with billions, the difference being I am contaminated with caring. I want not for me, because wanting for me is stupid. I'm not someone worth wanting for, so why should I do so?
The thing I want is that tournament win, so I can snuff out the darkness.
That doesn't mean it will be easy.
Well, some of it will be. Jalen Prince, you are easy. You're a patsy, a self absorbed weakling who cares only for himself. You put swords to others throats because you think it'll remove the one at your own. Your cruelty is a defense mechanism, and it's a bad one. I have no intent to let someone like you derail me. You won't, you can't. Your journey ends here.
That goes for the other seven.
Even my teammates.
Jin, Aph, you've been dragged into a war you didn't ask for. I didn't intend that, but I should have known better than to think the cowards I'm fighting wouldn't have involved you. For that, I'm sorry. Now though, you might be dragged into my direct path as I try to end it. It will be the greatest challenge of this tournament if so, because you are the two toughest people left in the field. I respect you, I love you, but rest assured I do not fear you. You think you know what I'm capable of, you think you understand what capacity I have.
You don't.
That's not a slight, that's just the truth. This is a survival mission, a zero sum game. If it means getting by you to continue, then I will. No matter what I have to do, no matter how long it takes. You can't beat me. I can't let you beat me.
I won't let you beat me.
Even if you win, we all lose.
So I have to win. It has to be that way.
I'm sorry.
Jessie Lee, you are who I most hope finds their way to my path. Not only do I owe you a receipt for your treachery last month, but you now understand why I'm fighting. You and Khaos felt the force that I'm pushing back against, all because they're scared. You caught a stray, but hopefully now you get it. I don't want that to happen to you. The only beatings I want you to catch are bell to bell, in the ring, fair and square. Which is what will happen to you if we cross paths. Smoke and mirrors brought you the last win against me, a sleight I will never forget and will only forgive once the debt has been paid. You owe me, and if given the chance I will collect. It will be a fair fight, one I relish because you're good, but the result will be different.
You sold out your future to stay on top in the present.
But in the end, your past will cost you that future.
That's what this is all about in the long run.
Future.
We can't continue to live this way. Always looking over our shoulders, wondering when the next impromptu beatdown will arrive. It's not healthy, it's not freedom, and it's not something I'm willing to tolerate. My life has been nothing but bullies, oppressors feeling they can do what they want to anyone. Ostracizing people in name of their order, their success, their power. They know not fear but authority, not humility but arrogance.
However long it takes I will topple them. One by one.
Winning this tournament will be the next step, the next blow I can strike. Liberation can be mine, can be ours, but it has fallen to me for whatever reason to secure that. I am the one that will deliver us from this tyranny, because I'm the one willing to be brave. The one willing to sacrifice one for all.
The one who can actually do it.
When I win this tournament, we all win. Yes, I will have beaten four people including my own team on the way. I will have to do things I don't want to in service of this goal. That's a burden I can shoulder, a guilt I'm willing to carry. Liberation tastes sweeter than the poison I'll have to drink in order to achieve it.
If I lose, we all lose.
I can't lose.
I won't lose.
I. Will. Win.
Was this a one off event? Was this the future?
If only either of them knew.
=========
I have to win this tournament.
Not for the reasons everyone else wants to. Not because I want fame, riches, titles, or even what the tournament is called: glory. Those are valid but selfish reasons. Those are for those focused inward, who can't see beyond.
Winning for me is winning for everyone except a select group of people. It means another victory in my war against the Left Hand, it means one step closer to driving out the darkness in this company. It means a better, more peaceful world for everyone.
It's a burden though.
While everyone else can sit by and focus on themselves, the Jason Ryans and Sierra Silvers of the world can crow about using I every chance they get, I don't have that luxury. I've NEVER had that luxury, because I don't care about myself. I'm fractured, not worth caring about. They aren't either, but they've been hoodwinked by their own inflated egos. It means they won't last long in the tournament, because they lack conviction. They're buzzards, hoping to pick the bones of a carcass while calling it a kill. When in reality they're filthy scavengers claiming to be great hunters.
I know what I am, because I know what I'm not.
I'm not the hero, not some white knight riding in to save the day.
I'm just a person standing up against what's wrong because it's the right thing to do. One man, standing against others, clinging to a singular thought that guides me:
I can change things.
I can give up my body for the worthy cause, because who cares if it breaks. I'm just another soul in a pool with billions, the difference being I am contaminated with caring. I want not for me, because wanting for me is stupid. I'm not someone worth wanting for, so why should I do so?
The thing I want is that tournament win, so I can snuff out the darkness.
That doesn't mean it will be easy.
Well, some of it will be. Jalen Prince, you are easy. You're a patsy, a self absorbed weakling who cares only for himself. You put swords to others throats because you think it'll remove the one at your own. Your cruelty is a defense mechanism, and it's a bad one. I have no intent to let someone like you derail me. You won't, you can't. Your journey ends here.
That goes for the other seven.
Even my teammates.
Jin, Aph, you've been dragged into a war you didn't ask for. I didn't intend that, but I should have known better than to think the cowards I'm fighting wouldn't have involved you. For that, I'm sorry. Now though, you might be dragged into my direct path as I try to end it. It will be the greatest challenge of this tournament if so, because you are the two toughest people left in the field. I respect you, I love you, but rest assured I do not fear you. You think you know what I'm capable of, you think you understand what capacity I have.
You don't.
That's not a slight, that's just the truth. This is a survival mission, a zero sum game. If it means getting by you to continue, then I will. No matter what I have to do, no matter how long it takes. You can't beat me. I can't let you beat me.
I won't let you beat me.
Even if you win, we all lose.
So I have to win. It has to be that way.
I'm sorry.
Jessie Lee, you are who I most hope finds their way to my path. Not only do I owe you a receipt for your treachery last month, but you now understand why I'm fighting. You and Khaos felt the force that I'm pushing back against, all because they're scared. You caught a stray, but hopefully now you get it. I don't want that to happen to you. The only beatings I want you to catch are bell to bell, in the ring, fair and square. Which is what will happen to you if we cross paths. Smoke and mirrors brought you the last win against me, a sleight I will never forget and will only forgive once the debt has been paid. You owe me, and if given the chance I will collect. It will be a fair fight, one I relish because you're good, but the result will be different.
You sold out your future to stay on top in the present.
But in the end, your past will cost you that future.
That's what this is all about in the long run.
Future.
We can't continue to live this way. Always looking over our shoulders, wondering when the next impromptu beatdown will arrive. It's not healthy, it's not freedom, and it's not something I'm willing to tolerate. My life has been nothing but bullies, oppressors feeling they can do what they want to anyone. Ostracizing people in name of their order, their success, their power. They know not fear but authority, not humility but arrogance.
However long it takes I will topple them. One by one.
Winning this tournament will be the next step, the next blow I can strike. Liberation can be mine, can be ours, but it has fallen to me for whatever reason to secure that. I am the one that will deliver us from this tyranny, because I'm the one willing to be brave. The one willing to sacrifice one for all.
The one who can actually do it.
When I win this tournament, we all win. Yes, I will have beaten four people including my own team on the way. I will have to do things I don't want to in service of this goal. That's a burden I can shoulder, a guilt I'm willing to carry. Liberation tastes sweeter than the poison I'll have to drink in order to achieve it.
If I lose, we all lose.
I can't lose.
I won't lose.
I. Will. Win.