Broken Crown

The concrete platform of the Sandlot felt small. It was a stage built for children, bounded by chalk lines and inhabited by wannabe kings. Seifer stood on the opposite side, rolling his shoulders, spinning his foam struggle bat with practiced flair. He looked confident. He looked like he had already won.

I picked up the spare bat from the rack. It was light. Cheap foam wrapped around a plastic core. A toy. I weighed it in my hand, giving it a few experimental swings. It felt ridiculous compared to the weight of The Solar Zenith, but for this, it was perfect. I didn't take a stance. I just stood there, the bat resting casually on my shoulder, my other hand in my pocket.

"Ready to cry, tourist?" Seifer taunted, pointing his weapon at me. "I don't go easy on rookies. Y'know?"

"Start," I said simply.

Pence, who had nervously stepped up to referee, raised his hand. "Uh... okay! Clean fight! First to... uh... just fight! GO!"

Seifer launched. To the crowd, he probably looked fast. He dashed forward, swinging the bat in a wide, aggressive haymaker aimed at my head. It was a move designed to intimidate, to end the fight in one flashy hit. To me, he was moving in slow motion. I didn't block. I didn't back up. I simply tilted my head to the left. Whoosh. The blue foam bat sliced through the air inches from my ear.

Seifer stumbled, his momentum carrying him forward. He spun around, eyes wide. "Lucky dodge!" he spat. He came again. A flurry of strikes, left, right, overhead. He was putting his back into it, grunting with exertion. I wove through the attacks like smoke. Step left. Lean back. Pivot. He couldn't touch me.

"Stand still!" Seifer roared, frustrated now. The crowd was going quiet. They had never seen anyone make the Struggle Champion look this clumsy.

"You're open," I said. Seifer lunged for a thrust. I stepped inside his guard. I didn't swing my bat. I used the pommel. I drove the plastic handle into his solar plexus. It wasn't a lethal blow, but it was surgical. Thud.

"Gah!" Seifer gasped, the air leaving his lungs instantly. He doubled over, dropping to one knee, clutching his stomach. His bat clattered to the concrete. I stood over him. I didn't attack while he was down. I just watched him gasp for air, drool dripping from his lip.

"Is that it?" I asked, my voice echoing in the silent Sandlot. "Is that the power of the Disciplinary Committee?"

Seifer looked up, his face red with humiliation and rage. "Cheap... shot..." he wheezed. He scrambled for his bat. He didn't stand up; he tried to sweep my legs from the ground - a dirty move. "Die!"

I jumped. A casual hop over his sweep. As I came down, I brought my foam bat down. Hard. Right on top of his head. THWACK.

It was a foam bat, but the **** behind it drove Seifer face-first into the concrete. He sprawled out, dazed, defeated, and utterly humiliated. He didn't get back up. He just groaned, clutching his head.

"Winner!" Pence squeaked, sounding terrified. "The... uh... the new guy!"

I dropped the toy weapon. It bounced next to Seifer’s head. "Keep your trophy," I said to the boy in the dirt. "You look like you need it."

I turned around. I didn't look at the crowd. I didn't look at Hayner, whose jaw was on the floor. I looked at the girl with the eye patch. Fuu.

She was standing by the steps, frozen. Her single eye was wide, fixated on Seifer’s prone form, then it snapped to me. She had watched the whole thing. She saw the gap. She saw that her leader wasn't just beaten; he was toyed with.

I walked to the edge of the platform and jumped down, landing right in front of her. She didn't back away. She looked up at me, her expression guarded but intense. "Seifer lost," I said calmly. "You know the rules."

Fuu swallowed hard. She looked at Seifer, who was still groaning on the ground, struggling to push himself up. "Seifer..." she whispered.

"He can't help you," I said. "He bet you. He lost you." I reached out. I didn't grab her arm. I placed two fingers under her chin, tilting her face up so she had to look at me. "You belong to me now, Fuu."

She trembled. For a moment, I thought she might fight. She was loyal, stubborn. But she was also a creature of the streets. She respected strength. And she had just watched me dismantle her world without breaking a sweat. "Deal," she whispered. Her voice was barely audible. "Rules... are rules."

"Fuu!" Seifer’s voice cracked from the platform. He was on his knees, one hand reaching out. "Fuu! Don't listen to him! Get over here!"

Fuu froze. She looked at her old leader. Then she looked at me, at the calm, dark power in my eyes. She looked back at Seifer. "Lost," she said simply. "Pay... the price."

She turned her back on him. She stepped to my side, head bowed slightly. Submitting.

Olette and Naminé walked over. Olette was beaming. She looked at Seifer with pure vindication, then at Fuu. "Welcome to the team, Fuu," Olette said, her voice dripping with sweet poison. Olette reached out and took Fuu’s arm, pulling her into our formation. It was a possessive gesture. You are one of us now.

Fuu didn't pull away. She looked at Olette, the girl she had bullied for years, and realized the dynamic had flipped. Olette was the one standing next to the Master. Fuu was the new acquisition.

"Let's go," I commanded. "We have things to do. And Fuu needs to learn her new place."

I turned and walked away from the Sandlot. Olette was on my right, Naminé on my left, and Fuu trailed a step behind, head down, following the new Alpha. Behind us, Seifer pounded the concrete with his fist, screaming into the dust, but nobody was listening anymore. The Champion was dead.