They Are Made From Lightning

EIGHT (八)

八

eight

Tora

Angelica sat in the back room Tora rolled up to the winnings desk. Through the beaded curtains, she could see Angelica stocking in the back. Through the curtains, her form was hazy – but it was unmistakable. Straight long black hair that leaned quietly against her bomber jacket, painted lips and striking nails. There was a loud ferocious intensity that trailed her whenever she went and whatever she did.

Even here, as she stocked the winning bags, she worked in a way that was unforgiving, sharpening steel knives in the room.

"Tora?" she called out. "I see you."

"I'm here," Tora replied, unable to not let a wry smile drag her lips up.

"I was aware of that," Angelica said, pushing past the beaded curtains and returning back to the desk. "That was an interesting win with Rebound. Who was that girl?"

"I've never seen her in my life."

Angelica squinted. "Okay, then explain why she looked like you committed some cardinal sin against her family. She had her palms wrapped around your neck at one point."

Tora smiled, "Well, I wasn't afraid – I let her."

The girl behind the counter shook her head and grinned as she slid Tora's bag of winnings towards her. She let out a loud sigh. "I don't know what to do with you sometimes."

Tora sometimes wished that she was an open, exuberant, charismatic person like Angelica was. That she could share every thought without the walls that she constantly built for herself – the walls that she preferred to stay behind. She was the queen of a deserted kingdom.

Because then, she would tell Angelica that she didn't know what to do with herself sometimes either.

As she put her hands around the bag of winnings and clasped it, she heard her name from behind.

"Tora Hanazawa!"

She spun around on the balls of her feet before they could spit out the second syllable of her name. The bag of winnings was still in her hand, and she shoved it into her backpack and dropped it onto the floor behind her. Out of sight, out of mind.

The first thing she saw was the man that she'd fought a mere few days ago. He approached her, footsteps heavy and dragging against the wooden floor of Wing's. Half of his face was bandaged, and one of his eyes were covered.

It felt weird trying to look at him when he only had one eye right now.

He slammed the winnings counter.

"You know who did this to me?"

"Who?" she asked. She already knew the answer.

He pointed at her, his finger mere inches from her face. But she did not flinch.

"You."

She guessed so. "Okay." She really did not really know what to say to this man. She wasn't here to comfort him, and she definitely did not want to host another fight out of the ring. She was already tired just from thinking about Rebound.

"Oh, fuck off with your nonchalance."

Her calm disposition remained. "Look, that's the nature of the business. I don't know why you're taking it out on me."