Cascadia's Fault

Combat of the Fittest

Caz yanked her sleeve down until it covered the entirety of her hand and held it closed with her other one. Neither was safe, but she felt stupidly exposed. Where was CJ? Jem? Johnny? Hell, she'd take Noa and her cheerleader perkiness and machinations right now.

Grant was moving the next group through the same submission hold their group had finished, but it seemed to take a lot longer than when they had all been on the mats.

She flicked her gaze back to Tal, who was watching her patiently, and bluffed, "It's nothing. It's stupid. I really hope you won't bring it up," Caz whispered back.

He seemed to search her face for some better answer before leaning back against the wall, "Okay, alright. It's none of my business anyway. I just wondered why you'd bother covering it up if you did it to yourself?"

Feeling trapped into some kind of explanation or risk being labeled as one of those kids who liked to cut themselves for fun or as a coping mechanism or whatever, Caz sucked it up, saying, "It's not a scar. Or a burn, or whatever. Leave it."

Tal held up his hands as a sign of peace, "Okay, okay. Sorry. Changing the subject now while I still have a head before you bite it off," he said this with a smile, allowing Caz a second to relax the shoulders that wanted to hunch defensively. "I've never seen you here before, and most can't hold my weight. You did great."

Caz puffed out her cheeks and made the decision to accept his olive branch. "Thanks. You've been coming for a long time, then?"

"This will be my last year since I'll be a senior in the fall."

"Then you know pretty much everything there is to know about the camp. What's next?"

Tal tipped his chin toward the mats, "Here it comes now. Grant – he's a great teacher, by the way, and a total badass – knows everything about everything when it comes to hand-to-hand combat and weapons of all kinds. Anyway, he's going to start pairing us up based on the profiles from our entries. We'll gear up and spar. In some ways, it's a tryout, in others, it's just so Grant can see our strengths and weakness so he can decide how to teach the class. Every year, he's changed it up."

Caz saw Grant flipping through his clipboard. He started calling names with Noa, Lulu, Jem and Johnny in the first grouping. She realized then he was going alphabetically, so she and CJ would have a wait. She watched as he conferred with the group, and that some went to put on sparring gear while others didn't. Jem and Johnny were two that didn't. Caz leaned forward, curious as to what discipline they were considered advanced in.

Grant stood to the side of the mat. "Be aware of each other. Show us what you can do."

Jem flashed a quick grin and back flipped in place, then Johnny cupped his hands and she planted her foot. The height she reached with the extra push had Caz holding her breath, especially as she dived, spinning sideways as Johnny flipped his body forward. The series of flips, cartwheels, and spins landed them on opposite corners from one another.

They ran toward each other, two rockets on a collision course that had the room holding their collective breath. Johnny dived over Jem, throwing his body at a dizzying height as Jem tucked her body and rolled even as he executed a handspring so the two faced away from one another when Grant called time.

The room erupted into hoots and applause.

Caz wondered how people that tall managed to pull that off. As a gymnast, she knew the physics. What they did? That was tricky with all those long arms and legs to tuck in and keep from flailing around.

And to do it together?

Wow.

Just wow.

Lulu and Noa were next. They wore full sparring gear and held faux daggers. The two girls circled each other, making quick forays to find a weakness. Noa landed a kick to her sister's body; Lulu ducked and swiped out a foot that almost brought Noa down. The girls spun, punched, sought to disarm, or move to put the other girl into submission. Noa finally kicked out and caught Lulu's wrist, causing her sister to lose her knife, and Grant called time.

Grant moved through the list, either pairing people up because they had been there before, or they were family members, or they listed similar skills like wrestling or boxing, or had them perform singularly such as gymnastics. Tal was paired against another older boy. The other boy didn't stand a chance against Tal's longer and greater reach. It made Caz wonder if the other boy was really prepared for the advanced class, or if he just thought he was.

Finally, she and CJ were called up. Grant looked over their papers, slanted a look at them, "Alright, let's see. We're not bringing in any horses."

CJ grinned and Caz elbowed him, leading the way to the wall of weapons. They didn't have budans so they made use of the escrima sticks and plastic daggers. They were both weighed down with pads and sparring boots, gloves and helmets. They faced off, about three feet a part when Grant called "go."

Their father had trained them in how to make contact as if they were battling with sword and knife while coming within inches of one another using feet, fists, and bodies. Should either be disarmed, neither was helpless.

Caz loved the beginning of a sparring match. It had been ages since she and CJ had really let loose on each other. She had been busy with ranch responsibilities, school, and high school bullshit, and he had been more interested in gaming. Now, facing off, she held the escrima stick to her shoulder with both hands and leapt, spinning her body and kicking out a foot to within an inch of CJ's facemask.

They wouldn't try any submission holds, she knew, but rather move through the motions of each form with the weapons and positions of the body to see who could disarm whom first. Besides, neither of them was the submissive type.

She loved this part.

It felt like flying.

CJ sprang back, rolling away on his back and bringing up his escrima stick and dagger, blocking before she could land the first blow.

He swung and struck, brought the dagger back around to catch her on her weak side, which she kicked away.

They grinned at each other, then struck again.

All that could be heard for the next two minutes was the whoosh of their feet, bodies flying, and the strike of stick against stick. CJ front flipped over Caz while swinging the escrima stick at her back. She countered against him, spinning on her knees, flicking the "killing" blow aside. Caz swept her foot to catch him off balance so he landed on his back.

CJ jumped to his feet, losing the dagger but gripping the escrima stick in both hands. His stick stopped within an inch of Caz's face.

Her stick stopped within an inch of what would have been a killing blow to the body with the added insult of her dagger poked beneath his chin.

Grant called time.

They both pulled back, stood, and assumed the position of respect, bowing first to each other, then to Grant. Caz could hear nothing but the heaviness of their breathing and the roar of blood in her ears.

Sweat dripped into her eyes while they waited. CJ's concentration broke just long enough to glance over.

Grant finally grunted, "Well, that's something you don't see every day."

The room filled with hoots, pounding feet, and whistles. Caz yanked the helmet off, finally taking a clean breath while Grant quieted the room. He excused them with a nod, and they went back to the wall to peel off the extra gear, which Caz could now admit had left her feeling weighed down and clumsy. Putting the sparring weapons back on the wall, she heard CJ laugh quietly.

"What?"

"I think I've finally gotten tall enough to take you," he whispered, leading the way back to Jem and Johnny.

She elbowed him in the ribs, "Keep dreaming, Runt. I just didn't want to make you look bad in front of your new friends."

"Uh huh. That's what it was. As soon as we work in a game of Earthdawn, I'll really take you down."