One year and eight months before the Brilliance.

Dust swirled in the air as the fighters wrestled each other to the ground, tumbling on the dirt splattered with blood. They grunted, opposing each other's force and dodging one another's strike. Their green shirts darkened, damp with sweat. Their faces were split and cut by their blows.

Arana watched and studied their movements though they weren't her opponents today. She needed to know the ways these cadets fought. Her knowledge was her advantage. Every cadet learned the same fighting arts, but each preferred different tactics, and each strategy came with its weaknesses.

The rest—cadets and soldiers—gathered with her, watching on the open field. Their bodies created a circle barricade around the fighters as they shouted their bets.

"Lock on to him!"

"Watch his left!"

"Don't let him get you!"

Arana would have shouted too, but she stayed quiet, waiting for the next fight, which was hers. Though she'd already done this so many times before—her lower lip still sore from a recent cut she'd taken from a punch during her last match—she still struggled to control her nerves. Her heart hammered whenever she tried to calm herself. Her muscles tightened as she wiped her sweaty palms over her hips.

The panic came and went. Sometimes they became unbearable. But a lot of times, all she needed was a means to release the tension, and sparring was an effective way to do that.

She focused on the current fight. Both boys were even in height and reach, but one was meatier. The thicker boy lunged and grappled his opponent. It wasn't a perfect lock on the arm, but the heavier boy coiled like a snake and screamed as he twisted his match's limb. Too quick. A tap came, and the sergeant pulled them apart.

Everyone around them cheered for the winner and congratulated the one who lost, telling him that he did good and that he would get the other next time. In the ring, they fought like they were fighting for their lives. But after the spar, they were always family.

It's only practice sparring, Arana reminded herself, but her body didn't seem to believe her. Why did she always feel like she was in danger? Why did it seem like death was constantly flashing in her thoughts? She didn't like it and wanted to get the idea out of her mind. But it lingered until she stepped forward to meet her opponent.

Arana faced a boy taller than her and three years older than her. His reach was longer, and his height was his main advantage. It was not fair to pair her with him, but in a real battle, none of them would get to choose who they fight with. Training this way prepared them for the worst.

The only way Arana could beat him was to grapple him and take him down first before he could throw a knockout punch. But it would be hard to get inside his defense. His long arms would be the first of many barriers she would need to break.

Arana was small. Without Zahara around, she was the shortest in their camp. She knew this, and she trained herself harder for it, focusing on tackling techniques because that was the only way she could win in hand-to-hand combat.

The boy would likely try to beat her with punches and kicks, keeping her at bay. So she watched his hands and feet, predicting where his first strike would come from.

They each pressed their right hand to their chests and gave one another a respectful bow. When the drill sergeant told them to start, they circled each other, gauging.

She looked past the boy's shoulder, past the audience that surrounded them, where two cracked wooden statues of forgotten gods stood at the far end of the field. One was male, and the other was female, their rotted structures overrun by vines and grime. Though people had neglected them—soldiers turned their backs to them, the statues towered there as if they were also watching the fight, approving with their faint smiles. Arana wasn't a believer of any faith, but she sent them a quick, silent prayer before she returned her attention to her opponent.

He was tall but skinny, almost as if he lacked muscles, looking like a walking staff. If Arana could lock onto him, she would have a chance.

She had built her body strong after only a few months of training in a way she didn't think possible at such a young age. But her body had changed since she arrived in Bickra. She was no longer a little girl. She was now a little girl who could fight.

The boy before her started with a jab, only a threat. Then another, a light punch to see how she would react. She expected him to try this several times before throwing in real blows. But when he suddenly lunged, diving at her, he caught her by surprise.

He grabbed her by the waist and smashed her down to the ground. Dirt flew around them and interfered with her vision.

The shouts around them roared in her ears. She heard those who cheered for her opponent.

"Take her down!"

"Keep her locked!"

But she also heard those who wagered for her.

"Push him back, Arana!"

"Don't let him lock you!"

Too late, though. The boy had already looped his arms around her, pinning her in a spinal lock, but not quite right. She struggled in his grip. She had assumed grappling was her advantage, but that was a mistake. She was on her back, facing him, pushing against his neck and shoulder while his legs tangled around hers.

He had her now.

Is he trying to prove there's no way I can beat him?

He reached for her face to press her harder to the ground, but the movement eased the tightness of his hold.

Arana felt her chance. She raised her arm, muscles clenched, and she threw a punch, landing a body hit right under his ribs. A cough of air escaped his lips, and he grunted, loosening his grip.

Arana punched him again and again in the same spot. Her other hand pushed at his chest to keep him away, to keep him from that perfect lock. Then she found her way to his neck, and she choked him.

The boy coughed again, and both his arms gave way. There! My turn!

Arana pushed him farther and took a swing. This time, her punch landed on his face, and he fell partly off her. She pushed him with all her strength, turning them on their sides. Legs still tangled, she made her way to even the match.

The boy swung at her, landing the blow to her side. The pain came, but she tightened her muscles and didn't give up. She swung back, giving a heavier blow to his face and breaking his nose. Blood dripped to his lips.

Finally, she overturned him, her on top and him at the bottom, struggling to take control of the match. She looped her hands around his neck and pressed her elbows on his chest, locking him in place and relying much on her weight to keep him there. She pulled at his neck hard, and she thought it would break. She could kill him, but she controlled her strength, gritting her teeth until the sergeant pulled her off.

The boy had tapped out.

Arana won the fight.

The others, cadets and soldiers, shouted in her favor. "Nice job, Arana!" she heard them say as she climbed to her feet, her body tense and breathing heavy.

The boy looked up, panting like she was, and for a moment, their eyes met. There was no hate between their gazes, only regret and victory.

Arana reached her hand out to him, and he took it, letting her pull him to his feet. He was nodding at her and their fight with an approving look. When he tapped her on the shoulder, he said nothing. He turned away, walking out of the ring and back into the crowd to allow the next spar to begin.

Arana followed his direction. "Akaz!" she called him by his name. The other soldiers patted her on the back as she passed them by.

Akaz turned and looked at her.

"Why did you let me win?" she asked.

No one listened to them as the next fight started, and the ring had stolen everyone's attention.

"What?" Akaz asked.

"You let me win," she said.

"I didn't." He shook his head, raising a dark brow to her.

"But you know that I'd win at grappling. That was my advantage. You should have kept me at bay. You let me win." They stood facing each other, and her eyes only reached his chin. He was more than a hand taller than her.

"It was a mistake. I thought I could take you down that way," he said.

"So, I did win?" Her words were filled with doubt and astonishment.

He chuckled, squinting his dark brown eyes. "Why are you so surprised, Arana? You're a good fighter. You train every day like everyone else. I see you training on your own even after hours."

Arana stared at him. She did that at least three times every week, sometimes missing suppers. She would sneak out of the barracks to return to the field to continue training.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone, but I don't think training after hours is illegal. I should join you sometime. I could use some muscle build like yours." He tapped her lightly on the arm.

Arana looked down at herself. Yes, he had built her muscles after days of lifting weights, climbing walls, and doing push-ups. That was her means to keep up with everything on this island.

The crowd roared at whatever was happening in the ring, and she focused back on Akaz. "I won't mind the company," she shouted so her voice didn't drown in the noise.

He nodded and returned to the ongoing sparring match, squeezing between the other cadets.

Without saying another word, Arana turned to the ring too, but at the side of her eyes, she caught someone staring at her. When she looked, Kapitan Garvan stood among the soldiers, blue eyes bright under the hot sun. He gave her an approving nod before he averted his gaze, and that was all it took for a proud grin to spread on her face.

~~~~~INSPIRATION~~~~~

I hope you were able to watch the video for this chapter. It shows the Philippines' Police exhibitions for police men and women using modern and traditional Filipino weapons.

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