“Our venerable founders were among the first to recognize the true dangers of the plagues and the blasts that followed. We are alive today because of their quick reactions and forethought in saving our ancestors and leading them to safety.”

— A True Account of The Founding Families History by Hamilton Gerrard III, Chikara City Head Archivist.

In the airy hallway and out of the sensei’s view, Kiriai jerked her arm out of Sento’s grasp, taking a step back to put distance between the two of them.

“I can walk by myself,” she said in a tight voice through clenched teeth. “Just show me the way, and I’ll follow you.”

Sento met her eyes and seemed to be having as much difficulty as she was regaining control. She waited, not willing to get into another fight, especially anywhere that the sensei could hear it. After a moment, Sento looked like he had come to some conclusion. “I am so angry right now, I could give you the pounding you deserve for pulling a stunt like that, but,” he said, holding up a hand before she could respond, “part of me can’t believe you pulled it off.” Now a wry grin had softened his features. “Honestly, it’s the kind of thing I would have done to get my implant if I had thought of it. Sure you humiliated me, and yourself, but you want to be a scrapper and are willing to do anything, anything at all, to get what you want.”

He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe what he was doing. With a grin, he held out his hand. “I wouldn’t be much of a scrapper if I didn’t congratulate you on winning your fight against all odds.”

Astonished at the abrupt turn-around, Kiriai froze for a moment before lifting her hand to shake Sento’s. Since she had assumed her actions earned her a bitter enemy, Kiriai felt a rush of relief at the second chance being offered her.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t give you the pounding you deserve if you do something like that again,” he said, his face quickly becoming serious once more. “Just make sure that what you get for it is worth the beating I’ll give you.”

“Like a fighter implant,” she asked, before she could think better of it.

That startled a laugh out of the taller fighter. “Yes,” he said. “I’d take a beating any day for my implant.” Then, seeming to hear what he’d said, he gave her a sardonic smile. “In fact, I usually do.”

“Sento, I owe this all to you,” she said, trying to explain, “I didn’t want the whole foot thing to get so out of control like it did—”

“Don’t,” he interrupted her. “Don’t apologize for doing whatever it took to become a fighter. And we can take care of the whole ‘foot’ thing easily. By the time I spin it, everyone will be wishing they could teach their students to be as sneaky as mine.”

At her surprised look, he continued. “What? Did you think battles are all about honor and skill?” He laughed when she still didn’t appear to understand. He clapped a hand to her shoulder and said, “Kid, between the tactics of the ’rangers and the hood ’forcers, we’re lucky we even get to use our fighting skills at all. Being cunning can give you more victories than your abilities. Why do you think I’m talking to you now instead of yelling?”

A sick feeling started in the pit of Kiriai’s stomach. If she hadn’t before, she now knew she was entering a world she knew very little about. Some of what she was thinking must have shown on her face because Sento nodded grimly.

“Yes, this is a very cutthroat world and I’m offering an alliance. I saw some talent in you or I wouldn’t have wanted to use you to train. And now, you’ve not only demonstrated a willingness to sacrifice whatever it takes to get what you want, but also the craftiness to actually do it. I can use you and your skills as an ally. What do you say? Allies?” He held his hand out one more time. . . .