Chapter 6

The Girl Who Held the Fire

Hari closed her defense, advancing towards Gojo. Gojo tried to hit her with a right hook, but Hari ducked to the right, throwing a straight punch at Gojo’s face. He just moved his head back, making the punch pass close to his nose. A perfect dodge. Gojo grinned, sending occasional jabs and kicks to keep Hari at a distance.

I’m still too far away from him.

To Hari’s disadvantage, Gojo was taller and had more range. So she couldn’t allow him to use these against her. She had to close the distance even further. Gojo noticed the intent and lifted his leg for a front kick, to control Hari’s positioning. Of course, that would work with most fighters, but what Gojo didn’t know was that Hari rarely backed down. She grabbed his raised leg and kicked the other one off balance.

But Gojo jumped above her before the blow connected. Hari had seen no one jump like that. She smiled. Her emotions were about to explode. She took a deep breath.

“You‘re fast.” Gojo said.

“You too.” She replied.

“But not enough.”

Gojo pushed first, this time with a right hook. Hari dodged to the left, hoping to hit him with a body shot. But the punch was a feint, and Gojo used the momentum of his charge to land a side kick to Hari’s head.

She raised an arm, blocking the blow. But, still with one leg in the air, Gojo hit Hari’s chin with an uppercut kick, using his other leg while completing a backflip.

The impact wasn’t enough to knock her out, but it made her lose her balance. Hari’s world spun. And Gojo took advantage of that moment to hit Hari with a brutal sequence of heavy shots.

The blows hurt more than Hari had expected, and some hit her face before she could get her defense up again. Blood trickled from her brow, and a gash opened just below her eye. Gojo didn’t stop. He was like a hungry animal, forcing its prey to retreat. There was no technique, only strength. But Hari was no prey. Still, she needed to put some distance between them.

Hari backed off.

He’s good, too good. That upward kick caught me off guard.

Gojo fighting style was too unconventional. Fuck. What did she expect? They weren’t on the same level. Bruises already covered her arms, burning so badly they felt like they were on fire. How could he be so good? His hands were the worst part of it. They were like rocks and caused an almost unbearable amount of pain when they hit you.

Though, Hari couldn’t stop now. The fighting flame burned inside her. Yaozu was watching and so were the others. Also, this fight was just getting better, and she just warmed up. If she couldn’t defend, she would attack and hope her face stood intact after this. She tasted the blood running down her forehead and smiled.

I want more.

There was no time to think. She dashed forward again. The move made Gojo flinch. He probably expected her to keep backing away. Gojo received her with a punch that grazed Hari’s cheek. But she didn’t raise any guards this time. She just attacked.

Hari launched a pattern of punches and kicks that meant to observe how Gojo moved and how he defended himself. She spent a lot of her mental energy trying to understand what Gojo’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities were. Anything, a tiny thing, a pattern, a habit she could explore.

He didn’t have any.

Heavens. This bastard is a fucking genius.

He certainly could have been a rookie, or just an oddball, but that didn’t seem to be the case. Heaven was too unfair to bless her with a fight against an untrained asshole. Now, she was more than sure that Gojo was the instinctive type of fighter. That was her advantage. Besides, Hari had previously fought a genius greater than Gojo. Her sister, Alin.

And against Alin, the best option was always to press on. Hari would do the same against Gojo.

The next few minutes were a string of maddening blows from both sides. Neither of them wanted to back down. Neither of them wanted to stop. Hari had already hit Gojo’s face countless times, but he had done the same to her.

Despite the technical advantage, Hari could barely keep up with the speed of Gojo’s attacks, dodging just a hair’s breadth from some of his strikes. But after so many of them, many had already gotten to her.

Hari’s nose crooked. Her lip split. And she was pretty sure three of her ribs were already broken. Yet, she grinned as more punches landed in her face, each one causing her to swallow more blood. Each one further fueling her flame and thirst for the fight.

The combat made her numb. This was too good. Addictive. Her heart felt like it wanted to explode, pounding fiercely. Yes, this was the best feeling in the world. And she still wanted more.

Hari kept punching, kicking, dodging. She desired more strength. Hari wanted to destroy him, defeat him, transform Gojo into an example for the Pit and the Fist Maker. With each action, she felt less pain and more euphoria. Her emotions wanted to get out of control. The flame wanted to burn. Violence wanted to take over her body.

But a punch from Gojo knocked her out.

The blow was so swift that amidst the heady excitement; it connected perfectly with Hari’s chin. Her legs failed and her body fell. Everything turned black. So here was the end? She lost once again. Hari chuckled. That was so funny. How could she be so stupid? She thought she could enter the Pit and defeat Gojo. She thought she was some kind of heroine who would save the children from the Fist Maker’s grasp.

Truth was, she was a nobody. That’s why Alin had abandoned her, and perhaps why the Fist Maker rejected her. In the end, she wasn’t like the Fortunate Cultivator’s Treasure. She could not summon the power of the moon or the sun, nor could she master swords, let alone breathe fire. She was weak. Come to think of it now, did the Fortunate Cultivator’s Treasure really ever exist?

Certainly, people couldn’t walk as lightning or manipulate people’s minds with supernatural powers. For decades, these stories passed on more forcefully than legends. Maybe this was all on her mind. Hari was sure she was the only one who still had hoped that those events were true.

Although, fake or not, the stories wouldn’t change. The Cultivator’s Treasure was powerful, not because they had special abilities, but because they fulfilled their goals and never gave up.

But why should she continue? Why should she get up and face Gojo one more time? What did she want to prove? That she wasn’t a scared orphan? That every night she didn’t have nightmares about the Immortal? That every day, she didn’t regret running away while the Jade Knights killed her parents?

All of this was true. Despite that, she rose. Hari might not be sure what motivated her; if her love for her weird new family; if an almost unshakable stubbornness, or if she wanted to prove to everyone that she could win. But of one thing she was sure. She wanted to fight.

The fighting flame burned once more, bright, fiery, uncontrolled. Red painted her vision. The world became scarlet. She couldn’t tell anymore if the blood was hers or Gojo’s, and it didn’t really matter.

Hari glared at Gojo.

He was the only thing now standing between her and her desires. Sure, she had to win to save Yaozu, Lin, Kara and Norell. She had to win to prove to herself that she could be strong. She had to win to show the Fist Maker he was wrong. And she had to know if she was powerful enough to find Alin again, to ask her why.

So obviously, Gojo had to disappear.

Now.

Hari felt her body burn, her veins pump with more blood and her muscles swell. Her bones seemed like the very incarnation of fire. For the first time, Hari let her emotions run wild and violence control her actions. Hari watched as her body dashed towards Gojo at an astonishing speed.

What is this? I’m burning.

Her skin wanted to melt, her breath smoked. Each of her punches sank into Gojo’s skin, as if Hari’s hands were lava. Each kick crushed his bones, twisted his flesh. But Hari didn’t want to stop.

The flaming sensation had clouded everything. Hari didn’t even hear the crowd. Even as Gojo fell to the ground, she kept going, keeping up the flaming intensity. She mounted Gojo and continued to hit him, unleashing even more violence.

In Gojo’s face, Hari saw the children, the Fist Maker, her parents. And the Jade Immortal. Her true enemy. The one who put her in this miserable life. She saw all the pain that monster had caused her, and she set it on fire, reducing the remains to ashes.

Go away. Go away!

Suddenly, she felt arms grabbing her from behind. She saw the Fist Maker’s face. What did he do in the arena? He was trying to stop her? Oh, of course, he wanted her to lose to Gojo. She had forgotten about it. But she couldn’t stop. Her body no longer belonged to her. It was uncontrollable fire, ravenous, and wanted to consume more.

Hari faced the Fist Maker, launching unexpected jabs at him. The Fist Maker dodged and caught her arms. He said something, but she couldn’t hear.

I’m scared. Please stop. I need to stop!

She didn’t want to keep fighting anymore, but the flames didn’t pay attention. The flames wanted more. Terrified, Hari closed her eyes, concentrating on her blood flow and her breathing. Inside her, the flames struggled not to disappear.

This was terrible. Hari felt that at any moment this fire would consume her too and turn her to ash. Soon, nothing would remain of her. She continued to force the flames down, breathing even harder. Hari wished that was enough to make the heat go away. She begged it to stop.

Finally, she felt a calm wash over her, a cold energy coming from the Fist Maker, making the fire subside and the urge for violence vanish. Then, with a bang, her hearing returned. She could hear her labored breathing again. The sound of several footsteps approaching. But the crowd was silent.

“Hari, this is enough. Please stop!” the Fist Maker said, putting his hands on her face. “He’s already dead.”