Fragment #3 - Salt

The sweat was cascading off of this bastard; he was heaving, his breathing laboured and I just wished the bastard would stop. I wished the bastard would just go down, he’d taken enough hits and so had I. There was no doubt about it that this guy had cheated at the weigh in. Easily clearing me by a half foot and built like a brick shithouse he’s expecting to win, and honestly, he probably will. Blokes like him get me so agitated it makes my skin crawl like bugs and mites are gnawing and crawling below the surface. I hate that feeling and for that, I’m going to knock that confidence out of him. I’m faster than he is and I will put him, in his place.
It’s the final round and the clock is ticking, tension and excitement is mounting and I’m waiting for him to make his move. I feint, throwing my whole body forward, trying to draw him out and open him up. Back foot forward, no feint - switch feet and return. Bounding, always bounding. The clock is ticking and still he waits - time to make a sacrifice.
I offer him a step-up turning kick, leaving myself wide open but surprising him with a cut kick. His kick scores in target zone but with minimal force. I leap back, chance stance and lean, ready to spring, hoping, and he takes the bait.
He feints left, a weak push kick never intended to impact and follows through with a well executed round kick, fast – but not that fast. I pull back ever so slightly, shifting my weight to my front foot and attack, countering his round kick with mine, twisting, jumping and driving my second hit, right foot instep, firmly into his jaw.
Spittle jettisons itself from his mouth, jumping overboard before the ship goes down. In my peripheral vision or maybe just in my senses I know that he’s stumbled and my reaction is automatic. The toes of my right foot touch mat, my muscles transforming my leg into spring made of the strongest steel – I am the spring, and I release.
THWAP!
In unison we fall to the mats but instantly we are divided. As the victor I stand and take my bow, to my opponent, to the referees and to our supporters. Whilst there is no malice in my victory, I am overwhelmed by the feeling that justice has been served. With help, the bastard stands up – and I am relieved.

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“Dude, that was fucking awesome. I don’t know how you managed to pull that! You’re all like POW, KA POW and then that hook kick, unbelievable man, unbelievable. You nearly knocked him out cold.”
Dane gets so excited sometimes, it’s like listening to a kid talking about his latest video game. Dane’s older than I am by at least six years and he’s a much better fighter than I. He talks all the time about street fighting in India and how vicious the tournaments are over there, broken limbs, spilt blood – you name it. Personally, I’m not even black belt yet and whilst I’ve got a few moves it’s easy to get the better of me. I’ve got a lot of respect for Dane, he busted his ankle a while back and he lets it get to him, but when we spar, it’s as much about teaching me as it is about practicing his own technique. I know that at a least part of my victory was thanks to him, and I hope he knows it too. As I watch him re-enacting my fight winning combination for what must be the tenth time I can’t help but smile – I don’t take compliments very well and often don’t know what to do with them when I get them.

“Yes, very good wasn’t it Dane? Good power.”
Master’s thick Korean accent elongates and draws out the words of praise making it now impossible not to crack a grin. In the comfortable confines of our own gym Master does his own impression of my fallen opponent, stumbling about post fight and then stops, dead serious and looks me in the eyes.
“But Caleb…
Master laughs and so do the rest of us; Dane, Bill, George and James, even Ryan who never speaks above a whisper smirks a little. Today, has been simply awesome and not even the thoughts of returning the lair of the cat woman can dampen my spirits. A tingle runs down my spine and I can feel the adrenaline starting to trickle back into my system in anticipation of the night to come. The bruises covering my body can wait for tomorrow because tonight, we party!