Chapter 3 – Fighting for Skills

There was a list of Common Skills in the orphanage. They even taught the orphans that lived up there some skills for free in the hope of getting them out and working just a little bit sooner. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option for those of us who lived in the basement. Just like my trying to learn the skill Reading, there were dozens of other skills that I knew of that I could try to teach myself.

Ever since I’d had my first taste of skillfully prepared food at Mr. Zapata’s food cart, the skill I really wanted to learn was Cooking. It was a Common Skill, but unfortunately it was one that required resources I didn’t have. My second choice was borne out of necessity: I had a natural talent for Pickpocketing and had never been caught—yet. But, as they say, all good things must come to an end. That’s why I decided to take up Fighting. The boys destined for becoming Thugs learned the skill very naturally. It was also a requirement for getting better at Knife Fighting or shooting a musket, or any other weapon-related proficiency. The only way to learn was by either getting myself a trainer or by getting involved in a lot of fights.

I tried to challenge my bullies, but struggled with their strength and was often left hurt. To protect myself, I became a master at escaping them, honing the technique until I gained the skill Hiding. My time in the orphanage ended as soon as I developed this skill.

Thankfully, there were plenty of Thugs in training. I just needed to make a deal with the top one. A week ago, that was Diego, but he got his Job two days ago, so now that meant talking to Luciano. 

I left and traveled through the city to Backside Park, which was what the street kids called it. It was an open area on the outskirts of the city located behind the paper mill. There was sawdust everywhere. After a rain, the sawdust kind of stuck together and over time would harden into hills. 

The sawmill workers’ kids would play there. Occasionally their mother or father would call them into the mill to try to pick up a skill, but for the most part, it gave the parents peace of mind that their little ones were close and mostly safe. The adults didn't give their children a lot of money, if any, because they were aware of the other kids in town and what kind of trouble could arise. They knew that learning Fighting from getting into fights with the street kids would do them good. And if they found a way to fight back and win, all the better.

I found Luciano’s scent, a mix of saw dust and oil, as I came into the park and followed it behind one of the artificial hills. He was standing over a kid with a black eye groveling on the ground, holding out two iron coins. Luciano was twelve and a big, rough-looking Boar-folk. Not to be confused with the Pig-folk, the Boar-folk were taller, stronger, and meaner. They suffered Stink like the Pig-folk, but Avarice was not their curse. They had the curse Short-Tempered to torment them. Their boon, Wild, was mediocre in my opinion. It meant they were unpredictable and tended to use their natural features in a fight, which in this case meant tusks. Razor-sharp tusks that could easily mangle limbs or simply gore you. 

I put up a hand in greeting as I approached, and I was greeted by a gruff, “What do you want?” as he snatched the coins from the boy and sent him scurrying away.

“I’m trying to learn Fighting.”

Luciano snorted. “Seriously? I get to work you over?”

I nodded. “Yeah, that’s the plan.”

“Alright, ten iron coins for the first five sessions.”

I handed over the hard earned coins quickly, not wanting to second guess my own decision. 

Lucian took the coins with barely a glance at them, knowing I’d never dare short change him. “Just remember, no matter how hard I beat you, you got to try to fight back,” he said with a feral grin as he raised his hands and made fists.

I matched his stance only for his right fist to shoot out and catch me in the side of the face. I saw a flash of light, and the next thing I knew, I was looking up at the sky.

“Sorry, I think I hit you too hard with that first punch,” Luciano said, leaning over me so I’d see his face and the hand he offered to help me up. “I’ll try not to knock you out with one punch next time, okay?”

“Thanks,” I grumbled, accepting the help and wincing at the pain that burned across my left cheek. I licked my gums, tasted blood, and spit it out.

“Again?” Luciano asked.

I reflexively tensed my body and brought my fists up, tightening them into a defensive stance. His right fist came hurtling towards my face, and I was too slow to block it. The punch slammed into me, sending a sharp pain radiating through my cheek. I was still on my feet, but the second punch sent me tumbling to the ground.

“Man, you got to toughen up, or it’s going to take forever to get you Fighting,” Luciano commented as he offered a hand again.

I took the offered help and got ready for another attack. 

Left and right, Luciano's fists snapped forward with a powerful combination. I felt a jolt with each impact and tasted blood from the cut on my lip. I kept trying to swing back, but my punches were sloppy and left me wide open; every time I swung, Luciano seemed to anticipate it. He took me down again and again with the same left-right combo, until finally I got an arm in the way of one punch and knocked it aside. Even with that small victory, three more punches were enough to send me to the ground.

“Good, that’s called blocking. You should do that more,” Luciano teased as he helped me back to my feet.

I nodded, my mouth and jaw in too much pain to respond.

“Alright, here comes a few more love taps,” Luciano said, grinning as his right fist came for my face. I raised my arm to block, stopping his fist a centimeter away from my face. He quickly pulled back and threw a left hook. I managed to block the punch in time with my opposite arm, but he followed up quickly with a right punch that caught me in the side of the head. My vision blurred, and I almost fell to the floor, fighting against the darkness that threatened to overtake me. I raised an arm to block and caught his forearm against my own. He pulled back, his left struck out, and again I blocked the attack. He pulled back, and I raised my left arm to block the right punch that I knew was coming when his left fist caught me in the side of the head. I went down again.

“Don’t assume you know where the next attack is coming from,” Luciano chided me as he once again helped me back up to my feet.

I nodded, and the world spun. Thankfully, Luciano helped steady me.

Luciano gave me a short break to talk. “You’ve got to react to the attack. Don’t just stare at one fist, or you’re going to miss the other fist crashing into your face. You need to watch your opponent. All of your opponent. Right now, I’m only attacking one place with my fists. What happens when I change targets to your ribs? Your gut? Your throat? What if I kick your feet out from under you? We’re starting slow, but you need to know this is all coming for you eventually. Understand?”

I nodded. It seemed there was a lot more to fighting than I knew.

“Good, let’s go again,” Luciano said, raising his fist in the air. I copied him, and the fists flew.

As promised, Luciano worked me over a few hours before he determined I couldn’t take anymore and real damage would set in. He sent me home and told me to go straight to sleep if I wanted to be able to train the next day. It was a good thing I didn’t rely on my eyesight very much as both of my eyes were swollen from the hits. Unfortunately, my nose was also a little messed up. The range of my Synesthesia was muted, not gone, just . . . reduced. I didn’t like that feeling. I knew that I risked getting hurt with this training and that it could impact my ability to use some of my skills, like Stealth or Pickpocketing. I didn’t think it would be able to mess with my Synesthesia skill as well. I would need to reconsider training every day if my Synesthesia was going to be impacted. The trip home was interesting, and for the first time in a very long time, I didn’t try to read my book before passing out. I only hoped my natural regeneration would repair enough of the damage so that training again tomorrow would be possible.

Tomorrow came too soon for my tastes, even though I slept far longer than I ever had before. However, the swelling around my eyes was mostly gone, and I could see again, poorly, but that was normal for me. More importantly, my nose had fully healed. My face was still tender, but I was sure I could train again. I knew if I looked in the mirror, there would be a mess of bruises, assuming you could see them through the layers of dirt and grime that had accumulated on my face. And I was hungry. Hungrier than I had ever been. I ate half a loaf of bread for breakfast, then reluctantly ate the other half, forcing myself to stop before starting on another. 

I met Luciano at the Backside Park later and got worked over once more. 

“Okay, you learned to protect your face. That’s an important first lesson,” Luciano started. “Today, you needed to keep that up, but we’re also going to learn to protect your body.”

Before I could react, a powerful fist smashed into my stomach, and I doubled over in pain. I tasted bile and felt my breakfast churning in my throat.

“Body shots are best avoided,” Luciano said. “Step left or step right.”

He swung again, and I sidestepped left, avoiding the hit, my Dodge skill doing the hard work. I laughed in relief, expecting the danger to be gone. But I let down my guard, and before I could react, Luciano's knuckles struck me on my nose. A sharp pain shot through my face, and a bright light blotted out my vision before I fell back onto the ground.

Luciano’s face came into view again, blocking out the sky, as he reminded, “I told you, you’ve got to protect your head.”

I groaned as I accepted the hand up and let the stronger boarboy pull me to my feet.

I brought my arms up just in time as a jolt of pain ran through my body as Luciano made contact with a right uppercut. It was enough to force me to stumble back, taking an extra half-step back to prevent further damage. I saw my chance and lunged forward, pushing all my weight into the fist that was headed toward Luciano’s stomach. But I was just a split second too late as he sidestepped, avoiding the blow and forcing me back on the defensive.

“Better!” Luciano cheered, and his eyes lit up with anticipation as he threw a left jab toward my torso and then a left hook towards my face. He fired off a right uppercut to my midsection, but I managed to step backward, avoiding the punch. However, I couldn’t get away from the next one. Luciano’s right fist connected with an audible thud against my groin. I wanted to kill him after that hit. I wanted to hit him even more when he laughed and said, “It’s a fight. You do whatever it takes to win. You hear me?”

I wished I hadn’t heard him. I wanted to crawl into a hole and die. Still, it made me learn very quickly to avoid getting hit there.

We kept going, but I was almost entirely on the defensive for the rest of the day. I tried to strike back but Luciano always avoided or blocked my attack. I went home bruised, but compared to yesterday I could still see, and my nose was only slightly tender.

I slept late again the next day and woke up ravenously hungry. Still, I managed to restrain myself and only ate a single serving of bread and cheese. I needed to make my supplies last.

Luciano was waiting for me at Backside Park, looking annoyed. His first words to me confirmed it, “You’re late.”

“Sorry, I overslept,” I admitted. There was no sense lying to him.

Luciano looked me up and down, “Well, looks like it did you some good at least. You’re healing up nicely, that or I’m just hitting you less. I’d say that’s good either way. Alright, enough talk, let’s get to it. You’ve learned to block and dodge pretty well, but your ability to punch back is terrible. So I’m going to teach you to punch, and then we’ll get back to it, alright?”

I nodded. I hadn’t realized my punch was so bad. Then again, I’d never hit him, so . . .

“First, your fist. It’s terrible. You hit someone like that, and you’re liable to break your hand,” Luciano said, taking hold of my wrist and holding up my fist for me to see. Except, I didn’t see the problem. My fingers were closed and my thumb sat on my knuckle. “First, wrap your thumb down around the fingers, locking them in place. This will prevent your thumb from being broken first. Second, lock your wrist. It should be a straight line down your forearm to the knuckles.” He ran his hand down my forearm to the knuckles, showing me what he wanted. “You want to hit with these two knuckles,” he said, pointing to the first two knuckles on my fist. “You want all that power from the punch to flow through them. It means more damage and less chance of breaking something in your hand.”

I nodded. The fist felt a little awkward at first, but as I threw a couple punches at the air, it did feel better . . . stronger.

“There are three basic punches. You’ve got the jab,” he said, punching straight out in front of him. “You’ve got the hook,” he continued, punching in an arc. “And you’ve got the uppercut,” he finished, punching up from the body. “Kicks are basically just the first two but with your feet. We’ll get to that later. For now, just practice those three a few times, and we’ll get at it again.”

I nodded and tried each punch with each arm a few times to get the feel for it.

“Eh, not bad,” Luciano commented. “The more you practice them, the better they’ll get. Now enough punching air.”

I barely dodged the punch to the gut. And just like that, the fight was on.

Luciano was a dangerous opponent. He knew where to find openings in my defenses and frequently capitalized on them. My only saving grace was Dodge. It kept my gut from being beaten like a drum, and when I started using the skill to protect my head, the fights started lasting a lot longer.

“Good, good,” Luciano said, his fist narrowly missing my right cheek. I counted with a straight jab and finally forced him to back off. It didn’t last long as he lunged in, his left fist arcing through the air at my face. I ducked the blow and saw an opening. I punched and felt the meaty impact of my fist against his flesh and felt a rush of satisfaction as the stronger and tougher boarboy folded. I had my payback.

“You . . . dirty . . . rotten . . . Oh,” Luciano groaned as his two hands cradled his groin. It was very satisfying to witness.

Unfortunately, once the boarboy recovered, he stopped pulling his punches. The sheer strength behind them wore down my defenses, leaving me more battered and bruised than even the first day we trained. 

“Same time tomorrow?” Luciano asked, gripping one of my hands and pulling me to my feet.

I nodded, and together we left the park behind for the day. It was the first time Luciano had walked back home with me. It felt a little like we were becoming friends. Street kids struggled with making friends. Plenty of acquaintances, but not many friends, mostly because you never knew if the other street kid was setting you up for a fall. Still, I appreciated the help back.

Unfortunately, due to my increased appetite, I was almost out of food so training the next day had to be shortened. It was time to get back to work.