Tanker, his head still swimming with the echoes of his past, quietly exited the tournament ring. He didn't head for the contenders' area immediately. Instead, his heavy footsteps carried him directly towards the section of the arena where Rider and Aingo were seated. He stopped before them, his colossal frame hunched, and to the utter astonishment of Aingo and the lingering anger of Rider, he performed a deep, formal bow.
"I'm sorry," Tanker rumbled, his voice rough with an uncharacteristic humility. "I don't know what got over me. I guess I was pissed at the fact a girl was able to stand toe-to-toe with me. I'm not worthy of your forgiveness."
Rider stared at him, his face a mask of simmering anger, his silence more potent than any shout. Aingo, however, was visibly taken aback. (I don't think I've ever seen Tanker bow to anyone except Dextin,) he thought, his analytical mind momentarily stunned, grappling with this unexpected display of humility from the proud, brutal warrior. Rider remained frozen, caught between his outrage and the sheer oddity of the moment, unable to formulate a response.
As abruptly as he had bowed, Tanker straightened. He turned and strode towards the main battlefield, his gaze lifting to the royal chamber where King Neon presided. "I don't want to continue this tournament," Tanker declared, his voice carrying clearly across the half-empty arena. "I'm going back home."
A beat of stunned silence followed before King Neon's voice, calm but firm, responded. "You don't know what you're saying, Tanker." Tanker looked up, shock registering on his face. The King continued, his tone reasoned and understanding. "I genuinely think you should think this through. Yes, you regret your actions, but you still have to keep going. You've made it this far; you can't turn back now. So take your time to think, because the finals would start twenty minutes from now. You have all earned it." The King's pronouncement settled over the arena, and the remaining crowd began to quietly dismiss, their murmurs filling the space that had been so recently dominated by roars. Tanker and Zack, the two remaining semi-finalists, made their way towards the contenders' area, the weight of the King's words heavy upon them.
Aingo turned to Rider, giving him a knowing side-eye. "What would you want to do with the time at hand?" Aingo asked, his voice low. Rider clenched his fists tightly. Every fiber of his being screamed to be with Bianca, but he knew Aingo would likely insist on training.
Then, to Rider's profound shock, Aingo stood up. "Let's go check on her," Aingo said, a rare, gentle smile gracing his usually stoic features. Rider's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Real?" he stammered, disbelief evident in his voice. Aingo simply nodded. "Yes. She not only lost but is badly injured. It's only right we check on her." Rider pushed himself to his feet, quickly wiping away the fresh trail of tears that had escaped his eyes, and together, he and Aingo hurried towards the medical center.
Meanwhile, in Zack's room in the contenders' private quarters, he entered, closing the door softly behind him. He sat on the edge of his bed, attempting to clear his mind and perhaps snatch a few moments of rest before the final round. A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. "Don't come in," he said, his voice flat.
"Um, it's me, Leo," a timid voice replied from the other side.
Zack sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Fine, just come in."
Leo entered, carrying a well-stocked first aid kit. He looked at Zack, his expression one of gentle concern. "I heard you didn't go to the medical center to get yourself checked again, so I brought a first aid kit here instead."
Zack frowned, pushing himself deeper into the bed. "No. I'm not doing this. Please, leave. There's no need for me to go there." He was stubborn, as always, about his own well-being.
Leo, unfazed, simply sat on the edge of the bed and began opening the first aid kit. "At least let me clean and bandage your wounds," he pleaded softly.
Zack scowled, but the weariness in his eyes betrayed his resolve. "If you do so, promise that you would leave immediately afterward." Leo nodded, his focus already on Zack's bloodied bandages, and began carefully attending to his champion's wounds.
In the opposite hallway, in Tanker's room, the scent of stale alcohol hung heavy in the air. Tanker sat on the floor, surrounded by empty bottles, attempting to drown his thoughts in drink. He held up a crumpled, faded photograph of Sarah, her warm smile frozen in time. The image flashed through his mind, a sharp, painful contrast to his own brutal reality. The memory was too potent. With a choked groan, he dropped the bottle of alcohol, the glass shattering on the wooden floor. He stumbled towards the bed, collapsing onto it. As sleep finally began to claim him, a faint whisper escaped his lips, a broken promise to a ghost: "I'll be with you soon, I promise."
Back at the bustling medical center, Aingo and Rider finally located the room Bianca was in. Through the viewing window, they could see her current state, and the sight was devastating. Rider tried to rush in, but was immediately confronted by a stern-faced doctor.
"Sorry, but we can't let you in yet," the doctor explained, his voice hushed but firm. "This is a delicate, intricate surgery we are performing. Any distraction, any sudden noise, can mean the end of her life. The only bone not broken is her skull, so we are lucky for that, but she is in critical damage. I strongly suggest you wait out here."
Aingo, ever pragmatic, gently guided a trembling Rider to a nearby bench. They sat in silence, the sterile smell of the hospital filling the air, waiting for any news of Bianca's condition. Tears began to fall from Rider's eyes, unchecked and raw, as his mind drifted back to the very first time he met her.
(10 years ago)