FJ8: Rough Sailing Start

January 21, 2010.  The tournament of Nobodies started two days ago.  After an unfortunate prank that my associate pulled on me, I found myself in the Advanced section of competition.  I still thank my lucky stars that the Tournament was deemed "kill-free" at the expense of a war.  Not that that would have alarmed me, but it helped to steel my nerves (although slightly).  I was not, however, amused to learn that my main advantage (the hidden arsenal my element yielded) was stripped from me by the rules of the tournament.  All I was left with was my knife, my element, and my wits.  At least my Keyblader opponent was prevented from using anything other than his main weapon as well (curse him for having a tangible element).

I at least "came upon" the information on my opponent beforehand.  His name was Ewey Kingston, a sea captain of some sort, number thirteen of something… the exact details about his past escape me.  (He did have a brother who became a Nobody, as his reference file revealed; Machelix seemed intrigued to hear about this "Tronx".)  Being a sea captain, he wielded water as his element and is as stern outward as I am.  

That fact was driven home as soon as I saw him in the arena.  Tanned and dark-haired, his shadowed face would have proved intimidating to those of lesser demeanor.  Of course, his clothes might have cracked a smile on a few.  Bright yellow, they highly contrasted with the seriousness his brown eyes conveyed.  His Keyblade was already summoned, an anchor held in his fist with a wave of water forming the blade.  My knife was summoned into my hand as we made our way towards the square of earth that was to be our battlefield, staring each other down.

Once atop the "ring", I trusted my Scribe in the audience, Shakespeare, to take notes for this journal entry.  I knew that I wouldn't be able to concentrate on details and the fight at the same time.  I trust him above most of my others for his attention to detail.

"So you're my first opponent, huh?" Ewey asked.  Obviously my appearance didn't leave a good impression.  "The fight hasn't even started and you're already blue in the face."

I scowled at the remark, replying, "There is good reason for that."

"Obviously," he shot back.  "You're facing me with barely a scrap of steel as a weapon.  This is an utter embarrassment to my skill level."  He directed this last shout to the Superiors lined up on their own pedestals opposite the audience.

"Why don't we let our weapons do the talking?"  At this point I took a battle pose, holding my knife out in front of me.  "You'll find that mine can be quite angry when he's insulted."

Ewey faked a spit and replied, "You talk about your weapon like it has a name, and you haven't even given me yours yet.  Talk about bad manners."

"I already know yours, Ewey, so introductions seemed pointless.  Besides, I said once before for us to let our weapons do the talking.  That should be the only language understood here in this coliseum of confrontation."

"As you wish, but don't try to soil my sword too much, you Nobody nuisance.  I just cleaned it."  At that point he rushed, his Keyblade prepared to take a slash at my chest.  Quickly sidestepping the blade, I fell into a roll to the side.  I quickly stood up.  He stopped his attack short, turning on me without a second's hesitation.  No wonder he had signed on for the Expert division; his battle skills were honed quite keenly.  I could barely deflect his next downward slash with my dagger.  I leapt back again, the force he applied on the blade sending it to the ground.  

"If only to be called something other than a nuisance, my name is Fexyregof," I snapped, taking the second to catch my breath.  

"Then I'll be sure to write that on your tombstone!"  He dislodged his blade and came at me anew in a charge.  "Now fight me, coward!"

With what must have been renewed agitation flowing through me I slashed his weapon upwards out of his trajectory.  "What did I just tell you?"

Unfortunately, I didn't foresee the maneuver he pulled next.  The blade curled back, and his body curled around with it.  He actually forced it into its altered flight path, knocking me in the chest with a back-flip slash!  I staggered back a few steps with the attack, admittedly thrown for a loop.  

Ewey wasn't about to leave an opening to waste.  He gave me a sharp blow to my abdomen before following it up with another slash to the chest.  It was this last blow that he packed the most power into; I could tell.  In fact, I was sent skidding backwards along the ground by the force of it.  I thought it improbable for even him to generate so much power, until I felt the water start to soak my jacket.  Apparently he wanted to finish things fast with a ring-out, having slicked the ground during his back-flip.

I wasn't about to go down without a decent fight.  Before I slid off the stage I plunged my dagger into the earth and swung myself out of the water.  I ground to a halt once over solid earth again, picking myself up and dusting off my shoulders.  Apparently fighting dirty was something a water fighter could do.  

"Are you done playing in the mud yet, worm?" Ewey shouted.  Not even this trick brought a smile to his face.

"Maybe you would care to join me?  I do hear that pigs rather enjoy the mud."

"Such insolence!"  I had definitely found his anger switch.  "I am one of the Fifteen Royal Navy Captains, and I expect to be treated as such!"

"You will get the respect you crave when you share some of it.  Otherwise, I will smear as much dirt in your face as you do mine."  I took up my natural attacking pose again to show I still meant business.

"Respect you?  Why would I respect some heartless half-wit who can't even amount to putting up a decent fight, much less an officer?  I will have your respect, urchin, or I will have your head!"

"For a fellow poetic tongue, your ears must be full of saltwater to so blatantly disregard my suggestions.  Maybe I should write you a note?"  I couldn't help but give a cheeky grin as I rushed him, my weapon held with the pen nub forward.

I hadn't noticed the water soaking in to facilitate his change in clothes from the sunshine yellow to an oceanic blue, a color ironically close to the color of my skin he had so outright insulted.  What I did notice was the change to his battle style.  After the rage I had driven him into, I was expecting uncontrolled outbursts, not the self-contained defense I near-futilely tried to assail.  Even with eyes closed he still predicted my movements and countered perfectly!

Nearly twelve blows later I tried to circle around him to attempt a slash to his back.  This proved a failure too, even though his metal never met mine for this defense.  Instead, he had rested the shaft of his Keyblade on his shoulder with the very tip of it pointed at my dagger hand.  Water flowed across my arm from all over me, collecting in a sphere around my hand!  I was trapped!  No matter how much I pulled, I still couldn't get free.

Ewey turned around almost as fluidly as the water he commanded.  This time his eyes were open.  He tapped his Keyblade on his shoulder, still showing off his scowl.  "You didn't even notice the movement tracer splotches I had on you?  Even a cadet-in-training could have foreseen something like that when facing a person with my powers, with my skill level."

"I didn't see that as the point of your 'slip and slide'," I retorted.  With my glasses upset in the tussle, I pushed them back into place with my middle finger out of habit.  I had forgotten that my left hand hid something in my palm.  Upon looking down on it during the adjustment, I cracked a slight smile.  

Ewey didn't see it with my hand still in place and added, "I was confused by your left arm's movements for a while, though."

"Confused, were you?"  I couldn't help but give a sinister-sounding chuckle at that point.

"What is so funny, maggot?"

"What's funny is that your rendition of 'Jingle Bells' is off-key."

"My singing has nothing to do with this.  Now tell me what's so funny this instant!"

"Now is that any way to treat your superior officer, maggot?"  My question spooked him rather than angered, but it still broke his concentration.  The punch I delivered I hope broke his nose as well.  The water fell away from his clothes and my hand, allowing me to rework the writing on the badge I held.  Once the final 'f' was crossed, my clothes changed.  The black jacket lightened to a light-blue like my skin, adorned with a fur collar instead of a hood and yellow trim along the shoulders and zipper.  Personally, I'd say it wasn't me; Navy-blue would have worked better.

After Ewey recovered his footing (well, at least getting to his knees), he learned firsthand what I had done.  "No…"

I had to say now the fight was too easy.  "I don't know about you," I half-said, half-laughed, "but I think the title of Captain 13 suits me quite nicely.  It does seem to be my lucky number."

"You… my captain's jacket… my…"  He slowly staggered to his feet, his grip on his Keyblade lax.  All of a sudden, it tightened until his knuckles were white.  "Mine!  That jacket, that captainship is mine!"

I had had a few sea captains in my shop as a Somebody, so I knew some of their language.  "Belay that talk, whelp!  You are addressing your superior!  You have been demoted."

"Demoted…  Over my dead body!"  His stance became offensive, his Keyblade held out before him and pointed at me.  He seemed flabbergasted when nothing happened for a few seconds.  "What?  Thirteen Waves…"

An anchor held aloft on a chain dropped from my hand.  "You should have said over my dead body.  Then you would be correct."  Before he could make another move I dashed forward, caught his ankle with my foot, and sent him back to his knees.  Once I stood behind him I planted my boot hard on his back.  I dropped the trinkets I pilfered between his shoulders and snapped my fingers; the badge changed back to normal.  "Now you know what it feels like to have everything you cherish ripped from you.  And, for your information, I already have my name on the headstone above my bed.  Learn to pay your respects to the dead."

Once that was said, the match was called in my favor.  No matter the strength, experience, and prestige of my opponent; my intelligence had won me this fight.  Upon walking out of the arena after the first match, I realized that I could win this thing; I just had to hold my head high and keep one step ahead of my opponent.  

This lightweight is going places.