57 A PROEM TO SAVAGERY (1/2)
The twelfth deck was usually full of characters who have their own sense of the surroundings, so it was rare for any notion to be accepted by most, but there would always come to be notions, a few, that would become popular. Here was one such belief: Facing Bruiser, willingly or not, is an itinerary that would imperil not only the body but also the soul.
Another general belief was that beating a retreat in the presence of Bruiser was nothing to be ashamed of.
Currently, inside the test hall of the twelfth deck, most men were doing just that. And as if supporting their actions, one of the painted sentences on the walls of the test hall phrased: Screw the shame when facing a formidable name.
Granting a name to a challenging cat was a well-known tradition on the twelfth deck. Any feline that scored five straight winnings in a contiguous span of twenty-four hours was qualified to receive a name. A particular cat, though, earned twice as many triumphs on one of the bygone days and eventually got the name—Bruiser.
That name alone was enough to make men forget about their pride and such senses, or else they knew they would be bruised positively, if not to an intense degree.
With the peremptory presence of such a cat, the atmosphere in the hall simply turned into something only rarely seen—anything goes.
Almost everyone showed their backs to the cat in the ring, but still, some of the running-away men turned their heads back, and their eyes witnessed Bruiser making a leap—from the security of the sod to the uncertainty that was the boy with a scar on his face.
Lirzod, at the moment, was thinking about something. He had overheard some men discuss that exercise was the best way to improve one's chances in triumphing over a cat. So he had wished to embrace that mantra for the first fifteen seconds and then proceed with his devised plan.
Nonetheless, Bruiser attacked him out of nowhere, and in a flash, his paw was already slashing at his neck from up close. Lirzod, though taken by surprise, managed to bend his neck to the side. The claws, however, scraped against the skin.
Lirzod's forehead creased. (I thought I dodged.) A tint of worry washed over, stiffening the fine hairs on the back of his neck.
Bruiser avoided the fall by clinging onto Lirzod's collar and swiftly climbed to the top of his head and then began his real act of aggression. He strove to rip out a bunch of hairs by teeth while his claws were busy in bringing out blood by clawing their way down to the bone.
Frenziedly, Lirzod powered his way back by grabbing Bruiser by his fur coat on the spine, tried to pull him away, but it proved more difficult than he had imagined. His hand slid across the cat's spine and squeezed the neck.
Bruiser let go of Lirzod's hairs and bit his forearm, causing him to let go of his hold and push away the cat at the same time. Bruiser landed gracefully on the ground and strutted around Lirzod in a circle, his tail not puffed out but still raised high.
Lirzod placed his hand behind his ear once and momentarily stared at his hand which now had blood on it. His pulse beat in his ears and blocked all other sounds for a moment. He looked at Bruiser who was walking as if he was the owner of the sod.
”Look at him strutting in an arrogant gait as if he can win it whenever he wants to,” some audiences ground their teeth in both fright and frustration from the mannerisms of the much-hated feline.
”If I knew the one he had chosen was Lord Bruiser, I would have never placed a bet,” one man cursed his luck, unable to control the hammering of his heart.
”When up against Lord Bruiser inside the ring, every contestant is but a chicken trying to fly in a blizzard. No use of flapping one's wings. No use of trying. The boy trapped himself,” Though part of this man wanted to run, the other part didn't want him to flee just yet.
”Ah, my money has gone into a stonser's stomach[1],” another man couldn't get rid of the bitter taste in the back of his mouth and was on the verge of crying.
Burton slowly shook his head. ”I knew something like this would happen. He could have simply used the rattail, but guess what, he doesn't take one thing seriously,” he glanced at Sariyu, ”and I think you are allowing it to happen.”
”What are you getting at?” Sariyu asked him back, her gaze turning sharp right away.
”I know my presence doesn't affect him much, but your presence allows him to be even more carefree,” Burton said, thumbing the ear. ”If this goes on, we can't even climb to the hundredth deck before the ship reaches the sect.”
”Stop worrying over every little thing,” Sariyu crossed her arms across her chest, ”and cut him some slack.”
”I have done that plenty of times already,” Burton said, staring blankly at Lirzod who was running toward Bruiser, ”but this isn't a little thing as you say. He let the cat draw out his blood, and I'm sure that won't be the last of it.”
”C'mon, cats are idiots.”
”Cats are idiots, but so is he. Even if he somehow ends up winning and earns pocketfuls of coins, he'll frivolously fritter them away. Just wait and see, he'll probably throw a party, and all that wealth goes down the drain. Don't you think we can do much better without him? Perhaps, he'll do better without us, too.”
”No one asked you to tag along,” Sariyu splayed her hands out wide before crossing them again. ”You were always like this—getting worked up over little thing.”
Burton stood in an unnatural stiffness, and though his mouth was opened, no word came out of it for a couple of seconds. ”You sounded as if you both would do better without me around.” He felt as if something has walked through him and left him numb to everything. ”If that's what you truly believe,” he took a step back while still looking at her, ”then I guess I'll climb the decks by myself.” He turned away and began to walk, ”but... if you ever change your mind though, you are welcome to join me any day.”
Sariyu lowered her gaze and took a somewhat burdening breath as the distance between them grew by the second, ”I still can't tell if he calculatedly complains so that he can walk off without guilt or...” she bit her nail before looking at Lirzod who brought her out of her contemplation with his chase. ”Why aren't you using the rattail, you barebutt!” she muttered under her breath. ”Use it and prove Purple Grass wrong.”
”Stop, you sneaky little bastard,” Lirzod kept chasing after the cat in circles, ”if you don't stop, I swear I won't hesitate to shove these grasses up your nose.”
Sariyu's shoulders slumped a bit. ”Never mind.”
The audiences, however, were fascinated by what Lirzod was doing.
”H-He's going after Lord Bruiser,” one man took two steps backward, and disbelief sucked the very breath from his mouth, ”I can't believe he's showing his teeth against that monster-cat.”
”Lord Bruiser bruises everything that budges,” another man felt the tenseness in his muscles, ”He bothers all the cats, even the ones too fat to fight, and doesn't stop until blood is shed, but this boy is running after such a cat. Does he not fear the claws?”
”Lord Bruiser doesn't even fear cucumbers. How can he expect Lord Bruiser to fear a bunch of grasses that can tickle him at best?”
”Yeah, Lord Bruiser is no ordinary cat,” one man had sweat pouring down his body. ”He doesn't do pre-fight talking and goes straight for the head of his foe because he's got the soul of a tiger-cat.”
Despite the audiences' views, Lirzod had his own plan. At the moment, though he was already struggling a bit to catch his breath, he had a complex smile on his face. ”I've never thought I'd see myself going after a cat one day.”
To this moment, no matter how swiftly he had changed his pace and direction to get closer to Bruiser, the distance between them didn't reduce much at all, so he leaped at the cat, howling his lungs out as he thrust the hand holding grasses. ”Let the fur fly!”
His move took the audiences by surprise, for it was an adequate jump. ”Get him!” they rooted for him with increased heart rates.
As their eyes witnessed, Lirzod's whole body banged onto the ground, having failed to even touch a single hair on Bruiser, since the chase began, who had managed to bounce away and move out of Lirzod's reach quite comfortably. What flew into the air was not fur but dust, sweat, and a bit of blood.
Lirzod, eyes staring at the ceiling, didn't move an inch.
All the audiences couldn't move their mouths, for the worst they had feared seemed to have come sooner than ever. They didn't think that the test would end in half a minute; however, Lirzod, betraying their bad signs, got back to his feet at once and resumed his pursuit as if nothing had happened.
”Whew…” some breathed sighs of relief.