My favorite animals are voncretes. Big, powerful, and intelligent. They do what it takes, even if people consider them monsters.
"J- Jackson. Your- Your hand!"
"Milo, it's okay," he said.
He pulled the knife from his hand and tossed it aside.
What's going on?
"You won't be needing that."
"W- What?"
The world around him seemed to shift and rotate as he suddenly went from lying on the floor to standing without moving a muscle.
What? Why are we here?
Wind kicked up dust from the partifold floor. Milo covered his eyes to block the small dust storm.
Men appeared.
Standing in a circle around Milo, familiar onlookers waited impatiently. Rocks outlined the boundary between spectator and fighter as Milo struggled to grasp what was happening.
He turned, "Jackson, wha-"
Jackson was gone.
"Jackson?"
"Talking to yourself in the third person? I didn't know you were such a prick," someone laughed.
"Focus on the fight!" Another shouted.
Milo looked at his hands and feet. Something was different—he was taller. He looked across the ring to see his opponent. It was Ralph.
I remember this.
He quickly turned to the crowd and scanned the front row.
There.
Crammed in front of an audience of burly men stood a small boy, anxiously watching.
Why am I in Jackson's body? How do I get out of this?!
"Begin!"
Ralph charged in and attempted to land the first hit.
Right hand.
Just as he predicted, Ralph threw a right cross. Milo twisted his foot and collapsed his weight on his right knee to dodge.
This is the same fight-
"Begin."
What?
Ralph charged in from across the ring.
Didn't we just start?
A right cross barreled toward his face as Milo sat in confusion.
The punch connected.
"Begin."
The same scene—Ralph closing in from across the ring and a right cross.
I think I understand.
Milo retreated out of Ralph's range. Everyone looked confused by the sudden retreat of one of the partifold's top fighters, yet kept cheering.
"Ralph's drivin 'em back!"
"Look at Ralph go!"
"Ah, just wait, Jackson always does this."
The fight continued when I didn't get hit. Then did I get hit the first time? How? I thought I did exactly what Jackson did...
Milo scrambled around the arena, moving away from Ralph and staying out of his range. His feet felt nimble, and his guard felt tight. It was different from his own.
Might as well.
Suddenly, Milo threw his own right cross. His arm swung out like a whip and blasted away the air around it. Ralph was already within range as Milo pulled back his arm. He stepped back, but it was too late.
"Begin."
Instead of straying from the original fight, Milo tried to imitate what he saw that night.
Twist. Dodge. Dodge!
"Begin."
Damnit.
Every fight was a loss, but Milo began to understand something he hadn't before.
How it feels to move correctly.
Maybe not every move was a perfect imitation, but slowly, the experience added up.
"Begin."
Milo twisted and dodged. He struck back with his own left hook, immediately dodging Ralph's counterattack.
He smiled.
I did it!
"I can do this," he whispered.
Ralph didn't stop the assault. A quick shuffle of his feet, and he was within range. Milo did his best to improvise, but the lack of experience quickly caught up with him.
Ralph's right elbow twitched, and Milo took the bait. He threw up his guard on the left side of his body.
"Begin."
What? But I blocked it?
He went through the motions. Twist. Dodge-
Damnit.
"Begin."
Twist. Dodge. Hook. Retreat-
Fuck!
"Begin."
Twist. Dodge. Hook. Retreat.
This time, Milo watched Ralph's arm intently, but it was the same outcome.
I'm missing something.
Milo even tried straying from the usual path, but nothing changed. Ralph's right cross seemed to catch him off guard every time.
Unless...
Twist. Dodge. Hook. Retreat.
Milo focused on Ralph's cross... but not only his cross.
He expanded his vision. While he looked at the small movements Ralph's arm was making, he kept his vision as wide as possible.
His body reacted before he could. Milo threw up his guard, but this time, to his right side. He felt Ralph's fist connect with his forearms as he blocked a left hook.
He was tricking me. He used movement to draw my attention.
Milo extended a quick left jab and knocked Ralph back. He quickly regained his composure and began to charge Milo once more.
Milo retreated instinctively.
Shit.
This was a path he hadn't seen before, but the fight didn't stop. Milo used all of the experience he had up until now to try to finish the fight on his own.
What's he gonna do if he can't double jab?
Definitely this.
Milo blocked a right cross and shot back with one of his own. But his hand stopped suddenly. As Ralph blocked the left side of his face, Milo twisted and hit him with a left hook instead.
He laughed.
I... like this?
Ralph recoiled to the side and stumbled back, but quickly enough, he was on the attack. Milo couldn't keep up for long.
"Begin."
The motions felt normal. The twist felt like a natural reaction to help him dodge, and Ralph's punches even seemed to slow down a little.
Is this what Jackson sees? Is this how he feels when he fights?
Overwhelming strength.
Again and again, Milo fought Ralph.
A small mistake and the fight was over, but Milo didn't have to deal with the consequences. He could simply start again without any pain from the previous round. He even knew what was going to happen. It was like a game.
At some point, it wasn't about winning; it was just about fighting.
Round after round, cheers after cheers. Milo's movements became stronger and quicker. The crowd laughed with each punch, but the punches didn't seem to stop.
Ralph's guard didn't seem to matter as Milo blasted through it with sheer force. Somehow, Ralph kept standing, and eventually, would land his own hit.
"Begin."
The crowd was loving every bit of every round.
Until they weren't.
The silence didn't make Milo stop. His grin spread from ear to ear as blood sprayed from each punch. He was hardly out of breath as he continued the barrage.
Eventually, Milo noticed the crowd's lack of excitement and stepped back. He looked around and then at his opponent.
Ralph's face was busted—missing teeth, a split chin, and an orbital fracture.
"He's just a kid, Jackson," someone said.
"Yeah! Ain't he like seventeen?"
The smile faded from Milo's face.
Seventeen?... Five years older than me.
Ralph kept his guard up. Blood sprayed from his mouth with every sharp exhale.
Milo stepped back and looked at his hands. They were swollen purple with gashes on his knuckles.
He looked back at Ralph.
"I-"
"Is this what you'll become when you gain strength?"
Milo turned to where the voice came from—a small boy in the front of the crowd. Milo looked at himself, but didn't know what to say.
"N- No, I just..."
"This is what you are." The boy continued. "This is what you'll become."
"No..."
"No!" Milo shouted, "I won't!"
He turned his focus back to Ralph and walked into his range. Ralph threw a quick jab and ended the fight.
"Begin."
I can't. I can't be a monster.
Milo followed in Jackson's path. Twist. Dodge. Hook. Retreat. Jab. But this time, he felt how each punch landed.
Is this how you fight, Jackson?
He noticed things he hadn't before.
How Ralph's body responded with greater violence to Milo's punches than when Jackson was fighting him. How each spot he hit was the most efficient. How Jackson had tried to end the fight without a knockout, or as quickly as possible.
You fight...
Tears welled in his eyes.
So kind.
Milo stood his ground, unwilling to move. Ralph stepped in range and double jabbed. Milo ducked under Ralph's incoming cross and sent a hook into his side.
Soft.
Another to Ralph's face, and the fight was over.
Milo opened his eyes, staring at a strange ceiling. Tears pooled beside his face. He wiggled his fingers and felt his body up and down.
I'm me.
The boy sat up and looked around.
The red room.
Jackson and Flio lay in the center, unconscious. Milo turned to the strange table sitting at the edge of the room. He walked over and inspected the drawer.
As he placed his fingers around the handle, a lock clicked inside.
Milo pulled the drawer open.