Friday, September 9, 2095

 

            A normal college student looked forward to Fridays, and Kenzie Okuda proved no exception. Unfortunately for him, however, he had one more class to survive for the day: Strategic Magic I, which the students called Battle Magic class. Sitting in the stuffy sparring gym, Kenzie stared at the twenty students occupying the bleachers, each taking notes on their tablets or laptops as they observed the current matches. The air smelled like ozone and sweat, as usual: the distinct scent of magical athletics. It’s been a long week. I don’t want to spar today.

            The buzzer sounded, ending the round, and the computer flashed the next four contenders’ names. Seeing his own name, Kenzie groaned, stood, and trudged down the bleacher steps. It wasn’t just that he was exhausted; it was who he had to fight—Iona Anderson, a member of a noble clan. He headed toward the first of two Plexiglas sparring booths that filled the gym floor, booths magically reinforced to withstand the spells flung by the collegiate magicians of Jefferson-Crowley University. His sparring partner had already entered, so Kenzie slid the Plexiglas door shut.       

           At the same time, the students on the bleachers fell silent. Kenzie had no illusions about which of the two sparring matches everyone was going to watch. Room B: Heather White vs. Natalie Jeffries would be another round of two friends taking it easy on each other. Room A: Kenzie Okuda vs. Iona Anderson promised a continuation of the well-known fight between two mind mages: Kenzie, a nobody from the United Republic of America and Iona, the mind magic princess from the United States. Inside Strategic Magic I class, their first match had been a stalemate, but Kenzie had won the second. Then they’d stalemated again the third time. Outside of class, Iona verbally attacked him and his friends, both to their faces and on social media.

            Their clothes made them seem like chess pieces. Iona wore a solid white blouse and a white skirt with black piping on the hem, while Kenzie wore a black Oxford shirt with the men’s uniform pants, black with a stripe of white piping down the outside of each leg. Jefferson-Crowley University’s colors were black, white, and gold, and their military-like uniforms reflected that. Students could wear either the white or black version of the uniform. Thanks to a typical late summer heat wave in Kentucky, all the students had been excused from wearing their blazers. Student ID bracelets ensured campus security could verify their right to be on campus.

            Since Kenzie was of Japanese descent, at least on her father’s side, he experienced the typical jarring sensation, his chest tightening. Iona was the obvious result of the United States’ Reformative Eugenics program of the 2040s: blue-eyed, blonde-haired, pale-skinned, and almost inhumanly beautiful by White standards. Kenzie was always made just a bit uncomfortable by the stunning evidence of the Reformative Eugenics Movement. It was almost like having black hair and brown eyes was a sin. He reflexively touched his hair. He’d chopped his hair off short and dyed it red to rebel against the religious fanaticism of the URA, both to declare he was a transman and his body was his own. However, that didn’t erase his awareness of being born Asian.

             Iona hopped from side to side in a boxer’s dance, light on her feet. “So just know, when I paste you, it’s for your own good. I’ve got to show you that you’ve got room to grow. Your academic success is an Anderson clan responsibility now that you’ve immigrated to the U.S.”

            “God, such drama.” He rolled his eyes. “How long have you been working on that speech?”

            Her smile tightened. “How about some gratitude? My clan’s doing damage control to save your pathetic ass from Buckland.” She spoke through clenched, perfectly straight, white teeth. 

              A few days ago, Kenzie would’ve flinched. Criminal magicians served time by being treated at Buckland Rehabilitation Center in San Francisco, California, which was internationally respected for its success rate. By using magic in a public place before he had his diploma, especially his telekinesis, Kenzie had risked incarceration and psychotherapy. Iona’s clan chief had been required to decide whether Kenzie had been justified or had committed a felony. However, Philip Anderson, Iona’s uncle, had defended Kenzie’s use of magic to stop a terrorist threat to the U.S. Kenzie’s student visa had been upgraded to political asylum because the terrorist threat happened to be the religious leader of the United Republic of America, John Paul Smith, Jr. Although Smith was in a coma in the nearby Norton Hospital, his allies had already announced death threats toward Kenzie and his fellow students who helped stop Smith’s plot.

             Days of press conferences and social media exposure left Kenzie low on sleep, on edge, and in no mood for Iona’s banter. If this even was an attempt at banter. “How about some gratitude?” He threw her words back in her face. “My friends and I did damage control to save your pathetic ass from Smith. He would have made the U.S. a living hell.”

            The buzzer sounded. The match started.

            Iona jerked her chin and flung him against the wall with an invisible wall of telekinesis. He grunted. The impact of Iona’s telekinesis felt like a twin size mattress falling on him. “You don’t get it. You’re under the jurisdiction of the Noble Seven now, and you’re a liability my clan has to discipline.”

               Kenzie was sick of hearing about how the Noble Seven clans of the U.S. had to babysit him. He burst out of her telekinetic hold like ripping off duct tape, shredding the energy. “I already stood in front of the cameras—” He pulled on the radiation waves washing down on them from the gym’s fluorescent lights and hurled a ball of yellow light energy.

                Iona ignited speed magic and dodged right.

               “—and said the stupid speech your clan chief gave me—” He tracked her and bent light energy at her in a streak of burning hot particles. She yelped as a line of sunburnt skin appeared on her cheek.

               Kenzie whipped around her with speed magic of his own, shaking off her attempt to grab him again with telekinesis. “—about being grateful I’m not in prison—” He shoved her in the back with wind magic.

                 The wind knocked Iona off her feet. She absorbed the momentum with a somersault. As she landed on her feet, she blasted toward him.

               He defended himself with a spin kick. “—and I regret using telekinesis without any training—” Iona used gravity magic to vault high over him. He grabbed more light particles and hurled a tight yellow sphere at her stomach.

              She tucked herself into a self-protective ball. His energy orb hit her left leg and created a circle of sunburnt skin.

             “—and I promise to train hard to become an upstanding mind magician!” While Iona was distracted by the pain, Kenzie imagined grabbing her by the ankles and slamming her against the floor. His telekinesis ignited in a rush of body tingles.

As she hurtled down, she trapped him with gravity magic, slamming him to the floor. With a gasp, he lost his telekinetic hold on her. His own enhanced body weight pressed the air from his lungs. She landed on her feet. “You think that’s enough?”

             Kenzie negated her gravity magic, but as he sucked in a deep breath, she bashed him against the wall with telekinesis again. His head impacted the wall hard enough to send gray sparks across his vision.

              “You turned me into a fail meme.” Iona’s face scrunched into a feral show of bared teeth. “I’m done taking L’s from you. You have no idea how much I’ve held back in our previous matches. I. Am. An. Anderson.” With each word, she ground him harder against the wall.

Kenzie’s hot rage shattered her hold. “So what?” As he stumbled forward, she retaliated with a telekinetic slap to his face. Sharp tingles rushed through his veins. The insulting attack pushed the world sideways into a fog. Iona’s malicious, gloating grin seemed to float like the Cheshire Cat’s. He envisioned shoving his fingers into her eyes and let a pulse of telekinesis fulfill his fantasy.

              Iona clapped her hands over her eyes with a shriek. He telekinetically shoved her to the floor. She grabbed his ankle with her telekinesis and yanked.

            As he fell, Kenzie propelled himself toward her and tackled her. They’d both used up so much magic the sparring match devolved into physically wrestling. He tried to pin her, aware he only knew a few basic wrestling moves. She fought back like a combination of a cat and an eel. The students in the bleachers gasped, and a few made sounds suspiciously like laughter.

            Kenzie grabbed her hair. Iona retaliated by grabbing his shirt. He wrenched himself free with a rolling motion. She managed to rip his shirt open, popping buttons and exposing his black hook- and eye-closure chest binder.

            They darted apart from each other and scrambled to their feet, staring at each other, breathing too hard to speak.

            The buzzer sounded, ending the match.