Arden Hayes wasn't a fighter. Never had been. Back at Willow Creek High, he'd dodge conflicts literally and figuratively whether it was Tim Carver's taunts or a dodgeball aimed at his face. But standing in Chrono Academy's training courtyard, the late afternoon sun glinting off the humming stone pillars, he felt a spark of something new. Not courage, exactly more like stubbornness. Jaxon Reed's smirk was just too much to ignore.
"You sure about this, Hayes?" Jaxon tossed a rubber ball up and caught it, his buzz-cut head tilted with mock concern. "After that stunt with Mira, maybe you should stick to catching."
"Keep talking," Arden shot back, adjusting his glasses. "It'll make it sweeter when I win."
Jaxon laughed, loud and sharp, drawing eyes from the handful of classmates lingering nearby. Mira wasn't among them she'd vanished after class, her arm probably still sore from Arden's screw-up. The guilt still stung, but he shoved it down. Focus. He needed to prove he wasn't just a walking disaster.
Professor Marrow stood to the side, arms crossed, his gray ponytail snapping in the breeze. "This is a controlled spar," he said, voice clipped. "First to three clean hits wins. No fractures, no tricks outside your spark. Hayes, stop only. Reed, rewind only. Understood?"
"Got it," Jaxon said, grinning like he'd already won.
"Yeah," Arden muttered, gripping his own ball. His palms were sweaty, but he wasn't backing out now. Not with Jaxon acting like king of the courtyard.
"Then begin." Marrow stepped back, and the air crackled with tension.
Jaxon moved first, fast as a whip. He hurled his ball a tight, low throw aimed at Arden's knees. Arden's heart jumped, that familiar panic flaring, and he reached for his power. Time froze, the ball suspended mid-spin, Jaxon's arm locked in follow-through. One, two, three, four, five Arden sidestepped, and time snapped back. The ball thudded into the dirt.
"Point one, Hayes," Marrow called, jotting on his clipboard.
"Luck," Jaxon said, scooping another ball from the pile. "My turn."
He didn't throw yet just paced, tossing the ball hand to hand, eyes locked on Arden. "Gotta say, you're quick when you're scared. But quick ain't enough."
Arden tightened his grip on his own ball. "Scared's not the word. Annoyed, maybe."
"Oh, big talk!" Jaxon laughed and threw harder this time, chest-high, straight for impact. But halfway, the ball jerked, rewinding to Jaxon's hand, then rocketed forward again, veering left. A fake-out.
Arden scrambled, diving for his spark. Time stopped, the ball inches from his shoulder. He ducked one, two, three, four, five and time resumed, the ball sailing past. He straightened, breathing hard, and caught Jaxon's raised eyebrow.
"Two points, Hayes," Marrow said. "One more."
"Lucky and fast," Jaxon said, but his grin tightened, less cocky now. "Alright, let's dance."
Arden threw this time a clumsy lob, but it was something. Jaxon's hand twitched, and the ball rewound, dropping back into Arden's hand before he could blink. Jaxon launched his own a sharp, curving shot aimed at Arden's hip. Arden reacted, time freezing again, the ball caught mid-curve. He stepped aside one, two, three, four but that ripple came back, a faint shudder in the air. His stomach dropped. Not again.
On five, time lurched, just like yesterday. The ball clipped Jaxon's arm as it flew past, a glancing hit. Jaxon winced, rubbing the spot, and Marrow's head snapped up.
"Fracture," Marrow said, voice like a blade. "Hayes, explain."
"I didn't mean to!" Arden's face burned, all eyes on him again. "It just… happened."
"'Just happened' doesn't cut it." Marrow strode over, clipboard tucked under his arm. "You're pushing too hard, not focusing. That's how you break things people, places, worse."
"Worse?" Arden echoed, throat tight. "Like what?"
Marrow's eyes narrowed. "Pray you don't find out. Point to Reed for the hit. Continue."
Jaxon rubbed his arm, smirking despite the sting. "Gotta watch that temper, Hayes. Nearly took my arm off."
"It barely touched you," Arden muttered, but the guilt was back, heavier now. Mira's fall, Jaxon's hit, what was he doing wrong?
Jaxon didn't give him time to dwell. He threw again a straight shot, no tricks, daring Arden to mess up. Arden focused, slower this time, picturing the stillness like a bubble around him. Time stopped clean, no ripples. He stepped forward, aimed his own ball at Jaxon's chest, and let it fly as time resumed on five. It smacked Jaxon square in the sternum, knocking the wind out of him.
"Point to Hayes," Marrow said. "Three-two. Match point."
Jaxon coughed, grinning through it. "Nice one. Didn't see that coming."
Arden's chest loosened, just a bit. "Told you, annoyed, not scared."
"Last round," Marrow said. "Make it clean."
Jaxon's next throw was a beast fast, high, curving to clip Arden's shoulder. Arden reached for his spark, time freezing smoothly. He ducked, lined up his own shot one, two, three, four, five and let it rip as time kicked back. The ball nailed Jaxon's thigh, a solid hit.
"Game, Hayes," Marrow called, scribbling final notes. "Three-two. Dismissed."
Jaxon jogged over, rubbing his leg but still grinning. "Alright, Dodgeball, you've got guts. Sloppy, but guts."
Arden exhaled, a shaky smile breaking through. "Told you to stop calling me that."
"Yeah, yeah." Jaxon clapped him on the shoulder. "Buy me a soda, and we're even."
As they headed back toward the main building, the other students buzzing around them, Arden felt a flicker of pride. He'd won, barely, messily, but he'd won. Still, that ripple lingered in his mind, and Marrow's warning echoed. Break things worse.
He didn't notice the figure watching from the courtyard's edge a girl with a braid, dark eyes narrowed, slipping away before anyone could spot her.