in this corner | florian & tobi

Throw a pumpkin on a stick and you have a monarch in a field. Give it a pair of shoulder pads and you have a tyrant. What happens when you remove the pumpkin? Does the scarecrow fall and the birds return? Is that the end of monarchy?

"Hey there, princess" with a blade's edge posing as a finger. The boy looked older than Tobi only by an inch. He carried a darker aura, perhaps confidence, maybe bravado. He'd removed his shirt - which made sense - but Tobi knew it was a power move. This is what I've got, but what about Tobi? He stayed in his t-shirt and hoped it would remain the forest green it began as. Tobi was ever the master of being unpredictable. Yes, a smaller weapon. Yes, clothes are constraining. What he gained from it all was a barrier of mystery, and something more than just a career - a challenge.

“Your sword’s looking short there– I am concerned that it won't be able to handle my long one.”

The boy was rich and it oozed from him. You can smell the luxury before they come into the room. Not literally, but a sense given to the lesser of District One. Tobi was lucky because his family had money, food and a business to call their own - but what did it actually give him? A respect for those with less, perhaps even pity for those with too much. They didn't know how to live and enjoy what they have, because it is theirs. What would happen if somebody would take it all away? Would they still be the same person?

"That's your majesty." Tobi looked across at him, not preparing his combatant stance quite yet. There's a game of words to play. "I may have a smaller weapon but you're just giving me more to work with."

Tobi gave the guy a smile and a bounce of his brows. Light-hearted. Nothing to this, really. Just another day at the training centre. Just the cause of a couple of cuts and bruises.

Stepping quickly into Florian's space, Tobi taps at his opponent's sword as a slight tease. A small back and forth happens, probably muscle-memory. Tobi chuckles under his breath before diving in a little, dodging a brilliant swipe by Florian, but more-or-less pumping agility into his moves, looking only to connect with his opponent's blade every now and then to show presence.

It takes him a moment, but after a handy succession of decent spars, Tobi lunges forward at his foe with his blade licking the surface of his neck.

Hit him in his big mouth
Hit him in his
insecurity
Yeah

"District one doesn’t have a king who can conquer me, Florian Greene, heir to the Greene fortune, princess-killer.”

Tobi may have been right about the confidence of Florian, but it didn't mean that he was right about it being a weakness. To be so sure of yourself is two things; It's a sign of shortcomings elsewhere. It's a sign of surety in your own actions. This dichotomy is a song between two chaotic elements of a person - a person that Tobi has just opened up.

There is no scent to the metal that he's opposed. Maybe he is used to the rust. Yet he sees it, auburn and weeping from the smallest of cuts. A gasp, but was that a Florian-thrill?

To think that there is enough in Florian to pronounce himself a Tobi-slayer without yet casting much more than a few deep glares is a frightening concept for Tobi. Perhaps after the floor is filled with the Greene fortune he will have a different tone. Tobi doesn't air his grievances as much as others. He retains it, uses it, then applies a cure for it at a later time. Sweep it under the rug until it bites you later and the bite will be far less of a surprise.

"Oh, you got bite," he said. He probably did enjoy that. Florian came close without warning and caught Tobi entirely off guard, slashing into not only his t-shirt but even further into his bicep. A chance to show resolve. Tobi tensed it, wincing hardly enough to seem painful but more as a resistance to it. "I'll let you have that one."

“What was your name again, princess? I am just starting to pay attention.”

"Tobi." He glances down at the throb that built in his upper arm. The t-shirt wasn't getting entirely ruined, but red was a recurring theme around his shoulder now. "Heir of nothing and traitor to the realm."

The Day Dynasty was hardly that. They owned one small shop in the outskirts of the District centre. It had everything you would need to leave looking like a Capitolite's best friend, but that is never obvious from Tobi. He holds a degree of modesty and calm, like there is something better to his life than material things. What raises his chin isn't the goals and aspirations of value but rather the values that are protected by his own success. Family, friends, love. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and right now, Florian has cut open his sleeve. This tiger will protect that with everything he has.

But this is only training. What good is training if you die at the end?

Tobi throws a riposte right back at Florian. He ducks down and leaps up. A simple move but complicated to look at - It requires the fighter to lower their guard, move and strike all in the same action, but Tobi has pace. He has a short-sword and he has a chance.

He takes it, striking up and catching only the edge of Florian's form, but it was enough for Tobi to show he had more than just bite. He had two bites in a row.

"Where's the Green fortune now? I see only you and me, and you don't seem so fortunate in this case." Tobi grins, because the twisted truth is that he likes this, for now.

Aren't you tired tryna
Fill that
Void

“Tobi—is it short for Tobias?”

"Just Tobi is fine." It was short for Tobias, but that was what his dad would call him, day in and day out. There were times where Tobi tried to say to him that enough was enough - he'd burnt out of energy, there was nothing left in the youngster that he was for him to go on and continue training, to push through the pain anymore. His tolerance waned in those years between eleven and fifteen. A crack in his psyche. To say that he met a point of breaking would be too accurate for comfort. He saw through the shadows, though, and found thrill in the pursuit of betterment. It was as dangerous as it was exciting, and as wrong as it was horrific to think that a child would enjoy training for such a brutal game.

When Tobi turned away from that life he still had to venture into the training centre every so often. It isn't possible to say no to your father entirely, at least not in his family. There was a compromise - do enough to be safe but not enough to change yourself. Do what makes you happy but please, for me, stay alive. And no volunteering.

Florian continued to lunge, swipe and slash with his long-sword. He was a professional. If Tobi faced him in the Hunger Games, it would definitely be an unfair fight. Luck would be all he would have. With a little bit of faith, he would have a chance, because that's all the quick guy can hope for. Florian wasn't the same as Tobi - while one was quicker the other was more calculated. Where Florian was stronger and more experienced, Tobi saw opportunities that only his perspective could navigate. It was all a game of personality, at the end of the day, but if it were anywhere other than the training centre, would it really be that deep? In the games, would there be those moments between conflicts where you can truly understand a person's technique? You'd likely end up a corpse before you saw their eye colour.

“Oh, reminding us that we’re alone, is that a hint, Tobi?

Tobi laughs. "Don't flirt" he shakes his head. "You know there's others watching."

As much as it would be thrilling to think that while the fight went on there wouldn't be a single person spectating, it's never the case unless you find yourself down an alley. There's always someone in the corner watching you learn - learning from you also - tracking your actions and teaching themselves how you tick, because for some reason, in a career district, there's always somebody out to get you. Whether it's behind a mirrored wall or blatantly at the side of the ring. There's always somebody.

“I am not going to go easy on you anymore,”

"Shit."

Tobi gasped as Florian's moves became more furious. Relentlessly he pursued until Tobi was fixed in place by nothing but a sick shot of pain. Unfathomable only because it went directly into his foot like a trip mine. If his foot was even alright, he didn't know, because he could no longer feel it as it once was. It was an explosion happening all over again and again and again. He looked down at it, was it still there?

In that moment where time became a myth, Tobi collected every injury he'd had so far and piled it into a heap in front of him. Inside that heap was anger, pain and a glutton for revenge, because there was no way - now - that Tobi could lose this fight because of a single stab. It was that heap that gave him the courage to execute a move that was practiced almost every day he entered the training centre. He'd practice with a pen, a sword, an arrow - anything. That move was a quick switch, a flip of the utensil, in this case his short-sword that was oh so much smaller than that long-sword of Florian's. It was because of that shortness that it slipped into his left hand, and with it, he slashed against Florian's exposed right side.

His scowl had faded after he'd seen what he'd done - he'd made a mistake in his own eyes, but it was only defence. Guilt rushed over him but it couldn't supersede the pain from his own wounds.

"Are you okay?"

I won't just survive
No, you will see me thrive
I'll write my story here
I'm beyond the archetype