Bleed For The Banished King

"Ow! Banyen, please go slo— OW!" Finan winced, squirming as Banyen inserted the needle yet again. Cruel mistress, she was. But, considerably effective at her job. In the span of a few minutes, his cuts had been stitched and bandaged. They were in the preparation room with their team, some of whom were already popping open drinks and celebrating. Usually, other teams were also stuffed into the dingy preparation room that Chaweng housed, but it seemed that they opted to celebrate or rest up in their respective homes/gyms. In all honesty, Finan wished his gym had done the same. The smell of urine and sweaty hand wraps wasn't an unfamiliar stench, yet in this cramped space, it became all the more pervasive. 

"And… done!" Banyen exclaimed, dusting her hands as she looked upon her work. Finan pulled out his phone and gazed upon his camera reflection. His face was a mess. Cut below the chin, cut above one eye, swelling on the other eye. He chuckled slightly, which rattled his ribs and made him keel. "I have to say, Finan, this is definitely the worst I've seen you." 

"Thanks," Finan muttered, holding his ribs now. He struggled to look at Banyen directly. Instead, more often than not, he just caught a glimpse of her while talking to her: her black hair highlighted by blond strands, her dark eyes that always peered through you rather than at you. Her tanned skin. 

'Stop being a perverted asshat Finan.' 

"I'm surprised you beat him, to be honest," Banyen said, taking a seat next to Finan now. She was wrapping up her medkit and shrugging her light, denim jacket back on. 

"Yeah. I'm surprised too." 

"Did— were you trying to wear him out or something?"

Finan would've laughed, but since he couldn't he just exhaled slightly. "No, nothing like that. I was just being a dumbass." 

"A dumbass for 2 rounds?" 

"Nah I'd chalk it up to me being a dumbass for like… 1.5 rounds." 

"I'm rounding up." 

"You're skewing your results." 

"No, not at all. I'm simply accounting for a factor that you've missed." 

He looked her in the eye now. "What's that then?" 

"Ego."

He was about to reply, but did well to pause. "Goddamn it you're right." That got her to laugh. It was a high, beautiful laughter that got people's attention. 

"What does it matter?" Finan asked, cracking a smile now. "I still won in the end." 

"And I'm glad you did Finan. Really. I just think that —" 

"Monkey should listen to team next time eh?" Nung interjected, slapping Finan across the back. It hurt like a bitch. Finan was about to tell him off, however, Banyen was way ahead of him, switching to Thai and absolutely laying into Nung. There were a few curse words thrown into that verbal onslaught, but the general gist was "don't be a dumbass, don't hit my patient you idiot!" or something along those lines. The pace at which Banyen spoke Thai was far too great — like a rapid fire machine gun. 

He was quite into it, to be frank. 

When she was done, Nung held his hands up and gave Finan a slight nod: "you okay?" 

Finan waved his hands. "It didn't hurt that much. But yeah, let's keep the patting, hugging and backslapping to ourselves for a bit." 

Nung nodded. Then, with another smile slipping onto his face, he said "Clinch work was good, no?" 

"Yeah. If Ketchup wasn't such a stickler for knees, I probably would've lost that one." 

"Stickler?" Nung asked, unfamiliar with the word. Before Finan could answer, he Banyen beat him to the punch. Again. Banyen had just completed her U.S. residency in the Fall and she was back home in Thailand for the Summer before she was set to start her own practice somewhere in Delaware. During her time at Rutgers, she sharpened her English to such a dizzying degree that now, she had better command over the language than Finan. 

While Banyen and Nung talked, Finan stood up and stretched out. Every muscle ached. With all that fighting adrenaline thoroughly dumped, he was finally receiving the bloody consequences of facing a monster like Dam. 'I'm sure I'll feel it even more next morning,' he thought with a slight groan. 

Finan searched for Emma amongst the throng of fighters, finding her smoking in the corner of the room. She waved to him and he waved back. They had already talked briefly after the fight and she had given him some much needed Naproxen. But now, she was counting up her cash payout from the gambling — apparently, her scheme had racked in a lot of Baht (money) tonight. 

Leaving her to her business, Finan limped over to Pi Ketchup. His Thai coach was eating a bowl of mango sticky rice and listening in on the conversations of the other fighters. 

Finan took a seat next to Ketchup and stuck a hand into the bowl, snatching one of the mangos. While eating it, Ketchup just looked at him. Silently. 

"You eat like Monkey as well." 

"Sorry. I'm hungry as hell." 

Ketchup shrugged, giving Finan the bowl. "You need it more than me." 

"Thanks." As Finan chowed down on the sweet nectared rice, Ketchup gazed at the wall. He was in a world of his own when he did that. Finan tapped his coach on the shoulder. 

"You ever miss it?" 

"Fighting?" Ketchup scoffed. "Every second. But, I have… family you know? Can't risk more injury." 

"I understand. Sorry for bringing it up." 

"No no, don't be this. Be happy. Knockout was very very beautiful!" 

"Thank you, Pi. Sorry I didn't listen the second round." 

"It happens. But that bastard had no respect. He no fight like other Thai Boxers. He fight like… American fighter." 

"What did he say then?"

"What?" 

"He said something right?" Finan asked, setting the empty bowl down. "At the end of the second round?" 

Pi Ketchup opened his mouth to answer, but clamped it shut. "I don't remember." 

It was an obvious lie. Finan didn't press him about it though. Instead the two of them just sat there in silence, embracing that dingy atmosphere and that weird, euphoric post-fight feeling that so few people on Earth have ever felt.