We stood staring at each other for a long period of time. We were twitching our fingers like cowboys ready to draw. My sword at my side, his club gripped in his hand, he looked ready to strike like a tiger, all crouched down ready for its prey. He straightened up, threw his club down and said, “No weapons, only fists.”
I nodded and returned the sword next to my bag. I had parted the crowd when walking toward it, as hundreds of pairs of eyes stared at me and this new person I didn’t like at all. Then again, the crowd chanted louder and louder, “Fight! Fight! FIGHT!” Their growing chants made me quiver, my fists shaking, my mind racing, I didn’t know what to do. Without knowing my own instincts, I lunged forward and jabbed him in the face, and sprung back. I began to bounce up and down on my feet, and he looked startled at my surprise attack.