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ZIVEN YUZVEN

A FIERCE STING GNAWS at my right cheek. The sensation slowly contours the entirety of the right side of my face and the impact rings unrhythmically in my ear. I cup my cheek dizzily and nuzzle it lazily onto my palm. I blink my eyes and gawk at a worried face hovering over me with an ice pack. 

“Hold on!” I hear a startlingly deep voice, which pulls me out of my daze. “Felix, you help him get down here.” Xander.

The mentioned guy, Felix, who supposedly is my unintentional attacker, helps me to my feet. “I’m good.” I send him a polite smile. But as I make my way down the sparring area, I stumble on nothing and trip at the end of the stairs, only to be rescued by Xander’s supernatural reflex.

“You’re not here. Are you?” He helps me straighten up. “Go back to the changing room and clear up your thoughts. You can call it a day.” He looks at me patiently, concern scribbled hastily over his forehead, so I decide to not hold him up for long and scram out of there with an understanding nod. 

As I reach for the exit, I sense pairs of eyes, probably curious or perhaps bothered about the sudden display of absent mindedness that I unconsciously let them witness just now.

I have been flooded by a colossal amount of thoughts since last evening and the whole cluster of it resolved onto a hump on my back for the rest of this morning as well. Not that I didn’t acknowledge the fact that the gravity of my distracted behaviour would ultimately affect my performance; but being who I am, I never allow myself to get a kick out of breaks. As it goes, once it sticks, it stays. So, I don’t run around with glues for things that’d have me stuck back. 

Even so, I wonder if I’ve been overestimating my abilities to a point that it's affecting the way I function. Hol’ up. That’s the least of my concerns right now. 

I run my hands through my hair. I pull my right palm down to the injury, feeling the heat rise up my cheeks. I walk up to the changing room, undo the zipper to my training jacket and pull out a towel from the locker, heading straight into the washing area to rinse my hands and face. 

Perhaps thinking a lot and all at once is doing me no good. I find myself dumbfounded as I stare at the reddish bruise smeared across my cheek. It appears as if a thick amount of pasta sauce was diluted into a can of sprite and smothered in a glass container. Above usual for a smack wound. Felix is a strong guy. I better watch out. 

On a second thought driven in the same lane: I should’ve watched out. Although it doesn't really seem that severe (it’s just the broken blood vessels flushing my cheeks), it does do an aesthetic damage to my face. Which in itself is a public crisis. Maybe I should look for a cool band aid look or something.

I switch on the tap and let the cold water pour onto my palms. I splash the water onto the bruise and a calming chill soothes my cheek. I repeat the process till the heat settles down. When I’m done, I close the taps shut and book for the door, while drying my hands with the towel.

 Stepping out with a huff, I rub the towel against my face and feel the coolness ebb away. I close my eyes and breathe in deeply, frustrated over the eagerness of a minor, insignificant wound to get on my nerves, or cheeks if you want to be literal. What the heck, Venzie! Why so concerned over something so trivial?

“Does it hurt badly?” Felix’s ill at ease voice comes in from the other end of the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. I thought you, you know, you’d-”

“Dodge it. I know.” I nod. “That was to be done. Don’t worry, it’s not on you.” I fist my knuckles and raise it up towards him. Bro fist? I pull a gesture. He obiliges. I’ve developed a tendency for fist bumps and dude pacts ever since I spent the last summer helping my younger sister train in martial arts. Lately, I’ve developed a knack for it. I don’t know why but it somehow makes me feel welcome. And I feel the sentiment holds the same regard for the other party involved. 

“So,” Felix smiles and settles down on a bench at the centre of the room. “What’s going on in your mind? I mean, you seem so distracted lately, Venzie.”

I stare at the seating area.

The room is designed and divided pretty peculiarly. Not that it comes off as distasteful, but it does seem a little not so regular. It is a long narrow room, almost the size of a community hall (Explainable. They train a whole lot of men in here). Though when compared to its length it is definitely shorter in breadth. With lockers covering either side of the space on all four corners, the centre is divided into two halves with a long steel rod acting as a partition. A long, non stop rail of seating area is constructed on either side. This is where we rest up after practice sessions. If it’s just me, then I’m going to have to slack off some time to register this type of architecture in an area of this kind.  Maybe, peculiar is the new regular.

“Are you listening to me, man?” I blink to find a large hand fanning my face vertically. Felix stands next to me, agitated. I zoned out, again. “Yeah, you were saying?”

“Let it be for now, I think you need some space. I’ll be out there if you need me.” He nods at me and I eye him, confused. 

“On that note, would you mind fetching me some aspirin? You bet this pain is a guest to stay.” I chuckle, pointing my index finger to where the guy smacked me, less than an hour ago. “And a gauze, or a band aid, or both maybe. Oww!” I flail my arms dramatically and he stands stiff holding back a laugh.

Suddenly, I feel my cheek burn and itch, so I scratch on it rapidly in an unruly manner. It didn’t really prickle till this point, just rang in a little bit of irritating pain. But now it seems that the sensation died down, only to make way for something else. I feel funny, it’s just a silly punch I allowed on myself because I caught up in my head and not really present where I was supposed to be. Why is it affecting me so much? I’ve had several injuries before. Way more severe than this one. But they never dawned on me. I never let the pain sink in. Why is this one so persistently trying to be noticed this time?

“Yeah, sure—Shoot! You shouldn't have rubbed on so rapidly. You’ve cut yourself, man!” Felix flinches as I feel something slither down my cheek. “Shoot, shoot, shoot, man. Sheesh, that’s more than just a cut, and you need more than just aspirin right now!”

I gawk at his urgent behaviour. “Dude, why are you panicking?”

“Did you put something strange on it? You did, didn’t you? It wasn’t so severe back there!” He walks towards where I stand and grabs me by the arms, eyes fixed onto my wound. “How did it turn blue, no yellow, no no nah! You’re hulking! " He narrows his eyes in slits and I manage a snort amidst the confusion brewing in my head. "To hell with the colour. We’re taking you to the medical ward to treat this injury, now! Let’s go.” He drags me by my right arm and I stumble as I keep up with his hurried pace. 

He’s right about one thing. My cheek did not sting so bad when I was initially hit. Something started to creep up the moment I walked out after washing my face. 

Felix appears alarmed, almost to the point I find him overreacting. Which is very rare in itself. Felix doesn't freak out so easily. Not in front of me. No, not in front of anyone. At some point, I was starting to believe that this guy doesn't even know how to be disturbed, until I registered his reaction that day. So, how bad is this thing on my face for him to lose his composure completely?

We hasten down the aisle with Felix tugging at my arm in all seriousness. The disturbance in his composure unsettles me. I feel guilty for not being attentive. It’s because of my thoughtlessness that this guy here is stuck blaming himself. I need to do something to reassure him that whatever is happening is none of his fault.

When we reach the medical ward, the nurse stands at the entrance, hugging a clipboard to her chest. “Felix!” She smiles enthusiastically at his sight. “What brings you here?”  She tilts her head. "Let me guess, you came down here in hopes of pills for superhuman strength or something like that." She jest with a light nod. He looks perfectly fine. The curiosity is definitive. 

“This!” He pulls me from behind his back like I’m a magic prop he’d hidden for a final stunt. He raises his hand and points it at the bruise. 

Meeting my eyes with perplexity prancing in her, she blinks ferociously, as if the sight she's presented with is absolutely out of sense. The initial humour in her conduct gradually buds into worry and soon flowers to solace. “Oh my, Venzie, what happened?” She puts her palm on her right cheek, faux picturing it to gesture to mine. How bad is it actually, for them to react so?

I  loosen Felix’s grip on my shoulder, walk up to the over door mirror and stand close. I examine my right cheek. 

It looks yuck. 

No wonder it felt funny. 

Looks as if the aurora borealis was fed up with the Antarctic sky and decided to gate crash on a living cell. It's such a replica, well, minus the shimmer and glimmer. 

“Sia,” I turn over to the nurse with a duly managed  half a smile. “Help me.” I beseech.

She blinks and makes me sit down on a stool next to the bandage station. Felix stands through the process, guilt crossing and turning back over and over in his eyes.  Told ya, it’s not you, brother. I send him an assuring look. It seems to work, as his shoulders relax after our brief eye contact. 

I feel my phone buzz in my pants pocket. I ignore it. It does that again. But having my eyes shut, as my wound is being tended to, I ignore the call again and postpone the idea of answering them straight away. I hope it’s nothing that requires my immediate attention.

When she’s done, a sense of relief washes me over and I huff a sigh of relief. So does Felix. I smile and thank her and leave the room with the guy. When we reach the end of the aisle, I pat Felix’s shoulder and nudge him to return to training, if he wishes to, that is. He has wasted a lot of his time on me; time he’d better be using for himself. God knows he needs that. 

He looks at me as he shifts his focus from over my shoulder. “You know you need to take a good deal of rest. It’s good and super nice that you’re so disciplined, timely turning up to practise, completing all your tasks and so on and so forth. But the way you’ve been lately, it won’t do you any good if you push yourself beyond a limit.” He points out with a straight face.

“I know, I know.” I nod absentmindedly.

“Hey, what’s up man?” He knits his brows together.

Up in my head? A whole lot of unnecessary ponderings.

“I think I’m tired. Just like you said.” 

“I see.” He sounds half convinced. “Anyway, I’m sorry, again. I should’ve held back.”

I scoff.  “Like I said, it isn’t on you. Rather, I’m amused that you trust my reflexes so much. On that note, why wouldn’t you? It’s me we’re talking about.” I clap my hands and splay them in the air with a dramatic half smile. “Presenting Ziven Yuzven.”

He stares at me nonplussed before going tch tch. 

“I think you should rest up as well.” I nod at him. 

“No, I’ll be off to train some more. You call it a day. Later?” It’s him initiating a bro fist this time. I smirk bemused and raise my knuckles as well. “Sure. Party hard!” I wink.

“I’ve got you!” He winks back and we burst into a short lived chuckle. He turns around and disappears behind the giants of the door. When I reach the exit, I realise I’d received a call back at the medical ward, which I’d failed to answer. So, I fish out my phone and scroll through the notification centre to locate the caller. I look at my screen to find the name displayed along with a message that notified me of having missed two calls from the same user. 

Zener Diode

2 missed calls

It has to be something important. She’s well aware of my schedule and never calls me, or anyone for that matter, during work hours. Matter of fact, she must've been having her classes at the time of the call. Having her call me was one thing. But twice? A lot of indigestible things have been happening to me today. 

I swipe open my phone as it detects my face and click the dial button on her contact card. She takes forever to pick. Not unusual.

When she finally answers, a calm voice comes over from the other end. “Hullo.”

“You called?” I drop.

“You bet.” She doesn't miss a bit.

“Yes, you did. Twice.” 

She sighs. “I don’t know, I just thought that I should check up on you. Are you alright? Hurt somewhere?”

I blink. 

Sis-Bro telepathy?

“Well, yeah, I had a minor injury. Nothing much.” I enunciate the last two words with an impact.

“Bhaiya, tell me what’s up. I can tell by your voice that you’re being hooded.” Her voice tones down and I decide I’d let her through some details. “Have you got the time? For a story time with me?” I tease. 

“I have a two hour break before my next lecture, sir. I’m all ears.” She comments as if it's the most obvious fact one would come across. 

“Okay, so,” I begin with the tale of my little stunt today and she sits through listening to all of it. I was, partly, expecting for her to hang up on me, but that does not happen. Of course, it's her we’re talking about. She can sit miles apart and still know I’m not at my best state. It’s a bummer I can’t say the same about myself. Most of the time, I don’t even have half a clue of what revolves around this child’s mind. Could it be a reason as to why she’s a bit more distant to me? We talk the most, but she seems far off. I realised that fact not that long ago.

“Did you put something over the wound? Like, before visiting the nurse.” She asks. It sounds as if she’s pondering over some possibility. Did I? Felix had been yapping something along the same lines.

I scratch my nape, considering the events that led up to the moment but none of them strikes a cord with her query. “None that I can think of. I mean, I just splashed some cold water over it. Nothing more than that.”

“I see.” She heaves a sigh. “Well, it can only mean one thing then.”

“What?” Curiosity elevates the pitch of my voice.

“You’re a transformer. I’ve always had a faint idea about it. Just needed a cue to conformity.” Her voice is so expressionless, it’s almost sounding as if she’s serious. 

Wait, huh- what?

“Ye-yeah, sure.” I brush it off a light scoff.

She chuckles at it, surprisingly.  

“Okay then.”

“What? I thought you were on a break?” Though abruptly ending a conversation is not something she wouldn’t do.

“I won’t hold you up, sire. You should go and rest. Bye for now.” 

“Okay, okay, buh-bye!” Beep.

As soon as the line cuts off, I place the phone back into my pocket. Conversations with this kid always start with a matter fact point, pace on with patience gelled with reasoning and end swiftly. She’s too mature for her age. Sometimes I feel I’m the younger one and not her. Even so, the fact that she tries to keep a low profile in front of me and doesn't bother to hide it, occupies me from time to time. She’s closed off to everyone. That’s true. But sometimes, I can’t help but feel that even though she’s the most in touch with me all the time, we’re in a spot where we can't clearly see each other. For now, none of us want to do anything about it. I’m short on courage, and I don’t really get to figure out what she’s behind on.

And that stings.

See that? So, go away already, little brat of a face wound, you got tough competition. 

I can easily find a cab at the intersection. So, I walk up to the main road and grab a ride home.

Traffic is unusually heavy for this hour of the day. Rush hours usually are those during mid mornings or the dawn. So being stuck on the freeway, as the sun glared down mercilessly on the window pane, tested my patience brazenly. The radio was tuned into some local station and the RJ kept on reciting something that I couldn’t really comprehend. Or more like, didn’t really want to comprehend.  

I feel disturbed and out of energy. What makes me tired is the fact that I’ve wasted a whole lot of time today and there’s nothing much that I can do about it. What’s worse is if I could reverse it all, everything would be all the same. So it’s pointless. I put this as the reason for the sudden outburst of pessimistic thoughts in the damp space that’s supposed to be my head.

I lean against the window pane. My eyelids feel heavy and shut down on their own. So I give in. The driver wakes me up when we reach my home. I look at the time to find out that three and a half hours had passed since I fell asleep amidst the traffic. It’s just a twenty five minute ride from the training centre to my home. 

How bad was the traffic actually? I blink to myself.

“It was way too heavy. We were in a tough spot.” The driver remarks. Did I say that out loud? I must’ve. I pay him in cash and get out of the car. 

“Don’t let them freak about it.” The driver calls out behind my back. “Your face, sir.” He drives off, wheels screeching against the minute gravels lying on the ground 

What about my face? The wound?

I open the selfie cam on my phone and take a close look at the wound. 

"What in the world?!"

What the heck do we have here?