24

Mouse slept restlessly the night before the day of the start of the Tournament, it was inevitable, despite all the hardened character that could have been due to that life full of misery that he had to live, deep down he was only a nine-year-old boy.

When he woke up, he prepared to relax a little, do some stretching and wait for breakfast, Mr. Blacker arrived shortly after with breakfast.

"Well, you are awake now, that is good, eat calmly we still have a couple of hours before leaving for the arena"

"two hours? I thought the tournament would be at night"

"Ha ha ha, and it is, don't look at me like that, Mouse, the idea occurred to the champion, to avoid you arriving tired to the fights we have been modifying your sleeping hours, so when you arrive you will be fresh and not tired from a whole day of nerves"

Mouse was no longer surprised by any of the former champion's tactics, during those months he had seen how that man was worth more for his ideas and tactics than one could have thought.

One of the things during those months that Mouse had missed the most was the obsession of the two men with body cleanliness. They forced him to shower and bathe every day, they had even shaved his head. Blacker said it was because that head was a nest of thousands of types of lice, the champion because pulling hair was one of the risks of a fight without rules.

With his head shaved, clean, the boy seemed to deserve even more of a nickname, he was pale, shiny and his big ears stuck out on the sides of his face. Mouse had once asked Mr. Blacker or even the champion if they had been born "so normal" with a more aesthetically correct face, of course they both laughed, one said that although he had been born as a class E, as soon as he had the chance he corrected a facial defect where his lower lip was much more prominent than the upper one, he had also made other minor touch-ups. The champion however defined himself as a terribly ugly child, with all kinds of defects that medicine could correct with money and effort.

But Mouse looked at himself in the mirror and did not see how a face like his could be born into a normal adult. The rags he had normally worn until arriving at Blacker's house had long since been incinerated, now dressed in a grey t-shirt and black sports shorts the boy looked strange in front of the mirror. What would happen when he returned to the sewers after the tournament? How could he ever get used to living covered in shit all day?

"Let's measure you to see if you've grown."

When Mouse approached the mark that Marcus had made on the wall the first day and Blacker marked the new height, he realized how much he had grown in those months. He wouldn't reach the rest of the boys, but he had shortened the gap.

The champion would be among the spectators, so Blacker and the boy got into the E-class engineer's private transport. The central city was very different from the outer area where Fang had taken him. It was wide, clean, and governed by a high dome. It wasn't a paradise, but comparatively it was the difference between heaven and hell.

The shops weren't crowded together, the streets were wide, forming a grid. Mouse didn't understand why a class E, who could live there comfortably, would risk fighting in a club fight and losing everything.

"Well, Mouse, you'll understand when you know how difficult life is, and how much a class E skill costs. Although compared to the sewers this may seem like paradise, here in Gretia, in a lost corner of the universe we can't enjoy even a tenth of what we do in the inner colonies. Everyone tries to progress, everyone tries to get out of here, only a few succeed, or like me, they get a position here comfortable enough to settle..."

In the center of the city there was a large building. The boy had only been able to see the dome between the buildings, but he never believed that it was in this huge building where the tournament would take place. The boy expected it to be just another larger fighting club, with more capacity, but as they entered the large stadium the boy almost lost his breath.

They stopped in a private parking lot, reserved for the sponsors of the fighters. Mouse got out of the transport. It was early, only four or five vehicles were already there.

"In a few minutes the draw will take place, depending on the order of your fight you will eat now or we will wait for you to finish"

"What is better, to be one of the first or the last?"

"For you, the later the better, so in addition to eating you can review your opponent's fights..."

They entered the venue through a hallway, Blacker knew perfectly where he was going but soon some workers from the tournament organization redirected him to a room. The boy was measured, weighed and photographed, and was assigned a number, he was the seventh to arrive so that would be his ball in the draw.

After these formalities Blacker went through an elevator to a VIP room, he had not skimped on anything in this tournament. The boy had never been in such a luxurious place, of Blacker's house he only knew the damp basement and some hallway, and that already seemed like an excess of luxury. But in that room with a big screen and comfortable chairs, the boy felt pressured and coerced. How much would all that have cost? That fear and caution made him not even want to sit down.

"Ha ha ha, don't worry Mouse, I'm going to bet on you. If everything goes well with the first fight, if you win it, I'll have recovered the investment..."

Mouse thought of the sad end that his last rival had at the hands of his sponsor.

"What will happen if I don't win the first?"

"Well, if you don't win the first, we'll have a problem, kid, but there will be time to talk about it. For now, I trust you. Let's just say that if you win the first, you and I will be at peace. If you go further, it's better for everyone..."

They had to wait an entire hour for all the participants to arrive and go through the recognition. The signal on the monitor came on and the image of an immense stadium with thousands of people of all conditions in the stands appeared.

Everyone who could afford to pay for the ticket had come to the event, those who couldn't afford to pay for it would watch from bars and restaurants.

A formally dressed man with a microphone stood in the centre of the ring. This was a bit bigger than the ring in the clubs.

"Hello everyone, welcome to the one hundred and fifty-third edition of the Gretia Station Hurricane!"

The crowd roared and the show had only just begun.

"As every year in this previous stage of the real Hurricane we will proceed to the pooping tournament."

Without much enthusiasm the crowd responded to the speech again.

"Relax, this will only be the beginning, during the next two days, the 64 warriors will face each other in a wrestling match to see which two best will face each other in the final before the Battle Suit warriors delight us with their fast-paced fights!"

"And now before proceeding to the draw we are going to show you the children who will participate in the tournament so that you can think about your bets. Video inside!"

A great presentation was shown on the monitors, the truth is that the organization had made a very good preparation for the little time they had since the weigh-in.