Bare-handed

He stood victorious. Soon, too soon, no one wanted to be his next opponent.

'Thankfully, she told me to hide it under my pillow.' Thought Oswald as the instructor forcibly attached his right hand in his back with a leather belt.

"Redhead! You're in." The instructor said.

For most, it was their first time seeing such a white skin. Laurel had sparse freckles staining his pectoral along terrible-looking scats, he had dirt from his toes to the tip of his nose. The many calculated moves he did led him to his victories nonetheless.

Both faced each other. Only Laurel was breathing heavily. The boy's fiery eyes brimmed with confidence, as for Oswald, only his hastened conclusion reflected in them.

Many watched the fight, it was no final, but it was the most atypical, so in a circle, soldiers and recruits came to support the shortest opponent.