Chapter 7: A Wrong put to Right

Ayasha just couldn’t face the last ceremony for Blaze, her mind going over the event of the last two days, and it leaves a bitter taste in her mouth. It was extremely unfair what happened to him and even though she didn’t know him well, or like him for that matter; it doesn’t mean he deserves the hand that fate dealt him. She stops at his newly dug grave and though she not usually one who shows emotion, finds herself weeping openly at the simple vase of flowers that someone had placed in front of his headstone, bright orange like the man’s ridiculous hair.

She thinks back to her own childhood in the slums; having very little in the way of possessions and often times not enough to eat. Her grandfather; in his prime and working as a janitor at the time, grew tired of living on just what scraps happened to fall their way. 


He began to take what he felt that he and his family deserved; however he could, but only from people who had, in his opinion, more than their fair share. He had made many enemies during his subsequent rise to power, but strangely enough as time went by, most became his most trusted associates and the rest mysteriously disappeared.

She doesn’t condone any of his actions; but something about the manner with which he had done things seems honorable in its own way. What her grandfather had done was simply taken charge of his own destiny, forged his own fate and that is something Blaze never had the chance to do, so she wants to try and make it right to honor his memory.





She tries hard to clear her mind by meditating; something that never failed to make her feel better when she had issues that needed to be worked out. This time however, despite all her best efforts and several attempts to pouring all of her fear, anger, pain and doubt into a flickering flame in her minds’ eye, her mind doesn’t let her relax because of the man who bears the same name as that calming flame. Standing up, she takes out her phone and dials a number without hesitating. Her father answers and asks after her well-being, but she asks to speak with grandfather without answering him. He seems a little troubled by her lack of response, but hands the phone to his father. Ukito has always been a calming voice of reason when all else fails and this time is no exception as she pours out her feelings to him over the phone and though he seems surprised at her out flowing of emotions, helps her get to the core of what she is feeling with the skill and speed of an expensive psychiatrist.

“What can be done grandfather?” She asks weakly, once she is drained of her emotions, leaving her cold and determined. “Fear not child, there is hope yet.” He says simply, putting her at ease. “I will contact one of my many acquaintances and set up a meeting for later this afternoon. I will give you the details when the arrangements have made. She doesn’t have to wait long, getting the address and time of the meeting as a text message only a double handful of minutes later. The only thing to do now is to find a way of sneaking out without getting caught.





In her wanderings of the arena, she had noticed a small wall hanging at the end of a hall that leads up to the sparring ring itself. The wall hanging down the right hand passage had a door next to it, leading to the chamber Blaze had died in, but the other has a blank wall. She has heard of this type of thing before as her grandfather has something similar in the penthouse they share, so decides to go check it out; thinking perhaps there will be a way out of the arena.





As she investigates the seemingly perfect wall, she feels what seems to be the edge of a door that doesn’t quite match up flush at the sides, so pushes and pulls on it, hoping she is right about her earlier suspicions. The door swings open and she heads down the hall, closing the door behind her so as not to attract unwanted attention. Inside is an unused room decorated and furnished like a library, with a long row of shelves stuffed with books, scrolls and other reading material. A table and chairs sit at one end and a pair of couches at the other with a small trickling pool of water near the center, a perfect place to meditate."Why would they ever seal a room like this off?" She wonders idly, but has a mission so that thought will have to wait until a later date.





Having that talk with Grandpa Ukito helped immensely as she sits and closes her eyes, listening to the tinkle of water flowing over rocks in the basin beside her and breathing in through her nose and out through her mouth slowly. Her mind slowly forms the single flame; like she’d see on a candle and soon feels all her negative emotions drain away into the flame, dimly aware of Blaze’s shadowy face in the center of that flickering mass. It is several long minutes before she feels a lassitude sweep over her like Blaze had felt in the arena with Lainee guiding the flow of meditative focus, and feels herself floating several inches above the ground. 


Normally focus like this takes someone years to master, but to her it comes easy and she has practiced many times on her own in the past five years; though mostly under the watchful eye of her grandfather. The energy builds within her and she pictures a location in her mind and feels the world lurch into motion, hearing the wind rush by as though she is flying.





A dark-skinned man is waiting for her as she gets to her feet in a large, lavish house across town. Likely Professor Devlin DeHaviland is the strangest man she has ever met with weird glasses over his eyes and what looks to be a lab coat; though a long one and green rubber gloves pulled all the way up to his elbows. 


“I am Ayasha Miakoda, my grandfather sent me to meet with you.” She says, extending her hand. He looks at it and just looks over the top of his glasses. “I was expecting you to arrive by taxi, not simply appearing here in my living room; you could have been hurt.” He says passively. It is only now that she sees all the workbenches literally crammed with copper tubing, glass beakers and open flames under smaller glass beakers. A large chamber gets her attention, but she looks back to him. “Did my grandfather tell you the nature of my visit?” She asks slowly and he shakes his head. “No, but you can… I hope you don’t mind if I continue what I was doing.” 


She goes into a truncated story of Blaze’s death while he goes back to one of the work benches to attend some of the vials and beakers already boiling therein and when she is finished he looks up from his work. “I know why your grandfather told you to come here to meet me and it is very risky but I can indeed help with this particular situation.” He says casually, piquing her curiosity, but leaving it unsatisfied as he turns off all the Bunsen burners and heads out the door without a word. He hails a cab and simply looks over his shoulder and waits with a look in her direction; as though saying “Let’s go.”

They climb into the cab together and travel across town to the arena, where he goes to visit the grave of Blaze, looking down impassively. Lainee happens to see her come back into the arena with a look of surprise, but heads the other way when she sees the strange man. Devlin kneels down and digs a small hole with his finger until he feels wood, then takes out a drill and bores a small hole through the top of the casket. With that done, he produces a metal object from his pocket and puts it through the hole and when he pulls a plunger on the back of the object the glass interior fills with blood and human tissue. He nods to himself and puts the object back into his pocket and leaves without a word.





She goes to fill the hole in Blaze’s grave with her hands and find tears in her eyes again, taking her by surprise. Once she straightens, she turns to see Simon standing there soberly watching her, sympathy plainly painted on his face. “It’s okay to cry Ayasha, no one will think anything less of you, especially after what happened to Blaze.” He says softly, tears in his eyes also. “Just think that he is in a better place now; without any pain or suffering.” He trails off, pulling her close for a hug instead. She isn’t usually one for having her personal space invaded, but she finds a bit of comfort in his arms. She straightens after a minute and walks away, leaving Simon to stare blankly at the Orange Rooster’s grave.

“You left the arena… that is strictly forbidden by the rules of this tournament.” Lainee says, confronting her in the salon a couple minutes later. “I didn’t, I simply met him outside the gate and you didn’t notice me walking out.” Ayasha says blandly, nearly snubbing her with attitude. Lainee sputters audibly, seemingly at a loss, so she storms off angrily, muttering to herself. When she is gone Ayasha breathes a visible sigh of relief at having nearly been caught and “disqualified” and goes to bed before she gets into more trouble, falling asleep with the hope that Professor DeHaviland can help Blaze somehow.



About the same time, elsewhere in the Arena, Troy is chatting with Tarik. He had been simply awestruck by the ceremony that morning; and at first had felt a twinge of sadness for Blaze, who was unlucky enough to have that horrible fate befall him, but after a while he is relieved that it isn’t him and it leaves him with a sense of his own mortality creeping up behind him. He had spent the morning alone with his thoughts and realized that he could die like that too and he has nothing to show for it in his life except a string of bad choices and a few grudges. Not wanting to travel down that path anymore caused him to seek out the others in the arena and the first to cross his path was Tarik.

“Be at ease Troy, for he is with his God and at peace for all times.” He is saying, drawing Troy back to the present. “I know man, it’s just he wasn’t supposed to go out like that.” Troy says sourly. “Yes, but it was your God’s will, perhaps he felt that Blaze had suffered enough in this life and took him home.” Troy proceeds to apologize for the argument they had the first days in the arena and feels strangely light as he goes to the fire pit upstairs.



Owen is already there, apparently he had wanted some time alone, but seems to welcome Troy’s company, though they sit in silence for several long minutes. He breaks the silence by apologizing for every cross word and act he has done against the man, determined to have a clear conscience if his fate is the same as Blaze’s. The man says nothing, but Troy can feel the tension ease from the other man and watches him head downstairs, rubbing his eyes. He stares into the flames for nearly an hour, to look up and see the moon is in the sky overhead and the air chills him to the bone, even through his sweater.





As he stands and turns toward the stairs he freezes when he sees a shimmering figure floating above the grass. He had never believed in ghosts even as a kid, but here was one in the flesh and it leaves him speechless. He moves closer and sees the silvery comb on the ghosts head and the playful smile that was Blaze’s trademark. The ghost beckons him closer and he approaches tentatively, unsure if the ghost holds any grudges against him. He is mute at first and the ghost just stands patiently, waiting for him to speak. “I am sorry Blaze… for anything I may have done to make you hate me.” He says softly; his voice barely higher than a whisper. Before he can say anything else, the ghost of Blaze just nods happily and disappears into the ground from whence he came, though whether he is at rest again or not, Troy has not a clue.





Troy bumps into Rowena on his way to the barracks for a good night’s sleep, still a little unsure of what had just transpired, and she sees that he is flustered, so asks what is happening. He is a little hesitant about telling her, thinking that she will laugh at him or something, but eventually it spills out and he gives her a true accounting of his encounter with the ghost. She doesn’t laugh, in fact she is supportive of him, telling him that she feels he did the right thing and that makes him feel a bit better; good enough in fact that he can rest easy and heads for the barracks.

Rowena remembers back to her childhood, and that large sprawling house they lived in that had belonged to her grandparents. At first she thought she was imagining things, talking to her grandma sitting beneath an apple tree in the back yard, but as she grew up and continued seeing the beautiful old woman, knew that her grandmother’s spirit was a little restless. She had not gone away by the time Rowena had moved to Bridgeport and wants nothing more than to go back and see her grandma one last time before this is all over.

She is lost in thought and literally runs into Simon in the barracks as she is heading for her blankets. He stops her from falling and asks her what the problem is. She tells it like Troy had told her, and at first Simon is skeptical, having never seen a ghost, but taking into account her dire seriousness and how she speaks, he soon believes her story somewhat. If any spirit could be restless, it would be Blaze, who had that horrible injustice against him at the end. Simon turns to his bed and curls up beneath the blankets as Rowena hits the lights. He lays there awake for a few minutes, but the day’s activity has left him drained, so he rolls over to the side and his eyes slide closed.



And sees Blaze sleeping soundly on his bed.