Love During Robot Fighting Time: Chapter 4

Hello, lovelies! Don't forget to purchase the official ebooks for "A Dream of Summer Rain" and "Magical Girl Exorcist Squad" here:

A Dream of Summer Rain by Helena_Heissner (itch.io)

Magical Girl Exorcist Squad by Helena_Heissner (itch.io)

***

Faith

11 Months Earlier

“AND TEAM DAI GUREN IS NOW THE WORLD CHAMPIONS! CAN YOU BELIEVE IT?! THE FIRST-YEAR UNDERDOGS FROM LOYOLA MARYMOUNT HAVE TAKEN THE CROWN!!!” Marty screamed. The noise was a lot to process, but just this once I could manage. We were the champions, dammit! This was everything I’d dreamed of. And I had my best friend at my side and the woman I loved just as close.

The crowd ebbed and flowed around me as I guided my Dai Guren away on the wagon. I couldn’t keep the big, stupid smile off my face, especially as I watched Calloway skulk away to the opposing exit with his tail between his legs and his eyes glued to the floor. Suck it, asshole! This will teach you not to call me a pussy.

The jerk had been a thorn in my side all season, constantly starting shit when the cameras were rolling, then acting like we were old chums the second they were off. It was such an obvious, obnoxious, odious ploy for attention that it made my stomach churn.

Whatever, that didn’t matter now. All that mattered was that I’d just achieved one of my biggest dreams in life at the tender age of twenty-two. Yeah, I’d have to defend that crown every time I entered this tournament, ideally for the rest of my life. But for tonight, all I had to do was celebrate.

Well, not exactly. There was one other thing I promised myself I would do if I won. Probably because I didn’t think I could win, and then I’d just get to keep putting it off every year until I died. But instead, the impossible had happened.

And now one more impossible thing had to happen.

I remembered the first time I tried on my mom’s clothes. She was a tiny woman, and I’d been lucky enough to take after her in the looks department. She had this beautiful purple gown in her closet, and one night, she and dad had both been at a dinner party and she’d very conveniently worn something else. I’d spent an hour staring at it, until finally, I caved and put it on and suddenly felt like the world wasn’t such an actively terrible place devoid of light or hope or joy.

So, I did the normal thing at that point: I googled ‘why do I like wearing women’s clothes.’

The resulting rabbit hole had led me to a dangerous and potentially life-altering realization that I then spent the rest of high school desperately trying to ignore. Trying to fight. I did everything I thought I was supposed to: focused on my homework, on my studies, getting into college; got a girlfriend, focused on the handful of stereotypically male interests I’d had.

But the feeling, the yearning, never went away. It kept calling to me, no matter how hard I tried to fight it. So I made myself a deal: if I could win this tournament, I’d come out, starting with the two people I trusted above all others: my best girl and my best friend.

Zeke and Olivia both walked ahead of me. I had no idea how either of them would take this, but I hoped they would take it well.

We cleaned up and headed for the parking lot, and as I stood in the doorway leading out into the warm night air, I said, “Wait. Guys, wait. I have to tell you something.”

Olivia turned around first, looking nervous, while Zeke simply looked happy.

“What’s up, Frankie?” Zeke said. The name pricked at me, short jolts of pain to my stomach and chest. Deep breath, girl, just need to say what you’ve been thinking of saying for over a year.

“Yeah, what’s going on?” Olivia said. “Do you not wanna do that celebratory pub crawl we’d been talking about?”

“No, no, I do,” I said, my heart beating at a million miles per second, my hands trembling, eye contact becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. “It’s just… There’s something I promised myself I would do if we won.”

“Okay?” Olivia said.

“Whatever it is, we’re here for you,” Zeke said with his big, friendly smile.

“Yeah, right,” Olivia said in a dull, flat tone that did little to inspire confidence.

Now or never. Had to do it. It was like a massive weight on my chest I had to get rid of, or it would suffocate me, right there and then. “I’m trans.”

“... W-what?” Olivia said.

“I’m a girl,” I said. “I’m a trans girl.”

“Huh,” Zeke said. “Neat.”

“Neat?” I said, finally looking up, devastated by the look I saw on Olivia’s face but relieved by the one on Zeke’s.

“Neat?!” Olivia spat.

“Yeah,” Zeke said with a smile and shrug. “My friend is a girl, but she’s still myfriend.” Then he looked at me. “Is ‘she’ okay? Pronoun-wise, I mean?”

I gulped, smiled, and nodded rapidly.

Olivia’s eyes darted back and forth rapidly between Zeke and I. “I have a… You’re a… No. Okay, no, just no- I can’t do this.”

That was the moment my fragile little heart broke in half. “Liv… What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you either drop this nonsense or I walk,” Olivia said.

“Olivia, you’re being irrational,” Zeke said.

“I’m being- I’M being irrational,” Olivia said, running her hands through her hair. “My boyfriend thinks he’s a girl and he chooses tonight of all nights, when we’re supposed to be celebrating, to tell me this? How could you do this to me, Frank?!”

I broke off eye contact again and stammered, “I-I-I-”

“Olivia, this isn’t about you,” Zeke said.

“Of course it’s not,” Olivia rolled her eyes. “Nothing ever is. It’s always about FRANK and what HE wants and what HE needs- you know what? Screw this. We’re done.”

“Olivia,” I said, stepping forward, tears in my eyes, “Please don’t do this-”

“You should have thought of that before YOU destroyed our relationship,” Olivia spat. “But you never think of anyone but yourself. Have a nice life, FRANK.”

I stood there in the doorway as I watched her walk away, vanishing into the night. I don’t remember how long I stood there, I just remember not really feeling or seeing much of anything until Calloway was right in front of my face. And I was REALLY not in the mood to deal with his shit there and then.

***

NOW

I sat in a basement bar in North Hollywood, loud music blaring and overhead lights humming and all manner of conversations blending together amidst all the noise. I sipped my cosmopolitan gingerly, pleased by the lipstick stain I left on the rim of the glass- that was my favorite part of wearing lipstick, like I was leaving little kisses on things that I loved. And if I was lucky, by the end of tonight, that would include the tall, dapper gentleman sitting next to me nursing an absinthe.

Though considering how he had his head resting on his hand, his elbow pressing into the table, his brow creased and his eyes narrow, I wasn’t sure tonight would be the night that happened.

“Penny for your thoughts?” I said, leaning forward, trying to emphasize my cleavage. It wasn’t MUCH cleavage, but it was mine after almost a year on estrogen and t-blockers, and I was proud of it.

“Oh, just… Thinking about Calloway,” Zeke said, then took a sip of his drink. He winced as it entered his mouth- I would never understand his love of hard liquor, considering how his face scrunched up when he drank it.

I cocked an eyebrow (heh. Cock.) “Why? We kicked his ass!”

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Zeke said. “We got lucky. If Calloway hadn’t tripped up at just the right time, we would have been dead.”

“Horseshit,” I said, waving my hand and taking another sip of my cosmo, the warm buzz of the alcohol hitting me gradually with the sweet, sugary flavor.

“Okay, Faith, you know I love your confidence, but that’s taking it a little far,” Zeke said. “Calloway redesigned Polyphemus to fight us specifically- we were getting asses beat before the bit at the end. And honestly, ‘flaming katana’ is a pretty unique design that most of the league is not suited to squaring off against. If we face Calloway again, we might not be able to pull a victory out our asses twice.”

I scoffed. “We’ve already beaten him twice.”

“A third time, then,” Zeke said.

I sighed. He was probably right- Calloway’s design was smart. That’s what made it extra satisfying to watch that cocky (heh) grin of his evaporate when we won again tonight. But there were a ton of variables at play inside the battle-box. Next time the dice might not land in our favor. “Okay, fine, you’re right, you’re brilliant, you’re handsome-”

“I’m handsome?” Zeke said with a surprised- and adorably flustered- look.

“Yes,” I winked.

He gulped.

Maybe tonight would be the night.

“That said, we won our opening fight tonight, and we should be celebrating, not strategizing. The next fight isn’t till next week, and neither of us have anywhere to be tomorrow. Let’s just knock back a few drinks and have a good time, yeah?”

“One of us has to drive, though,” Zeke pointed out.

“So a drink, one for each of us, and then we go home and get plastered there,” I said.

He creased his brow again, like he was considering something, but then he shrugged and knocked back the rest of his absinthe. “You’re driving,” he groaned.

“Pfffttt, you jerk,” I said, taking another sip of mine.

“But I’m a brilliant, handsome jerk, so that makes it okay,” he said with a grin.

“Yes, you’re absolutely blessed,” I said with my own grin.

His phone then rang, loud and clear in spite of the noise. He pulled it from his breast pocket and looked at it, then tapped it and started texting something intently.

“Who was it?” I asked.

“Nobody.”

“Nobody? Then who are you texting?”

“Also nobody.”

“This nobody must be terribly interesting,” I rolled my eyes. It was Olivia. It must have been Olivia. Who else could it possibly be-

As if on cue, my own phone buzzed inside my purse. I retrieved it, and found a notification from the tournament organizers. My heart broke apart again, and the pieces dissolved like salt into water. “Dammit.”

“What?”

“Our fight has been set for next week,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes.

“Oh, God, are we-”

“We’re fighting Oliva next week.”

He scooted his stool over to me and put his arm around me, and I sobbed into his chest for God-knew-how-long.