Right Through Me
Lodi asks Ikora to spar with him.
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“Sparring?”
There’s a tinge of incredulousness to Ikora’s words as she echoes Lodi’s request. Looking up from her data pad, she catches the Emissary’s gaze, brow raised in piqued curiosity.
Lodi nods. “If you’ll have me, of course. Usually, the Guardian trains with me, but I heard they left for an operation in Russia, so…”
He holds out his hands in a half-shrug gesture, as if physically passing the conversation to Ikora.
She’d be lying if she said she wasn’t aback. It’s nothing against Lodi, to be sure, but she can’t remember the last time anyone had asked her to be their training partner. Between endless Vanguard meetings and long hours of research, it was hard to make time for others this way, let alone for herself.
She ponders the invitation a moment, the back of her mind skimming across the endless to-do list that all but plasters its walls these days. It would be beneficial to accept, both for Lodi and for herself. Her increased field research deems it necessary to keep her combat prowess sharp, and no doubt Lodi is seeking to do the same. Pacifist as he is, even he knows to remain realistic.
Plus…it has been a minute since the two of them had an opportunity to spend time together outside of work. Barring a particularly rainy afternoon some weeks ago, Ikora hadn’t so much as caught a glimpse of her friend during her rounds about the Tower. Perhaps they’re more than due for changing that.
So, she humors him. A short break from routine never killed anybody.
—
It’s not until they’re on the mat that Ikora realizes something is wrong.
Physically, Lodi seems to be fine. Save for whatever abnormalities come with the territory of being Emissary, he doesn’t look like he’s in any kind of pain or ailment. But she can feel it – in the awkward timing of his parries, his split-second hesitation before throwing a punch. At first, she assumed he was just finding his footing against a different partner (he did mention working a lot with the Guardian on this lately), but something in the look in his eye hints at something deeper.
Lodi darts forward. Ikora sidesteps him, almost effortlessly, and watches him stumble over his own momentum. His weak spot’s wide open. Her hand strikes the back of his neck, and Lodi crashes to the floor.
“2-0,” Ikora speaks up after a beat, holding out the hand that struck him down.
Lodi accepts her offer, pulling himself back up to his feet. He curses something under his breath in his mother tongue. “Ssk– That’s probably gonna bruise.”
“Still shaking off the rust?”
“Uh…something like that.”
Ikora tilts her head, unconvinced. “Talk to me.”
Lodi purses his lips, as though to grasp at the words swimming around in his mind. He wanders to the wall closest to them, leaning against it to collect himself. Worried uncertainty shrouds his expression. He pauses a moment to steel himself, then, with a deep breath, begins:
“I realize how silly it probably sounds when I say it out loud like this, but,” – he glances at Ikora, brow furrowed – “I think it’s…you? No, that– that came out wrong. I’m sorry. What I mean is that most of the time, I can look at you and I see, well, you, Ms. Rey. But for some reason, whenever we’re facing each other down like this, I…”
His words falter, but Ikora finds the conclusion all the same.
“You see Nella.”
Lodi nearly winces at the sound of her name. “I can’t help it.”
Conversation dwindles into contemplative silence. Ikora turns her gaze away from him, landing idly on a small group of Guardians training at the shooting range nearby. She can’t fault Lodi for struggling with such a thing. She’s seen firsthand just how cruel the irony of meeting a ghost of the past can be.
It’s strange, being on the other end of the cosmic joke for once. Her mind wanders to Crow, and she wonders if this is anything close to how he felt all those years. The pained looks, the whispers behind his back that carried the weight of a burden he couldn’t escape from. Never did she think she’d find herself able to empathize with such impossible circumstances. She had embraced the clean slate of the Light and walked without fear of looming shadows. But now…knowing she shares a face with someone her friend once cared for leaves a strange feeling in her chest she cannot pin down.
Lodi clears his throat to break the silence. “Y’know what, this probably wasn’t a good idea. Sorry for dragging you out here.”
“Wait.”
Ikora holds up a halting palm, and Lodi pauses from where he’s pushing himself off the wall. She holds his gaze for a moment, hesitant but curious. She’ll never know exactly who Nella was to him. But out there on Kepler, she’d caught a glimpse of her – fearless and hungry for knowledge, just as she is. Deep down, Ikora knows it’s she who whispered that instinctive trust into the back of her mind. Louis is worth the chance, in this lifetime or the next.
“Let’s go one more round,” she offers. “Trust me.”
—
Ikora takes her place across the mat, turning on her heel to face her companion.
“We’ll change the rules a bit for this one, if you don’t mind. This round won’t end until you land a solid hit on me.”
Lodi blinks. “Wait, are you sure–?”
He chokes on his words. Ikora closes the distance before he can even finish his sentence, arms sweeping him into a headlock. The surprise in his eyes is palpable, wild and confused. After a moment, he taps her wrist, and Ikora lets go. He stumbles back, rubbing his throat as he hacks the air back into his lungs.
Ikora gives him a moment to recover. Her hands fold behind her back, stride circling around him as though to size up her prey.
“You know as well as I do how much hesitation can cost,” she says. “This round would’ve been over before it even began.”
“Yeah – cough – I can see that.”
She draws to a halt in front of Lodi as he straightens up again. His uncertainty still clouds his judgment. He doesn’t have to say it for her to know it’s not Ikora he’s staring back at.
“I’ll tell you what I tell all of our Guardians,” she continues. “The past is what we make of it. It can be part of what defines us, should we choose for it to. But we cannot let it hold us back from facing the future.”
Ikora holds her hand out to Louis, beckoning him. “So I’ll say it again: this round isn’t over until you land a hit on me.”
By this point, the Guardians at the shooting range have abandoned their own training, forming a small crowd by the edge of the sparring mat. They whisper amongst themselves, curious gazes trained on the Warlock Vanguard and the Emissary.
Louis glances at the crowd, then turns back to Ikora. The corners of her lips twitch at the slightest hint of a smile. She knows Louis well enough by now to know that a challenge is one of the few things he will never back down from.
He squeezes his eyes shut, as though to rid what remains of his inhibition.
“Alright,” he finally concedes. “If you insist.”
Louis is fierce when he chooses to be.
Ikora remains but a step ahead of his own movements. Right hook parried, dodge a left kick. She keeps light on her feet, but Louis is quick to close the distance. Ikora darts to the ground and juts out a leg. Louis’s ankle catches on a sweeping kick, and she grapples him to the floor. She catches a glimpse of the look in his eye as they tumble: strained, but determined. There’s a refusal to back down here that was not present just a few minutes before.
He hooks his free leg across her arm and twists. Ikora loses her grip for a half second, but it’s all he needs. Louis rolls free and springs back up, stumbling for a moment before he’s back on his feet. Ikora follows.
This is a pleasantly surprising side of him. Rusty as his timing may be, the claws Louis keeps concealed are sharp all the same. Ikora doesn’t notice the smirk subconsciously forming on her face.
The match is a flurry of punches and kicks, grapple attempts and hair-precision dodges. She can feel how much more comfortable Louis is now – rather, how much he’s allowing himself to be. Even now, his wish to prove himself to her far outweighs any reservations weighing him down.
Louis darts forward. Ikora readies to dodge. He switches up at the last second – a dull CRACK halts all momentum.
And Ikora recoils.
Something in the impact breaks the rising tension. Ikora’s hand instinctively covers her face, the initial dizzying sting now dulling into a throbbing ache. She hears Lodi gasp a few beats late of the initial hit. The adrenaline’s already begun to wear off.
She looks up, pulling her hand away from her face. There’s blood on her fingers.
“I—” Lodi finally comes back to his senses. “I did not mean to hit that hard. Are– Are you okay?”
Stunned silence hangs between them for a moment. Lodi quickly procures a rag, approaching her with caution, and Ikora gingerly takes it from him. The fire in his eyes has been completely doused. All that remains is the softness she’s used to seeing, apologetic remorse glinting back at her.
It’s…amusing.
Ikora can’t help herself. What starts as a restrained chuckle bubbles up into quiet, delighted laughter.
She finishes wiping the blood off her face and bows her head. “2-1. Not bad, Louis.”
Lodi blinks, almost blindsided by her reaction. But bewildered confusion slowly melts into relief, then finally into humble triumph.
“Guess I’m done shaking off the rust,” he quips, and Ikora lands a soft punch on his shoulder.
The flock of Guardians surrounding the mat finally disperses, and they take this as their opportunity to wrap up. Whatever unspoken tension that lingered has all but faded; Ikora can see it in the way Lodi stands a little taller now.
He pauses just shy of the doorway before they leave, taking a breath that prompts Ikora to glance back at him.
“Hey, by the way,” he says, “would you wanna do this again at some point? I mean, I know we’re both busy, but…this was actually kinda fun.”
Ikora pretends to consider the offer for a moment, but she knew her answer the second he asked.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to it.” Then, with a smirk: “Just know I won’t go easy on you like the Guardian does.”
Lodi insists that isn’t true, much to her amusement. A rematch is all but guaranteed at this point: after all, she did still technically win. He spends the rest of their walk back to the Vanguard offices swearing he’ll prove her wrong next time.
She’s looking forward to it.
