It don’t feel all that much like winning when I step back from Blueblood. His blood’s leaking out across the canvas, and he looks real still. Uppercut raises my hoof, but I don’t pay that no mind. I’m looking at Blueblood. For a moment, I don’t see it, and my blood goes cold, but then it happens. His chest rises and falls, and Uppercut and I share a nod. We both feel the weight lift off us a little.
With the bout over, I try and drop back down onto all fours, but the second my front hooves hit the canvas, this great big pain shoots through them. All of a sudden, I’m laying on the canvas, too, and Granny and Apple Bloom are running out to see to me.
Ain’t never happened to me before, but I’ve heard of it. A fighter hits so hard that they fracture their hooves up without even realizing it’s happening. I’m laying there, clutching my hooves to my chest and watching Blueblood’s team drag him outta the ring. He still ain’t really moved none.
Granny and Apple Bloom are trying to pull me out, but I’m too much for them. It’d feel real good to have somepony pick me up and carry me out, but they can’t do it, and that kinda stuff don’t look good in front of the crowd. It’s hard. Maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I get my hind hooves under me, and I stand up. Granny Smith’s right there to give me some support, but I try not to lean on her too much. She can barely walk as it is.
The crowd’s still screaming as we make our way back to the locker room. We gave them exactly what they wanted. It’ll be all the town talks about for weeks. Even though he lost, Blueblood’s made a name for himself in this circuit now, and I’ve racked up a win against somepony that they all could see was a tough customer. We’ve both come out ahead.
I try to remember that when I look down at my ruined hooves, then back over to where they’re loading Blueblood onto a stretcher.
Up ahead, Apple Bloom pushes open the door, then lets it swing shut when Granny and I get through. The closing door slices through the noise like a reaping blade. The crowd’s screaming transforms into something low and steady. It ebbs and flows, like the heartbeat of this place. This arena lives off of broken stallions.
I hop onto the stool, and it all comes out. I hate this part, but it happens every time. Here, away from the crowd, I can finally relax, and when I do, I just start bawling. I guess all that pain’s gotta go someplace.
Granny Smith wraps her hooves around me. She’s gently rocking me back and forth and whispering stuff into my ear. I can’t really understand it yet. Getting punched really messes up your hearing for a while, but the tone still soothes. Beside me, Apple Bloom’s rubbing my back. She knows talking ain’t gonna do nothing for me.
So I cry. Hooves covering my face, I just try to get it over with. Little flashes of the fight come back to me, and the tears flow harder. The sound of breaking ribs. Uppercut as he stood over me, counting down the loss of our farm. The way I tried to hurt Blueblood at the end. The way I wanted to hurt him for being so stubborn.
And more than anything, I’m crying for Blueblood. Whatever he was fighting so hard for, I just took it away. Granny told me he’s a criminal. She told me he’s a jerk. Well, ponies say a lot of things, but all I know is that he fought like a desperate stallion tonight, and fighters usually fight like desperate stallions when they’re desperate. I did what I had to do, but I’ve got to go to bed tonight knowing that I probably just ruined some pony’s life. They’ll say it was me or him, but that don’t do no good. The world should be better than that, but it ain’t.
Ponies say it was, long ago. They say that Equestria was bright and sunny. That the princesses ruled in harmony before Celestia banished her sister. But nopony’s seen the princess in generations. The sun barely rises, and sometimes the moon doesn’t drop down below the horizon. More and more, it’s just always twilight. Granny Smith says it’s grief that’s done it.
I don’t know much about that. I got my doubts as to whether some all-powerful pony controls everything, but if she’s actually real, then I can’t say I think much of a ruler that don’t try to take care of her subjects. It don’t matter what’s she’s lost, that just ain’t right. But I ain’t got the power to change things. My hooves are full right here. They’re busted up pretty good, and in a month’s time, that bill will come due again. We’ll need the bits just as bad as we did tonight.
So we’ll start it all over. I’ll cry tonight. I’ll go to the doc tomorrow and start healing up. In a week, Granny will find a new opponent, and I’ll start training. Two or three after that, and we’ll have another fight. Then I’ll cry again.
Granny tells me it ain’t long now. Just a year. Maybe two. Then we’ll be out from under these bills. I nod and say, “Yup,” but it ain’t so, and we both know it. That plow’s about to fall apart, the barn needs repairs, and that saggy hip that Granny Smith thinks she’s hiding from us all needs looking at. Somewhere in all of that, we gotta get some money together for Apple Bloom’s schooling. She’s too smart to waste her life working the worthless fields we got here.
And so we all lie to each to each other that it’s almost over. That I’ll be able to stop hurting folks, and getting hurt in return. We all lie to each other, and we all lie about knowing we’re lying. Otherwise, it’s too hard to get by.
I catch my reflection in the cracked mirror across the room. The fur’s matted beneath my eyes, and I’m beat all to hell. Granny Smith’s beside me, patting me on the back, but it’s Apple Bloom who I’m fretting over. She looks real worried, but also real proud. Like I did something out there. It ain’t what I want her to think about all this. I’ve told her that, but I’m her big brother. I’m the one that’s holding us together. I guess it’s natural that she looks up to me like I did a great thing tonight. And, in a way, I guess I did. Something great and terrible at the same time.
I hate this. We all do. But we all kind of love it, too. We keep doing it, over and over. Lying to ourselves again and again. But truth is, Apples have always made their own way. We tried to do it with trees, but it ain’t worked out so much. Now we do it with damage. Granny Smith plants seeds of violence, and Apple Bloom tends to them. They grow, strong and hateful, until it’s time for me to harvest them in that ring. Then the season’s over, and the planting starts again.
We tell ourselves this is about the farm, and we’ll keep on telling ourselves that, but we all really know what it’s about. Pain’s the Apple family’s new crop now.
We finally figured out how to get something to grow just right.