Shabaka's Pride - The Championship Ceremony

             Shabaka hugged Amare and broke down crying. She couldn’t forgive herself. She was trying to hurt her own family in every one of her four fights. And what for? To somehow protect them, to not be a burden. They were supposed to be there for each other, not try life and limb to destroy one up one another.

            “I… I… I’m so sorry,” sobbed Shabaka into Amare’s chest. “I didn’t want to hurt you, I didn’t want to lose, I just want to help, I don’t want you all to take care of me.” Amare pet her between her ears. Bard swooped in and hugged her.

            “You are my little sister,” Amare said. “It is my job to take care of you. Don’t worry about being a burden on us. Because you aren’t, and never will be.”

            “I’m sorry for putting you through this,” said Bard. “The tournament was a horrible idea. I should never have held it.”

            “You don’t need to apologize,” said Shabaka, turning her eye to Bard. “But thank you.”

            Smalls clapped his large hands together, creating an even larger sound. “Come on dad, at least cheer her up with her prize.”

            “Um… I don’t have one,” said Bard. Shabaka glared at him, along with everyone else. Bard was being met with stares like those given to him by his children’s mothers. So there the bard was, confronted by the consequences of his sexual escapades, with no preparation or escape. Shabaka was pretty sure this was the start of a bad joke somewhere.

            As the tournament’s champion, Shabaka demanded that her father taken them all to the ice cream parlor. She didn’t mind sharing her prize and didn’t want anything special. She just wanted to spend time with her family, while not trying to hurt one another. The seven each got a different flavor and shared them equally, so that each got an even mix of the seven flavors.

            After the ice cream lunch was finished, Amare was the first to stand up and speak. “Smalls, are you going to carry her for her triumph or not?” Xey did not even wait for a response before they walked off from the parlor’s seating area, towards the bushes. There they plucked and collected branches.

            “Her what?” asked Smalls.

            “Her triumph,” said Amare returning from the bush, holding several small bush branches, wrapped together into a wreath. “In my homeland, when a great warrior returns from war, they receive a parade in their honor. Now we don’t have the war elephants or massive painted bannisters showing her ‘conquest,’ but we can still carry her through town.”

            “Please don’t,” whimpered Shabaka.

            “Too late,” said Tilian as Smalls lifted her up onto his shoulders and paraded her through the town. Meanwhile Amare lifted the wreath behind her, so it looked like she was wearing a floating crown. She was embarrassed at first but so made peace with her champion’s march. She held out her arms and smiled to the sky.

            Shabaka was happy, still guilty over some of her desires, but she thought she had hope, and knew she had support. She had her family.

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