Disclaimer: I do not own Mai HiME in any way, shape, or form. If I did, MaiNao would be a thing.
A/N: Back again! I actually dug this out from the deep, dark crevices of my google drive. It was something I started a long time ago as an experimentation for a different writing style and a challenge for something that I find difficult doing. See if you can guess what they were. :D
Bop. Bop. Bop.
You made sure to focus on your breathing, exhaling when you punched. After reading from various forums about how breathing differently helped conserve energy, you started being mindful of it during practice. Apparently, there was a right way to breathe in a fight, and you were not doing it. So, with this newfound knowledge, you decided to train yourself until it became natural.
Bop. Out. In. Bop. Out. In. Bop. Out. In. Bop. Out. In.Bop. Out. In. Bop. Out. In.
A knock on your door interrupted your concentration, but you decided to ignore it and tried to get back into the rhythm. Whoever was on the other side probably wasn't looking for you anyway. You didn't have much when it came to friends.
Out. In. Bop. Out. Bop. In. Bop. Bop. Bop.
You growled out in frustration when the knocking continued, causing you to completely lose your rhythm. When you finally gave up trying, you nearly ripped the door open and without really seeing who it was, snapped at the person on the other side.
"What?" you yelled.
"Whoa," she answered, taking a step back and holding both her hands up in a surrender motion. "Someone's angry."
"Mai," her name escaped your lips without your permission. When it echoed in your own ears, you noticed the angry edge you had was missing. Where it went, you didn't know. But it wasn't like you were any less angry now than you were before you knew it was Mai who interrupted you.
"Aren't you going to invite me in?" she asked with a smile.
You guessed that she must've thought your temper died down, because there was no way she would have wanted to stay in your presence otherwise. You decided to correct her thinking. "Why? What do you want?" You made sure to sound as irritated as possible without over-exaggerating.
"I was in the area, so I thought I'd give you a visit. Did I interrupt something?" Then, as if she just noticed the attire you were in, she asked, "Working out?"
She eyed you up and down, taking in your figure. Or at least, what she could see of your figure in your light green wife beater and black shorts. You felt a small chill run down your back, but you couldn't tell if it was because of the look in her eyes as she gave you a once over or the cold air hitting your sweaty body.
"I was." You made sure to stretch the fact that it was past tense and gave her a pointed look at the same time to imply it was her fault.
"Entertain a friend for a bit then. Since you're on a break and all." Without asking for permission, Mai walked past you and into your dorm room.
You rolled your eyes at the action and muttered a sarcastic response to the now-empty doorway. "Come on in, Mai. Make yourself at home."
You realized that you must look crazy mumbling to the empty entranceway and closed the door before following her back into the dorm. If you were honest with yourself, you would admit that the redhead didn't actually tick you off as much as you showed. But you didn't feel the need to be honest, especially with yourself, so you continued with your charade.
You made your way further into the dorm, to where your side was, and stopped when you reached your punching bag. You continued to ignore her when you put on your boxing gloves and started throwing punches as if she wasn't there, watching your every move. You tried to focus on your self-imposed training, but the eyes burning into your back made it ten times more difficult than it needed to be.
The silence made you tense; it made you all the more aware of everything that was going around you because there was nothing to focus on but your surroundings. Your efforts to concentrate on your breathing as you punched was shot to hell the second Mai walked into your dorm. Just her very presence made you feel unnatural in your own home.
A part of you wanted to cut the silence in hopes of alleviating whatever tension was in the air, but you didn't know what to say. Making conversation would give away how not-angry at her you were and you wanted to keep up appearances. So, in the end, you said nothing. You only continued to jab at the target furiously. With no rhythm. With no specific goal in mind. Until your heart-rate picked up. Until your body was soaked in sweat. Until your arms started to grow tired from the stress. And still, you continued on because you didn't know what else to do.
"Did you plan on taking a break anytime soon?" her voice cut through the air, causing you to pause.
Your feet stopped shifting, your arms went limp, and your chest rose and fell each time you gasped for air. "Eventually," you replied.
"Well, you've been at it for over half an hour now, so I think you should before you hurt yourself."
"What's it to you?" You growled, getting ready to resume.
"You still go out at night, don't you?" she asked. She already knew the answer. She didn't really need a reply. "You've made a lot of enemies, so you can't exactly afford to get hurt, can you?" she continued. "You're barely surviving out there now as is. What will you do when you're in too much pain to hit?"
"What do you care?" You spat as you spun around to glare at her.
"I care," she stressed, "because you're my friend."
You didn't know what it was about her words that ticked you off, you just knew it did. Massively. To the point where you could barely contain yourself. Sure, the redhead pestered you relentlessly in the past two years about every little thing you did. It annoyed you more than anything, but even you couldn't deny that she had somehow wormed her way into your life. You had gotten so used to her daily nagging that it felt unnatural when she didn't. It wasn't exactly a welcomed gesture, but without it, it made you feel like something was missing.
"I'm taking a shower," you declared in the calmest voice possible, which sounded an octave lower in your ears.
Without caring what she planned to do in your absence, you disappeared into the bathroom for a long, hot, soothing shower. You needed to calm down and figure out exactly what it was that bothered you. And if you couldn't because you didn't feel like digging too deep, you needed to somehow bury that emotion and pretend it meant nothing.
When you finally emerged from the bathroom clad only in a maroon-colored towel, you saw that Mai had taken a stance by your punching bag. A part of you cringed at the bad posture and poor punching technique she used, if it could even be classified as that. Unable to stand by idly and watch her any longer, you strode over without thinking.
"You're doing it all wrong," you yelled at her. "Are you trying to hurt yourself?"
She paused to look over at you, her eyes going from questioning to appreciative. It took you a second to realize that what she was doing could be misinterpreted as ogling, had you not known Mai wasn't interested. Still, her stare made you suddenly aware of your attire. Or lack thereof.
"Shit," you mumbled to yourself as you started retreating to your room.
"Weren't you going to show me how to do it right?" she called after you.
You could almost hear the smirk in her voice, but decided to ignore it as you retorted back."When I'm dressed!" Then, remembering the way her eyes roamed your body, you added a half-tease, "You won't learn a thing if you're checking me out when I'm explaining things!"
By the time you returned, you caught a glimpse of her quickly returning her phone into her pants pocket as she quickly moved back to stand in front of your punching bag.
"Welcome back, sensei. So, how does one punch this thing properly?" she asked with a teasing lilt.
"Like this," you replied, throwing a straight at the target without taking your eyes off of her. The impact of your punch caused the punching bag to swing towards her before coming back to you, which was when you grabbed onto it so that it would stop.
"How was that any different than what I did?" she asked.
You walked over to her and lightly nudged at her feet. "Feet apart, one in front of the other. Legs bent," you demonstrate this with your own body to show her as you spoke. "You can hold your arms how you like as long as you are ready to strike and block at any moment. I like to hold 'em up like this, by my head. When you punch, you move your hips and rotate your fist so that it lands like this." You demonstrate the straight again; this time slower so that she could see all the small movements you were making.
"Ok, so feet apart," she said after absorbing what you've done. "Legs bent, arms up."
You stand back to watch her assume the position you were just in. When she threw the punch, it seemed to look right, but you noticed how her reach wasn't as far as it should be, so you tell her to try again. On her second try, you noticed that although she was moving her hips to throw the punch, she was stiff.
"You need to loosen up. Don't be afraid to move a little. In real life, you're going to be moving around, so you can move your feet a little. And the movement of your hips are too stiff. It's affecting your reach. Look here."
You place yourself in front of the punching bag again and assume your training stance again. You begin to punch and jab, all the while making sure that you were moving your feet a little to reach farther or closer. When you feel you've demonstrated enough, you move to the side for her to take the floor again. She improved her footwork, but you notice that her hips were still stiff.
"Here," you face-palmed. "You need to loosen right here." You place both your hands on her hips and applied pressure to let her know where. What you wanted to do was guide her hips when she punched again, but the odd sensation of your heart skipping a beat made you let go really fast. You couldn't help but notice that your hands felt warm where you touched her. Deciding to ignore the feeling, you tried to continue on with the lesson as if nothing happened. "Watch me," you said as you mimicked the motion of throwing punches. "Loosen... stretch if you need to."
When you stepped to the side again, you realized that she was still watching you, unmoving. You motioned for her to follow after you, before she stayed still, as if in a daze.
"Um, were you planning on trying it anytime soon?" you asked, throwing in a hint of agitation for good measure.
You saw her jump a little, which explained why she was standing around like a zombie. Her cheeks tinged slight pink as she walked towards your bed and gave a small laugh. "No, I don't think I'm cut out for it. But I'm surprised. You were really serious about teaching me."
"Tch, whatever. You planning on going home anytime soon?"
"Nope. I told Mikoto that she's on her own for dinner tonight, so I'm pretty free. What did you have in mind for dinner tonight?"
"Nothing. I planned on starving to death. Why don't you go and find yourself something?"
"Why don't you come with me?"
"Why don't you go with your boyfriend?"
She stared at you blankly. "Because I don't have one."
You gave a disbelieving scoff. "Right. Did you forget about Mr. Sideburns already?"
"Tate and I broke up a long time ago," she replied, eyes defiant. "We're just friends now. If you bothered to listen to anything I told you, you would have known that."
Her words stung you a little, but you decided to wave off what she said. "Whatever."
"Dammit, Nao!" She rose from your bed and made her way towards you. "Stop being so damn difficult and just go with the flow for once!"
"There is no flow," you retorted. "You're the one who's coming here and making all these decisions on your own. Did you think you could just waltz into my room, have a little chat, and then I'd just blindly follow you around for dinner or whatever it was you wanted?"
"I don't expect you to do anything blindly. It's just dinner, for god's sake. Dinner with a friend."
There it was again. Something she said that inexplicably ticked you off to no end. You felt the anger bubbling inside of you as you desperately tried to calm yourself with rationale. But there wasn't much of that left right now and you were losing.
Why? What was it that ticked you off so much? Why did it tick you off so much? All she said was that she wanted dinner with you; that she wanted to have dinner with a friend; a friend; you. You were her friend.
And that was it.
Damn it.
Damn it.
Damn it.
Friend.
Was that what it was? It was the same thing that she said the last time you were so ticked off. She said she cared about you because you were her friend.
That couldn't be it. It's too silly of a reason; too silly for you to get this worked up over it.
"I said," you started coldly, " that I'm not interested."
"Why?" she asked, defiant; obviously ignoring the sharp edge in your voice.
"How many times do I have to say it? You're a bother. No matter what you do, I don't think of you as a friend."
No, you think to yourself. Not a friend. Just an acquaintance.
She took a challenging step forward, successfully getting into your face. "And how many times do I have to have say it? No matter what you do, I will be here for you. You need a friend in your life you could depend on and I want to be that person."
Friend.
There was that word again.
She was so close that you could feel her breath on you, but you refused to back down. You refused to take a step back because you didn't want her to think that it meant you were admitting defeat to her, so you stayed right where you were and continued to glare at her. "You're in no position to tell me what I need and don't need."
Her face was so close to you that you could see every little blemish that you failed to notice earlier; you noticed the small movements of her violet eyes as they stared intently into yours, searchingly; you noticed the quickness of her breathing each time she exhaled; you felt the small puffs of warm air on your cheeks. And you briefly wondered what it would be like to kiss her.
Suddenly, as soon as that thought came, it passed to give way to another, more alarming thought.
Why did you think that?
What was wrong with you?
Kiss her? Kiss Mai?!
There was no way you were in your right mind, because the mere fact that you wanted to kiss her would mean that...
Would mean that... you liked her. Like that.
And suddenly, all the feelings that you ignored because you couldn't make sense of it or were too afraid to flooded your senses. The chill you felt when Mai was checking you out at the doorway. Then again when she checked you out clothed in only a towel after your shower. And that weird pang in your heart when you held her hips, however brief it was.
And the irrational anger you felt whenever she referred to you as a friend. As just a friend.
It all clicked. The realization hit you like a two-ton boulder, and left your internal self into a state of panic. And shock.
Your brain registered that Mai was still saying things to you, but your mind was too pre-occupied with the click that just happened. Before you knew it, you heard a door slam and the redhead who was standing just two inches away from you was now gone.
"Shit!" you yelled, unable to contain yourself any longer.
Shit.
Fuck.
Shit.
You liked Mai.
You weren't sure how much yet, but you weren't keen on finding out. All you knew was that it was enough to make you feel all weird and un-natural. Simply the act of having feelings for someone else meant that you were relinquishing some power of yourself over to them, and that thought alone was something you did not like.
But still. Now that you have finally figured out what was nagging at you for so long, you couldn't ignore it anymore.
You liked Mai.
So now the question begged: what were you going to do about it?
End of chapter rambles: If you guess that the writing style experimentation I was doing was to write in second person POV, then you were right. It is something that I've never really done before so I thought I'd give it a try. As for the "challenge" I mentioned that I found hard to do, that was to try and portray sexual tension. Tell me if I succeeded. Please review, guys! xD
By the way, "Bop" was the sound effect I used for when someone punches the punching bag.
