Hello everyone, I am Saintdane. I have been on this site for a long time and I occasionally write my own short stories, but this is my first actual attempt at a fanfiction. So any honest feedback would be appreciated (if constructive).
Another thing is that I love music, music can (and usually will) how I write or where I draw inspiration from. So to help bring the piece to life, I will leave a URL or post the song I was listening to that goes with the story. By no means does this mean that you can't read the story without it but it is an enhancement theory. I will also make note of whether or not when to start the song at the beginning or a specific point.
For this story the theme is: No Apologies by Jussie Smollett ( watch?v=R02mQ-DxixY)
So without further due, here we go!
Tires screech as a bright yellow motorcycle pulls into a parking spot outside of a rundown building in Vale. Only one light shown outside the establishment simply stating that is was "open". There were few windows and only one, rotten looking door.
A young woman threw one leg over the bike and flipped the kickstand down. She had certainly arrived at the destination: Jork's Gym. An old time legend among heavy lifters, fighters, and brawlers of all types. The woman then strode, rather stormed, up to the door and threw it open without so much as a care to its condition. Thump went the door startling the small man sitting at the front desk, he squeaked when the loud noise interrupted, what was assumed to be, his nap. However, upon noticing who had flung it open, he calmed down and sighed. "You're going to break that one of these days you know that?"
The young woman hardly seemed bothered by her body language, she merely replied "I'm pretty sure you are waiting for it so someone else can pay for it." And with that she continued her stroll to the locker room.
The gym was empty; the lights were barely on. At eleven at night, you would assume that the gym would be closed, but Jork always allowed the doors to stay unlocked, in case any of his champs needed that midnight workout.
She opened the door to the woman's locker room nicer than she had with the front door and closed it. For the most part she was already dressed for the gym under her biker's jacket. A crop top fit nicely to her body coupled with a pair of mid-thigh shorts. The young woman was in extremely good shape, it was very obvious that either she worked out constantly or at least that she lived a life where she had a great deal of fighting. She only needed to drop off her jacket and her helmet. Which she did, a great head of bright yellow hair cascaded down the young girl's shoulders and came to rest just past the small of her back. It didn't take her very long for her lilac eyes to adjust to the dim light of the locker room. Once the helmet and jacket were removed from her physique, she grabbed the nearest locker, threw both biking clothes into it and set her gym bag down. From the bag she pulled a roll of white gauze like material and began to wrap her hands in it, just like a boxer. Once satisfied with the tightness of the wraps she put her gym bag with her helmet and slammed the locker door shut.
She then strode out back onto the gym floor. This time the man was reading a newspaper, and without looking he merely asked "You practicing for a fight, or do I need to take cover?"
She looked over at him and asked "When have you ever needed to take cover?"
At this the man lowered his newspaper and partially turned in his chair to look her in the eye, "Yang, is that a serious question? How 'bout the time your first boyfriend dumped you?"
Yang put up a finger, ready to retort but was interrupted
"Or the time Jaune beat you in a fight?"
"But..."
"Or the time someone thought it would be funny to cut your hair while you were sleeping?"
"But…"
"OR the time you stubbed your toe on the way into the practice ring?!"
"…but that one hurt…"
"Yang you broke the bag off its hinges, across the room, over my head and a good inch into the wall on the other side."
Yang sure had caused quite a bit of destruction when she got mad. But this time it was different, she actually had a match the next day with a new student from some small huntsman school. To soothe the older man, she merely gave him a winning smile and a wink and promised him that the bag won't fly over his head tonight.
She had met the boy before, he was in the arena spectating today. She honestly hadn't even noticed him until Professor Goodwitch had selected the next day's contestants. The matter was rather odd anyway. As far as Yang knew, she was thinking about how poorly the fight was going for the two in the ring, something about Ruby asking for a cookie, and Weiss being her typical ice-queen self; then she heard her name being called over the microphone and up on the screen showed her and the new kid. She knew that he had already fought in the Beacon Arena once before and absolutely destroyed his opponent. It was actually a rousing bout. He had what looked like origami "witch claws" made out of sharpened metal, attached to leather gloves and a long chain wrapped around one of his forearms. Then again he did fight Cardin, so it wasn't really a fair fight.
But still, how he managed to break down the fight in a quick fashion, was startling…
"Stop" Yang whispered to herself, "get a grip, I shattered a mech with my bare hands. I got this."
Yang stepped up to the main punching bag they had. It was illuminated overhead by a single bulb within the ceiling, while almost the back half of the gym had its lights off. But once she dropped into her brawler's stance, everything but that bag seemed to go dark. Her focus was beginning to take effect.
****This would be a great time to start the song if you are going to*****
She threw a left. A right. Another left. Another Right. The blows came slow and methodical, almost like testing the bag's resistance. It didn't matter though. It never mattered. Her fists were stronger than anything that could be thrown against her.
Right. Right. Left. Left, Duck. Right, duck. Now she was sidestepping. Just like she sidesteps problems in her life. Side step…She threw a haymaker into the bag sending a tremendous shock-wave down the bag and a resounding thump…and then strike, just like in life.
Shift left, shift right, sidestep right, step in, step out. Thump, another haymaker. Nothing could stop her movement. Nothing could ever stop her if they tried. In the third grade Yang got in trouble in class for saying a curse word she picked up off the street. Needless to say the teacher had been mad, but the next day, Yang was at it again. The word fit how she felt too well. She was never sorry for what she said.
Breathe in, breathe out, Yang unleashed a flurry of right, left, and straight jabs that would have left anyone reeling. As a finishing strike she pulled back both fists, moving her fingers like she would if she had Ember Cecilia with her, and launched them with as much strength as possible into the bag.
Unfortunately for her though, the rising strength in her blows had already began to shake the anchors in the ceiling. The longer she was hitting the bag the weaker they got, and with that powerful finisher, the bag came loose and sailed through the air. It went almost straight to the ground and came to rest with a soft thud next to the old man's desk. He was already looking at her with an expectant scowl on his face.
Yang smiled "It didn't go over your head this time!"
Through the scowl the old man, chuckled a bit and shook his head. "Ill get started on the paperwork".
Feeling proud of herself, and the fact that that was the last intact punching bag, Yang returned back into the locker room, unwrapped her hands, and put on her jacket. Then, with helmet in hand, returned to the foyer where the old man was busy at work filling out a request form and a report form, which were already in a stack on one side of the desk labelled 'Yang'.
Guess she really was special around here.
Yang leaned over the desk and gave the man a one armed hug tightly. He merely grunted in acknowledgement, not even taking his attention off the report.
She then left out the front door, donned her helmet and mounted her motorbike. It roared to life and within a few hours she was on an airship back to Beacon. And within a few more minutes she had returned to her dorm room. She showered, changed, and got ready for bed at a leisurely pace, as to enjoy the warm water and to not wake her teammates who were all currently sacked out on their respective bed.
As Yang laid down on her own mattress she finally relaxed, filled with a confidence that she was ready for the fight tomorrow. She had it in the bag, and she knew it.