I hear the whistle blow.
I don't stop.
I'm vaguely aware of voices. I'm mostly focused on the body below me. I'm hitting their arms, which they have up in a guard position. It was their last defense when I got them on the ground and mounted them.
More yelling, but I still don't stop. Left, right, left, right, left, right. My fists slam into them over and over and over and –
"STOP!"
Suddenly I'm yanked off them by the back of my shirt collar.
People swarm me, I get dragged like a cat away from my opponent. Two people go to their aid while the owner of the gym's flaring nostrils and downturned eyebrows appear in my vision.
"The whistle means stop," he hisses at me, spittle flying. My eyes dart from his face back to my opponent whose just now being helped up off the ground and back to him. I smirk.
"Guess I didn't hear it," I say, my tone sarcastic and harsh.
The gym owner snarls and drops the collar of my shirt, successfully dropping my body back onto the matt with a thump. He goes to help my opponent along with the others, and I hop up and make my way back to the locker room. As I walk, I feel eyes glaring into my back. I smirk and roll my eyes. The boys who belong to this gym all glare at me, but I don't care. I enter the locker room, pausing at the sinks to look at my reflection.
I sniff and examine myself. I have lighter dirty blonde hair, tied back into braids. A few strands fall out and frame my face due to the match. My build is a little bigger than average, more muscle tone than most girls would have. My eyes are green, my skin tanner than usual since it's the summertime. I put my arms out and look at them. A few red marks, but I doubt any of them will turn into bruises. Same goes for my torso and legs, not any damage worth worrying about. I huff and go to sit down, starting to remove the tape from my knuckles.
I almost never come away with bruises anymore. Forget cuts or broken bones. When I first started fighting, I started with a women's self-defense class. It felt good knowing how to disarm someone. When that stopped doing the trick, I went to karate. Got tired of that, too many rules and 'foundational skills'. So, I tried wrestling, then boxing, then MMA style stuff. I loved it, and I was good at it all. I was fighting girls at first, but there's not many girls who like to fight like I do. So, I ran out of competition, but I didn't want to stop fighting, stop challenging myself. So I went to fighting men. Just randoms in bars or clubs at first, but those were too easy. Then I went to actual training gyms.
I've been kicked out of gyms and been refused membership. I never understood what everyone's problem was, I mean, isn't that the point of fighting? Getting beat and getting stronger?
I had just gotten dressed when someone bursts in. It's the gym owner, just as rabid as before. His clothes are wrinkled, the white of his eyes are showing and he sounds a little breathless.
"Little bitch," He spits. I can't help but laugh at his little insult, which only aggravates him more.
"Do you know what you did?" He accuses me, face red, sticking a finger my way.
I stand up, grabbing my bag, and cock an eyebrow, "No, but please enlighten me."
I can see veins popping in his forehead.
"You fractured his arm; he'll be out for months!"
I purse my lips and make a little shrug with my shoulders.
"Damn," I say, making my way to exit, "That's rough, buddy." I reach for the handle, but he shoves the door close.
"I should've never let you in! Don't you ever –"
"- Ever, ever come back, yes, I've been through this before." I say with a roll of my eyes, and tug the door handle harder to open it. It's thrown open and I make my leave with the owner hot on my tail, obviously not done ranting.
"Do you know who I am? That was my son! He was two matches away from qualifying for nationals and your little degenerate shit moves ruined that!" He screams after me, as I briskly walk to the exit. Everyone is the gym is staring at us.
"Nationals?" I scoff, with a haughty roll of my eyes as I reach the entrance. I stop, and turn back to the owner, a condescending smirk on my face.
"If your baby boy over there," I motion with my head to this guy's son. He was still being doctored up, head bowed and eyes red from crying but still had the balls to glare at me.
"If he couldn't even last with me, what makes you think he'd ever compete with anyone worth a shit?"
I push the big metal doors open to make my exit, and the owner rushes to the door right after I hear it swing shut. He opens it and yells, "You don't even know what you've done! Do you even know who I am? You better watch your back, you little –"
I round the corner just in time to miss the end of his insult.
It's been three days since I got kicked out of my fifth gym for hurting the owners baby boy. I'm strolling home, my shoes scuffing the sidewalk. The sun has just set, making the shadows of the buildings grow longer. I'm relaxed, for once. Hands in my pockets, head leaned back. I finally stroll my way to my apartment building and make my way inside. I take my time making my way up to the third floor and find my apartment door. I fumble for my key, and once the lock click opens, I slip inside.
It takes me a millisecond to realize something is off.
It's dark. It's never dark because I never draw the blinds.
The blinds are drawn.
"What the –" I start, and right then I feel a presence behind me and I turn around just in time.
I'm being lunged at. They tackle me to the floor and I'm letting curses fly out of my mouth as I flail my limbs, panicking at first. The person is on top of me, hands going for my throat, but I see it happening, so I buck them with my hips enough to shift their balance. They put an arm out to catch themselves and I move to grapple them. I grab their arm and hook my legs around their shoulders. I toss them onto their side and that's when we begin to roll, trying for dominance. I struggle to mount, but our body weights keep us rolling across the floor. We knock over the coffee table in a collision of arms. The collision knocks us apart enough for me to hop to my feet, but they do too, just as quick, and then next thing I know my nose is bleeding. I cuss and stumble back, temporality blinded by the pain radiating from my nose.
Blows rain on me as I try to put space between us. I put my arms to block the onslaught, but it barely helps. I can barely open my eyes and I'm being pushed back towards the kitchen counter. My back hits it with a crack and I see my frying pan resting on the stove. I turn my body, grab it, swing it at them, they dodge, and as they dodge the swing from the right, I throw out a kick from my left. I catch them in the side, but they grab my leg and twist, throwing me down. I yell out more curses and when they go to leap on top of me, I stick an elbow out and catch them in the chest.
More blows follow, more wrestling, my blood is getting smeared everywhere. Finally, a glint of steel in their hand, and my women's self-defense class kicks in. I grab their arm, swivel, throw off their balance, throw them over the counter, twist, grab the knife, turn them around, knife now in my possession and I finally see their face and –
"What the fuck," I say.
The person who I have pinned and at knife point is a girl, about my age. We're both breathing heavily as I examine her. Dark black hair twisted back into a bun with strands framing her face, her skin pale. I scrunch up my face as I take in her eyes, wondering what exactly I'm seeing.
Her eyes are two completely black orbs with a tiny pupil of yellow.
I've never seen anything like it and right then, while I'm in shock I hear,
"What a terrible first attempt."
Before I can turn around a hand is grabbing me by the neck and before I can comprehend it, everything goes black.
I'm woken up by a bag being removed from my head.
I blink my eyes trying to adjust to the sudden light. I go to use my hands to help shield them, but I find that they're tied behind my back. I finally blink my eyes open and I take in the people before me.
The girl from before stands in the middle of two burly men. She was considerably shorter than her male counterparts, with a short black bob and a frown settled on her mouth. The man on her left has reddish blonde hair and a real cut jaw, and he's wearing a tracksuit. The man on her right is a little bit taller, but considerably more wide, and with what can only be described as a shaggy brunette mullet, with broad shoulders and a thick neck. He was in casual attire too, with his arms folded across his chest. All three of them had the same abyss looking eyes.
I swallow thickly. No one speaks.
"Joanna Martyre," The reddish haired guy speaks first.
"It's Jo," I say, by pure force of habit. I lick my lips nervously.
No one speaks or answers me and the silence feels heavy. My eyes dart behind them and from what I can tell we're in some old style of dojo. Bamboo supporting canvas paneling. I can't think of where an old-style place like this would even be. My arms twitch in their restraints. The redhaired guy steps forward and squats down to my level.
His freaskish black eyes bore into mine, inches away from my face. Without blinking he says, "Age Twenty-two, five six or five eight, light hair, medium build, green eyes, banned from two training gyms, two bars, banned from three commercial gyms, works at Bag-n-Go on 39th three days a week, lives on 40th and Blossom, no known allergies, no family – "
"Okay, Okay!" I interrupt him, "What, are we filling out a dating app? Geesh," I retort, shifting in my restraints.
The brunette guy lets out the tiniest snort and the other two jerk their heads to silence him. He meets their eyes and shrugs. The man in front of me turns back to me. I level my gaze at him. His black eyes never blink.
"Do you know who we are?" He asks, his voice low. I stare back at him, trying to hold his gaze. Sweat beads at my brow. I slowly shake my head. He takes me in, and nods slightly.
"Do you know who she is?" He asks and jabs a thumb back at the girl who I fought earlier. Again, holding his gaze, I shake my head. His black eyes take in every feature of my face. He nods his head once and stands. He moves back to join the others, all three in a wall like stance. All three unmoving, unblinking, towering over me. It's a little unnerving.
"We're the Kure family." The reddish haired man speaks up and I jerk my head back to him.
"Cure-Aye?" I say, unsure of how to form the word.
At their declaration of who they are I can see all of their shoulders straighten the slightest bit in pride.
"We're a…" Red hair trails off, looking at the others, smirking before continuing, "A family. A special family. We come from a long line of, er..." He pauses again, and looks to the others, who look at him questioningly. He chuckles.
"Aw, come on guys, I've never had to actually say it before," He says.
"Reiichi, man, this was your idea, you gotta' go through with it." The bigger man says.
The man, Reiichi, and the other man start bantering back and forth and the girl in the middle finally rolls her eyes and with a huff, bursts out, "We're assassins."
Everyone pauses and looks at her and then to me.
It's silent for a moment, but then I let out a burst of laughter.
"Assassins? Are you being serious?" I manage out, one eyebrow cocked, my skills of instigating never waning.
The air in the room seems to change in an instant. They all tense up, as if on instinct, and take another step closer to tower over me. The three of them seem to fill my entire line of vision. I can't tell what it is, their stance, the way they seem to immediately form a synced line, or maybe their dark black eyes, all narrowed on me with their yellow glints catching the light just so, but suddenly, I'm terrified.
I gulp.
"That gym guy you pissed off? He put in the hit," The reddish haired man starts, crouching back down to my level, his voice low, eyes blacker than before, "We don't usually bother with easy jobs, like yourself, but our up-and-coming here," he motions with his thumb to the girl, "was dying for some practice."
He lets his words sit with me for a second before standing back up, his vibe suddenly back to relaxed. "But you know how that worked out." He adds with a shrug of his shoulders.
"Not just anyone can survive Kure techniques, even at a beginner level." The bigger man says, glancing down at the girl. She pouts.
"Join us," Reiichi says.
I snap my head towards him, not fathoming this turn of events. I open my mouth to voice that thought, but I'm interrupted.
"We're impressed." He says. "We know you fight. We think that there's potential there."
I raise an eyebrow questioningly. "Potential?"
"Listen, we saw what you did to that guys son, and with your bare hands," Reiichi says, "You don't hurt someone like that unless you're going in for the kill."
I jerk my head up, surprised.
"What? No, I – " I start, but I'm interrupted.
"Don't lie," The brunette man interjects, black eyes boring down on me, "We know when we see potential."
I swallow hard, I know my eyes are wide in terror.
"So, join us," Reiichi says with a shrug.
"Uh…" I start, my voice cracking, "No, no thanks," I say, like a nervous school girl, my terror brain adding the no thanks as if that would do anything.
The girl scoffs hatefully and the brown-haired man swiftly smacks her in the back of the head.
"Hush, if you had done your job then we wouldn't have this problem in the first place," He says, and the girl immediately switches to pouting.
"That wasn't a question." Reiichi says, looking down the bridge of his nose at me.
"So…what?" I start, looking between the three in front of me, "I'll just be one of you now and you're just going to," I pause, motioning with my head, "To teach me? How to…?" I trail off, leaving the question in the air.
"Yes." The two men answer in unison.
I guess I look skeptical, or like I'm about to laugh again, because the girl speaks up this time.
"Or we can just kill you," she says, and any laugh I was about to let out dies in my throat. I swallow thickly.
"So, yeah, our proposition is that you join us. Be one of us, and I'll personally teach you our clan's ways." Reiichi shrugs.
"Or," motioning to the girl, "We'll just kill ya'."