I burst through the gym doors happily. I immediately ran to the locker room, where I changed into black leggings, sneakers, and a neon green T-shirt. I tied my shoulder-length wavy brown hair up in a high ponytail before bolting to the main gym area.
The gym was a wondrous place. It was incredibly gigantic, and was full of exercising machines. Treadmills ran in one section, in another weightlifting, etc. The wooden floor was polished to a soft shine. I rushed to the far corner of the gym (the combat section), where a sweaty Asian man was working out.
"Combat me," I said, not even bothering with a greeting.
Minho raised his eyebrows as he sent a knife whirling at a target, hitting the bull's eye. "You're so nice with your greetings, you know that?" he asked sarcastically.
I ignored the jibe; he always says things like that, probably because I'm a brat. I don't care. I actually find his remarks pretty endearing. He usually has very good comebacks, and I respect him for that.
"C'mon, fight me. I need the practice," I pestered. I had too much pride to beg him.
Minho sent another knife flying with lightning fast speed. "What happened to school?" he asked, obviously trying to avoid answering me.
"Beats me," I replied stiffly.
He grinned. "You've done shucked up now, haven't you?"
"I always shuck up," I said, crossing my arms.
Minho did the same, veins bulging out of his muscular arms as he did so. "Well then, if you're going to combat me, I hope you've warmed up and stretched," he commented.
I groaned. I hated how Minho pointed those things out. Plus, in my excitement, I had forgotten all about stretching.
"I'll get to it," I muttered, trying to hide my embarrassment by tilting my head away. After about 15 minutes of stretches, I returned to where Minho was. He was currently punching a dummy hanging from the ceiling. I watched silently as he aimed a hit where the solar plexus would be on a normal human being. The punch was so powerful, the impact sent the dummy flying up in the air. I had to hold back a wince. That would've been painful if the cloth sack had been an actual person.
Even though I practice combat with him almost everyday, I'm still shocked at how much strength he has in his arms. Minho's like my mentor for hand-to-hand combat. He wins all of our fights, though. I can't begin to explain how much I want to defeat him. But hey, I always practice extra hard because of my frustration at losing. And I have been getting better lately, if I do say so myself.
Minho finally noticed me. "Okay, let's get started. The first person to get punched 15 times loses. If you hit the forearm, it doesn't count. Got it?" he asked.
I frowned. "15 times? That's more than usual."
Minho shrugged. "You wanted to do this. Not me."
"Don't go easy on me," I warned, desperately attempting to suppress the smile that was starting to form on my lips. We planted our feet across from each other.
"I never do," Minho said before charging at me with a curled fist. Luckily, I had anticipated this and ducked before the blow could land on my shoulder.
I took advantage of my lower position and aimed a punch at Minho leg. 1 for me, I thought. The victory was short lived. Minho punched my back lightly 3 times before I could get back up from my crouched position. I grit my teeth, but quickly straightened up and prepared myself for another attack.
Minho sent his right fist flying at my chest. I held my left arm up in a solid blocking position, but at the last second, his right arm stopped. A fake! Even though I saw it coming, I didn't have enough time to stop his left arm from snaking up and hitting me in the side.
With a quick glance at his feet, I noticed he was off balance. Taking that opportunity, I sent a flying kick at his right leg, knocking him off his feet. I slipped in 2 punches to his chest before Minho stuck his foot out in front of me. I was moving too fast to stop and tripped, face planting into the mat. Minho punched my butt 2 times before I slammed my foot in his solar plexus, making him bend down and gasp for air.
"You pervert," I said. I made 3 of my punches hit home on his back; the last one was caught by Minho. With my fist in his hand, he flipped me over his head with only one hand, slamming me onto my back. Not very impressive though, I'm pretty light anyways. He punched my stomach 4 times.
"Who's the pervert?" Minho asked with a mocking smile, looking down at me.
"Shucks to you if you think you can stand around mocking people during a fight!" I yelled. I slid between his legs and punched his left leg 3 times. Minho whipped around, grinning.
"You're getting better and better each day," he commented. We circled each other in a fighting stance for a few seconds before I decided to go for the hit. Wrong decision. Minho dodged my punch and hit me in the hip as he slipped past, sending me skidding across the floor.
He was on me faster than any human could possibly move. He clouted my stomach with 3 punches. But before he could land the final blow, I slammed my foot into his crotch. Minho fell down groaning.
"You're evil," he said.
"I'd be less evil if I wasn't looking at your face," I replied, smirking.
He smiled. "Ooh, that ugly shank Thomas has got one feisty daughter."
"Feisty is what I do!" I said joyfully, sending a fist flying at Minho's fallen form.
I partied too soon. I was punching with all my might this time, but Minho was still much stronger. He grabbed my wrist with incredible strength and pulled me close enough to him for a reasonable punching range. He hit the last blow on my thigh. Grinning, he let his iron grip loosen.
"Never let your guard down until you've won the fight," he said.
I let out a sigh.
"But hey, 9 to 15 is pretty good! Well, as my apprentice I think you could do a little better…" Minho had that scheming grin on his face.
I didn't care if he was purposely trying to rile me up. I was still on fire. "I can do better! Fight me again!" I demanded.
"You should show some respect to your elders, you know," Minho said, hands on his hips.
I failed to resist the urge to answer with a jibe. "I'll be respectful when I want to be respectful, grandpa," I replied.
Minho put a hand on his heart and pretended to be offended. "Who's a grandpa?" he asked in fake hurt voice.
"You are, you shuck-face," I said curtly.
"Watch your language, Terry," Minho said warningly. But I could tell he really didn't care if I used those words or not. Still, I had to retort.
"I would watch my language if it wasn't for the fact that you're the one who taught me these words," I snapped.
Minho grinned, as if impressed at my comeback. I doubted he really was impressed though, Minho was the king of comebacks.
"Let's have another round then, shall we?" he questioned.
I snorted. "You don't even need to ask. Of course!"
We had about 20 more rounds after this, Minho winning all of them. The sky was darkening by the time we finished up. I was bent down with my hands on my knees, panting from exhaustion. Sweat dripped down my chin.
"I think it's time for us to go," Minho said, handing me a towel. I nodded in reply, taking the towel and wiping sweat off my forehead.
I grabbed my stuff from the locker room and slowly jogged to the exit doors. "Bye Minho! I'm going to leave first," I called to him across the gym.
Minho raised his eyebrows. "And what do you say to your beloved mentor who did a million practice rounds with you today?"
I groaned. "Um…thanks, I guess."
He sighed. "Better than nothing. 'Night!"
"Good night!"
I ran all the way home, my aching muscles not stopping me from feeling the pure bliss of running. Now let's see if I get in trouble again for being late to dinner and ditching school.