Bruce Lee would be proud (not)

[Yumi Murakami]

Kick. Kick. Kick again.

Yumi spun, delivering a roundhouse kick to the air in only the floppiest sense of the word. Her reflection in the nearby mirrors stumbled backwards, nearly falling flat on her ass as a grimace twisted her face.

Your form sucks. The truth hurt, but it was the truth nonetheless. She straightened up, panting as glimmering beads of sweat dripped from her hair to splatter on her dark tank-top. Frowning, she wiped her hand across her face and rubbed off the excess moisture on her workout shorts.

Technically she didn't need to practice tae kwan do. Her powers pretty much guaranteed that as long as she was aware of what was happening she was immune to physical damage of any kind. People's fists would pass through her, completely useless, to their bewilderment. Though she'd never tried the act with actual bullets, hypothetically guns' only effects would be an uncomfortable, faintly painful, numbing sensation in her gut...certainly preferable to the alternative.

She readied herself, placed her feet in the appropriate position, breathed. Again. It was far too easy to settle for sloppy form--she could already see the displeased frown on her instructor's face as she lashed out with a kick at a would-be assailant's face.

People also never seemed to realize just how much damage could be done by someone who could, without issue, put their hand in another's chest.

Again!

Her eyes stung.

[Archer Thompson]

It wasn't an MMA academy, but it would do.

Archer had first started to study martial arts back in Europe as a boy, during the same time frame that he'd been trying to break out of his old school in the Swiss alps. He'd had it in his head back then that with enough training, he'd be able to fight his way through an entire schools worth of security and *somehow* cross two continents and an entire ocean to return home to Australia. Like most child hood fantasies of Archers, the "great escape" had never come to be, for obvious reasons. However, his love of fighting had never diminished. Weather it was through old written manuals, group instruction in self defense, mimicking the moves he saw on televised cage fighting, or even illegal street fighting which had more then once caught him on the wrong side of the law, he'd always manged to find a way to continue with his favorite "hobby".

So of course when he'd found out about Josef Miller's place, Archer just had to sign up for a membership.

It was more then likely that Yumi would recognized the teenager currently working the punching bag. Archer had a habit of studying in the library more then anywhere else, seeing that at least there he could be guaranteed some sort of peace. Dressed in a pair of forest camouflage MMA shorts and a plain white tee-shirt, along with a pair of fingerless MMA gloves, Archer looked very much at home. He was very well put together physically, with a build that seemed to find a balance between power and speed, not that much unlike the animal which he was capable of transforming to.

As for the bag, it was getting quite a beating. Archer would deliver strike after strike to the punching bag at a strong pace that wound sound out around the gym. The strikes weren't rushed, nor did they seem to just be at random. With each blow to the bag his footing would adjust, his abdomen and hips would pivot and the bag would shudder under one of his strikes. He'd been keeping this up for several minutes, sweat dribbling off of his body as he deliver strike after strike. It was obvious that he wasn't just practicing his striking, but also testing his stamina. He seemed to be completely focused on the bag, as if it and himself were the only things in the world.

[Yumi Murakami]

With one last exertion Yumi ceased her workout. A harsh gasp escaped her lips as her leg darted out only to quickly return to its proper place beneath her.

She stood upright and wiped her hand across her damp face as she continued to pant. She struggled to control it, to quiet down, but the frantic pounding in her chest was far too painful to restrain. Another gasp escaped her as she doubled over. Her hands clutched at her legs for some semblance of support. She felt a sweat droplet trickle down her cheek only to splatter soundlessly beside her pale foot on the purple practice mat.

Too much, she thought. Way too much. As usual, she had failed to obey the limits of her own body. Her teeth ground painfully against each other in agitation. Dumbass.

A dull series of thuds distracted her from her reverie. She rose and glanced to her left. Across the single room that constituted Muller's Self Defense, a teenager was engaged in his own struggles. She watched him; it was obvious that he was far more skilled than she was. He moved with a kind of effortless grace that was sorely lacking in her own efforts. His movements weren't just graceful, though. There was very clearly an immense amount of strength to them, a testament to diligent hours spent practicing the same movements over and over.

A smile flickered across her lips. Something I'm not so good at.

The boy's body encapsulated similar ideals. He was far from a bodybuilder, but his body spoke of a kind of coiled strength not unlike a taut wire. But it was more than that. Within his movements was an element of...determination? Perhaps. Something to that extent. Something that...well, “fascinated” was perhaps too strong a word. Interested? Yes. Interested her.

She relaxed into one of the seats that dotted the gym’s side wall and watched the boy. He looked familiar; no doubt she’d seen him in the library on some occasion. This was not an unusual occurrence with the students of Hammel. There were few students she hadn’t spoken to at some point in their academic career, however briefly, but as a result of this there weren’t many who she was able to recall with anything more than a vague sense of acknowledgment.

Maybe she would talk to him once he’d finished his workout and she’d regained control of her lungs. It wasn’t like she had anything better to do today.

[Yumi Murakami]

((Hellooo))