Chapter III - Basic.
758 Words
She stayed not wanting to go back to her room — alone. A small smile on her face as her mother lifted her from the ground, placing her on the bench.
Bringing her knees to her chest she wrapped her little arms around her legs, trying to keep warm despite wearing her mother’s large jacket.
Watching her mother fight another colleague this time a man — way taller and muscular then her mother.
Standing at the far edges of the mat, feet in position ready to strike any moment — anticipating the others move. Fists up guarding their front — a defence mechanism from attacks, left or right.
Taking the first step her mother took two hasty steps forward still in defence mode. Her feet taking a stance balancing herself as she studied her opponent.
It wasn’t a mere game of attack at any given moment, that would surely get you hurt — noticing the opponent was key but so was having ones guard up.
Taking her tiny eyes away from her mother she caught sight of the man. Staring him from his head to toes she noticed a little flicker of his foot muscle — he was about to attack.
Movement. A physical motion between points in space, or to change place or posture; to stir; to go, in any manner, from one place or position to another. In a fight observation of movement was keen.
Blocking his round kick with a held out left arm, she seized the moment, with her free right arm she jabbed the dude straight in the eye — despite aiming for the jaw it was enough for him to back away.
As he squint his eyes adjusting from the punch, she threw punch punch from left to right in his sides — alternating the movement.
Feeling his fist collide with her left cheek she stumbled back a bit, but not loosing her foot — staying afloat and ready to attack again, ignoring pain.
She kept fighting even though her face most likely stung — a fresh bruise would appear hours later.
Lifting her right leg up, in a bent back form she threw a side kick — that unfortunately he block, grabbing her foot he pulled her leg resulting to her falling flat on her side instantly knocking air out her lungs.
She wanted to run to her mother to make sure she was okay and the big man to leave her alone, but the motherly hand directing her to seat back down robbed her of such — nodding the girl sat down curling herself again — just watching.
Pushing herself off the mat, she stood once more her head held up high. Feet in position, fists held out — she attacked again, even more determined.
A moments of strike, knock out and clearly a lot of pain and bruises, the match had ended. She was relieved her mother was in one piece, in pain but okay.
Walking over to her daughter with a sweaty tank top, a smug of dried up blood from the open wounds she was so generously awarded — she threw herself on the bench breathing out in relief.
Leaning her tired self on her mother’s sweaty arm she yawned but still not wanting to go to bed.
“I want to learn.” so she mumbled trying to start a conversation. Slowly running her fingers through her daughter’s locks of hair she shook her head. “You don’t have to baby, to please me.” she stated.
That was contrary to why she wanted to in the first place, disagreeing with a vigorous head nod she yawned again — her tiny hand covering her mouth.
“I don’t want to please you but protect you.”
She chuckled at loss of words. “That is my job.”
“It should be mine too.” she shrugged lightly too drowsy to state a point further.
A fairly good point at young age. She smiled fondly — she was going to be a great woman, a warrior. “Then we start tomorrow, sounds good?” she hummed partly asleep.
“Okay let’s go sleep.” her mother mumbled scooping her small frame into her arms.
Being the last thing that she saw, were her mother’s bruised lips resting on her forehead placing a light kiss before mumbling the word ‘good night’ — her eyes shutting sweet slumber greeting her.
- Writer
