Chapter Text
Pushing open a worn, glass shop door, Zoey’s insides buzz with anticipation as she catches the smell of leather and the squeak of boots on rubber mats.
Traipsing up a narrow, dimly lit stairwell she draws closer to the light - the sounds of working bodies and hushed commands echoing from what sounds like a large room upstairs.
Rounding the final corner, she lets her shoulders relax as she takes it in. Taking a deep breath as something uncoils in her chest and she surveys the scene with quiet, watchful eyes.
There are many kinds of boxing gyms in the world. Old-school gauntlet gyms with their worn wooden floors, shiny commercial gyms geared towards salaried workers willing to splash out thirty dollars on a half hour class during their lunch break. And then… there are the fight gyms.
Huntri/x Boxing Gym has been around longer than she’s been alive, and has been spoken of in whispers at the dinner table ever since she understood what it was to have her tiny hands laced firmly into a pair of leather gloves. Her father wanted a son. Ever the traditional father, he needed an heir, a legacy. Instead, he got Zoey. And he supposed that would have to do.
Ducking around the corner, she spies a dark haired girl chatting happily to a tall, handsome man with pink hair as he leans on her desk at a tiny reception area. The shelves attached to the wall behind exploding with paper folders shoved in haphazardly beside plastic-wrapped gloves and hand wraps stacked ceiling high.
Noticing her, she smiles, nudging an ipad across the desk. 'Hi, are you Zoey?'
The shorter girl grins, shooting her a cheesy thumbs up. 'Yup, that's me! I think we spoke on facebook?'
The girl nods, reaching under the desk for a fresh manila folder with a smile. 'Sure did, nice to meet you - I'm Mona. Did you bring your documents?'
Zoey nods, leaning a hip against the counter as she rustles around her bag for a squashed plastic folder. 'Uh huh - my fight book and medical. And, uh, my dad got me to bring a letter of recommendation from Maple Ridge.'
Mona pulls out a battered iphone as she takes the documents with a smile. 'Cool, thanks. If you fill out the standard gym form on the tablet, then the team application, I'll scan these in.'
It's all pretty standard stuff. Name, age, injuries. Emergency contact. Zoey's heart squeezes slightly at that last one. Shaking the thought out of her head as she punches in her father's details.
(Don't go there.)
From across the counter, Mona lets out a low whistle. 'You've had... forty nine fights?'
Zoey shrugs. 'I guess. Dad said I'd be able to do more if we moved to South America, but I won't let him shut down the restaurant. So.'
Mona flicks through the attached letter. Humming thoughtfully. 'Okay, I'll show you around. Class starts in ten, so you're here at a good time. Most of the fighters do extra skipping rounds before warm up. Some run. Depends. Personally I recommend you do your roadwork in your own time, but hey? What do I know, I just run reception.'
Zoey glances over to a massive, spray painted mural on the back wall. The backing a dark onyx - with famous athletes of all genders stenciled on in grey and white under a massive, white and purple logo that stretches wall to wall.
In front - out of the way of the junior class currently taking place - are three boxers. A handsome, tall man with dark hair who keeps his knees high as he twirls his rope at an impossible speed. Next to him an equally tall woman with bright pink hair held back in a high, tight ponytail - moving just a hair faster as she breathes steadily into each movement. If Zoey didn't know better she'd almost say they were... egging each other on?
Right against the wall is another girl.
A few inches shorter, she bounces easily from foot to foot as she taps out first one boot, and then the other; moving smoothly through a series of footwork drills under the steady thump of her rope. Although her pace is relaxed, Zoey can see the precision in every move. Her calves taut as she bounces and shifts her weight from side to side; shoulders perfectly relaxed despite the firm grip on the handles. Staring off into the distance with golden-brown eyes, her face has been swept clear of all and any emotions. Her head clearly somewhere else.
Mona shows her a wall of open cubbies, right next to some tall, grey school-styles lockers with padlocks and names. Explaining that a locker has to be earned, and should she do well she'd also be given a key to the gym for all hours access. For now, to use the open cubes to store her things. That stuff isn't supposed to go missing, but it does, and to just be careful.
'We don't tolerate theft here, and have a great track record of getting things back. But once in a while someone is dumb enough to try it on with Celine, and, well...' she shrugs. 'Don't. You'll lose more than your gym membership.'
Zoey swallows. The implication crystal clear.
There are two small, spartan changing rooms in the back with a single shower each. Separated by biological sex, but non-binary members are welcome to use either or both. A locked storage cupboard and an office that looks out onto the space through a sparkling glass window.
Mona offers her a kind smile, gesturing around the space one final time. 'All good?'
Zoey nods. Taking the preoffered fist bump from the taller girl before mumbling a farewell and returning to the cubbies to dump her gear and pull out her boots. Quickly wrapping her hands in some bright blue Girl-Gang wraps decorated with tiny hamburgers, she casts weary eye at the group in the corner. Unsure if she'd be disturbing them if she joins. But also...
Looking back to the front of the room, in front of some massive bay windows overlooking a grimy street in Chinatown is a tall, intimidating looking woman who surveys her students with folded arms.
Dressed in an immaculate grey adidas tracksuit, her long hair is tied back simply in a thick, low ponytail. She wears no jewelry, and no makeup, although her nails are done simply in a fresh, naked-look manicure.
Zoey swallows.
Celine Kim is something of a legend in the boxing world.
An undefeated amateur in her youth with more than two hundred fights, she was taken out of the game as an olympic hopeful by a single, life-changing blow to the head. Instead of crumpling, she pivoted. Working her way up from the ground at Huntr/x, which was a gang-run, outcast silo at the corner of the BC fight scene. Her eyes even sharper than her hands, she can spot a mistake from fifty meters - something that has cost many a gym the fight as she makes lightning fast calls from her corner seat in the ring to change the direction of her fighters at a moment's notice.
More than one Olympic boxer has started here in the last decade. Canada yet to win any colours, but coming devastatingly close on the world stage. Privately, Zoey wonders if Celine was allowed to follow her fighters all the way though if the result would differ.
Steeling herself, she removes a cheap, plastic rope from her duffle and ducks around the perimeter of the room to join the fighters. Quietly taking an empty patch of floor beside the pink haired-girl, and giving her rope a few experimental twirls ducking under and beginning to tap her feet in a simple timing drill. Staring resolutely out the window on the other side of the room as she refuses to let herself be intimidated by the fighters working silently beside her.
Some boys in boxing shorts and name-brand sneakers noisily pile into the gym through the door. Already wrapped up, they slap hands with the tall fuchsia-haired man from reception before quickly trading out their running shoes for boxing boots.
A homemade buzzer screams across the room as a red-light attached to the top of a bootlegged white box flashes.
The fighters beside her cut their ropes, and she does the same. The loud boys grabbing ropes of their own, and moving into the center of the room as the horde of kids race back to their lockers, noisily chatting and laughing as they wipe sweaty brows and begin to strip soaked shirts and tangled wraps.
Zoey watches silently. She's started at enough new gyms at this point that she knows the game - most places will ignore a newbie for a few weeks, sometimes as long as six months.
You shut up, buck up, and work hard. Copy what everyone else is doing. Take what you're given.
Feeling someone's eyes on her, she looks up.
The purple haired girl near the wall is silently staring at her; running a soft gaze from her zappy wraps down to her taped boxing boots. The tall pair beside her lovingly quibbling about nothing in particular, while the other woman just stares. Flashing Zoey a small smile when she notices her watching, but not turning away.
A short, chubby man with little whiskers above his upper lip darts across the room to hit a switch on the wall. That must be the assistant coach - she thinks his name is Bobby.
A green light flashes as the sound of the buzzer cuts across the room.
Immediately, the class goes silent, quickly moving into their skipping. Almost in perfect synchronization; ropes thudding on the mats as boxers jump from side to side. Glancing over to the coach, Zoey feels her cheeks begin to heat as Celine watches her. With a nervous swallow, she puts some extra bounce into her steps - trying desperately not to fumble and trip under pressure.
Five rounds later, the shorter man hits the wall switch and everyone quickly puts their ropes away. Pairing off before turning back to back to begin some partnered stretching drills.
Zoey quickly scans the room to find the other spare (she counted ahead of time - their numbers are thankfully even today,) before her thoughts are interrupted with a cough. Turning, she's surprised to see the girl from before.
Still watching her carefully, she shoots her a tiny smile that sends sparks down Zoey's spine. Dressed in grey boxing shorts and a purple Huntr/x tee, she offers a hand to shake.
'Rumi. Pair up?'
Zoey nods, shaking her hand softly in return. 'Zoey. Thanks.'
Spinning back to back, they link arms, Rumi easily picking her up to stretch out her spine with a few soft bounces of her knees. Placing her gently on the mat as Zoey returns the action. Surprised at the weight as she lifts her partner off the floor. She's definitely heavier than she looks. Zoey wonders what weight she fights at.
They continue to move - stretching out shoulders, calves, and finally hamstrings. Celine claps her hands, and they look over. Something pricking at the corner of Zoey's mind. She's never seen such a well behaved class - ever. Especially fighters. She wonders what Celine's secret is.
'Everyone, weights. Around the room. Left foot forward, waiting for Bobby to call.'
Zoey follows Rumi over to a rack near the front wall, the taller girl handing her some two point fives. She tips her head in a question, as the taller girl takes some five pounds for herself.
Offering a small smile, Rumi shrugs. 'You look like you're built for speed. Coach will want to use that.'
The class proceed to follow each other around the perimeter of the room. Most in an American boxer's shuffle - with a select few springing back and forth in a light, Russian style pendulum. Rumi among them, along with a tiny, thin boy with bright blue hair.
Bobby calls out infrequent combinations - the students driving forward with their dumbells as they punch, bob, and weave.
Celine makes the next call. 'Weights down. Continue.'
Carefully placing her weights out of the way near the center of the room, Zoey continues to trail behind Rumi as they move on. Bobby calling shot after shot.
Without the heaviness in her hands, she immediately notices the difference in speed.
(Huh. She's never done this one before.)
They repeat the drill, but backwards. And then southpaw, both ways. Before finally, the assistant makes the call to glove up. Mouthguards in. No headgear.
Swallowing her excitement, Zoey quickly retrieves some twelves from her bag. One orange, one green. Twins specials - top of the range. Returning to Rumi, she sees her partner has been laced up in a pair of plain black RDX. Thankfully, also twelves. If she's training for speed with fives, that means she can hit.
Wearily eyeing up Rumi's long arms, Zoey lets out a shaky exhale.
She knew that starting here wouldn't be easy, but from what little she's seen of her companion she can already tell that this single class will push her to the limit.
Unexpectedly, a sense of unease tugs at her gut. Something cold running down her spine.
Turning, she spies the pink haired girl across the room. Wearing a black mouthguard adorned with white vampire teeth, she sends Zoey a seething, hateful glare.
Zoey shudders. Looking at the other boxer's broad shoulders and monstrous height, she sure hopes they aren't paired together anytime soon. She looks like she'd happily take off her head.
The class quickly breaks into a series of defensive drills.
Rumi offers her a kind smile from behind a clear, custom-made mouthguard. 'No power, speed is okay. We do one-for-one here, all good?'
Zoey nods, tucking her chin as she offers a glove to tap. 'Yuh huh. Oo fibst?'
Rumi snorts at Zoey's mangled words from behind her orange, dollar-store guard, before she sends a slow, gentle jab at Zoey's head.
Zoey easily slips out of the way.
Rumi blinks in surprise. 'Can we do that again? But... faster?'
Zoey nods, softening her shoulders as she relaxes her eyes and breathes out. Before the taller girl cuts in unexpectedly with a lightning fast hook. Tipping a shoulder to defend, Zoey extends her right foot to angle under the shot - following through to cut right inside Rumi's space with a fluid weave. Sitting in the pocket for a few moments before bouncing back out.
Rumi's eyes narrow, and she shoots her a grin. 'Okay, then.'
Zoey dips down in a jab to the body - Rumi pushing her arm to the side and quickly angling off. Re-setting her feet to lightly bounce on the mat for only a moment, before firing an off-set cross that whistles past Zoey's ear as she barely avoids the blow.
The smaller girl grins for a split second, before cutting in with a rip to the spleen; switching her feet beneath her in a Russian side-step to appear suddenly at Rumi's side.
It connects. The taller girl hissing on impact.
'No power, Zoey.'
A soft voice cuts across the room like a knife. Looking up, she sees Celine standing barely six feet away.
Hands on her hips as she watches the new girl with an unreadable expression plastered across her face.
Without thinking, Zoey dips into half a bow. 'Mia-sorry. Coach.'
Narrowing her eyes, Celine lets out a low, dangerous laugh. '괜찮아, Zoey. Keep your eyes on your opponent while I'm talking to you, next time.'
Blushing, Zoey offers a small dip of her head to Rumi. 'I-I'm sorry. I didn't mean...'
Rumi laughs, the sound warm and light. Zoey wonders what it might take to make her laugh again. 'It's fine, really. Your punch wasn't hard, just fast, and caught me by surprise. I'll do better. Can you throw it again?'
This time Rumi pushes back easily, bouncing off the balls of her feet as she springs back to a safe distance. At the same time, extending her own cross to fall short as she lets it hover in front of Zoey's nose for an instant.
They continue to trade blows back and forth for at least another ten minutes. There's no AC - not even a fan - and despite the cold, fall weather outside Zoey's shirt sticks to her back as sweat drips down her brow and splatters onto the floor.
Celine claps her hands. 'Water break.'
Rumi shoots her a smile, before ducking across the room to her companion. The taller girl tearing off her own gloves to offer Rumi a bottle of water, holding it up as she greedily drains more than half.
Dipping back to her own locker, Zoey takes small sips from her heavily stickered Frank Green as she sizes up the rest of the class. Thankful that whoever that kid is with the blue hair is her size - everyone else is massive.
They return to their pairs and switch to offensive drills - Rumi driving lightning quick combos towards the shorter girl; Zoey barely skittering out of the way before feinting back.
Rumi controls her space like no one she's ever seen.
As Zoey lunges desperately for her, she moves like water - stepping out, back, around. Reappearing with a frozen punch before the smaller boxer can so much as blink.
Zoey wonders how much more damage she could do inside of the confines of a ring.
They continue to switch back and forth. Zoey frantically trying to close the distance as Rumi dances away.
Without warning, Rumi spears forward with a lethal combination of blows that Zoey struggles to defend.
'Rumi.'
Celine's voice cracks across the room like a whip. Her partner freezing in place, arm outstretched towards Zoey's chin. Before she pulls back with a smile, dipping her head softly before she ducks away towards the ring. Celine waiting patiently with a pair of focus mitts in the centre.
Zoey's heart sinks as she sees her opponent duck under the ropes and move across the room towards her.
The tall, scary girl from before bears her teeth as she grins. Making her way over elegantly - moving more like a dancer than a fighter - before she takes her place just out of reach on the mat.
With a nervous exhale, Zoey offers a glove.
The tall girl tapping her hand with a snort as she looks her up and down, obviously and immediately unimpressed. Gesturing at the shorter girl to hit her as she spits out an invitation.
'가자 .'
Zoey's eyes widen in surprise, before she comes back to herself, setting her weight before springing off the balls of her feet.
A lightning quick cross step into a side step. Scissoring her legs around as she throws three leveled hooks in quick succession.
The taller girl steps back easily, actually laughing as Zoey misses every shot.
Glancing back towards the ring, her opponent smirks. Then, she lunges.
Her hands whistle towards Zoey's head with a devastating one two - Zoey raising her hands in a turtle block - desperately pressing her knuckles into her brow as the shots connect like a freight train.
Nothing light, nothing kind about them.
It quickly turns into a game of survival. Zoey using every trick she's got to try and close the distance. The taller girl immediately firing back hard and fast - doing her best to hammer Zoey down as she moves doggedly out of the way.
Her breathing ragged, Zoey can feel her calves burning from the effort of staying light on her feet for this long. Her opponent doesn't even do her the courtesy of allowing her a reset between turns - firing off as soon as Zoey has finished her final attack, with ruthless, relentless aggression.
Zoey feels her left leg begin to give. A twinge in her thigh a tell-tale warning sign of what could come.
Nervously, she swallows. Driving in for another failed rebound. The girl forces her back with a barrage of straights at full extension - Zoey ends up having to duck down in a squat to avoid landing on her ass.
The tall girl towers over her with a smirk, drawing back for a second cross as she angles towards the girl on the ground.
*crack*
Celine appears.
Slapping her opponent lightly across the face with a focus mitt, she looks deeply, terrifyingly unimpressed.
'Mira. Really. Can you tell me the first rule we have here at Huntr/x gym?'
Looking more upset that she was caught than having any kind of remorse for her actions, the taller girl (Mira?) rolls her eyes. 'Be the teacher, not the bully.'
Celine nods. 'Can you tell me exactly what Zoey is learning here? Other than bad habits and hesitation. Or...' Celine knocks Mira upside the head. 'Can you tell me if this is of any use to your own boxing? You know you can beat her. You're bigger, stronger, and heavier. Could you pull those same punches on one of the boys?'
A faint pink dusting her cheeks, Mira looks down at the floor. 'No... Celine.'
The coach sighs. 'I'm moving your training group for the rest of the week.'
Mira's eyes widen. Beginning to protest as she pales. 'What!? No, I...'
Celine gives her a look, and she falls silent.
'You'll make it work. It will give the other girls the chance to get acquainted. You have five more minutes here. Prove to me that you're an adult, as well as a competent fighter.'
Having said what she came to say, Celine ducks back into the ring. Rumi leaning back in the corner as she watches the scene unfold, making eye contact with Mira as she flicks her head and mouths 'cut it out.'
Zoey looks up at the older girl with trepidation. Great. Now she's pissed off and she's been humiliated. Never a good combination when it comes to someone trying to punch you in the face.
Mira looks her over intently. Taking her time with her own thoughts, narrowing her eyes as she takes it all in.
Then, she sighs, offering a glove. 'Hi. I'm Mira. Sorry about that.'
Wearily, Zoey taps her glove. 'mm Ooey.'
The taller girl snorts with laughter, rolling her eyes. 'Uh huh. I already knew that. You, uh...' she tips her head. Thinking for a moment before continuing. 'You're really fast, but you let me shape the game. When you load your footwork like that it telegraphs everything you're going to do ahead of time. Did they teach you about 'dummy shots' back in Maple?'
Zoey shakes her head. Confused in so many different ways. (How the heck did she know she came from Maple?)
Mira throws a soft, slow jab as she moves off to the side, before she pivots to an uppercut with the same hand; planting her back foot before extending a long, slow cross. Every shot just stopping short of making contact as Zoey watches carefully.
'You might have called them set up shots. Basically, my first shot is a throw away. I'm just using it to cover up my feet so I can pin my opponent at the end of the combination. There's no way you'll land more than one or two lucky opening shots on me with our height difference if you just go for it - I can see too much of you.'
She tips her head, raising her guard. 'Give it a try.'
Swallowing, Zoey fires off an up-jab before sliding across and firing a cross to the body and a short hook on the end. Mira pivoting to follow her, but this time only able to block the volley of punches. Not enough time - or maybe skill - to respond with something else.
Zoey offers her a tiny smile. 'Fanks.'
Mira laughs. The sound rich and soft, like velvet. 'You're welcome... Zoey.'
Tentatively, they move into a new rhythm. Zoey taking advantage of Mira's new courtesy to play with her distance. The taller girl surprising her by using her turns to get in close. Laying slowed-down pocket combinations, leaning her head over Zoey's shoulder as she plays at options for angling her knee to drive an uppercut into her spleen.
These moves are considerably less polished - she appears unhappy with the distance of her front foot.
Stepping back, Zoey pulls off a glove to spit out her mouthguard. 'Hey. Do you want to take a minute to work that out? As long as you don't kill me, I can take it.'
Mira's eyes narrow as she considers. Zoey's heart skipping a beat in her chest as she replaces her gear and the taller girl looks her over with a careful gaze.
Mira shrugs. 'Sure. Thanks.'
The pair move over to a wall, Zoey leaning back with her legs spread wide as she wraps her arms above her head. Tensing her core as Mira squares her stance and slowly steps into her space.
The taller girl twists her shoulders back towards the floor as she just barely drops her rear hand. Suddenly, she explodes up, driving her knuckles into Zoey's abdomen as the younger girl breathes out and tenses her core. Jesus. If this is the taller girl slowed down and being respectful, she'd hate to think what a weapon she is a full strength.
Mira repeats the move again, and again.
Making minute adjustments each time, before she finally nods her head. The final shot is weighted just a fraction too hard - sending a stab of pain echoing through Zoey's rib cage. Looking up, Mira winces. 'Hey, sorry. I'll tone it down. Can we move back out to the floor?'
Suddenly realising how close they're standing, Zoey turns a bright, hot red as she nods her head frantically and moves away.
Back on the mats Mira quickly places her feet before driving through with her hips. Even at this reduced speed Zoey can feel the power in her shoulders. Drilling the move again, and again, as Mira gets smoother and quicker with each repetition. The buzzer goes, and Zoey leaps into the air. Mira grins - this time no unkindness in her gaze.
Celine makes the next call - gloves away, sneakers on. Wraps stay on for Rumi and Zoey, but everyone else is expected to strip.
Bobby walks them out into the street for drills; following them on an electric scooter as Rumi and Mira lead the group at a jog over to the stairs next to the skytrain.
What follows is a half hour of the most grueling, vomit-inducing exercise Zoey has ever experienced in her life.
Carrying each other up the stairs before spidermans back down, shifting into continuous bear-crawls on the pavement while half the group leaps up the stairs for some two-up-one-down before they switch. The boys quickly strip their shirts - everyone is soaked with sweat and breathing hard. Passing members of the public watch with amusement as Bobby calls out encouragement from the sideline as he sips at a taro bubble tea, Zoey eyeing him up enviously as her thighs burn and her core starts to spasm.
Finally, it's over. The group walk back to the gym for a stretch, finally relaxing as the boys jostle each other and banter. Trailing behind the team, Zoey raises an eyebrow as she sees Mira take Rumi's hand, before laying a kiss on her cheek. Oh. Well, now things make a little more sense. Rumi giggles, blushing, as the girls dip their heads together and speak softly to each other.
A pang catches in Zoey's chest. It's not that she wants something from either of them. It's just... that...
Sometimes it gets really lonely chasing your dreams. When one thing is your whole life, other little luxuries fall away. It's pretty hard to make genuine connections when it feels like you're moving every six months of the year. Honestly, at this point she'd be happy to have a friend who didn't just live on a screen, at this point.
Back upstairs, one of the boys (Jinu?) takes the group through some stretches.
Rumi moves over to Zoey with a smile. 'Hey, grab some sixteens and your mouthguard. We're sparring with coach.'
Internally, Zoey groans. Sure, she wants to make the team. But she knows that she's exhausted. Rumi doesn't even look tired - almost like she could go through that whole ordeal again with a smile on her face.
Keeping her expression carefully neutral, Zoey gears up and heads into the ring. Rumi holding the rope up for her with a kind smile, as she ducks in and takes a neutral corner.
Celine watches her carefully. 'Zoey. You've done well today. Your discipline is of note, and I appreciate you didn't take the bait or lose your cool when one of my students put you under pressure. I'd like to offer you a place on the team.'
A pleased shiver runs up Zoey's spine. She shoots back a single nod, fighting to keep her features clear. 'Yes coach.'
Celine smiles. 'You get two rounds with Rumi. One to warm up, the second to show me what I'm working with. Three minutes is shorter than you think, in the second round I'd like you to push yourself.'
Turning to her student, she gives her a short tip of the head. 'Half strength, half speed. Make her work, bully her a little.'
Rumi nods. Softening her shoulders as she raises her hands. Mira turning to watch from across the room with interest.
Bobby flicks the switch, the buzzer turning green and echoing across the space.
They touch gloves, and Zoey drives in with a jab. Rumi quickly blocks it, before hammering back with a surprisingly heavy one-two. Zoey pulls back. Attempting to angle off her jab as she bounces off the balls of her feet. Somehow, Rumi is there at every turn. Quickly pivoting to face her - forcing her back with lighting fast straights as Zoey attempts to duck in to land at least a single shot. She can't believe this is half pace. What the hell kind of demon is Celine playing with here?
Remembering Mira's words, she starts to fire off purposeful misses. Finally managing a clumsy scrape to Rumi's core with her two, grinning for a moment before she's quickly humbled by a hook. Dipping back, she switches stance.
Rumi mirrors her. Zoey curses.
Doubling up on her volume as Rumi blocks and returns her strikes effortlessly, landing soft jabs through Zoey's guard, nudging her in the cheek with her one like a gentle kiss.
Bobby claps his hands. Ten seconds.
Rumi moves.
Switching her feet back to drive Zoey into a corner, hitting her in the liver hard. Zoey gasps in surprise for a moment. Pain arcing up her torso before she shakes it off. Remembers.
Setting her feet, she switches their positions. Not caring about her guard, Zoey drives into the taller girl's body as finally, finally, she connects. Rumi gasps and Zoey grins, landing a lightning fast hook and then an uppercut square in the face before she's pushed back with a brutally fast cross.
The buzzer goes - flashing red.
Both women breathing hard as they watch each other cautiously. Falling back into her corner, Zoey flicks her gaze back to their coach.
Celine watching - expressionless - as Bobby types rapidly on an ipad.
The older woman nods, once. Turning to Rumi to utter a single word. 'Distance.'
The fighter nods, eyes narrowing in understanding.
The second round is completely different.
Zoey not even allowed a look in as Rumi throws volleys of jabs towards her - forcing her out of the striking zone no matter how quickly she moves her feet.
Zoey manages to catch her in a parry only to be hit square in the jaw with a solid two. Dipping under the same hook from before she drives into Rumi's body, the older girl grunting before tapping out a quick hook-cross retaliation that has Zoey stumbling back.
It's as if for every blow that connects she's forced to eat two more in return.
Bobby claps his hands for ten, and she drives in.
Despite her fatigue, Zoey pushes through to force Rumi back into the ropes with a barrage of straights; slipping to the side as Rumi catches her cross and attempts to fire back with one of her own. Zoey dips to the side and rams their hips together, Rumi's hooks grazing harmlessly over her head as she loads her shoulder and drives in for a low-high combination. Both shots landing with a resounding snap just as the buzzer goes.
Breathing hard, she offers a hand to her opponent. Rumi breaking into a grin and pulling her into a hug, instead.
Someone whistles, Zoey suddenly aware that the rest of the team is hanging off the apron as they watch with interest.
A good looking boy with blue hair hanging down into his eyes shoots her a thumbs up, and she blushes.
'Nice job, Zo.'
The rest of the team join in with compliments as she strips her gloves and pockets her mouthguard, shaking their hands as she brushes off their kind words.
'Aww, thanks guys, but she totally kicked my butt.'
Turning to the taller girl, Zoey grins. 'I... wow. Thank you. That was amazing - give me a year and I'll give you a run for your money, okay?'
'Six months.'
Their coach's voice cuts across the gym. Celine's eyes sparkle as she watches Zoey with renewed interest.
'Show up, listen, and you will improve. Your movements are clean, but right now there's no strategy. Boxing isn't about brute force, it's about thinking. Planning ahead. You can match Rumi in skill, but without strategy you'll never win. So. Six months.'
Zoey turns a bright, pleased pink. The Celine Kim thinks she's a match for someone as good as Rumi? Jinjja?
Mira delicately steps up to the ropes to unlace Rumi's gloves. Taking her mouthguard out to steal a kiss as Abby whistles.
Zoey blushes. She has to give them credit, the pair of them are incredibly professional while class is in session. But as Rumi giggles while Mira whispers in her ear, something tightens in Zoey's core. She brushes that thought away, turning back to the boys as they offer introductions and handshakes.
Celine clears her throat. 'Zoey.'
She turns, standing tall as she meets her new coach's gaze.
'We train four nights a week, one morning. Bobby will give you a list for your workload to be completed in your own time. If you can't make a class we'd like a day's notice, one hour will suffice. Lateness is not tolerated. No training while unwell. We encourage sobriety during the fight season - you have a break of eight weeks over the summer where classes slow down to engage in any... proclivities... as you see fit.'
Celine nods to her assistant. 'Make sure we have her details and then bring her in for a private session - soon. Everyone else - you worked hard. Early nights please, for those of you with injuries - stretch before bed. That is all.'
The group responds in a barrage of thank-yous as the team responds to their coach. Zoey is surprised to see Mira dropping into a bow, dipping her head as she looks at the floor. Celine returning the gesture gracefully.
The pink haired one (Abby?) grabs her gloves while the dark haired one (Jinu?) drag her back to the cubbies as they make her drag out her phone to add her to a group chat on messenger. They honestly look more like a boy-band than a bunch of toughened fighters.
The shorter one mutters something about being happy to have someone in his weight class to spar with as he offers a fist to bump, and she grins. He's not wrong about that. Training with larger opponents might set her up for easy wins in the ring, but it sure was hard work.
Back in the office, Bobby explains the gym rules in more detail and hands her a strength, conditioning and roadwork programme. Explaining that if all goes well, they'd have her in the ring within four weeks for that elusive fiftieth fight.
As she emerges into the night she punches the air, grinning. Shouldering her bag, she begins to jog back to the seabus terminal. Dodging a handful of the unhoused who approach her with outstretched hands as she ducks onto East Hastings, she throws on some REI AMI and boosts towards the station.
Close to an hour later, she ducks into the back door to their restaurant with a happy sigh. Dumping her gear as she washes her hands and grabs an apron, Zoey cuts through to the kitchen as she waves to her father and Yu-jin over the pass. 'Ya, I'm home! I'll take over back here, okay?'
Her father waves absently as he continues to take payments from a large group of college students by the door, yu-jin reaching up beside her to grab a plastic carrier bag of polystyrene packages to run out to a delivery driver on the road.
Glancing over the dockets above the pass, Zoey turns back to the stove to begin filling some takeout containers with rice, before scooping heaping serves of bulgogi on top from a simmering pot on the element. Putting the class in the back of her mind as the Thursday night dinner rush descends.
Far later, yawning, and smelling both foul (boxing) and delicious (her dad's cooking,), Zoey strips her clothes and piles into the shower.
Her father had accepted her place on the team with a single nod, running an eye over her new training regime with interest. Done reading,he'd shooed her away with a heaped bibimbap he'd prepared ahead of time.
After shoveling the food into her mouth and washing her bowl, Zoey drops into her stretches from physio with a wince as her bad leg twinges. Remembering her first round with Mira, a prickle of unease sets itself in her gut. It should be fine. As far as sports go boxing isn't the most impact heavy. But the conditioning... worries her. She barely kept up today. But she guesses that's a problem for tomorrow.
Much later, bone tired but deliriously happy, she falls into bed. Staring up at the glo-stars on the ceiling of her childhood bedroom with a ridiculous grin. She finally made it. If anyone can fix this and get her to nationals, it's Celine. And maybe... her mind wanders back to the lilac haired girl from before. Her quiet confidence, skills sharp enough to cut you to shreds. Maybe this could be the start of a friendship. Or... even two. Thinking back to the polite camaraderie of their second sparring session, Zoey nods to herself. She can wear Mira down.
Snuggling into her favourite stuffed turtle, Zoey gives herself a reassuring nod. It's all coming up Zoey. All these years of hard work finally coming together into something worth fighting for. She's sure of it.
---
To be continued...