Unlikely Warrior

Chapter 1

Rihanna

Slap. Pummel. Punch. I block a hit aimed at my chest, but get slammed in the gut instead. Other than a small gasp, I don't pause beating the stuffing out of my opponent. With a gasp, he falls to his knees, pleading for mercy, after a well -aimed kick of mine towards the neck.

I sigh, letting a slight smile play across my face. "That was the best you've done so far." I tell my apprentice, extending a hand to help him up. He accepts, the feel of his hand on mine making it tingle. I quickly wipe it on my pants, trying to rub away the feeling he gave me. I can't develop feelings for my brother, even if I am adopted.

He smiles, a full-fledged grin lighting up his young face. "Really?" he asks, furrowing his eyebrows. "I thought I gave up too soon."

My smile fades. "Well, you should never give up, Colt, but you lasted longer than you normally do. And you have hardly any wounds to show for it!"

He rolls his eyes, gesturing at the many bruises, scars, and that black eye I have him like a week ago. "Well, not as much as you normally do." I relent.

He mutters something under his breath. I fold my arms, looking at him intently. "What did you say?"

Colt smirks. "I said, 'was that an insult?'"

I'm about to give this cocky little troublemaker the kick he deserves, when a door slams. Colt glances triumphantly at me, then races off towards the door. I don't bother chasing him. I may be a better fighter, but he runs like the devil himself is following. Besides, my teacher is here, too. After all, I may be showing Colt how to fight, but I have someone showing me as well.

"Hello, Rihanna." The deep voice of my masetoro, or fight master, echoes around the room. I close my eyes, listening to it, then quickly open them as Masetoro Jor places a warm hand on my shoulder, slowly steering me around so he can look at me. His face, unlike most other masetoro's, is young and handsome, and the only hint of oldness in him is the old and weathered look in his bright blue eyes, eyes that have seen too many deaths and wars for his too few years. I'm the only one Jor has ever trusted about his past, and the only one he every will.

He speaks loudly, interrupting my thoughts. Folding his arms, he glared at me. "So, Rihanna. Have you been practicing?"

I gulp, focusing on the flower patterns on the floor. "Well, what with the harvest coming in and training Colt, I haven't really-"

Jor chuckles, his eyes sparkling. "I was only kidding, Ri. You know I understand what you have to do."

Relaxing, I return his smile. "Plus, doesn't teaching Colt count? I'm not only fighting then, but teaching how to fight!"

Still chuckling, he picks up a nunchuck. "Oh, Ri. You really think showing your brother how to throw a few punches counts?"

I sigh. "I told you to stop calling me Ri!" In reality, I sort of enjoy his pet name for me, but I'd rather die than admit that to my arrogant trainer.

Swinging the nunchucks around nonchalantly, he gets into business mode. "Alright, Rihanna. Choose your weapon." Thinking quickly, I pick up a slingshot, my signature weapon, and stick a sharp rock the size of a dagger in it. We circle each other, taking in possible openings in the other's defense, or, as Jor calls it, "chinks in the enemy's armor."

You see, although I teach Colt how to brawl with his body, I train with weapons.

Jor attacks first, swinging his nunchucks at my unprotected left side. Dodging the weapons, I take a kick in the knee and deliver one to his back, felling him. He lands hard on the ground as I laugh, aiming my slingshot at his head. With a huge busy of strength, he lunges up at me, grasping my biceps. He runs his fingers over them, grinning up at me roguishly. I forget all about what we're supposed to be doing as I look into his twinkling sea-blue eyes.

"You're getting stronger," Jor smiles, still fingering my muscles. Then, with a grunt, he uses my "stronger" biceps to sling me onto the floor. The last thing I see are his nunchucks crashing into my head.