Frostbite

Chapter 6: Kyoka Jiro vs Decklin Finn

- The Next Day -

I walked into the small mat room, meant for two to four people, expecting to get hit in the face. But, to my surprise, Jiro was just sitting on a bench against the side wall with a gym bag. I could see that she had some 4oz MMA gloves and headphones. Other than that it was just her clothes since she had changed already. Was that all she brought?

"Hey" I said as awkwardly as possible. Yes, I really am that dumb.

"Hey?" She responded, waiting for any real conversation. Eventually she just shook her head. "Get some gear and get warmed up."

"For what?" I asked.

"Hand to hand combat training." She said flatly.

"Who says I need you to train me in that?"

"It's not for you." Was her return.

"Then who says I'm qualified to train you in it. You've never even seen me in a fist fight."

She gave a look that said she didn't believe me. "You don't wear your gear, use your tactics, and have those muscles without at least some training."

Jiro was right, I had extensive training, received on behalf of numerous branches of the west coast SWAT teams, courtesy of my father. I actually enjoyed that part of growing up. I learned from the top law enforcement on my side of the country how to perfect my stand-up, grappling, takedowns, disarms, and numerous other miscellaneous skills.

I let out a sigh and walked over to her.

"What are you doing?" she said, sitting back and holding her gloves in front of her chest.

I was so used to her school uniform and costume that this was new for me. She was wearing a tight black tank top that showed the outline of her sports bra under it, very short black athletic shorts, and black tennis shoes (that clearly hadn't seen much sunlight) hiding short cut skate socks (also black).

I knelt in front of her, "Give me your hands." I ordered gently but sternly, holding out my own hands palm up.

"W-what are you going to do?" She asked sheepishly.

"I'm going to keep you from breaking your hands and wrists." I answered with a smirk.

"Wait... What?"

I signed and dropped my hands. "You've never used those gloves, or any others, right?"

"No." She said looking at the gloves in her hands.

"I know that because you were about to put them on without wrapping your hands. Hitting anything in those gloves without any training or any wraps on will most probably cause you to break your outside metacarpals or sprain your wrist, if not worse."

"Oh..." She said wide-eyed, looking into her bag.

I laughed quietly and reached into my own, retrieving two rolls of fabric with Velcro and loops. "They would look like these. Only a couple dollars and saves a lifetime of hurt."

She reached out with her right hand. "How do you wear them?"

I snapped the Velcro off the first and sent it rolling open, revealing it's full 108 inch length. "I'll teach you later. We're losing time today, so I'll do them for you."

She didn't say anything, but she pushed her right hand out to me. I took a hold of it causing her to flinch slightly and blush just a little. I was holding down a smile outside, but inside I could feel my heart racing again. Her hands were just as soft as the last time I had held them, and the coconut vanilla scent came flooding in as I started to breathe through my nose (a hopeless attempt to slow my heart beat that backfired terribly).