A Knife on His Lap|| Bodyguard AU

Training

~Nariya Patel~

Surveying Mao's meticulously planned schedule, I proceed towards the dedicated training room, an enclave pulsating with the energy of focused athleticism. Clad in Muay Thai shorts, a snug sports bra, and a loosely draped hoodie for a touch of discretion, I step into the purposeful ambiance. The room is well-equipped, adorned with the essentials—punching bags suspended from sturdy chains, a canvas ring marked with the wear and tear of countless sparring sessions, and an array of training apparatus arranged meticulously along the periphery.

Upon crossing the threshold, I find my coach already immersed in the preparations, her focused dedication evident in the poised arrangement of the training equipment. With a warm exchange of morning greetings, our shared commitment to the training regimen springs to life, as we delve into the rigorous routine that awaits us within the confines of the purpose-designed training arena.

The initial phase encompassed a comprehensive warm-up regimen, targeting every area of the body, from the supple neck down to the nimble ankles. Drawing on years of yoga practice, my body exhibited a graceful fluidity, expediting the warm-up process and contributing to the swiftness of my overall training. Mao, recognizing the impressive strides we made within a mere few days, emphasized the significance of gradual progress, prompting us to concentrate on mastering the fundamentals.

As I shed my hoodie, the warm-up ritual unfolded. Initiating with gentle neck rotations—first from shoulder to shoulder, then left to right, and finally up and down—we seamlessly transitioned to arm exercises, commencing with huggers and progressing to clockwise and anticlockwise circles. The routine continued with waist twists, both clockwise and anticlockwise, followed by knee twists and ankle rotations. A holistic full-body stretch ensued, involving a seamless sequence of bending, walking into a push-up position, and transforming into a downward-facing dog. With deliberate precision, each foot extended into what yogis refer to as Ashwa Sanchlan Asana.

Culminating the invigorating warm-up, we devoted a minute to dynamic star jump-ups, infusing a burst of energy into the routine. This meticulous warm-up not only enhanced flexibility but also served as a foundational cornerstone for the subsequent, more intense phases of our training.

Taking a moment to catch my breath, I paused briefly before delving into a pivotal aspect of mastering any new physical activity—the stance. Aligning my body with precision, I positioned my right foot forward, a choice influenced by my left-handedness. With my arms strategically locked near my face, I elevated one knee to the side of the elbow, executing a striking move. Mao's encouraging words spurred me on, "Very good Nari, now block with the left, switch, and kick!"

Central to the effectiveness of the stance was ensuring an even distribution of my full body weight on both feet, particularly on the sole and ball of each foot. Simultaneously, my torso leaned slightly backward, contributing to the equilibrium crucial for maintaining the stance. After several repetitions, solidifying the foundation, we progressed to the intricacies of techniques.

Mao, methodical in her approach, had crafted a beginner-friendly plan, initiating with five rounds lasting three minutes each. This structured regimen provided a systematic introduction to the fundamentals, emphasizing the significance of mastering the stance before delving further into the nuances of the techniques.

Commencing the next phase of our training, we initiated with a jab, executing a fluid motion by twisting the body and sliding the other foot into a new position, seamlessly repeating the jab. A brief 30-second break allowed for a transition to the next technique, which involved combining elbow and knee strikes. Alternating between elbow and knee strikes, I adeptly switched sides, utilizing the ball of my foot, and then reset my stance.

Glancing at my coach, she gestured and guided me, emphasizing the importance of synchronizing my breathing with the strikes. "You need to rhythm your breathing with the strikes, exhale while striking. It'll make your move way more efficient!" I nodded in acknowledgment, aligning my breath with the rhythmic precision of each strike under her watchful guidance.

Moving on to the third technique, the sequence began with a jab, followed by a cross to the body and a leg chop. Maintaining balance by pushing my weight onto the back foot, my opposite hand shielded my face. Subsequently, we progressed to a lead block with a switch kick, concluding with a cross jab. The final focus involved a jab followed by a push kick, necessitating a step outside and a controlled twist of the body to thrust the elbow.

Mao, keen on refining my form, slapped her hand to signal a correction. She approached, adjusting my leg placement, "Fix this leg to the floor; don't slide it along the body." Apologetically, I smiled and worked on rectifying my stance.

Concluding the technique segment, we wrapped up our routine with an emphasis on core exercises. Three sets of ten repetitions each included crunches, in's and out's, and a roll back into a sit-up, providing a comprehensive workout that targeted and strengthened the core.

At this point, fatigue had fully settled in, and all I craved was a soothing bath. Mao, sensing my exhaustion, inquired, "Hey, do you have anywhere to be today?"

Shaking my head, I replied, "No." With work scheduled to commence the following week, I had no pressing reason to leave the house. Mao then mentioned that she had some business to attend to and anticipated returning by dinner. "Alright, take care," I acknowledged, appreciating the understanding as I looked forward to a well-deserved moment of relaxation and recovery.

Left with a surplus of time on my hands, I redirected my focus towards mundane tasks—indulging in a leisurely bath, preparing lunch, engaging in some study sessions, and playfully interacting with Nyx. As the hours drifted by, a palpable sense of boredom settled in. Typically, Mao would be my companion to alleviate the monotony, but today, she was occupied with other commitments.

Letting out a sigh, I found myself staring at my cellphone, contemplating whether to reach out to a particular contact. My fingers hesitated over a specific name in my contacts. Another sigh escaped me, and with a defeated gesture, I set the electronic device aside. Since his departure, I had received only a single message upon his landing, a brief note stating, "Will be busy; might not be able to call." The silence that followed his absence seemed to amplify the emptiness, leaving me yearning for the connection that was now a mere memory.

Navigating the intricacies of time zones and the demands of his mysterious profession, I grappled with the silence that lingered after my messages went unanswered. Scrolling through the unanswered texts, a pang of heartache reverberated within me. "Maybe I'm the only one with stupid expectations," I mumbled to myself.

A threatening tear welled up as frustration took hold. In a moment of impulsivity, I typed, "Asshole, I hate you!" and, with gritted teeth, flung my phone onto the bed. The outburst reflected my inner turmoil, but I couldn't bring myself to send such a message. Despite his niceties, our relationship hadn't evolved to a level where such expressions felt appropriate.

A sudden meow diverted my attention, and I cooed at Nyx, realizing it was time for her meal. Around this time, her affectionate side emerged, making her company a comforting distraction. "Hey Nyx, I'll get up," I said with a smile. As she leapt onto the bed, landing on my unlocked phone, panic surged through me. Hastily reaching for the device, I discovered that the dreaded message was already sent. "Shit," I muttered, scratching my head in distress. Frantically searching for a solution, I clicked around the screen and, thankfully, found the "unsend" option—a savior for impulsive texters like me. With a breath of relief, I selected the message and clicked on "Unsend."

I smiled at Nyx, who looked at me with confusion, her tail twitching in excitement. Her priorities, much simpler than mine, served as a reminder to shift focus. I patted her as we proceeded to fetch her some food, leaving behind the transient chaos of an almost-sent message.

~Alexie Ivanov~

A buzz of notification interrupted the stillness, and my lips twitched in humor as a dark chuckle escaped. Soon enough, the message bubble changed to "deleted message," but I had my own ways to navigate through these mishaps. Clicking through some software, I successfully retrieved the original message in the chat.

"Asshole, I hate you!"