Ill-Fated (Phantom Troupe x Reader) [Soulmate AU]

18.

Author's note: Please bear with my writing here: English isn't my first language, and I am not good at writing fighting scenes. 

The noon sun beat down on you mercilessly by the time you arrived at your destination, accompanied by your two captors. Your destination was a forested area a little ways outside of the city. The canopies of the surrounding trees did little to stave off the heat, though that was the least of your concerns. It became clear the two wouldn't reveal any more information after your first exchange in the hallway, so you resigned yourself to walking quietly at their side. You assumed that when they said they would prepare you, they meant to ensure you knew the basics of fighting or stealth. You were worried, while your general knowledge of Nen and physical fitness meant you could hold your own in a fight with most regular people. 'Most regular people' included those with little or no knowledge of how to use Nen and people who didn't dedicate their entire lives to honing the craft of fighting. You were no match for another Nen user, especially one whose skills were suited for combat better than yours, and that was no high bar. Thus, the thought of fighting any of the Spiders let alone two, made you break out in cold sweat. You could only hope the two would show you some mercy, although knowing Phinks and just looking at Feitan, you knew the chances of that were slim to none.

Finally, Phinks stopped walking and turned around to face you.

"Can you fight?" He asked simply.

As much as you wanted to keep information about yourself private for as long as possible, you assumed this was not the time to stay secretive. After all, you would want anything and everything in your favor if you wanted to leave this little training session with all your limbs intact.

"Not well." You replied.

"Okay." Said Phinks. There was no hint of mockery in his voice, which surprised you.

Feitan walked further off and sat on one of the rocks, observing the two of you from afar. Phinks, on the other hand, took off his green jacket, setting it on the ground beside him. He was left in only a white sleeveless T-shirt. You were afraid of what he was going to do next; was he going to hit you? If he was, you doubted you could retaliate.

Instead, Phinks approached you almost too casually, though his gaze was hardened and serious.

"Hit me," Phinks commanded.

You eyed him suspiciously before quickly attempting a left-handed hook to his face. Phinks caught your approaching fist in his right hand without so much as a wince. Although it was what you expected, it still slightly bruised your ego.

"Is that the best you can do?" Came a mocking voice you were all too familiar with.

Phinks's serious gaze was now replaced with a cocky one once again, and his signature boastful grin was back. For some reason, it pissed you off more than it should have. You lifted your leg and, extending it, landed a kick to his ribs successfully. Phinks's eyes widened slightly in surprise and what seemed like acknowledgment. Still, your best effort was not enough to harm him.   Suddenly, your world seemed to have shifted, the trees flipping upside down and your entire skull reverberating as your body hit the ground. In one fluid motion, Phinks had leveraged his hold on your hand to flip you over his shoulder, slamming you down onto the grass. His hands were on either side of you, holding you down to the earth by your shoulders. Your breath caught in your throat as you looked up at his angular face. His sharp features had never been this close to you, and warmth flooded your body. He, too, realized your position, and for a second, his face froze, lips parting in surprise. You had recovered quicker than Phinks, who remained still for a moment too long, his dark eyes still searching the features of your face and the gentle curve of your lips. Following your recovery, you brought your leg upward again, kicking him where the sun doesn't shine. That seemed to snap Phinks out of it as he cussed under his breath, his hands loosening around your shoulders. There was now just enough give to his grasp for you to twist your body wildly, wriggling out from underneath him. Phinks noticed you scrambling to get up and quickly pinned you down again, this time restraining your arms behind your back. With your stomach on the ground, you let your head fall. Your forehead embracing the cold grass, still wet with morning dew: you had lost.

Phinks got up, releasing you from underneath him. He analyzed you as you brushed back your hair with one hand and dusted yourself off.

'Her reflexes aren't all that bad, but her hits lack any real strength or resolve. Like she believed she would lose before she even started fighting.' He thought. 

Over from the side, Feitan's cold grey eyes also analyzed you. You were just average. Your form was that of an amateur, but you compensated for it with your proficient control over your aura. If you were fighting a random opponent with little knowledge of Nen, you would have a good chance of winning. Something else about the way you moved made you different from most people he'd met. He could tell you didn't enjoy fighting, acting not like a fighter but like a cornered animal in the altercation. There was no thrill in it for you, and every movement seemed to be forced in response to your opponent. That didn't necessarily make you a bad fighter, but it didn't make you a good fighter. This kind of outlook meant you didn't fight to win but to escape alive.

Releasing a long sigh, Phinks ran a hand through his hair. You were now facing him, and he couldn't help but drink your attention.  Finally, Phinks asked,

"Did you plan to lose?"

You blinked owlishly at him, thinking over his odd question. 

"No?" You said, your voice unsure. 

"You fight like you do." Said Phinks finally, his expression serious once again. 

You stared at your feet. 'What am I even supposed to say to that?' You thought as Phinks continued talking. 

"Your reflexes aren't completely terrible, but your hits are weak. Also, your form is completely off. Tell me who you learned to fight from." There was a short silence following his query.

"Nobody." You said finally.

It was true. You didn't grow up a fighter and were never supposed to be one. You were primed to become proficient in your specialist ability for much of your early life. The same one that has been passed down your maternal line for generations. Your grandma had begun exposing you to Nen from a young age and teaching you its basics. Though you knew the basics, you focused largely on skills that would serve your ability to heal and exorcise. Without paying much attention to anything else, your narrow focus resulted in complete proficiency with anything that involved healing or sensing foreign Nen and a complete ignorance of any combat skill. Thus, when fighting, you always relied purely on your instincts, which weren't that good.

Phinks exhaled through his nose exasperatedly, eyes lifting to the trees in thought.  

"Defensive technique would be better..." Weighed in Feitan from your left.

Phinks acknowledged his friend briefly before looking back at you again. You knew what was coming and thus reacted quickly when the first punch flew your way. You spun your body, ducking away successfully. However, the celebration didn't last long, as Phinks threw another uppercut at you. Your reaction wasn't quick enough to save you this time, and you were struck. A sickening crack followed by high-pitched ringing filled your ears as your vision blurred from the pain. The coppery taste of blood filled your mouth as you felt your bones shift and break, teeth still rattling in your skull. It was almost unfair that Phinks could do this much damage with one punch. Overwhelmed by the pain, you stumbled back, unconsciously grabbing at your face with one hand and activating your ability. A pleasant cooling sensation relieved the burning pain as your bones returned to their rightful place and fused together once more. Your vision cleared just in time to escape another one of Phinks's punches as his attack on you continued.

Feitan's eyes were glued to the girl. He could have sworn he saw blood and heard the familiar crack of bone as Phinks landed his punch on her, though when she looked up at her opponent again, it was as if she had never been hit in the first place. Perhaps she was worth some interest after all.