Fighting hearts

Eighteen

"Crap," Roth groaned before jumping back on his feet. Shura had struck him down with a blow so hard he'd landed on his ass and slid through the sand.

"What's going on with you, man?" Shura asked, lowering his fists. "Yesterday you were acting strange too."

Roth rubbed the sand off his pants. "I'm just a little distracted."

"Is this because of Evie? And is that why you declined Carlisle's prize? I think you shouldn't have pissed the boss off, but I know you like her—"

"That and I have some stuff going on at home."

"Oh, is your Ma well?" Shura asked, his eyes suddenly looking worried. He had lost his mother just a few months ago.

"Nothing too serious is going on. Anyway, I don't want to discuss it right now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Roth let out a sigh. "Let's just practice, okay?! It's Tuesday, so I'm out of here in half an hour."

"Because sometimes, it can help to let it all out and clear your mind and heart—"

Now Roth was getting pissed. "I'm fine, Shura."

"Well, you don't seem fine to me."

"I'm fucking fine," Roth growled irritatedly.

"Okay, man," Shura replied. "I won't mention it again."

"Thank you! Let's continue!"

"Prove you're fine then..." Shura raised his fists and held them in front of his face. "Hit me with your best shot." He smirked as he added, "If you can..."

"If I can...." Roth scoffed, standing back in position, ready to wipe that smug smile off Shura's face.

Roth was the one to attack, and with the first swing, he hit his friend in the ribs, making Shura gasp for breath and fall to the floor.

"Fuck," Shura cursed, curling up into a ball as he lay on the ground. "You a-asshole."

"See? I'm still good," Roth replied. He just had to concentrate a little harder, try not to let his emotions and thoughts get in the way, and go for it.

"This is only p-practice, man," Shura groaned. "You didn't have to come at me that hard." He rolled on his back. "Fuck, I think I need to see Evie. I think you broke me."

"I barely touched you."

Shura coughed and sat up straight, looking at his torso. "Is this bruise not your fist imprinted on my fucking ribs?"

"Well, you said I should give it my best shot," Roth answered, offering his friend a hand. "Don't provoke me then."

"Touché." Shura let Roth help him get up. "I'm never going to say that again, especially not when you have some pent-up frustration like now—fuck." He stood up straight and growled loudly. "Man, that doesn't feel good!"

Roth chuckled. "Okay, now you're just exaggerating."

"Oh, you laugh while I'm doing my best to hold back tears!" Shura glared at him. "At least you seem in a lighter mood."

"I am. Thank you for that."

"No fucking thanks."

"Roth!" came a voice from behind the stage. "Boss wants to see you! Now!"

Roth looked at Shura in question. "Can I go, or should I take you to Evie first?"

"You go. I'll just rest some and hope my ribs will pop back into place."