Origins of the Bee

Chapter 11; Practice Makes Purrfect

Author's Note:
Dear Lord Almighty. A year later and I finally muster up the muse to continue this! No, but in all reality I am really sorry that I left this so long. Between terrible writer's block with this chapter that led me rewriting it about twenty times and some fairly bad health issues, I kind of abandoned this despite how much I adore this story. I can't promise I will update as frequently as I did in the beginning because I do have to be leery of my Carpal Tunnel coming back but I will try to post semi frequently and I will probably wrap this up within another ten chapters or less. As usual with my writing, I don't have an outline. I go where the story takes me but I also don't want this to be as long as LYE
 
 

"Okay, we'll start with the basics," Chat Noir began, green eyes flashing in the moonlight. It was Sunday night and the pair had agreed to meet up on the rooftop of Chat Noir's getaway apartment in order to teach Paris' newest heroine a few fighting techniques. Marigold found herself filled to the brim with nervous energy. She was excited to learn from Chat Noir, but at the same time, she didn't know quite how to act around him after the kiss they had shared last night. It didn't help that Chat Noir was being totally cavalier about the whole thing, either, considering he had no idea that it was Marigold he had kissed!
   

“When you think about it, fighting is like a game of tag,” the leather-clad boy continued, jarring the girl from her thoughts and forcing her focus back on the here and now. Her cerulean gaze found his veridian one and a slight frown furrowed her brow.

“A game of tag? Seriously?” She couldn’t help but be a bit dubious about his seemingly random comparison. Chat Noir nodded, surprisingly serious about the whole thing.

“Now, the main difference between a fight and a game of tag is that both people are trying to tag each other at the same time… that and you’re actually trying to tag your fist to the other person’s face,” the boy continued with a grin. Marigold had to stifle her laughter. She supposed his comparison made a bit of sense but that didn’t make it any less amusing. “The thing about playing tag is, there’s always a home base and if you’re ‘in’ home base or touching home base, you’re safe. Nobody can tag you. Now in fighting, your stance is like home base. It’s where you’re safe. So no matter what you do, if you throw a combination out there, you have to return to home base. Are you following me so far?”

“I think so,” Marigold said with a nod. His explanation and comparison was starting to make a lot more sense now that he was explaining his reasoning further.

“Good. Okay, so we’ll start with the base of your stance. Are you left handed or right handed?” Chat Noir strolled closer and Marigold swallowed as he invaded her space, even though his expression was detached and serious, almost clinical as he looked her over. 

“R-right,” she squeaked nervously, eyes flickering everywhere but his gaze. Chat nodded and crouched down, tapping her right knee. If she jolted like an electrocuted cat at his unexpected touch, he chose not to say anything about it and for that she was grateful.

“Okay, so since you’re a righty, you’re gonna move your right foot to the rear. In order to get the best distance that will maximize your balance while in this stance, I want you to put your right foot directly behind your left foot, so that your toes are touching your heel. Good,” Chat nodded in approval when she did as she was told. “Now do you see where the heel of your right foot ends? I want you to move your foot back so that your toes are where your heel currently is… purrfect,” Chat Noir looked up with a pleased grin as she did as instructed. Reaching up, he tapped the inside of her right knee and she had to bite her lip to avoid releasing a mortified whimper. Had she known this training session would be so hands on, she might have reconsidered her choice of training instructor. Unfortunately, there was no going back now.