Birthright: A Phoenix is Born

Ah lads cop on, like.

Hello peps, feel free to critique. Like and praise comments appreciated.

Catch you in my stories,
GaisceKid.

Damian

"Galopante."

"Leg sweep."

"Escala."

"Grapple."

"Sidekick."

Koju barked orders, perching on the side of a stool. Clothed in a colourful tracksuit similar in design to my mother's headwraps. It had been a week since my arrival at the penthouse. And I hated every second since. Thanks to Koju, each morning was filled with intense self-defence training. While Yoruba lessons ruled the evening. Before then, capoeira and krav maga were just weird sounding condiments. Yet the difference between an armada and a palm strike became clear after a live demonstration. Unfortunately, I was Koju's favourite sparring partner.

"Excellent form Kumar." Praised Koju. "You're taking to these like a natural."

"It's not too different from football." Kumar mused. "Instead of striking a ball, I just imagine striking certain people."

"Unless you're Suarez, then you bite those people." Laughed Koju.

The two revelled further into football fouls, exceptional goals and possible developments for Arsenal vs Liverpool later today. I slumped to the floor, heart-thumping attempting to keep up with racing breathes. White tee and shorts a flood in muggy sweat. The liquid cemented clothes to my frame, forming an additional layer of skin. I glanced up, catching how the same moisture bent light around Kumar. Offering an unearthly glow.

"Damian, your form is sloppy at best. Especially that sidekick. Don't drop, but retract your leg to your body. Failure to do so will leave you exposed. I explained this already or do you need another demonstration." The arch of his eyebrow dealt a lick to my pride. Yet, trembling exhaustion hushed my reply to a pitiful "No."

"If that's the case, take a fifteen minute break, I'm heading to my room. When I return, it's one more drill set then Damian's Yoruba lessons. Kumar remember to keep me posted on the match fixtures."

Kumar smiled and gave a broad thumbs up. I scrambled to my feet, blocking Koju before he left through the passage. "Actually Koju, I think..., I do need one more demonstration please." My voice broke mid-way.

"Listen Damian, I'm not your mother and so I don't have time to indulge your nonsense. Be decisive next time and move out of my way."

With a swat, he forced me aside. Now with nothing between us, Kumar's presence dominated my vision. His smile bent low at the sides, morphing into a wicked grin. With leering eyes, he closed in the distance between us.

"Ah, the little prince can't do a few kicks. It must be tough on you."

Kumar taunted daily. I choose to ignore him most times, but this close even my patience ran dry. Heat simmered underneath my chest and a smokey aroma engulfed my nose. I faced him, circling the couch in the living room.

"What's your problem, Kumar?" I spat.

"My problem? My problem, the boys asks." His timbre hurtling towards a deadly crescendo.

"My problem is this stupid idea that you're some prince. When in actuality, you're just Doyle Park's crazed arsonist." I shook my head at the loaded statement. Dodging the memories of the sneers, cold glares and gossip the days after that infamous lab incident.

"And what about you?" I barked snidely.

He paused, I did too. The bass of my tone resonated with an unfamiliar confidence. Beads of warm sweat released their grasp on my brow, changing state into white puffs of smoke.

"Cut out the high and mighty routine. You seem to forget I picked you up from the gutter and gave you a place to stay. In fact, you should be bowing down to me, forever grateful."

"Shut up." He hissed.

"I got suspicious after you called your parents. They didn't seem too bothered at their son's situation."

"Shut up." He hissed louder.

"All because some men wanted to recruit you. I'd be an arsonist any day over someone that goes boom."

Rage tightened Kumar's face, his teeth clenched ready to turn into fangs. Then, he stopped. With a sharp out-breath, the intensity of his emotions subsided. His cool bronze gaze returned, aimed directly at me.

"Send my regards to your mother."

I lunged, yet feet clipped the arms of the sofa. Kumar was prepared. He watched my body fall, from behind he put me into a headlock. Koju's lesson from two days ago kicked in. I pulled down on his clasped palms then twisted my shoulder into his chest. With the space created, my right hand found its mark in Kumar's neck.

We both scratched at our throats, but I was the first to rise. My legs sprung launching my body, hands open ready to interlock in a battle of wills. The tightness in my arm loosened, tempting more power within to boil. Then Kumar's hands disappeared and my vision flipped to the ceiling. In one smooth motion, Kumar twirled on the ball of his left foot and allowed my momentum to carry me into his grasp. The rushing air tasted bitter, so I closed my mouth and eyes as his final blow struck. My back arched when it hit the ground. A zig zagging pain raced up my spine. Saline phlegm jumped out my mouth, the shock forcing my eyes to unfasten. All to see a fist sail through the air directed at my face. I didn't understand how his words made it to my ears. But they did.

"Face it Damian. You are no prince."

"Enough." Boomed Koju.

I threw Kumar's hairy mass aside, attempting to scramble to my feet. Knocking knees temporality sabotaging my effort. I scrapped myself upwards by the arm of the couch. Whiffs of Kumar's tart B.O still penetrating my nose.

"I've noticed the friction between you too. But this was a bit more than expected. Hit the showers Kumar and Damian prepare for your Yoruba lesson on the kitchen island. Your final drill for today is complete."

Kumar's shoulder dug into mine as we walked past, afflicting tendrils of razor ended pain throughout my arm. I carried on, glancing back to distract from the harsh flavours filling my mouth. Kumar reddened palms were tucked beneath his armpits. With one glare we communicated the reciprocal unspoken words.

This wasn't over.

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Urban Irish Dictionary/Author's note

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*Dig = A hefty Punch