Not Dead Yet ('Gearless' Joe X Reader)

The Gear Is Dead - Six

Sometimes,

All that's left is peace

and violence is the only way

to get a little peace of mind.
-Reader

"Shark Samejima, known as Maneater." Nanbu informed as he rustled with his numerous unpacked boxes. The TV played on silent as Joe watched with a cup of hot coffee. "He's got his fair share of losses, but about 70% of those are disqualifications for fighting dirty. Word is he's had trouble lining up opponents."

"A hungry, man-eating shark, huh?" Joe leant forward to take a closer look at the small screen, watching as the bald and egotistical looking man beat his opponent into painful submission. The ref was quick to intervene, calling a disqualification for the boxer who could only smirk behind his lightning face tattoos.

"For a guy at the bottom of the ranking to make his way up, fast, you first need to draw attention to yourself." Nanbu pulled out the box he was looking for, a heavy leather duffle bag inside. "And this guy is perfect for that."

"So I'm fish bait now, huh?" Joe's tone took on nothing other than unimpressed, but as he turned to his coach he was met with a scarily serous face. The cheap plastic couch creaked beneath Joe as he turned to face Nanbu, reminding him of the shitty apartment he shared with ____ on the outskirts.

Joe decided he didn't want to think about that anymore. He didn't want to ever go back there. The place was disgusting and empty, the walls reeked of stale alcohol, and the only furniture they owned was a shitty mattress found on the side of the road. Joe spared a fleeting glance to his girlfriend who stood in the conjoined kitchen. The sounds of cooking made its way to his ears, the scrapes of metal and the sizzle of oil, and the smell of food made its way to his nostrils. He inhaled slowly, to savor it.

He wanted to give her a real house with a real kitchen and more than two pots to cook with. He wanted to give her better clothes than the rags she recycled. He wanted to give her the opportunity to be lazy. Because even now, as she cooked an early morning breakfast for the two men and herself, she was working her ass off for him. Her laptop and iPad sat on the counter next to her, videos playing and articles on an auto scroll timer. Her earbuds were in and her attention was on the screens, even as she flipped a pancake.

However, Joe had to admit, he didn't exactly want to change the sight of her in nothing but underwear and his old racing t-shirt.

"The match is in five days." Nanbu broke Joe from his wandering thoughts, focusing him on the task at hand. He would have to win Megalonia before he could make any of his dreams for ___ even close to reality. "Let's get started."

• • • • •

___ couldn't help but sneak peaks at Joe as he ran through exorcises with Nanbu and the training gear. His movements were so fluid and natural, even if Nabu was able to smack him upside the head once or twice. His form was perfect, but his gut needed work.

She shook her head as she flipped another pancake. Joe was so good at fighting that he'd need to abandon his old style in order to pick up a better one. ___ had no doubts that some of his moves would never change, and she didn't want them too, but many would need to be altered to become better. Faster. Stronger.

She began to chew her lip nervously, glancing out the window again. A long sigh left her lips.

Joe's body was marred by the events of his past, the scars on his body a testimony to his hardships and the obstacles he'd overcome. They weren't as bad as some, but they stood out. ____ would be lying if she said she didn't have any of her own. She admired every inch of Joe's body, but the mystery behind those scars made her ache for answers. An overwhelming guilt sunk into her gut, weighing on her shoulders and pouring lead into her feet.