The early morning light reflected off of Noah's sweat. He had already been up for an hour, jump roping and maintaining his body. A timer went off in the distance on the table.
"Time already?" Noah groaned. Although training was hellish, to Noah, school was even more so. He lacked the patience and time that learning and studying occupied.
He showered and got dressed for school. His mother was at the door, preparing to head to work.
"Have a good day!" Noah shouted, packing his bag.
By then, she had already left. His mom wasn't too pleased with how often he was training, and was quite worried. On the contrary, Noah has never felt any better. Regardless, he knew deep down his mom just deeply cared for him.
His phone buzzed with another timer before he shoved it into his pocket and walked to school.
At the gate, he got the usual stares from the girls and looks of distain from the boys. Another student approached Noah and slapped him on the back, "Yo Noah!"
"Hey... Jin," Noah responded. "How have you been?"
The student's name was Jin Jang, the younger brother of his instructor Soo Jang.
(A/N: In case you forgot, refer to when they were in the shed. Jin Jang was the boy who was being bullied)
Short, chubby, quite ugly, and no athleticism unlike his older brother, Jin Jang was somehow Noah's only friend.
It's not as if that was necessarily a bad thing, if anything, Noah appreciated it. Jin was his first friend in a while, and despite all of those lackluster characteristics, he was quite humorous to say the least.
"I can see you've been working out even more, Noah!" Although he was joking, he truly was impressed. "I wonder if I can do the same too, you know!"
A teacher glanced up as he walked past, eyebrows lifting. Noah smiled, deflecting. He liked being noticed and hated being noticed at the same time. He told himself it was just training, he didn't understand how he attracted attention.
In class, the world felt slightly too small. Voices were muffled like they were behind glass. He could pick out a foot shuffle in the back row, see a hand twitch a fraction before someone reached for a pencil.
-- For these reasons, he found it extremely difficult to focus in most of his classes. Soo had trained his senses to quite the degree; fortunately, however, he realized they were useful for other things.
At lunch, a kid shoved past him and knocked his tray. Food scattered, eyes followed the spill like ripples. Noah crouched, gathering his fork and napkin. He heard laughter, yet it was only from the boys who had despised him.
A girl from the next table shot him a sympathetic look. He remembered Soo's voice: Don't be fooled, don't be tempted, don't be provoked. The second you fall for this, is the same second you'll seem to the be oppressor.
He thought, "It's stupid to start trouble over a cafeteria tray." He had no reason to hurt anyone just for food.
Near the end of the day, in the corridor, the air tasted and smelled the way it did before small storms.
Along the sidewalk, someone blocked his path. Though he did not recognize the fact, the person gave off a dangerous feeling. Behind him, two others posed like models.
"An older student?" Noah mumbled.
"Hey, Park, let's talk for a second." The voice was oily and rough.
Noah kept his hands tucked into his pockets. He had no interest in fooling around nor entertaining these people. He had interest in getting home before his mom called again. He smiled, even though he did not want to. "Evening," he said. "Unfortunately, I have matters to attend to. So excuse me."
One of the people reached for the seam of his hoodie, fingers deliberate. The smaller boy who had shoved his tray earlier lingered, watching like a rat curious about a trap. Noah exhaled, slow and even. He avoided his hand and walked by them waving.
He took a different route home, thinking the alley would save time. It was quieter than the main road, lined by low shops and a row of trees. Noah kept his head down and his pace steady. He wanted to get home, eat, and train. Simple things. The alley smelled like wet concrete and old trash.
They caught up to him. Truthfully, he had no reason to go through the alley. Perhaps he wanted to get into his first fight, or maybe he genuinely believed they wouldn't follow him.
The leader stepped out from behind the group of people, hands in his pockets. The other three spread so the alley tightened. The leader smiled. The extra man, the one with the tattoo, moved like someone who had been paid to make trouble.
"Park," the leader said. "You walking alone tonight? Bad idea. You should've come with us when we asked politely, you know?"
Noah kept his hands empty and loose. He tried not to look nervous. He told himself Soo's lines: Stay alert. Breathe. Don't move first. He had practiced staying calm more than anything else these past few months. Being calm was a choice.
"Just passing through, I told you, I have somewhere to be," Noah said. He tried to make his voice flat.
One of them shoved him, not hard, the kind of shove that was meant to get a rise. The small kid from lunch watched from the edge, eyes wide with his phone out and recording.
"Hands off," Noah muttered. He stepped back. The leader reached for his hoodie and the bag strap. The tattooed man cracked his knuckles.
Noah sighed. "I don't want this, and neither should you. Last warning."
Someone laughed. The hired man moved forward then swung, sloppy but fast enough.
Noah did not think. His body moved first, a reflex stitched into muscle and bone by weeks of training. He stepped in on the swing to close the gap and his forearm met the attacker's chest. The man stumbled far back.
He threw another punch, this time more compact and focused. Noah dodged to the inside, delivering a heavy blow to the center of the man's chest.
The man flew back, hitting the metal shutter with a hard thunk and sliding down. He was out before his head hit the ground, eyes rolling up, an ugly silence coming from his mouth.
For half a second, the alley seemingly held its breath. The leader cursed and lunged. Noah sidestepped, turning his weight and his fist into a straight, ugly line. The leader hit the pavement with a sound like someone closing a coffin lid. He too did not get up.
Concrete cracked where the leader's shoulder struck, a thin spidering line spreading from the impact. Blood slicked the corner of his lip. The second man tried to scramble away before falling.
Noah stood in the middle of the alley, breathing calmly. There was no panic, no confusion, only clarity.
The city noise returned like someone turning a faucet back on. One of the boys cursed and backed away. The hired man on the ground gagged and tried to breathe. Someone banged at a shutter and shouted for help.
Noah's gaze shifted to the first man, the one who had crashed into the shutter. He was pale and breathing thin. Blood darkened his shirt. The kid who had shoved the tray had his phone out, hands shaking as he kept filming. Noah saw his own knuckles, red at the joints, and felt nothing at all. No guilt and no fear. It was odd, he had just beat up someone for the first time. The chance that one of them might even die had not crossed his mind like it should've.
He exhaled and backed up until his back met a rusted fence. The hired boys were arguing, caught between anger and fear. The one still conscious clutched his side and rolled onto his stomach. Sirens began to ring through the city, making their approach.
Noah turned away. "I should leave before things get worse and I get caught," he thought. Then he noticed the kid still recording. The boy's eyes widened when Noah moved toward him as he tried to take off.
Noah caught him easily, checking the phone. It was locked.
"Hey," Noah spoke in a low commanding tone. "Unlock your phone so I can delete the footage."
The boy trembled, frozen. "I will break it and take it with me if you don't."
Though the boy was frightened, he still refused. Noah dropped the phone to the ground, stomped on it, and slipped the cracked pieces into his pocket.
Then he walked away.
After a few minutes of walking, the panic and disgust he should've had finally caught up to him. His vision blurred and his chest tightened. Whatever cold clarity he just had was hone now, leaving the raw emotional part of him exposed.
He stumbled toward a trash can and braced a hand against the rim. He vomited multiple times, gasping between the waves. His knees shook. His hands would not stay steady. He had never lost control like that before, much less even hit someone to make them bleed.
The memory of the man sliding down the shutter replayed in his head. The pale skin. The calls for help.
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and forced himself upright. People walked past without noticing. He clutched the broken phone pieces in his pocket and walked faster.
A block later he reached a small pond. He pulled the crushed phone from his pocket, looked at it once, then tossed it into the water.
Noah swallowed hard and ran away in a hurry. He needed to distract his mind. His mother would know something was off, and if she found out it would be the end for him.
The gym was the only place that came to mind. He headed that way, keeping his eyes low. Each step felt heavier and heavier as an undeserving guilt exponentially grew on his shoulders.
By the time he pushed open the gym door, he had fixed his expression into something almost normal. He walked inside and hoped Soo Jang wouldn't notice the fear still lingering behind his eyes.