? A Lesson In Motion ?
It was a cold but sunny Sunday — the kind of day where breath curled like smoke in the air, yet sunlight kissed the pavement with deceptive warmth. Alex had just returned from assisting Doctor Kranz, and though the morning had offered little more than quiet routine, a moment now unfolded that would linger in memory.
He passed by a park, modest in size, framed by crooked trees and half-thawed grass. The boy's eye caught a familiar figure.
There, beneath a cluster of bare-branched trees, was the girl he had spoken with a week ago.
Mira.
Red hair loose and wind-tossed, green eyes focused not on the world around her, but on the invisible opponent she fought in silence. Though she had only just recovered, she was already training, sleeves rolled to the elbow, her coat and flat cap discarded beneath a tree’s shade. She moved with a rhythm unbothered by the whispers that floated on the breeze from curious onlookers.
“Who is that girl even fighting?”
“Maybe she’s imagining a bully.”
“Why is she dressed like a boy?”
Mira heard them, each careless remark tossed like stones. But she did not care. Her mind was elsewhere — fully absorbed in the shape and sharpness of her technique. She jabbed with precision, bounced back, then moved forward again. Her form was crisp, focused. No wasted motion.
Alex stopped at the edge of the grass and watched her.
She wasn’t just strong — she was disciplined. Composed.
“Hey, Mira!” he called.
She flicked a glance toward him, nodded once, and returned to her rhythm. “Hey.” A small spark lit in her chest at seeing him, but her fists kept weaving through the air, her focus bound to the rhythm of her shadowboxing.
He stepped closer, studying her footwork with quiet admiration. “You’re... training already?”
“Mm-hm.” Her voice was casual, breath steady as she continued to move. “The doctor said it’s fine if I take it easy.”
“Your form’s solid,” Alex said, genuinely impressed. “No wonder you’re that strong.”
“Ugh… I lost to you badly the other day. Don’t sugarcoat it.”
Alex tilted his head. “That's not fair. I really believe you were the better fighter.”
Mira turned and regarded him, her expression unreadable. “Really?”
“Yes,” Alex replied, with the simplicity of someone telling the truth. “You overwhelmed me for most of the fight. Me going for your chin in the end was a fluke. In terms of technique, you're far better than anyone I have ever met.”
She glanced away, one corner of her mouth twitching. Then, without warning, she dropped into stance again.
"Here. Watch this."
Mira threw a punch, left foot forward, her left hand snapping out fast and pulling back in an instant.
"This is called a jab," she said. "It’s not thrown to finish the fight, but to setup, measure distance, keep your opponent away, and it makes you less open to counters."
Alex nodded seriously.
"I do notice openings in fights, but the way you describe it now, it makes sense."
Mira loaded her right hand, stepped into it, and delivered a direct shot that split the air. Alex’s eyes widened.
"This is a straight right. It has more power, but it leaves you open to counters. That’s how I exposed myself to you, giving you a chance to counter that day."
Then, she snapped out another right, this one angling across her body instead of driving straight ahead. She let her arm fall and looked at him.
“Can you tell the difference between this one and the earlier?”
Alex hesitated.
“They looked similar… but the path was different. This one cut in more.”
“Good. That’s a cross. You throw it when the center’s blocked—when you need to slip past the guard. It’s slower than a straight, but the angle makes it harder to see coming.”
Then, she followed immediately with a a left, then a right—her fists moving in quick succession.
"The one-two is simple but effective. The left sets up the right, which is stronger, faster, and harder to predict."
She tilted her head, considering.
“Well. That depends if you’re orthodox… or a southpaw.”
"South?" Alex asked, innocently. "I thought we are talking about punches."
Mira laughed, short and genuine.
“Stances. Orthodox means left foot forward. Southpaw means right foot forward. Same punches. Different balance. Which arm is the dominant one for you? You barely punched the time we fought so I can't tell.”
"Right one."
"Good. Then you are Orthodox." she smirked, "And don't worry, it's not an insult."
Alex nodded, absorbing the names and the purpose of each move.
She shifted, knees bent, and brought her fist up in a sharp, rising arc that would’ve caught a chin from underneath.
“Uppercut. The one you used against me. Though mine is better obviously.”
The boy’s lips twitched in recognition, a faint smile tugging at him.
Then she pivoted her hips and shoulders, her arm swinging across in a horizontal arc, fist traveling like a hammer from the side.
“Hook. It can come from either hand—this is how you break through someone’s guard.”
Mira straightened slightly, relaxing her arms from the boxing stance, and let her gaze settle on Alex.
“Anyone can throw a hook, an uppercut, or a straight—not always the right way, of course,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “Amateurs get obsessed with flashy haymakers and forget the most important strike of them all—the jab. Want to give it a try?”
Alex hesitated, then put his left leg forward, raised his guard, and imagined an opponent. He threw his left hand, trying to mimic Mira.
Mira deadpanned, "Terrible."
Alex laughed. "That bad?"
“You’re whipping your shoulder around like it owes you money.” She stepped behind him, grabbed his arm, and adjusted it firmly. “Keep it tight. Straight. In and out. Like you’re knocking on a door. You’re not trying to break it down.”
Alex tried again.
Mira smirked. "A little better."
He threw a few more jabs, then turned to her. "Come to think of it, why do you only use your fists when you fight? You could kick or tackle or something."
Mira shrugged. "I don’t have your strong body to tackle or wrestle. Plus, it bores me, honestly. You’re not fun to watch."
Alex giggled, not offended, just amused.
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Mira added, "And kicks? Not my thing. I move with my feet. I break with my hands. That’s enough."
Alex blinked. “Whoa… that’s actually kind of cool.”
“I know,” Mira said at once, crossing her arms with exaggerated pride. She tilted her chin high, closing her eyes like a queen who’d just declared victory.
It was then that the stillness of the park shattered.
“Aleeeeeeeeex!”
The voice rang high across the grass — the small Pinch, unmistakable, sprinting like a firecracker, excitement written all over his face.
Behind him came three more: Tonno and Lino, walking side by side, and at a slower pace behind the two, a figure Mira and Alex sized as slightly taller than Lino but shorter than Tonno.
Pinch skidded to a stop in front of Alex. "Where have you been? I wanted to hang out with you!" His grin was infectious.
Alex blinked, then chuckled softly. “Hey… Pinch, right?”
“Pinch is just a nickname!” the boy beamed. “My real name’s Theodore!”
“Ah. Well, Pinch suits you. But Theodore’s a good name too.”
“Thanks!” Pinch laughed, clearly pleased as Alex ruffled his hair.
Tonno and Lino closed in, both grinning like cats who had found mischief.
“Well, well,” Lino said, eyeing Mira and Alex. “Mira’s training her boyfriend now?”
Mira’s stance crumbled like a sandcastle under a wave. “He’s not my boyfriend, idiot!”
Tonno raised a brow, pretending to recall something deep. “Alex, you should’ve heard her calling your name in her sleep at the doctor’s.”
“Shut up! Liar!” Mira snapped, chasing after Tonno as he ran. But she reached him in no time, being faster. Just as she was about to land a hit, Lino’s dramatic voice rang from a distance: "Alex… I need Alex…" — arms wrapped around his chest, chest puffed like he was in a tragedy.
Mira gritted her teeth, half angered, half embarrassed, and gave up the chase on Tonno, returning to Lino instead. Pinch laughed, thoroughly enjoying the spectacle.
Alex scratched the back of his neck, half-smiling, taking in the scene. It was strange to think of how he and Dante clashed with the Wolves — yet here, surrounded by laughter and chaos, the warmth of the moment seeped in.
Finally, the last boy approached, lagging slightly behind the others. His clothes were simple but neat, carefully adjusted — a jacket slightly worn, sleeves rolled just right, trousers tidy despite the park’s dust.
Leo.
Alex felt his presence a few steps before Leo arrived. The boy stopped, extending a hand. "Hi, Alex."
Alex returned the greeting. "Hello Leo. How are you doing?"
Leo nodded, shaking his hand firmly with a calm, soft smile, eyes steady. "Are your hands alright?" He noticed the bandages around Alex’s palms from hanging on the iron crossbeam last week.
"Yes... Much better. Almost healed," Alex replied.
Alex couldn’t help but feel slightly intimidated. He recalled the plaza brawl, the way the whole fight ended with this boy stepping in... and yet, Leo’s humble, polite demeanor only deepened Alex’s curiosity and admiration.
Leo asked, "Your friend is not with you today?"
"Ah, Dante? He is my roommate. On Sundays he does his laundry. Though he’s terrible at it," Alex said, giggling at the memory of Dante tearing one of his trousers. "I was just at Doctor Kranz’s. Helping out and learning. I had to make up for skipping last week."
“That’s good, Alex. Most kids here only care about fights or showing off. You’re different—don’t lose that.”
Alex felt heat rush to his cheeks, the words catching him in surprise and a strange pride.
Leo’s eyes lingered on him. “Where do you live, by the way?”
“Um… western side of the slums,” Alex murmured. "Though I'm not from here."
Leo nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. He studied the boy’s innocent face, noting the quiet spark of honesty. Yet he held back, letting the answer rest without prying further.
The two spoke while chaos continued around them. Mira, ever swift, eventually caught both Tonno and Lino, leaving them sprawled on the ground. Pinch’s voice rang out: "Oh Leo! We didn’t tell you!"
Leo turned. "Tell me what?"
"That’s right! " Lino stood up, scratching his head, "Your favorite student here, Mira, admitted defeat—" but Mira quickly pressed her hands over his mouth to muffle him. "Mmmmmm!"
"Quiet!" she snapped, glaring, keeping her hands firmly in place.
Tonno jumped in, still sprawled, "I’ll carry on for FALLEN COMRADE, Lino. Mira lost to Alex not long ago."
Leo blinked, mildly surprised, and cast a sidelong glance at Mira. She hesitated, then closed her eyes in mock defeat, chin lowered. “It’s… not quite right... He was about to win, but didn't. He may not look like it, but he is strong. He even beat Tonno in wrestling.”
Tonno blushed, recalling being bested by someone smaller than him. "Oh yes... I almost forgot... should have kept quiet..."
Leo didn’t turn fully to Mira. His eyes blinked slowly, mouth slightly open, lips relaxed, as if he were caught between surprise and mild disgust. A teasing, almost theatrical “What a loser.”
Mira clenched her fists. “You’re the worst.”
Alex laughed softly. Leo then turned to study him, taking in Alex’s broad shoulders and fit frame despite his soft demeanor.
"I trained Mira a little," Leo said gently. "I know how good she is. And Tonno is the strongest among us physically."
Alex nodded. "Makes sense. No wonder she’s tough… and you too, Leo. Though I didn’t get to see you fully in the plaza... but I can tell you're strong."
Leo paused briefly. "I still haven’t thanked you properly for that day. On our way here, I saw her teaching you. Are you interested in boxing or any kind of martial arts?"
Alex hesitated. "Well… I was just learning a little with her. I admire the way she fights."
"Then I can offer you a lesson," Leo said, smiling, calm and confident.
The Wolves stared, momentarily stunned. Alex frowned in confusion.
"Leo? Are you serious?" Mira asked in surprise.
"I am."
"You mean like showing moves, like Mira did?" Alex asked.
"No. I meant a spar. Light, friendly. No full power punches to vital spots. You might learn a few things from a spar more than just me showing you moves. It may help you defending yourself. I am also curious to see how you fight — after all, you beat Mira."
"Or—" He turned slightly, smirking, teasing. "Maybe she’s just weaker now and all the stories I heard that she is better are nonsense."
Mira scoffed, crossing her arms. “Hmpfh.”
Leo raised his hands in a humble, apologetic gesture. "Of course, I won’t force you. But besides fighting, I’m not much good at anything else. Anything goes, you don't necessarily have to box. I mean sincerely to thank you somehow."
Alex considered the moment, thinking to himself.
"It would be rude to refuse. Besides, it’s barely been two months since I arrived here—and already, I’ve been in more fights than all of last year back home. I used to think I could keep my head down, avoid trouble. But here? Trouble finds you. Even the children carry knives. Even friends get hurt. Mira did."
"I hate unnecessary fighting, but if I cannot defend myself—or those I care for—then what good am I?"
He glanced at the others, then back to Leo. “I accept.”
The air seemed to spark with energy.
“Alright, bets, bets!” Tonno grinned. “Who’s putting their lunch on who?”
Tonno shook his head. "Sorry, Alex. You don’t stand a chance. Leo’s winning this."
Leo smirked. "Same here."
Alex’s eyes met Pinch’s, the small boy fond of him. He looked for a hint of encouragement, and Pinch, after a moment’s deadpan stare, smiled almost innocently—enough for Alex to feel a quiet boost, as if the boy was silently saying, I’ve got your back. “Alex…”
Then—“You’re getting stomped on.”
Tonno and Lino exploded in laughter. Alex laughed too; he didn’t expect to win, though it stung a little.
Finally, attention turned to Mira, arms crossed, standing silently. After a long pause. “Alex.” She said.
Alex felt heat rise to his cheeks. Finally, someone showing that they believed he had a chance. The gang didn’t tease her, but they looked stunned. Leo caught her meaning immediately — her quiet encouragement beneath the flat tone.
Before anyone could reply, Mira reached into her jacket and pulled out a long strip of cloth. Crossing the space to Alex, she knelt slightly and began wrapping his knuckles with swift, practiced precision.
Alex blinked. “Uh… Mira? What's this?”
Her fingers moving deftly, she pulled the cloth snug, looping firmly around his wrists. “This is for safety,” she said flatly, eyes never leaving her work. “It absorbs some impact so you don’t injure your knuckles—or your opponent.”
“That’s smart,” Alex said.
She finished, gave his wrist a testing squeeze, then rose. Without a word, she tossed another roll toward Leo, who caught it mid-air with one hand. Their eyes met. She said nothing, no warning, no plea — The silence spoke volumes.
Leo inclined his head subtly and began wrapping his own hands, simple strips of worn linen. Alex mirrored him, eyes fixed but uncertain. Nearby, Tonno crossed his arms, skeptical.
“Leo,” Tonno asked, “what’s the point of making Alex wear those? He’s not going to hurt you, even if he tries.”
“Enough looking down on him already.” Leo’s voice was calm, almost casual, and Tonno flinched slightly.
He tied the last knot, testing the wrap with a firm clench. Then, eyes locking on Alex, he said quietly, serious:
“And I’m not made of stone, Tonno. I’m just a kid, same as you. One hard punch and I’ll go down like anyone else. I feel pain like you. This is protection for me as much as for him.”
Tonno fell silent. Mira watched as well, attentive. Lino and Pinch backed away, giving the two fighters space.
Leo removed his jacket, folded it neatly under the tree, and stepped forward, loose-limbed and relaxed. He raised a fist gently toward Alex.
Alex stepped back nervously. “Wait, are we… starting already?”
“Fist bump. It’s a greeting before the fight,” Mira called from the sidelines.
Alex blushed and scratched the back of his head. “Oh… sorry. I’m still new to this.”
Leo chuckled, lowering his fist. “Yeah, I should’ve said something too.” His smile was warm and reassuring.
Mira turned to Lino and Tonno, trying to suppress their laughter.
“Laugh all you want,” she said, glaring. “But at least he’s got the guts to spar with Leo. You two wouldn’t last a minute with me.”
“Okay, okay — low blow!” Lino wheezed.
Tonno raised his hands in surrender. “She’s got a point.”
Alex bumped Leo’s fist with a quiet thock.
Then—
Leo’s gentle smile faded instantly.
He rose his fists, guard perfect — neither too low nor too high. His face became icy, eyes locking onto Alex. That alone sent shivers down the boy’s spine.
"His stance… it’s so elegant. This will be… something else."
Both fighters circled slowly, studying one another.
At the edge of the circle, Tonno whispered, “Were you serious, Mira? When you bet on Alex?”
She replied coolly. ''I just wanted to give him some confidence. He has no chance.”
Lino, more serious, added, “Now that I think about it… Leo’s right. We’re looking down on Alex way too much. He did well against Mira.”
"And Zack." he added in silence, making sure the name doesn't get mentioned in front of Mira.
Tonno nodded. "True. I wrestled him, and in raw strength, I think he’s above Leo."
Pinch tilted his head. “So… you think he can win?”
Lino shook his head. “Leo’s punching technique is second to none. He hits harder than anybody... But if this is a friendly spar and he will hold back, then Alex might give him a hard time with his grappling and tackling.”
Tonno grinned. “This will be thrilling, then.”
Mira remained deadpan, ignoring the chatter, watching Alex took a cautious step closer to Leo.
“This is a lesson, not a real fight,” she muttered to herself.
"But I am still worried..."
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