"Hey, wake up." Huh? I opened my eyes and Yumi was standing over me.
"Good, you're awake. I removed the needles, you should be fine." I looked at my arm and it was fine the only thing it left was a large scar. My ribs were also healed along with my other injuries.
"Are you some sort of magician?" Yumi looked at me and laughed. What's so funny? You healed me with needles I think you're a magician.
"No, not a magician just a regular martial artist." No way! Yumi is a martial artist?! But she's so beautiful and looks so fragile! Is that her fist?
"I know that look! I hate that look!" She punched me in my nose. My nose is bleeding. I guess she gets that look I gave her a lot.
"I've trained for a while and I'm only a doctor because being a martial artist isn't sustainable!" Looks like I struck a nerve. I should apologize before she kicks my ass.
"Uh, I'm sorry I didn't know." Bingo! Accountability is an amazing skill that most people should have. Yumi looked at me and sighed before sitting back down on her chair.
"It's fine kid, my bad for punching your face. You'll be fine, the effects of the needles should still be lingering in your system. It'll heal in like two hours or something," Yumi said as she read her book and tossed me a bun, "Eat that, you're going to need all the energy you can get."
This bun was stale and tasted like rotten dog nuts. When I finished the bun, the sliding door of the infirmary opened. The man was standing there and he signaled for me to follow him.
"Cya Yumi." I waved and Yumi just rolled her eyes. I put my hands in my all-black prisoner uniform. This uniform is surprisingly comfy and I'd wear it regularly if I wasn't captured. It was all black with a large red dragon on the black and the number 787 in red on my chest.
"You will train harshly for one week before going into your next match. Training will consist of punching sets, kicking sets, pull-ups, chin-ups, push-ups, squats, deadlifts, bench presses, jogging, and shadowboxing. You will be doing all of this while having a 50lb vest on and a 45lb belt. Your training clothes will weigh 15lbs and will increase by 5lbs every day until it reaches 50lbs. Understood?" Am I training to fight Goku or something?! This training regime is the definition of hell on earth! Me and the man walked for another two minutes before reaching a large metal door. The door had a card reader and the man scanned his card and the light turned green opening the door. Behind the door was a large training facility with multiple punching bags, treadmills, bench presses, dumbbells that went up to 500lbs, and a large boxing ring.
"Go undress. The training clothes will be in the locker room. Be back here in five minutes." I walked to the locker room. On one of the lockers was a black tank top with a red dragon and black shorts with a red dragon, guess the place I'm in is affiliated with dragons or something? I undressed and put on the clothes. I was immediately hit with 15lbs on my chest and legs, may sound light but it's really not. I walked out of the locker room in a slow pace to try and get used to the new weight.
"Once you put on that vest and belt, we will begin your training." Damn it. I put the 50lb vest on and immediately fell to my knees. My legs couldn't handle 80lbs and I still had to add another 45.
"Get up." I have to get up! Or he's probably going to do something to me! I slowly began to rise to my feet and I stood up albeit I was very wobbly.
"Now put on the belt so we can begin." I put on the training belt and almost fell to my knees again, my legs were carrying 110lbs just on my upper body and another 15 on my legs making the total weight 125lbs.
"Alright. What you will do first is punch that punching bag 100 times 3 times over alright? Use those bandages as gloves, don't want your bloody knuckles ruining the real ones." This man has to be a sadist! Couldn't he just lend me some disposable gloves? I struggled to walk but eventually made my way to the punching bag. I wrapped the bandages on a nearby table around my fists to make a glove, then I began punching.
1..2..3...4. This punching only took me 20 hits before my knuckles began to turn red. After 50 hits my knuckles began to bleed.
57...58...59...60! My knuckles can't take this! I have 40 more hits not counting the three sets I have to do. In total, I have to punch this punching bag 340 more times to be complete.
245...246...247...248...I don't know how long I've been punching for but I can't feel my hands anymore. The punching bag is dyed red and my bandage gloves are completely red. My knuckles are dripping blood. I have to continue, If I give up here then I would be admitting that I can't handle this. I don't know where this pride came from but I like it so I won't allow it to be tarnished!
397...398...399...400! I did all my sets! I stopped punching and fell on my ass. My knuckles were leaking blood and my arms felt like there were filled with lava.
"Impressive. I'm surprised you didn't give up." The man came out of nowhere and began clapping.
"Haaa...haaa...haaa...what's next?" The man pulled a tablet from his back pocket and smirked.
"You will kick that boulder 100 times for 3 sets. Use those bandages as leg guards." He's definitely a sadist! I'd much rather punch hard leather than kick hard rock! I slowly got up and wobbled my way to the boulder in the corner of the facility. I struggled to wrap my legs with bandages due to the weights but eventually got it. I kicked the boulder hard and felt a jolt of pain course through my body, this isn't going to be fun.
4...5...6...7. Only seven kicks in and my legs are already bleeding, I hope Yumi can heal me after this. With every kick I noticed a slight increase in speed and power. Not enough to break the boulder but enough to chip it very slightly.
398...399...400! That's all of them! The boulder was covered in blood and I fell on my ass again as I couldn't feel my legs.
"Good. Now go run 70 miles on the treadmill going 25 mph." 25 mph!? Do I look like Usain Bolt to you?! I groaned and slowly got up. I almost fell down again due to the pain in my legs but I pushed forward and hobbled to the treadmill. I got on the treadmill and set the speed to gradually rise to 25 mph. I began jogging and with each impact with the treadmill my legs screamed in pain. I shut the pain up with sheer will and continued jogging until it turned into a full-on run. As the speed increased the faster my legs hit the treadmill until it reached 25 mph and I was still running with it.
2 miles...3 miles...4 miles...My legs are giving out, I can't run anymore. As I began to slow down the treadmill wasn't as merciful and almost launched me off. I held onto the handles on the side and pushed myself to continue. I will not allow myself to fail! If there is one thing that is going to keep me is alive it's determination! If I fall off of this treadmill I would be acknowledging my own weakness! The weakness I'm fighting so hard to get rid of! I will not fall! I continues to run and I felt my legs tear themselves apart, despite the pain I still continued.
67...68...69...70! Once I finished my quota I was launched off the treadmill and into a weapons rack.
"I knew it was a good idea to buy you from those assholes. At least they're good for something." Buy me? BUY ME!? The indescribable rage I felt is a testament to my own will. The will to be free, to be strong, to be on top. I guess the rage appeared on my face because I was kicked into a wall.
"Don't you ever look at me like that again," The man came up and pulled me closer to his face by my hair, "Understand?" I nodded and he dropped me back on the ground.
"Now. I want you to do 100 pull-ups, chin-ups, push-ups, and squats. Then you will do 100 curls with a 70lb dumbbell." Fuck. This is only day one of training, I won't give up! I slowly got up and once I stood up my body exuded unhealthy amounts of blood out of my twelve-year-old. My body was beyond aching and was sending jolts of pain to my brain without stop. I ignored the pain to the best of my abilities and wobbled to the pull-up bar. I jumped and hung onto the bar, my body was being affected by my injuries, and the 125lbs I was carrying on me. I pulled myself up and my arms began shaking due to the weight. Once I got my head over the bar I had to repeat.
1...2...3...4...5...This is incredibly straining. I almost passed out twice during these five pull-ups. It's gotten to the point where I'm wondering what's driving me? To be free? What will I do with my freedom? Freedom is subjective, this could be freedom to someone who's never been outside. What's my driving force? It's not freedom. Is it strength? To become greater than the one who has captured me? Then after that what do I do? Continue fighting until I reach the top? Then what? I'm already at the peak, who is there to fight? Strength isn't what's driving me, then what is!? What is my driving force!? I feel as if my driving force is a combination of freedom and strength, dominance? No, that doesn't sound right. Its pride. My driving force is my pride. What am I proud of? I haven't done anything that's worthy to be proud of. I feel that's the right answer, my pride to not lose is my driving force.
98...99...100! I let go of the bar and collapsed on the ground. Looking at my hands, they were bloody and my arms had many small cuts that were leaking blood. My neck-length hair was sticking to my face due to blood and sweat. The bandages I kept around my hands and legs are dyed completely red and aren't absorbing any more blood, making my blood drip. I don't know how much blood I've lost today but it's way too much, a twelve-year-old like me should be dead by now. I slowly got up again and put my hands on the bar once again only this time they were in a reverse grip so I can do chin-ups.
15...16...17...18...Chin-ups are a lot easier than pull-ups even in my condition. My body was dripping with sweat and blood as I went up for another chin up. My muscles, bones, nerves, and brain were screaming in pain but I still persisted.
97...98...99...100. I let go of the bar and hit the hard stone floor of the training facility. I think I've hit my limit. I can hardly feel my body, my vision is blurring I've hit my limit.
"Hm? Looks like you've hit your limit. I'm surprised you didn't pass out when you were punching and kicking." The man clapped as he walked over to me. The man took the vest and belt off of my body and began dragging me out of the training facility by my shirt. I have to do this same training for a week? If he wants me to fight what about learning martial arts? I hope I'm not fighting some grown man again, that would fucking suck. We eventually reached the infirmary and Yumi already had the black box out.
"Thank Yumi." The man waves goodbye as he dropped me in the infirmary. Yumi sighed and picked up me. She picked me up?!
"What? You aren't heavy, you're only twelve." Oh. I thought I would weigh more. Yumi dropped me onto the bed and opened the black box. I'm going to hate this.
"You've lost so much blood. I can't imagine the amount of pain you went through, kid." I hope you wouldn't have to, that's a hellish amount.
"Yeah. I have to do this again six more times. I hope it pays off." Yumi looked at me in slight shock but her face returned to indifference in a matter of seconds.
"Your name is Monkey right kid?" Why is she asking me this? I thought she already knew my name.
"Mhm. I thought you already knew my name though?" Yumi didn't make eye contact with me and fake coughed.
"I uh have a tendency to forget people's names." That's funny. Who knew such a calm and collected woman has such a silly flaw.
"What's so funny?" By the way she's holding that needle should I really answer? YOLO.
"You. You're funny, who knew such a calm woman had such a silly flaw." Yumi looked at me then began laughing herself. When I say Yumi was the most beautiful woman I've ever seen, I mean that. The way her blonde hair moved as she laughed, her amber eyes that sparkled in the light of the room, and her fit yet fragile figure.
"Now, why are you laughing?" Yumi didn't answer and continued to laugh for another thirty seconds before answering.
"You probably think I'm some grown woman right?" Well obviously. I nodded at her question and she almost bursted out in laughter again.
"I'm only fourteen." WHAT!? There is no way she's only fourteen!! Is this the power of an anime world? The shock was probably prevalent on my face and Yumi giggled before putting a needle in one of my wounds. The world of pain began once again.