Zephyra's POV
I couldn't remember the last time I'd been this excited.
Maybe the day of my first real fight, when I walked into the ring thinking I was finally on my way to being someone that mattered. That excitement hadn't lasted long, not after I'd been thrown around like a rag doll and knocked out before I could even land a decent hit.
After that, excitement had been a luxury. Hope, even more so, but now? Now I was practically buzzing. Astraea, the same beautiful, terrifying woman who once stepped into a fight and made an undefeated champion cry, had told me to come with her.
She didn't exactly say she was going to train me, but she'd looked me dead in the eye and told me to follow. That was enough.
I had a job, yes. My manager was probably going to chew me out later for vanishing mid-shift, but I couldn't bring myself to care. This—this—was something I wasn't about to pass up.
I followed closely behind Astraea as she crossed to the other side of the gym, trying my best to keep my excitement under control. The second we stepped out of the main training space and into one of the private rooms, I noticed him, that guy.
Tall. Tattooed arms that looked like they belonged in a biker gang, but paired with a face that looked too perfect to be real. Messy dark hair, a strong jaw, and eyes that narrowed slightly when he saw Astraea. He didn't look angry, just... concerned. Protective, maybe.
Oh. Was that her boyfriend?
My steps slowed for a second, and I tilted my head, watching them. The way he approached her, like she was something breakable and deadly at the same time, made me wonder just how much he knew about her. About what she really was.
Was he like her? A demon too? Or was he clueless?
My mind spiraled with possibilities, and I had to physically bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from blurting out something dumb like, 'So, does your boyfriend know you're a literal hellspawn?'
Instead, I kept quiet and moved to a corner of the room, giving them space while pretending to stretch like I knew what I was doing. I wasn't about to risk getting kicked out before things even started.
I watched them as subtly as I could. Astraea leaned in close to the guy, her voice low, barely audible. He leaned in too, murmuring something that made her roll her eyes and smirk in that effortless, cocky way of hers. He said something else, and she responded with a shrug that looked a little too casual.
I wasn't stupid. They were definitely whispering about me.
Was he warning her not to waste her time? Telling her that I was too weak, too slow, too... human?
A small knot of insecurity began to form in my chest, but I did my best to push it down. I wasn't here to impress anyone. I was here to get stronger, and if Astraea wanted to test me first, fine. I'd show her I wasn't a complete lost cause.
Eventually, Astraea turned to me again, her smirk still in place as she walked over. The tattooed guy stayed where he was, arms crossed over his chest now, watching me like a hawk. I resisted the urge to fidget.
"You ready?" Astraea asked.
I nodded quickly. "Yes."
Her eyes roamed over me, assessing. Judging. "You're not going to cry if I break something, are you?"
That made me blink. "Uh... I'd prefer if you didn't?"
She let out a dry laugh and glanced back at the guy. "Draven, she's got a sense of humor. Maybe this won't be so boring after all."
So his name was Draven. Huh. Fitting.
Draven didn't smile. He just shook his head slightly and muttered something under his breath. I caught the word "reckless" but couldn't tell who it was aimed at—me or Astraea.
Probably both.
"Alright," Astraea said, cracking her neck casually. "We'll start light. Show me your stance."
I froze. "My... what?"
"Your stance," she repeated slowly, as though talking to a particularly dense toddler. "You know, how you stand when you're not planning to get punched in the face."
Right.
I quickly moved into the one basic stance I knew—knees slightly bent, fists up, elbows in. I'd seen better. Hell, I'd have done better on a good day, but right now I was too nervous to focus on being perfect.
Astraea stared for a beat, then nodded.
"It's not the worst thing I've seen," she said, then added with a smirk, "Can't say it's great, but we'll manage."
I almost sighed in relief.
She moved like water, one second she was standing still, the next she was in front of me, circling like a predator. I instinctively turned to follow her movements.
Without warning, she jabbed at my shoulder. Lightly, but enough to throw me off.
"Your balance is trash," she said flatly. "Fix it."
I adjusted. She nudged my foot with hers. "Wider. You're not dancing."
Another adjustment.
She kept at it for a few more minutes, making small corrections, criticizing nearly everything I did, but it wasn't mean, not really. She didn't insult me. She just didn't sugarcoat anything either.
Honestly, I kind of liked that.
"Alright," she said finally, stepping back. "We'll do this every evening when you're not working."
My heart leapt.
"Wait, seriously?" I asked, not bothering to hide my shock.
"I'm not doing this for charity," Astraea said, turning away again. "You want to train, you show up. You don't, and I stop caring. Simple."
I grinned. "I'll show up."
"Good," she said, glancing over her shoulder at me. "Don't make me regret this."
"I swear," I said quickly, almost tripping over my own words. "You won't regret this. I'll give it everything I've got."
Astraea didn't look moved. In fact, the way she narrowed her eyes at me, arms folded, expression unimpressed, made me feel like I was a cockroach she hadn't decided whether to step on or ignore.
Her gaze drifted over me slowly, like she was reevaluating her choice. Again.
"Don't get ahead of yourself," she said finally, her voice flat. "You do work in this gym every day, don't you?"
Oh.
Right.
That one little detail.
I had completely forgotten about it. I work here now, yes, but… "Technically, no," I admitted, scratching the back of my neck and offering an awkward smile. "I actually have other jobs too. Part-time stuff, but I can totally carve out an hour or two in the evenings. I'll make it work."
Astraea raised a brow. "Other jobs?"
"Well," I began with a nervous laugh, "I kind of… have three."
"Three jobs?"
Her voice didn't even rise, but it echoed with disbelief. That same icy tone of hers, lined with something I couldn't quite name—not anger, not judgment—just genuine confusion. Maybe a little concern?
"I've got a lot of debt," I explained, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. "Like, a lot. Rent, utilities, medical bills… you name it, and I don't exactly make much from fighting. I lose a lot, if I'm being honest."
"You don't say," she murmured dryly, and I flushed.
"I've got a day shift at the café that ends at exactly 2pm. After that, I'll come here for a few hours, and then I bartend at night. It's a juggling act, but it keeps food on the table for me and my mom. And I swear, I'll always find time to train, even if it means less sleep."
Astraea didn't say anything at first. She just stared at me, her expression unreadable as usual. I hated how beautiful she was, honestly. Even when she was silent and unreadable, she still managed to look like she walked out of a dark fairy tale.
Finally, she sighed like she'd come to a decision she wasn't sure she liked.
"Let me know when you have your next fight," she said, her tone firm. "If you're going to be my student, it'll be embarrassing if you keep losing. I won't have my name tied to failure."
That made me blink.
Then swallow.
Then nervously laugh again.
"Okay, so... if that's the case, then maybe we should hold off on the whole teacher-student label until after tomorrow night."
Her brow lifted again. "Tomorrow night?"
"Yeah," I said, cringing just a bit. "I, um... I have a fight tomorrow. One of those underground matches. It's not exactly a huge one, but it's good money if you win. Which I probably won't. So... yeah."
"You're fighting tomorrow, and you didn't think to mention that sooner?"
"You didn't exactly ask," I mumbled.
She gave me that look again, like I was a puzzle missing several crucial pieces, and then exhaled sharply, shaking her head. "Who's the opponent? Give me a description."
"Some girl named Rina. I've never fought her before, but I've seen her. She's built like a tank, and she punches like a wrecking ball. Real cheerful stuff."
"Sounds promising," Astraea muttered, clearly not impressed. "Are you planning to go in there and get slaughtered?"
"Honestly? I was just going to wing it and hope I came out with all my teeth still in my mouth."
She narrowed her eyes at me, clearly unamused.
I cleared my throat and straightened up. "But now that I've got you, I mean, kind of... unofficially... maybe you could give me a few pointers before tomorrow? Nothing fancy! Just, you know, how to not die."
Astraea stared at me for a long moment. I couldn't tell if she was annoyed, intrigued, or wondering if she could fake her own death to avoid ever dealing with me again. Maybe all three.
"You're already exhausting," she finally muttered.
"I've been told."
"And tactless."
"That too."
"But fine." She uncrossed her arms and moved a step closer. "Tomorrow night, I'll be there. I want to see how bad it is."
"You're coming to the fight?"
"I don't let people attach my name to mediocrity," she said with a shrug. "If I'm going to train you, I need to know how far gone you are."
"Wow," I said, letting out a soft laugh. "I feel so… valued."
"You should. I don't waste time on humans."
"Flattered," I said, smiling despite myself.
She didn't smile back, but her eyes held the faintest hint of amusement, or maybe I was imagining it. Probably that.