Luscious vegetation enveloped Mila. She moved ever so alert, sensing the danger in the shadows underneath the leafy canopies. Layers of chirping birds and cicadas’ monotone buzzing tymbals disguised her attackers’ steps. The quieter she wanted to be, the louder her heart drummed, deafening her ears. She lost her concentration; someone grabbed her braid and pulled her down while another punched her on the chest. She stumbled backwards and fell on her back, sore. In an agile move, she sprung up. Five fighters encircled her. Humidity increased as did her struggle to concentrate. Another strike she didn’t see it coming, a kick on the back made her fall on her knees. Aching, she jumped back up, trying to find her balance, her legs were shaking. Mila licked her lips, swallowing salty sweat and coppery blood mixed with her saliva.
“I’m not afraid to shed a little blood.” Mila scorned, wiping the blood with the back of her hand, although it wasn’t true. She was terrified, but had to show herself tough because of those watching at the other side of the fighting ground. Copious drops of perspiration rolled down the crown of Mila’s head, wetting her chest and back. The regular workout had become something else, an intense training session. She swiftly took off her loose t-shirt she wore on top of her athletic wear and made a tight bonnet to hide her long braid. Her attackers wouldn’t use it to bring her down again.
“Since you just changed the rules of the game…” Mila said in a ready fight position. “Take a hit! I won’t hit the ground this time!”
And the fight broke again.
Mila became a moving blade, sharp and effective. Her mind and body moved in unison as if she was a Tamahagane sword being heated and hammered, only making her soul stronger. Her assailants’ strikes made her smarter. She anticipated their moves, blocked their kicks and punches, dodged their grabby hands and delivered her elbows and knees to their hearts and lungs and kidneys.
Mila peered at her remaining opponents, a couple of two-hundred-plus pounds of trained muscle. Masae’s guards were international special ops gone astray. Both men attacked simultaneously with a couple of bokken each. Mila blocked them, gasping by the pain of wood against her bones. Mind over matter, echoed a voice inside her head. Mind over matter, remember to master the pain. Who said that? She had a brief flash, but she didn’t have time to ponder.
“Focus, Mila!” said Masae from the shadows of the forest.
Mila struck at her two opponents to the beat of the jungle’s heart. The wooden swords crushed against her limbs. She knew they intended to strike her on the throat. That’s what she would have done—break the oxygen flow. She stumbled but recovered. In a swift move she wrapped her arm around the sword, grabbed the wrist of the man forcing it upwards and spun around, adding great pressure. The sword was hers.
“Mind over matter.” Mila repeated under her breath, her eyes on the standing men. She held the bokken as if made for that moment, and began to slice down, striking vulnerable heads, faster and faster, despite the burning in her muscles. Mind over matter.
The fight was ending, the men on the ground with split lips and cheekbones. They looked up to Masae and awaited further orders. They left as another two entered the fighting square, more menacing intentions than the previous group. One, in a super-fast move, took Mila’s bokken and casted it away of her reach.
“Hand-to-hand combat. No problem!” Mila said, knowing that she had to strike immediately when she had an opportunity. She aimed for the jaw and nose and as an attacker bent down, her elbow came down with all her might to the back of the man’s neck. One was down.
The second attacked her from the back and punched her in the back of her head. She spun around as powerful and fast as she could, striking the man in the face with her elbow. She quickly executed high and low kicks with good timing, lowering her body as if it was melting iron. She hit one fighter in the groin with her knee and almost busting the other’s kneecap with a lower kick.
“Please, stay down!” Mila ordered, trying to find Masae and Alexander at the edge of the simulated jungle. “It’s getting too intense. I want to stop. I think I busted his kneecap.”
“Very well.” Masae answered, stepping to the control panel where Alexander already was changing the chamber’s setting from the jungle to a normal gym floor.
The forest and animal sounds disappeared, revealing the bare walls of a spacious exercise and simulation chamber in the castle’s original entertainment room. It was a cross between a dojo and a gym, but with the stroke of a few commands on the computer, the scenery could change, transporting the people to particular locations without leaving the castle.
“Playing dirty, are you!” Alexander said, approaching Mila in the fighting mat in the center of the room.
“Well, it would be a lot more fun if they weren’t so afraid to injure the master’s daughter, don’t you think?” Mila shook hands with the guards. “I’m sorry for the low move.”
“It’s the law of the jungle, quite proper given today’s choice of scenery. It isn’t always the strongest that survives, but the quickest to think on their feet and strike when the opportunity arises.” Masae winked at Mila and Alexander, without hiding her satisfaction with the young woman’s performance. Mila was a sharp blade, and blades had to be sharpened. “I don’t believe for a minute they were holding back, dear. It isn’t in their nature, nor is it in yours. I gave them permission to make the fight real. So, you too, must go all the way.” Masae offered Mila a bottle of water.
“At least they aren’t sore losers.” Mila grinned at Masae and Alexander, taking account of her bruises. “It’s just a few scratches, it could have been worse.” Mila said, accepting the bottle of water Alexander offered her. She considered Masae’s words. It was true the guards were increasingly bolder in their fighting moves and strikes. But it didn’t matter to her; there was an anger deep in her soul that made her want to cut deeper. She was strong and could fight, and according to Masae and Alexander, she had been enhanced to save her life—whatever that meant. She had to be iron.
“Well, carry on with the day!” Masae urged, retiring from the exercise and simulation chamber. “I have business meetings to attend.”
“Well done, Mila!” cheered Alexander, handing her a clean towel. “You have a bit of blood on your lip…let me get it.” He tried to wipe it.
“It’s nothing.” Mila shrugged, pressing her own towel on the slash. “I’m lucky they have such a bad aim.”
“I don’t think so. You are getting quicker; you must recognize it,” Alexander offered, “Your previous training…”
“Before the accident, you mean?” Mila asked, drinking from the bottle.
“Well… Every move seems so organic, so natural.” Alexander dodged the question going to the control panel considering how much of the performance were new skills.
“You heard my mother say that I’ve been training since I learned to walk. She said I had the best master ever. I wish I could remember him.” Mila shook her head as if this one time would force the pieces of the puzzle together and she would remember. Mind over matter, Mila. Was that his voice? She wondered, drinking from her bottle.
“Have you experienced any memory flashes?” Alexander asked casually. He knew about Masae’s tactic of feeding Mila bits of truth to build an emotional bond and render her malleable. Masae envisioned Mila as an eager and cooperative weapon, and possibly the heir to the Norfolk pharmaceutical empire—as long as she never recovered her memory and she embraced Masae’s vision of the future.
“No. I don’t remember anything. I have awful nightmares that feel so real. But I can’t hold on to the memory once I wake up.” Mila said, looking at her bruised hands grabbing the white towel with blood stains to dry her sweat. She wanted to say that she was afraid of falling asleep, the visions were terrifying. But she bit her tongue. She didn’t want to show her vulnerability.
“Would you spar with me, Alexander?” asked Mila, taunting him with the wet, dirty towel. She wanted to show herself careless despite the angst she felt. “Come on! When the cat’s away, the mice shall play.” She grinned, changing the gym settings.
The rustic music of the berimbaus and pandeiro began playing through the surround sound system above, showering them with a tribal fight melody. She stepped in the middle of the fighting mat. “Masae is gone.” She smiled mischievously, as a strange thought crossed her mind—how handsome he was. Even in a pair of sweatpants and a white t-shirt. He was fit in mind and body. Not like the other men of science working in the labs. “It’s better than lifting weights. I see you are ready for a workout.” She raised her eyebrows a couple of times with a side grin.
“It would be a pleasure, but we should call it a day. I’ll go through a fast routine and get back to the laboratory. There is much to do in preparation for tomorrow. So, I suggest you take it easy today and rest up. You will need your strength.”
“But what about you help me cool down with a relaxing capoeira fight. Please?” Mila countered while calling him to the center of the mat.
“I’m a man of science not a fighter, have you forgotten?” Alexander grinned, shaking his head and rubbing his chin.
“No. I haven’t forgotten, but you are young, nimble, and strong for a lab man,” Mila chuckled, unguarded. Alexander was the only one, in the whole year, to see parts of her real self. She identified the issue, perhaps foolish on her part, as her great need for a friend. “I can tell you are also trained.” She lowered her body, swaying with the music softly side to side. “Masae wants fighters, and you are also one of hers. She doesn’t take just the mind, she takes it all.” Mila stretched her legs and arms in harmony with the music, regretting her last statement. However true it was, mentioning Masae ruined the moment. “Anyway, what’s happening tomorrow?”
“Your pleads have been heard. Tomorrow you are leaving the cage,” Alexander answered, entering the fighting mat and striking first.