IX. Activities

The first activity Faim selected on his first day of joining the gym was archery. He watched the archers release the arrows towards their respective targets. The archery instructor gave him some helpful advice.

“Have the right posture for when you're stretching the bowstring.” Faim stood ramrod straight as he held the bow firmly, his right forearm and bicep constricted while he pulled the arrow back. “Relax your muscles, your arms need flexibility to be able to realease the arrow.” Faim did as he was told, he released the arrow but missed the target.

“Practice as many times as you can to improve your aim.” The archer made a clear demonstration by picking an arrow from the quiver, pulled the nock of the arrow stretching the wire back and aimed the point at the right angle. With a keen eye, the archer released the arrow at the right trajectory, the arrow zipped at breakneck speed and the point of the arrow hit the mark, landing two inches away from the bullseye. “With repetition, you'll be able to master archery in no time.”

Faim's eyebrows arched while his brown eyes darted at the arrow and at the archer who instructed him. “And the best part, you can test out which archery style works for you.” The archer added.

Faim fished out another arrow from the quiver slung on his back, strectched the bowstring and pulled the nock, balancing the shaft of the arrow on the arrow rest and tried to imitate his instructor's Western style archery and shot the arrow.

The archery instructor saw that Faim made some progress with his aim. At least the arrow didn't miss the target this time.

“Not bad, keep going at it.” The archer instructor encouraged before he went to check on the other particpants of the sport while Faim experimented shooting the arrow Eastern style by stretching the bowstring, laying it on the opposing side of the arrow rest and released the arrow. The point hit the target as his practice improved slightly.

The next activity Faim chose to participate was Arnis. In this sport, the instructor taught the novices the basics while he held a stick, then  challenged the participants, including Faim, to put their reflexes to the test and gave them an arnis stick.

"You'll be testing your reflexes against your opponent." The instructor flipped the stick between his wrists then pointed it at one of his best students. A young man with dark slick hair, dark skin with a mole between his left eye and left ear walked up to the instructor to give a demonstration of attack, block and defense.

The young man swung the arnis stick to whack the instructor to the head before the instructor blocked it, stepped back a couple of paces then took a defensive position as the young man charged in to strike him. The instructor got hit on the hip as an example, ending the demonstration.

“Choose your sparring partner.” Just as the instructor said those words, a spiky haired teenager with a red bandana jabbed Faim in the sacral bone.

“Hey! Watch it!” Faim snapped, glaring at the smug teenager who had a mischievous smirk plastered across his face.

“What's the matter? Can't handle a quick jab?” Axel teased as he waved his arnis stick in a circular motion then poked the air merely inches away from Faim's jaw tauntingly.

“That makes one.” The arnis instructor stated before the others chose who to practice arnis with. Faim furrowed his eyebrows and glared at Axel who still grinned cynically. Slate eyes beamed with malice.

Faim held a tightened his grip on his arnis stick, brown eyes narrowed at Axel. “You're going down, punk.”

Faim was more determined than ever to wipe the smug expression from Axel's face. As they started to swing their respective sticks at each other, Axel smirked evilly and blocked the attack with the stick and swivelled his wrists to disarm the blonde.

Faim wasn't going to get disarmed on the first try. He kicked Axel on the sternum causing him to grunt in pain.

“Oops. Guess I did it wrong.” Faim smirked before delivering another kick, this time straight toward Axel's left side before he blocked the kick by swinging the arnis stick around Faim's ankle. Axel smirked victoriously.

The instructor sighed. “Stop playing around and pick your next opponents already.”
Faim grumbled under his breath. After picking his next sparring partners, Axel made sure not to touch Faim again for the rest of training.

The sparring session proceeded like this for over two hours until finally everyone was ready to leave the training hall. The young man from earlier came up to Axel and handed him a sheet of paper.

“Here's your schedule, Faim.” The man explained then went off to catch up with his friends. The itinerary was packed with different sessions, there were also different sports he hadn't tried yet.

On the next few weeks, Faim visited the gym to try the following sports: Boxing, climbing, CrossFit, fencing, flag football, and gymnastics.

When he participated in boxing, he was thrilled to watch the two contenders warm up and take their stances before the bell rang.

The first contender was a midweight boxer of color, with cornrows swaying side to side as he dodged one of the punches that came from his opponent, a man with bronzed skin, beady eyes, and short spiky hair that looked like tiny pricks jutting out of his head.

Over half of the regulars were cheering on the first contender whom they called Python. Faim saw Python dodge the punch with finesse then punched his opponent square in the jaw.

The minority who were rooting for the other boxer chanted: "Hustle Thistle hustle! Hustle Thistle hustle! Show these bozos who's got the muscle!"

Thistle quickly recovered and swung his left fist to punch Python but missed, Python was about to give Thistle an uppercut before he blocked it, stepped back, then punched Python at the nose. "C'mon, Python! Get a move on! Show this prick who's number one!" One of Python's friends hollered, then the others let out a woo, showing their support.

Faim was enthralled watching the fight, Thistle give out a flurry of punches whilst Python blocked it, dodged some, and managed to land a punch on Thistle. Thistle landed another punch on Python before Python recoiled and fell to the ground. Thistle's homies cheeres while some of the regulars booed.

The two contenders got back into their respective corners to recover. As they prepared for the final round, Faim looked around and recognized some of the muscular regulars who he had seen lifting weights or trotting on the treadmill. Faim looked like a lanky noodle compared to the others.

Python recovered and got ready for the final round. Thistle glared at him before the referee declared the final round. "Ready? Set... GO!"
He lunged forward and punched Python straight in the face. His opponent took a few steps backwards but stayed upright before punching Thistle back. The two continued hitting each other until finally Thistle was knocked off balance by dodging one of Python's punches. He stumbled backwards and got punched in the face. His nose crunched from the hit before he got hit with an uppercut. Thistle fell on his back with a bloody nose.

“We have a winner!” The referee lifted Python's left arm in the air while his friends cheered. Faim whistled, then applauded Python from where he was.

After Python got out of the ring, Faim asked the referee he could fight in the ring as well. “That depends...” the referee said, glancing over at Python, but he looked away before Faim had the chance to see his expression. “Do you want to try?”

Faim nodded. He didn’t know if Python was a good fighter or not. All the other people had left, and it wasn't like he was going to ask them for advice. And what would he even do anyway, fight him or something?

“It won’t be too hard, it will only take a few seconds,” Python said reassuringly. “I won fair and square on this thing, so I don’t really care how you decide we fight."

“Okay, fine," Faim agreed. "I’m ready whenever you are,” he said, nodding toward the ring.

“Great!” Python said cheerfully and headed toward the ring without saying anything else.
Faim put on the boxing gloves and punched his own palm just to test how good the boxing gloves were, then got ready to face Python.

“You're not from around here, are you?” Python asked, taking a defensive stance.

“You got that right.” Faim grinned, taking his own defensive stance.

This was all just stupid, and it’s not like Faim needed to win this match. Python probably wouldn’t even give him a second round.

The bell rang and the fists started flying. The first few rounds were okay, but it quickly became clear that Python knew nothing about Faim, and they kept trading blow after blow.
The newcomer managed a lucky shot into Python’s stomach and knocked the wind out of him, forcing him to the ground.
Python lay there gasping for air, clutching at his stomach.
Faim stared down at him, stunned.
He'd been holding back, hadn't wanted to hurt his opponent. If he'd landed that punch in a more precise direction, though, Python might have died. Maybe even badly.
"Are you alright?" Faim asked.
“Yeah, I’ll live,” Python gasped. He reached up to grab Faim’s hand and pulled himself onto his feet. His hand still felt warm under Faim’s fingers. “You sure you haven't tried boxing before?”

“No, I’ve never boxed before. But you should see my sister, she's very good. She taught me some basic moves when I was little,” Those basic moves being dodging anything Eimy could throw at him whether it were kitchen knives, silverware or using one of her sandals. He learned how to dodge attacks very quickly when they were growing up. He used to have the advantage being the older sibling by outrunning her. She would chase him around the house to give him a beating with a fly swatter or a frying pan. “And I can kick your ass anytime.”

“Good to hear,” Python muttered. He turned away from Faim and bent over the ropes, coughing. After a minute he straightened again. “Okay,” he said with a shaky laugh. “Let's do that again.”