“Laying  on floor will leave stain Aleks-san.” a man said in a thick Japanese accent.

Master Takashi reclined on a chair, his hand lifted mid-air. He opened his mouth as if to impart profound wisdom on the younger generation in front of him, then a grape fell in his mouth, ruining the entire picture.

The hardwood floor was drenched in sweat that turned red with blood dripping from Aleksander’s fists. One of the many pains caused by doing two hundred knuckle push-ups on a wooden floor. 

Eyes laden with sweat, Aleks turned his face and rolled his eyes at his masters’ antics. An action which has gotten him a lot of torture, or as his master would say; training, in the past.

“Yes, master.”

A few grunts later and he stood. After bowing, he walked to the storeroom and retrieved a cloth and bucket. Cleaning the floor after training had become ingrained in him as a daily task. A necessity born out of his sweat and blood staining the floor regularly. After being saved by his master years ago, he started training with him. A duty he took on willfully and with great passion.

“Aleks-san, someone throw you with egg. What you do?”

Pondering, Aleks paused, a frown marring his youthful face.

“You dodge it.” he replied.

“Wrong! You catch egg and hit one that throw it in face. You no waste food!”

At times he wondered if his master had more passion for food than his martial arts. After witnessing his master eating the past few years he deduced that it is only through great training and more than a dash of mystery that he remained relatively lean. 

Finishing up in the dojo, he greeted his master with a bow and headed out onto the street. Athens could be described as a prosperous city as trade bloomed, especially between Tyre and Brittania, creating an influx of exotic goods and keeping the populace in high spirits. The sun shone on people bustling about as they went about their daily tasks. A group of children ran past, a dog happily chasing them. Women hanged washing on lines between their houses as they gossiped with one another.

As in most Greek cities, the houses were mostly white and built from stone, wood, and clay bricks. Some of the larger homes had several bedrooms, but most had only one or two rooms.

A combination of thick walls and the city’s elite hoplites protected them from any outside danger whilst the rod bearers policed the streets. The rod bearers mostly kept the peace as severe crimes were met with immediate punishment but lesser crimes, like intimidation or the roughing up of poor folk, were mostly ignored.

Seeing a patrol, Aleks’ bruised fists clenched. For him it felt like yesterday. Memories flashed by him as his mother’s screams pierced the night and his father’s eyes stared into the sky  lifelessly. The mocking laughter and a stillness as blood dripped from his master’s fist.

With great effort he calmed himself, breathing in deeply and slowly releasing his breath, letting peace fill him. Suddenly, arms grasped around his neck, choking him. Muscle memory kicked in, and his elbow met with an unfortunate short rib. The arms choking him loosened up before they got grabbed as he threw the unfortunate assailant over his shoulder.

“Aleks, relax brother!” the crumpled form on the road mumbled painfully.

Recognition dawned on his face as the form of his friend revealed itself.

“Luke! Do you want to go to Tartarus? What were you thinking, friend?”

With a smirk, Aleksander extended a hand to him. Luke grabbed it, a smile forming on his face, as he pulled himself up, towering over his shorter friend.

“Continue smiling like that and you’ll look up at me again.” Aleks said

“Once again I implore you, oh great Aleksander, do not take your humble stature to heart. Many a great man of your length has reached great heights.” Luke paused dramatically. “Though, they still need help getting to the top shelf!” 

Aleksander replied with a deadpan stare at his comedic friend. It’s been eight years since Luke passed him in height and since then the short jokes had not stopped. The two of them walked down the street as they dodged horse carts, and waved at familiar people. Two childhood friends from different beginnings. They rounded a corner and a shopkeeper called out.

“Luke! Glad to see you, send regards to your father. Thank him for setting me up with that ship from Cyprus.” 

“Will do Cert!” He waved.

“Sounds like business is going great,” Aleks remarked.

“Wine is lucrative. We expanded our merchant fleet to four ships now. You could say we are kicking the competitors, except for Cronis,” Luke said with a frown, his face changing from joyful to concerned. ”They are pretty upset with us.” 

As they walked, the houses transitioned from large and well looked after, to smaller and  shabbier. The residents clearly did not have enough drachma to keep it in good order, or simply did not care. 

“You’ll have to be careful, I heard the Cronis household can be pretty brutal.” 

Luke grins. “If they have it out for me, I’ll just call you, since you have more unique kicks than they have men.”

Aleks laughed.”I think that practicing one kick a thousand times is better than knowing a thousand different kicks.”

“Since when did you get so wise?” Luke scoffed.

“Master Takashi rubbed off on me a bit, you should join sometime.” Aleks replied.

Laughing, they arrived at their destination, a small house greeting them. Signs of ageing were visible on it but it was much better kept and maintained. A stark difference against its neighbours.

“Mom, I’m home!” Aleksander called out, pushing the door open.

As they entered, a spartan living room was revealed. A few benches and a singular table could be seen with small pot plants resting on it.

“Aleks! Welcome home.” a woman’s voice rang from the back of the house.

“Well this is where I go home, I’ll see you around Aleks.” Luke walked out, waving.

“See you tomorrow my friend!” 

Wearily he dropped on a chair. It had been a tough day for him. Working at the docks unloading cargo and then practising martial arts took a toll on his body, even if he still had the energy that someone of 19 summers had.

“How was your day son?” his mother appeared from the kitchen.

With a brush of her hand, she pushed her blonde locks behind her ear. Her blue eyes filled with care looked at him, searching for anything amiss. With a weary sigh, Aleks told her about his day, of everything he went through while his mother listened with interest. They conversed until the sun started to set. Abruptly his mother looked at him, realisation hitting her. 

“I completely forgot! Yalta needed to get some of the dinner that I cooked. Her husband got sick and she has to look after him. Could you please take it to them?”

“Sure mom.” He dutifully replied. 

Doing tasks for his mother never bothered him. She always took care of him since she raised him up by herself since he was eleven. . . after his father was murdered in one of the ignored “lesser crimes”.

The last rays of light touched the cobbled street as he walked. Summer allowed Aleks to wear a sleeveless tunic, emphasizing his life of hard labour and training. While he walked, people finished up with work and left for home, leaving the streets far emptier than it was earlier in the day. A man jogged past him while a few dogs wandered the street, sniffing and marking their territories. Halfway to Yalta’s house, he heard a sound that he was all too familiar with. The sound of flesh hitting flesh and grunts of pain flavoured with cursing.

Curious, he deviated from his path, picking up speed. Following the sound, he entered a narrow and dark alleyway. He slowed down as the sound became louder and cautiously peeked around the corner.

A few manlike figures could be seen milling about while two other figures beat another one against the wall furthest from him. Sighing, he turned away to call some of the rod bearers briefly hesitating as his memories from earlier revisit. His mother’s screams and his master’s bleeding fist. . .

They won’t do anything. They’ll most likely shrug it off saying it’s traders beating out a deal. He set Yalta’s dinner down and gathered his courage, pumping his fists as he readied himself. With slow and steady footsteps he left the alley, sneaking behind the closest shape. With a practised movement he hit the head of the man with his fist, timing it with one of the strikes they gave the poor sod against the wall. 

A few years of training made one hit enough as he dropped the man like a sack of grain. Aleks managed to dampen the sound of the body’s fall with his leg, keeping his action unnoticed. Finally getting a full count, he saw five figures in the dark. The next victim, or rather ruffian goes down the same way. Sneaking closer, he made out some of the features of the man being beaten and stopped. The poor sod was taller than him, with black hair and was someone that usually grinned at him while joking about his height. Shaking off his shock he readied himself for the next move. That is until the closest man turned around.

“By Zeus” the man swore. “We got company!” he said,grabbing the attention of the rest.

Bursting into action, Aleks became a flurry of motion. His body left the ground as he spun at a high speed, creating fearsome momentum. With his foot extended he connected with the unfortunate face in his way, knocking him out cold. The Wushu butterfly kick, a powerful kick executed in such a way that it would make his master proud.

The other men paused after seeing the unknown but fearsome kick. Being rather cautious after seeing their associates knocked unconscious the leader said: “Spread out men, surround him.” 

Moonlight fell on the alley, illuminating three men surrounding a lone man.

“I couldn’t help but notice you beating up my friend.” Aleks testily said, his voice cold.

“So you know this one eh. Let’s just say that it’s his family’s fault for becoming a bit too wealthy for their own good.” the leader answered.

With a subtle action of his arm, the leader signalled an attack. The figure to Aleksander’s left charged in an attempt to tackle him, forcefully grabbing his attention while the man on the right moved in. Thinking quickly, Aleks turned towards the tackler, bursting forward with arms reaching for the man’s head. His knee soon followed as he broke the nose of the poor tackler, splattering blood over his scarred knee.

Strong arms reached around his neck and chest, locking his movement as the leader followed up with heavy punches to his abdomen, eliciting grunts of pain from Aleks. Before the man could follow up with another punch, Aleks pushed back and brought up his leg in a kick, smashing yet another face. The hold around him tightened, darkening his vision.

With a great heave and expending precious air, his elbow hit the grappler in his short rib, cracking it. With a gasp, the hold around him loosened. Taking advantage of the opening, he grabbed a hold of the arms around him and threw the man over his head, before he followed up with a stomp to his head. Catching a much-needed breath, his gaze met that of the last man.

“You are going to regret this friend of the Papadakis.” the man said, spitting to the side.

“Lets get on with it, I’ve got food that needs to be delivered” Aleks tersely replied.

“My employer does not take kindly to competition. He dislikes rats interfering even more.” the man said, a sneer etched on his face.

“Good thing I’m not a rat.”

With a burst of motion, Aleks appeared in front of the man, dropping to the ground while dodging a meaty fist thrown with full force. With an extension of his shin he swept his opponent’s legs. A painful smack resounded in the dark night as the man hit the ground. With poise, Aleks flips in the air and lands, his heel greeting the previously sneering face with an axe kick.

As he sat on the ground catching his breath the adrenaline left his body. A long day of work and training combined with a night of fighting took a great toll on him. With a weary and audible sigh, he got up and walked to the beaten form of Luke.

Blood and bruises decorated most of Luke’s body. With a quick inspection to see if he was still breathing he lifted him onto his shoulder. He walked back to the narrow alley, barely remembering to pick up the food parcel he left around the corner. On the way to the Papadakis’ estate, they stopped at Yalta’s house and dropped the food after knocking on the door. Shuffling up the road his stumbling figure was seen by a few people. Most of them warily kept their distance not looking for trouble as they cut a sorry figure. A kind man eventually walked up to them and helped by carrying Luke. After mentioning the family name Papadakis, the man escorted them to the estate.

With Aleks being beyond weary he could only follow the sound of the footsteps while his eyes remained downcast. A shout from the estate’s guard alerted him of their progress, and he fell down, taking a well-deserved break. The guards recognized him as Luke’s friend and after escorting him inside they gave him some water to quench his parched throat.

Burning torches hung from the decorated walls and statues proudly posed in the courtyard, creating a sense of wonder and mystery as the shadows of the statues danced in the light. The gardens hosted a plethora of exotic flowers, blooming in a kaleidoscope of colours. After barely managing to share the story of what happened, Aleksander was guided to a bed where he could rest, assured that a messenger was sent to his house to inform his mother of his whereabouts.

The morning rays of the sun came too early as Aleksander woke up while rubbing his bleary eyes. The feathered bed, a comfort to his back, caused him to stay in bed a lot longer than he usually did. With willpower that exceeded human limits, he extracted himself from the feathery bliss of the expensive bed. After stretching out his stiff body he washed his face and left.

He traversed one of the numerous hallways in the estate before he asked a passing servant for directions and eventually arrived at the breakfast table of the Papadakis.

“Aleks! Good to have you here boy. I give you my thanks for saving my son.” Lucius Papadakis exclaimed after he noticed him. 

Lucius stood up from the table, his family following suit. Walking to Aleks, his tanned hands clasped his rough hands in a friendly manner. Grey hairs marred Lucius’s dark head and clear green eyes looked down at him.It was obvious where Luke got his height from. 

Luke’s mother, Amara, a beautiful well aged woman with brown hair and light eyes soon took her husband’s place as she embraced Aleks.” Thank you Aleks, you are a great friend to my family and especially to my son.” she said.

“He would do the same for me. How is he?” Aleks asked.

“The physicians said he took a heavy beating from those Hera-damned ruffians.” she replied. “If you didn’t intervene…” she said, her voice lowering. “I don’t know what would’ve happened to our poor boy.” she almost whispered.

“Enough about that.” Lucius interjected. “Please, join us for breakfast Aleks. You are probably starving.” 

Assuring Amara that everything will be alright and promising to still keep an eye on Luke, Aleks joined them for breakfast. After some fresh buns, strong cheese combined with an abundance of figs and olives, breakfast was finished

“Aleksander, be careful when you walk outside, my family has made some enemies with our wealth as you could see with Luke. Please let me know if I can help in any way.” Lucius told him.

Aleks thanked them for breakfast and returned home. After greeting his mother with a smile and a hug he told her of his night and that he still delivered the food.

“You’re a good son but be more careful. Don’t make me worry about you.” she smiled, kissing him on his head.

He bid his mother farewell with promises to be more careful before he went down to the docks for work. As he neared, a fresh sea breeze blew over him causing him to stop as he inhaled the fresh air. After getting his fill, he jogged down to the docks, his mood light.

After signing in with his manager, an old man with large forearms and a big belly, he started with his work. Working at the docks was a labour intensive job. Cargo needed to be moved from the traders union to its designated spot near the waters, where it would be loaded onto the waiting ships. His muscles bulged as he moved an especially large and heavy crate onto it’s designated spot. Wiping the sweat from his brow, his keen blue eyes looked into the distance, seeing ships anchored offshore, waiting for their turn to dock.

When he was finished with work, he started walking towards the only dojo in the city. It was a long trek as the docks were located at the bottom with the rest of the city overlooking it. He set a quick pace and maintained it for a while, exerting a lot of effort and making his legs work.

Halfway to his destination, a feeling of being watched settled on his shoulders. Glancing around, he studied his surroundings. A couple of food vendors occupied the street bringing with it an aroma that would make his food-obsessed master salivate. Not that it’s difficult, he was a man with a great appreciation for food after all. With his gaze subtly sweeping behind him, a few men stood out. Their faces were bandaged and quite familiar, almost as if his foot made its acquaintance with their ugly faces. 

He rolled his shoulders in preparation for an impromptu warm-up session before practice as he turned to face them fully. They smiled, a type of predatory smile that only wished to cause pain. One of the men put two of their fingers to his mouth and produced a sharp whistle. More men made themselves known, appearing from behind the food vendors, the small alleyway and behind him, sealing his escape.

With a wicked smile promising imminent violence the man took a step forward.

“He told you you’d regret it.”

“Did he tell you what I did to him and his friends?.” Aleks smiled.”Although, fifteen is a bit more than six.”

The man fumed.”Remember men, the boss wants him alive, but that doesn’t mean he needs all his limbs.” he said while smiling wickedly.”Get him!” he shouted.

Before they could react to the order, Aleks turned and sprinted towards the path with only two men blocking it. His burst of speed surprised them as he arrived in front of them, the nearest man barely reacting in time as he threw a haymaker at Aleks.With a slight move to the side he dodged the predictable attack as his left foot stepped on the side of the man’s knee. With a painful snap he injured it extensively as he used it as a jumping platform. The heightened elevation made it easier for him to connect his knee to the second man’s nose, breaking it completely and knocking him down.

The other men could only dumbly stare at this display of skill and ferocity. With a bark from their leader they take off after him. Learning from master Takashi made you strong physically, but also keen of mind. Fighting fifteen people was something that only happened in stories and legend, one that Aleks knew he wasn’t a part of.

As they ran, people stood to the side of the street, careful to not get involved in what’s happening. The ones that didn’t do it quickly enough were knocked down by the stampede of angry ruffians following Aleks. Angry shouts followed him as he led them through familiar streets. Taking a sharp turn into a small alley he picked up speed and jumped onto a barrel, followed by an old wooden crate before leaping onto the flat roof. Curses sounded out from behind him as his pursuers saw what he did.

With far less ease they followed him onto the roof. After the fourth man jumped onto the old crate, it breaks, injuring the poor man and leaving him with large splinters jutting out of his leg. More curses fill the air as the rest return to the street and attempt to follow the chase on the rooftops.

Jumping from rooftop to rooftop was quite easy in Athens. The houses were built close to each other and most of them were flat. On some of the houses were wooden tables and chairs with small gardens decorating the sides. Aleks was setting a quick pace for his pursuers to follow and created quite the lead as they traversed the rooftops with ease. All the strange exercises his master made him do, made it effortless for his powerful legs. His eyes took on a dazed look as he reminisced about the harsh training his master made him do. Memories surfaced of him holding pots full of water with blades attached to his arms, pointing towards his ribs. He shuddered as he thought of that experience, and unfortunately made a mistake.

Mistakes made in life are not always evident, some are only noticed later in one’s life. Not this one. When running on rooftops from men that want to cause you harm, one needs to focus on what they’re doing, not think of cruel masters that tortures their students with questionable training methods.

He tripped.

With a painful smack, his face impacted the stone roof, leaving stars floating in his vision. As he struggled to regain his footing, his pursuers arrived out of breath.

A fast kick to his side from one of them left him gasping for air, his already starry vision darkening. Curling up defensively blows rained down on him. With clenched teeth and he weathered the storm, waiting for an opportunity, any opportunity. After what seemed like an eternity for Aleks, the torment became less frequent and the sound of panting could be heard. 

After running for more than ten minutes, they were out of breath. Punching and kicking tires one out as well, even if it’s against someone that doesn’t strike back. Catching their breath, the three pursuers weakened their guard around him for a moment. A moment that Aleks had been painfully waiting for.

Hooking his right leg between the nearest pair of legs, he tripped the man. With adrenaline rushing through him it seemed as if everything he perceived was happening in slow motion. The man fell next to him as Aleks’s arm raised and followed the man down, brutally chopping down on his windpipe.

With a pained grunt he got up as gurgling sounds came from the floor. The remaining two men whipped their heads around, taking in their situation. Nervously licking his lips one of them scowled.

“He’s a bit feistier than his mother.” he muttered.

“What did you just say?” Aleks’ voice turned dangerous.

“It only took a few slaps before she did as we told her” the soon to be dead man said with an ugly smile on his face.

Heat built up in his chest. Heat hotter than any fire Aleks had ever experienced before. No, he had… With the heat came rage. The rage he felt years ago. His father on the ground, blood pooling around his body. The rod bearer’s indifferent attitude as he screamed at them for justice. His mother’s sobs at night when she thinks he’s asleep.

In a flash, he was in front of him. His hand formed in an Ippon Ken; a fist with the middle finger joint’s knuckle sticking out, a lethal punch. A roar emerged from his throat as his arm flexed and pushed forward, rage imbued in every fibre of his being. A sickening crunch could be heard as his fist connected with the man’s larynx, sending him tumbling off the roof. Not bothering to look at the result, Aleks turned on the last man. He gulped audibly as he struggled to control his shaking legs.

“You are going to tell me everything.” he said in a low voice.