Somehow, somewhere, Jinyu ended up in the same place as Ketian: the boxing studio. 

 

It wasn’t much of a boxing studio as it was MMA, an old warehouse refurbished and tucked into the corner of the city, looking old on the outside but perfectly outfitted on the inside, the boxing ring as its centerpiece. 

 

Ketian had asked him where he was going.

 

“A boxing studio,” Jinyu replied. 

 

“The one in the old warehouse?” 

 

“You go there?” Surprise flickered briefly over Jinyu’s eyes before he retracted it. There were six acceptable places to practice martial arts, two of which housed classes for the rich and wealthy. Three were run of the mill place for Brazilian Jiu Jitsu and Karate, made mostly of children and men in their thirties, going back to an art they lost young. 

 

That left the warehouse studio. 

 

It wasn’t cheap by any means, but regardless, it was a good place. The man running it was crass- he took one look at Jinyu and waved him closer.

 

“Whaddya train in?” he asked.

 

“I didn’t,” Jinyu replied, expressionless. “I learned from fights.”

 

The man- Lao Zhou, he had been a professional boxer in his prime- was sitting on his stool, one rickety enough to be concerned when Jinyu followed Ketian in, watching a practice match in the boxing ring. 

 

“Lao Zhou!” Jinyu watched the hedonistic Ketian he had always known transform thoroughly, a smile breaking through. He’d become a different person, as if a foregin soul had possessed him. Jinyu’s Ketian had been punchable by almost everyone’s standards, an insensitive delinquent with the attentiveness of a predator that couldn’t be bothered. 

 

This was the total opposite; in the past, Ketian had made Jinyu’s stony silence seem palatable, his blatant ostraction a balm on Ketian’s remorseless viciousness. 

 

Ketian’s friendliness was near perfect, if the smile that reached his eyes didn’t shatter and crumble deep in his gaze. Jinyu stayed half-hidden behind, undoubtedly seeming gloomier than he really was. 

 

“Ay, Ketian’s here! You brought fri- I know you,” Lao Zhou, fanning himself with a woven fan, stood up. 

 

“Oh, really?” Ketian spared a glance in Jinyu’s direction. He’d become taller than Ketian by a couple centimeters, a result of one last desperate puberty growth spurt. “This is Fang Jinyu, we grew up together in the system.” 

 

Lao Zhou perked up curiously, “Is this the boy you talk about sometimes?” 

 

Jinyu jerked up, “I didn’t know that you were talking about me.” It wasn’t framed as a question, but it was one. Ketian hummed acknowledgement. Jinyu bit back the why? That he wanted to ask, filter it down a noncommittal hello for Lao Zhou. As far as Jinyu knew, Ketian didn’t talk about things. He’d never talked about his short stints in foster homes, but he hadn’t had too; Jinyu could tell what was wrong before anyone else. 

 

“Of course I do,” the light lift of Ketian’s voice was as unfamiliar as this city. The words sat on a bay of the unspoken and a challenge, as if daring Jinyu to call him out for the gentle charade he played.

 

Some dry version of a smile met Ketian’s eyes, “I guess I’m flattered.” Jinyu replied. 

 

“Y’all don’t seem so close,” Lao Zhou observed off-handedly. “Who taught you how to fight, Jinyu? No way you just learn purely on the streets.” Jinyu felt his old scar, criss crossing faintly over his knuckles and the skin of his torso tingle. 

“Ketian taught me how to handle knives. I taught myself how to handle my fists,” Jinyu replied after a moment, releasing his fists. It was the half-truth. He’d picked up a knife from the first time when he was four, a desperate child to the marrow of his bones, then again four months later, when he met Ketian. A stitched wound and two bandages later, Jinyu was stuck to Ketian’s side like a common parasite.

 

He learned how to fight with his hands when the kitchen knives were taken away, and when Ketian wasn’t there. Foster homes with parents who were a little too mean, days on the run when he was stumbling into people with little decency to spare. It wasn’t the worst time of Jinyu’s life; they were short, blurred memories, slowly sinking into a sludge of nothing. Compared to being helpless, anything was better. 

 

When Lao Zhou was nodding along, about to open his mouth for another question, Ketian tugged on his sleeve, jerking his head towards the direction of the boxing ring, “We haven’t sparred in a while. Since Yanhao and Taoci are done, let’s have a round.”

 

Jinyu glanced at the two people who were tearing off their boxing gloves, “Okay,” he replied. He let Ketian toss him a spare pair of protective gloves and followed him onto the ring with their shoes off. The coarse fabric of the ring would scrape at his skin if he stumbled one too many times. In truth, Jinyu practically never fought Ketian, the occasions could be counted on one hand; once when he was four, the last he was fourteen. 

 

They stood across from each other. Jinyu had his hair tied back, leaving a few flyaway locks in his face. Lao Zhu hopped into the ring, his hand stuck between them. Ketian stared blankly at Jinyu, who didn’t meet his gaze. 

 

The moment Lao Zhu said, “Start!” and retracted to the edge of the ring, Jinyu flew, fierce. His first kick landed in Ketian’s chest, the heel to solar plex. Ketian stumbled back, but it wasn’t enough to deter him. He skirted around him, getting too close to be kicked.

 

Ketian knocked in his jaw with the swing of his elbow, followed with an uppercut. Neither of them were polite with each other. Jinyu swung a jab to his cheek, slammed the blade of his foot into his neck with a jump. Ketian coughed, unable to breath for a second. The momentary pause was perfect for Jinyu though, and he spun a roundhouse kick to Ketian’s ribs. 

 

He went toppling, but grabbed Jinyu’s collar and pulled him off balance with him. It wasn’t sparring in the professional sense- little rules applied between them- but dirty, survival fighting. The rules were different in survival mode, a clash of teeth and claws. Nothing was sheathed.

 

Ketian drove his knee into the hard planes of Jinyu’s stomach, as he came down. It was a quick, desperate move, followed up by a jab to the cheek. His jaw was sure to be bruised tomorrow. Half exasperated, Jinyu wondered how he was going to get a job like this, but he returned the sentiment as he kneed him down, reaching his hands to Ketian’s neck. 

 

It would be easy to snap his neck now, to kill and show his organization the evidence against him. But there were too many witnesses, and the thought of Ketian going lifeless in his hands was painful.

 

Instead, Jinyu wrapped a hand around his neck, “I won.” he intoned. 

 

Ketian stared at him, unfathomable and dark. Then he smiled, light and gentle, “I concede.” He held a hand out and Jinyu pulled them both up. Someone whistled in the audience of three people.

 

“You fight well!” Lao Zhu laughed, slapping Jinyu’s shoulder several times as they got out of the ring. “You know, Ketian is the best in this studio, and I’ve been saying to him that he should try professional, but he says it’s not what he wants to do. He beat me two weeks after joining this place.”

 

Jinyu glanced at Ketian, who was currently accepting a pack of ice for his bruising. “Ketian’s always been good,” he replied. He accepted an ice pack from Yanhao with a faint smile and “thank you”. He didn’t have much to say to Lao Zhu, nor was he familiar with Ketian’s cover. So as Lao Zhu chatted away with Ketian, he listened. 

 

His cheek throbbed, but he caught an interesting tidbit when their conversation shifted to Ketian’s occupation- an employee at a cat cafe, “You didn’t like cats when we were young.” 

 

Ketian wrinkled his nose, “I like them now.” He was lying. Ketian had reached for the hem of his shirt as an unconscious grab for comfort when the white lie came out of his mouth, but he didn’t call him out. Jinyu distinctly remembered him, chasing a cat away when he was twelve out into the forest. He had fumed for a couple hours. Weeks later, when they ran into that same forest, away from the orphanage mother, they saw that cat, jumping into the bushes at the sound of their chase.