Chapter 12
Elijah drove through the 8th District, then into the 9th. The streets changed as he crossed the border—fewer working streetlights, more buildings with boarded windows, people on corners who watched his car pass with eyes that tracked too long. He parked in front of the bar and killed the engine.
Kai was already there, leaning against the door, phone in hand. He looked up as Elijah approached.
"You're late."
"I slept for an hour after the gym. My body needed to recover."
"You'll recover faster once you're in shape." Kai pushed the door open. "Come on. We have work."
The bar looked the same as yesterday—dusty, abandoned, potential hiding under neglect. Elijah followed Kai through the main room, past the scarred wooden bar, toward a door he hadn't noticed before.
Kai opened it, revealing stairs leading down. The wood groaned under their weight as they descended.
"The gym," Elijah said. "Where did you get keys to a place like that? And how do you know the owner?"
Kai glanced back at him. "I know a guy. The gym is never used. He lets me train there when I want, now it's for us."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"It answers enough."
They reached the bottom of the stairs. Elijah stopped.
The basement was large—larger than the bar above. Wooden planks were stacked against one wall, some fresh, some warped with age. Tools lay scattered across a workbench: hammers, saws, levels, a box of nails. The floor was concrete, cracked in places, stained with something dark near the far corner. The air smelled of dust and old beer.
"What is this?"
"Where we start," Kai said, moving toward the wood. "This building is ours, but it's not usable. Not yet. The bar upstairs needs work. The basement needs more. We need to fix it ourselves."
Elijah looked at the stacks of wood, then at Kai. "Fix it? I don't know how to fix a building."
"No one does until they learn."
"We're broke, aren't we?"
Kai picked up a hammer. "We spent everything on the building and removing anything that connect you to the stealing car. We have enough for food and basics. Nothing else."
Elijah closed his eyes. "So we're fixing this place with wood we found in the basement and tools that look older than us."
"That's the plan."
"And after we fix it?"
Kai set the hammer down and turned to face him. "Tonight, we get money."
Elijah looked around asking, "How?"
"Underground fighting ring in the 9th District. Small one with no big names, no records, just people betting and some blood."
Elijah stared at him. "You want me to fight."
"You fought Frank. You trained this morning, from what I saw you can handle yourself and also you have a skill."
"What?"
Kai smiled. "To get hit and keep moving or standing."
"That's not a skill. That's stupidity."
"It's both." Kai picked up a plank and handed it to Elijah. "We replace the rotten wood first. The floor near the back is unstable. Then we clear the debris. Then we talk about tonight."
Elijah held the plank, feeling its weight. "I don't know how to fight, Kai. Frank was different. I was high, and I don't remember what happened that day."
"You remember enough, and you trained today. Your body knows more than your mind gives it credit for."
"That was lifting weights and hitting bags. That's not fighting."
"It's the start of fighting." Kai picked up his own plank and moved toward the back of the basement. "The rest comes from doing it. From being in the moment and not freezing."
Elijah followed him, stepping carefully over the cracked floor. "What if I freeze?"
Kai stopped at a section where the floorboards were visibly rotted, the wood dark and crumbling at the edges. He knelt down, testing the give with his hand. "Then I fight in your place. But I don't think you will."
"You don't know that."
"I know you." Kai looked up at him. "I've known you my whole life. You freeze when there's time to think. When something happens fast, when there's no time to be afraid, you move. You've always been like that."
Elijah sighed.
Kai pulled up a rotten board, the wood splintering in his hands. "Now help me with this. We have hours of work before tonight."
Elijah set his plank down and grabbed one of the rotten boards. It came apart easily, the wood soft and crumbling. He tossed it aside and reached for the next.
They worked in silence for a while, pulling up the damaged floor, stacking the salvageable wood, measuring new planks against the gaps. The work was physical, repetitive, gave his mind something to hold onto besides the thought of fighting tonight.
After an hour, Kai broke the silence.
"You did good this morning. The breathing thing you were doing while running—that was new."
Elijah paused, a hammer in his hand. "You noticed that?"
"Yeah." Kai lined up a new plank against the floor. "Where did you learn it?"
Elijah considered lying. The words were right there—some video, something I read, an old technique. But the honesty he'd chosen the night before sat heavy in his chest.
"My grandparents sent me something. It came with the sword."
Kai's hands stopped moving. He looked at Elijah, something shifting in his expression. "Your grandfather sent you a breathing technique?"
"So, you already notice it as a breathing technique huh."
Kai was quiet for a long moment. Then he smiled. "Good. Use it tonight, but don't just using it to control your body better. You should also focus on Moving the air inside your body, to strengthen yourself."
Elijah looked down at the hammer in his hand. "You have one too." Kai didn't answer and just smiled as Elijah added, "I don't want to fight."
"No one wants to fight. People want what fighting gets them, Money, Respect, Safety." Kai stood up, testing the new plank with his weight. It held. "Tonight, we need money. So we fight."
"There has to be another way."
"There is no faster method, and we need gang members fast and money before the gangs in this area start testing us."
Elijah set the hammer down and picked up another plank. His arms ached from the morning. His legs were sore. His hands were raw from climbing ropes and hitting bags.