Chapter Fourteen

Burn it Away

Josh wasn't sure when that had happened; he was also unsure of whether the door was open or not, but he couldn't bring himself to care over the fuzzy, sweltering heat that over took his senses, with the aid of the comforting darkness.

The door wasn't louder than normal, in fact it was much softer, but it felt like the most ominous thing Mai had ever heard. Josh, Nagista, and Jonah were all gone. It wasn't that she was ungrateful for her lasting company, but neither Akane nor Kusakabe were exactly comforting. Now, standing before the martial arts room, she knew they couldn't help her.

She was greeted by the familiar blue mats splayed over the floor; the ring standing proud in the middle; shelves pressed against the far corners. Nothing altered, as was the case with the previous rooms. Kusakabe indicated where the wall lay hidden, giving her the honors.

"How much is this going to hurt?" Mai questioned, walking forward and trying to steel her nerves.

"I doubt it'll hurt at all," Kusakabe commented. "These are Sun flames. They work differently than the last room, with the Storm Flames."

He didn't respond to her quizzical look, leaving her to grimace and stick out her hand blindly. She felt the surge of warmth immediately, a blast of yellow light engulfing her arm. She tried to step back in panic, but was held tight. From her fingertips, the light glimmered into shape. The now familiar wall curved around the entrance, and slowly receded from her limb. It had been aptly named, Mai decided. The light had a certain gentle warmth to it; distinctly reminding her of standing in sunshine.

"It's up to you from here," Kusakabe announced, and Akane gave her a pat on the back on the way out.

"Up to me," she repeated, looking around the room. "Right . . . what am I doing?" There were no objects left in her limited space, nothing that shouted "It's me! This is the thing you need to do!" Futilely, she tapped the golden structure a few times, watching it stick to her like goo, before snapping back into place. While the substance was rather pleasant, and amusing, Mai doubted this was going to get her anywhere fast. Remembering Kusakabe referring to them, she unslung Ryohei's bag and took out his gloves.

They were much too big for her hands, she discovered. She was a kick-boxer; the idea of using these bulky things was foreign to her. Regardless, she attempted to put herself in her captain's shoes, which probably involved punching something. Preceded by a deep breath, she threw her fist into the barrier with as much force as she could gather. It succeeded in making her knuckles slightly more sore, but not much else. Unsure what else to do, she repeated the action a few more times. The wall was apparently becoming as frustrated as she was, clinging to the gloves faster than she could pull them back.

Well this is just great. Stuck to a wall, locked in a room, all alone with no help. Good job on this one, Mai. In the midst of her thoughts, a loud beeping erupted behind her. Twisting as best she could, she noticed a section of wall slide away to reveal a screen. It stopped to think, presenting a yellow screen, before the wall wavered, and suddenly she was free. The screen returned to white, and an electronic voice droned "Present I.D."

Mai glanced down to the gloves skeptically, tugging experimentally. The luminescent not-goo wavered and melted back into the wall, leaving her to cross the room and present the freed mitts to the screen. This proved to be the correct action, as a green bar appeared to scan the gloves.

"I.D. Accepted," it brought her attention back as the monitor flashed to life. "Tenth Generation Sun Guardian, Sasagawa Ryohei, recognized."

Mai dropped her hands as an image popped up. It was of Ryohei, grinning widely and a bandage across his nose. His also bandaged hands were floating at his waist in a watered-down boxing stance, decorated with a single ring, and he was looking somewhere slightly off camera, as if someone was telling him to stay still. He was dressed in a black suit, buttoned not quite to the top and the bottom-most button undone, with a yellow tie peeking out. His sleeves had been pushed to the elbow, but otherwise, his suit was pristine. The picture flitted away, and text began writing across the screen.

Name: Sasagawa Ryohei.

Family: Vongola.

Rank: Sun Guardian.

Tenth Generation Sun Guardian, serving under the Vongola Decimo.

Short-range fighting style, preference for martial arts, also serves as chief field medic. Favors one-on-one matches. Primary weapon is a pair of Sun Flame-infused boxing gloves and one box animal, a kangaroo. Has received training from the Arcobaleno, Colonnello, and the Arcobaleno, Reborn. Is skilled with hand-to-hand combat, knives, blunt force weapons, and medical knowledge.

Mai scrunched up her brows and reread the information a few more times. Ryohei? This couldn't be the same Ryohei, could it? It had to be someone else. A skilled doctor? A member of some kind of gang? If there hadn't been that picture lingering in the corner, she would have dismissed it without a blink of an eye. At the bottom of the screen was a list of prompts, which were simple enough for her to follow while she thought. She supposed Ryohei was easy-going enough to be fooled into following some gang member. His position had sounded rather important and fancy, however. Could he have gotten that far by mindlessly trailing behind? There was this whole set up too – who had this sort of technology? No one in Namimori, she was sure.

Pushing these thoughts aside, the barrier shimmered out of existence the same way it had come. Mai got her first good look at the area. Or rather, she received her first blinding from the flood lights directed towards her. She stumbled back, bumping into the wall, the door, until she hit the west wall and the light lessened. Cracking open her eyes was still hopeless, leaving her to flail her arms while following the wall.

Her arms smacked into something heavy, and she successfully opened her eyes to discover the object was a punching bag. It was much bigger than the school-provided ones they used for practice; it stretched from a near meter above her head to her feet. Its sides bulged, gently swinging parallel to the wall on the left, and beyond it, more harsh light. Mai was forced to constantly squint, even behind the shield. Looking to the right caused another light to shine straight into her eyes. While staring at the ground, she could see the shadow of a large spotlight near her feet, the image cast by what seemed to be an identical spot light across the room.

Returning her attention to the punching bag, Mai heaved against it. With a low groan, it begrudgingly moved, only to knock her back with double the force. Landing on her back, she huffed and rolled back to her feet. Her attention was commanded by a thumping noise, growing more confident as she stopped moving. A strange, high-pitched rattling-gurgling sound accompanied it, descending into a steady chugging noise that blended into the buzz of machinery. Mai focused on it for another moment, but with no idea of its source, decided to continue exploring with caution.

Fumbling her way back to the door, she turned her back to the lights, managing to open her eyes slightly. Walking backwards, she attempted to approach where she knew the ring was. Her hands were splayed behind her back, but never made contact with anything. After a few steps, however, her ankle snagged against a rise in the floor level. Regaining her balance quickly, she hesitantly toed her way back, finding the bump very small and squishy. It seemed the mats had been left out. Reassured, she continued moving backwards. Her back began to heat up, her arms becoming uncomfortably heated as well. The light was leaking around her sides, the intensity increasing with each step.

Suddenly, the lights were at her sides, her hands flying up in an attempt to guard her eyes. Water dripped onto her palms, her eyes still stinging under their protection. If she guessed right, she knew where was she was. Shuffling to the side, Mai knocked one hand around until it came in contact with the sand bag, once again. With a small nod, she began backing up again.

It felt like she was baking alive. Mai's skeleton felt like magma, boiling her from the inside. She feared her back and arms were going to be burned, at this pace. She knew that she was surrounded by blinding light on all sides, and no matter which way she faced; she wouldn't be able to see. She couldn't be far from the ring. Turing around, she immediately cringed, the light so strong it was as if she hadn't closed her eyes. She ducked her head and grit her teeth. She readjusted her elbow over her face for more protection, doggedly using the other hand to search for the familiar rope siding.

Her fingers brushed the material, and she was relieved. It was gone in an instant; the heat on her knuckles the same as being a millimeter from open flame. The light must have been set up inside the ring. Maybe if she could reach it, she could turn it off. She nervously tapped her foot, apprehensive to draw any closer to the heat source, but desperate to regain her sight. Creeping forward, she gingerly moved her fingers from the rope. Bad move.

With a cry, she whipped her hand away, clutching the burned appendage against her chest. Her hopes of turning of the lights were dashed – they were far too hot. Exchanging arms, the injured hand tucked in her arm pit, she brushed her fingers along the rope as she walked to the other side of the ring. The chugging noise had erupted into an alarmed growl, slowing to disoriented wheezing and the occasional groan. Mai had come to the conclusion that it was some sort of animal. She could hear it thumping nearby, assuming it was somewhere next to the light that just burned her.

Abruptly, her progress was halted as she ran face first into very solid leather. Spinning her arms did nothing to stop her fall, her leg brushing another lamp. With a shriek, she rolled away, crashing into the wooden side of the boxing ring. She rested her head against it for a minute, gasping and clutching her leg. She could already feel the welts forming. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself up with shaking hands. She reached for the sand bag she now knew was there, as far away from the lamp as possible. This sand bag felt the same size as the one she had previously encountered, at least just as heavy. Was the room identical on both sides? The first bag had been farther from the ring, though.

New theory in mind, she kept her fingertips on the punching bag, walking around the light, which torched her ankles and shins. She kept her hand higher up this time, reaching over a second light. Sure enough, she felt more leather meet her touch. There were two bags lined against the wall, with three lights in front of them, facing into the room. She idly wondered if the opposite side of the room wasn't the same.

Tripping over the edge of the mats once again, she returned to the rapidly heating metal of the door. She was sweating profusely, and her throat like a desert. She needed water. Before that could happen, though, she had to find out how to get out of this room. Reconstructing a map in her mind, she marked the positions of the mats, lamps, and bags in coordination with the ring. The bags were too close to the wall; she wouldn't be able to squeeze past them, and the lights blocked their other side. However, with the lights lining the ropes of the boxing ring, she was unable to climb inside. Stumped, she tried to force her increasingly aching head to consider all the options.

She would have to move the bags. Mai was certain she could budge them, at least a little. If she built up enough momentum, she could probably swing it far enough for her to get through. She refused to think of what that force would do to her ribcage, instead following the walls back to where she had started.

The punching bag loomed before her intimidatingly. She ground her teeth together, her fear channeling to anger. Her friends were in danger, and here she was, being held up by some shitty bags of sand. Digging in her heel, she pushed hard, throwing her full weight into it. Without waiting for her foot to reach the floor, Mai hopped back, palms out and held against her chest. She could feel the breeze wisp past her teasingly, and belated she attempted to strike the bag again, barely catching the corner. Off-balance, she threw herself against the wall and scrambled back, feeling the bag whoosh behind her again.

She had to get the timing right. She couldn't afford to waste time. Taking up the same stance as before, she focused on the creaking chain and tried timing it in her head. The air stirred and she struck, again only nicking it. Frustration building, she took two more swings before she let the third pass without interruption.

She restrained until she heard the pause, before the chain moaned as it began the down swing. Lunging forward, she hit the sandbag squarely in the center. Keeping tempo for another few rounds, she felt the tell-tale signs of panic intruding in her stomach. She wasn't going to have much room at all for this. Even with the added force of her extra shoves, it wasn't allowing any room for her to slip along the wall, or to dodge around the lights.

When am I supposed to go? I can't tell how far away it is. What if I fall to the side, there's a light right next to me! Going straight forward isn't going to help, I'm only going to run into it! What am I – Shut up – go now!

Throwing herself forward and landing on her stomach with a gasp turned grunt, she crawled out of the danger zone as quickly possible. She froze for a minute as she heard it swinging down, catching the top of her calf. Biting her tongue, she dragged herself through until her head bumped into the next one. Mai laid on the floor, breathing heavy and letting it fan her as she waited for enough room to repeat the process.

Her head was aching, her stomach tilting one way than the other like a drunkard. She wasn't quite sure what was making her limbs shake as she forced herself to stand, but she didn't like the way her brain did a loop-the-loop in her skull. Her shirt was sticking to her stomach, but it was the least of her worries. She rested her hands against the leather once more, her forehead falling between them a moment later. She didn't know if she could do this another time.

The kickboxer shook her head – exhaustion had never stopped her before. When Ryohei wanted to run two more laps than usual, she ran it with him. When her legs were sore, it just meant that the training was working. If she got a few bumps or bruises, then she made sure the other guy got it five times worse.

Setting her shoulder against the bag, she pushed with her whole body against it. Shuffling back, she let it go past once, catching it on the second swing. Once, twice, three times, four times . . . now! Diving for the gap, she forced her muscles to keep moving. Her left arm gave out when she tried to stand, the burn flaring up angrily. Trying again, she stood and put her hand to the wall.

After this point, she had no idea where she was. Her mental map showed she had passed the threshold of the ring, now standing beside it. She brushed her fingers against the corner post, feeling a heat source on top. Another spotlight? She hovered a hand close to it, inferring it was facing inside the ring, and the metal was to her. Making the decision that at no point was it safe to go inside the ring, she would have to keep walking around.

This plan worked for approximately two seconds. A stick jabbed her into side, making her grunt and smack it away instinctively - another stick swung around and wacked her shins. Hissing, she hobbled out of the way, using one foot to poke the offensive object. Though her shoe made it hard to tell, she was glad she hadn't used her hands. Small, but finely sharpened spikes lined the metal pole. Wincing as she touched her leg, she felt fairly light cuts, the blood mixing with the moisture of all the sweat already there. Moving upwards, her ribs had fared only slightly better; the first rod had clipped her side and created gashes as opposed to miniature stab wounds. No bones were broken, and she satisfied her brain with that estimated physical examination rather than a real damage report.

With a resigned sigh, she realized she would need to risk her hands to map out the extent of this obstacle. Barely grazing the spikes, she followed the obtrusive weapon at her feet all the way back to the base. Thankfully, she found the base to be smooth metal, free of spikes. The post of sorts seemed to be planted right in the middle of the path. The stick was attached to a section of curved metal, screws on the side. When she applied a bit of pressure, she felt the whole section spun around a center, stationary pole. A stationary segment lay between this and another spinning cylinder, where the first, higher pole was attached. Judging from when she hit it, the bludgeons were designed to move opposite each other.

Frowning, Mai considered climbing over the contraption. It only reached her chest, and if she kicked off the boxing ring, she might not have to touch the spikes at all. She threw that idea out quickly – the higher section was currently positioned where she needed to land. Going under seemed an even crazier idea. Climbing inside the ring had already been discarded, even before she knew she only a few inches to attempt it. She hesitantly placed her hands against the metal, accessing the size of the gap between bludgeons. Theoretically, she should be able to slip through. She bit her lip, leaning back on her heels. The poles were much too close together for comfort. She needed to make the gap wider, but even if she got it open, she only could move it until one side hit the boxing ring wall. There was nothing in her immediate area, and no way in hell she was going to try to get through the swinging trap again.

Taking a deep breath to still her swirling head and shaking legs, she gripped the rope sides of the ring and hauled herself up, one foot catching the lowest rope to balance on. She braced her foot against the higher baton, ignoring the warning prick of the spikes and the burn of the lights dangerously close to her shoulder. Whether it was honestly so hard to push, or if she was simply that drained, it was a struggle, accented with the "r-i-i-i-i-i-p" of her shoes. Swearing profusely, Mai clung to the ropes tensely, teeth clamped around her tongue to prevent crying out. She started to step down, only to catch herself. The lower leg would be right below her now. Leaning as far as she could while holding the railing, to her dismay, concrete bricks brushed her fingers. If she jumped, she would hit the wall and fall onto the baton anyways.

Refusing to think of the outcome, she quickly stepped down, injured foot first, unable to suppress the scream between her teeth. She hopped over the obstacle, collapsing against the wall and clutching her foot. The soles of her shoe were sticky and wet, but her ankle seemed fine, and though it caused pain, she could walk. Arms outstretched, she felt for the post again, finding the width between the batons. They were far enough apart that she should be able to cross.

Noticing a copper taste in her mouth, Mai switched to chewing on her lip, rather than tongue. She arched over the lower bludgeon, palms braced against the ground on the other side. She kept her side pressed to the post, trying to use it in vain to guide her. She slowly inched forward, bringing one leg over, then the other. She was blind, opting to army crawl some distance, cautious of the higher bludgeon whose location was unknown. Apparently, it was longer than she expected, as her thigh suffered a quick slice while standing.

Despite her body screaming at her, she refused to be still, returning her hand to the wall and moving on. Her mental compass notified her of the end of the ring, and she found the corner pole where it should be, a flood light mounted on this one as well. She could walk diagonally and find shelves pushed into the corners of the room, and giddily ran her hands along each level. The boxing team kept all the general supplies here – including bandages.

Only after she was sure there was nothing below her, she dropped to the ground right there with a roll of cloth. Trying to wrap bandages without her eyesight was a pain, and she was sure the strips were beyond sloppy, but it would have to do for now. Grabbing another roll, she shoved them inside Ryohei's yellow drawstring bag.

She stood and walked along the back wall to where a door led out to the hall. Without much hope, she jiggled the lock on the door, finding it locked like its counterpart. She stubbed her toe on a dumbbell beside the door, discovering one on each side, and she swore and angrily shoved it aside. The animal began its rapid clicking noise, thumping loudly. Mai couldn't help a spike of annoyance – it's not like she could even see let alone help whatever it was. She just wished it would be quiet long enough for her to finish her task. She sighed and pressed the back of her hand to her forehead, a headache pounding against her temples. She flicked her bangs away, processing the action for a moment before freezing. The bottom of her stomach fell out, and she pressed her hand against her face again. Her neck, her arms, legs, everywhere was dry. The only moisture she felt was from her own blood; panic was unavoidable at this point.

She stumbled to the other shelf, shoving around the contents. Bandages, disinfectant, there – a water bottle! . . . An empty one. She threw it to the ground with an angry shout, casting around for whatever she was supposed to be doing. There was nothing on this side of the room, only a locked door, scant medical supplies, and the way she came from. Her head was swirling, the only thought remaining coherent: heat stroke, heat stroke, heat stroke.

Her shoulder bumped into something cool, and she stopped. Running her fingers along the surface, she guessed it was some type of glass. It blocked the center of the length of rope, propped on the steps that marked the real entrance to the boxing ring. Steeling her nerves, she curled her fingers around the edge, and finding no extra heat. She could still feel the heat on both sides of her, and knew this was the only remotely cool spot.

She gave the glass a sharp tug, arms shaking in protest to more work. It was a ridiculously thick sheet, nearly as thick as her hand. She doubted the glass was capable of moving, yet she needed to get through. She would have to break it.

She ran her fingers over the edge once again, humming thoughtfully. Maybe if she had a full night's sleep, a warm up, and was in a better than average shape, she could kick through, but as of now she had none of these things. Plus, that sounded painful. She stepped away from the glass, returning to the shelves to look for anything to break the barrier. Seeing as nothing new had appeared, all the supplies were less than useful. Pacing seemed like a bad idea with her eyes all but dried shut from tears, but she couldn't suppress the habit under such stress. In the process, she tripped, a painful reminder of the dumbbells lying on the floor.

Testing the weight of one, she was pleasantly surprised to find it was much heavier than its initial size conveyed – though that meant it was a struggle to lift. She came short of the mirror, suddenly aware of another problem. She couldn't aim. She had never been a good shot, but with her eyes closed, she was hopeless. However, she was rue to risk more injuries by getting closer. Her mind stalled, preoccupied with this dilemma, but the rest of her body recognized the need to be quick. Disregarding any decisions, or lack thereof, she heaved the weight behind her, flinging it forward underhand.

The resulting crash made her wince. The animal barked and shouted in surprise, stomping loudly. "Yeah, yeah, I got that much," she ground out between her teeth. Dragging the second dumbbell to the glass, she gave up worrying about the outcome. There was no way she was going to avoid getting hurt; might as well embrace it.

Inhaling as she brought the weight to her shoulder, she twisted slightly to get an angle and exert maximum force on the down swing, smashing the weight into what she assumed was the center. The sharp "crack" was much more promising than her last attempt, but a quick nudge with her foot proved the glass intact. She groaned aloud, temper thoroughly tested. Her knees desperately wanted to collapse, and her sweat glands had decided this was a good time to being working again, making her palms slick. She set her teeth and ignored the weakness: one more time. Up, twist, forward!

Her hands stung with splinters, causing her to drop the weight with a hiss. A cautionary touch made resentment bubble inside her, the cracks reaching the edges and nearly through, but not quite all the way. Fumbling for the weight again, it took a few tries for trembling hands to take hold. For real this time, she mentally promised, up, twist, forward!

The pain in her arms and thighs assured her that, yes, she had succeeded. With blood dripping down her legs, she threw aside the weight and relished the bittersweet victory it was. The immediate increase of sweltering heat also rushed to assure her she had made it inside the ring. Panting, she stumbled forward, maintaining her balance was a chore. She met with iron bars, greeted with a concerned grunt, and felt a large nose nudge her hand. She recoiled in a daze, trying to place the feeling in her disoriented state. Right, the animal. Well, she found it, at least. Noticing the scratching sound, her hand trailed down to the source, finding a pad lock.

"You have to be kidding me," she muttered. The animal gave an apologetic nudge. "Where do I even find a key in here?" Her words nearly masked the jingle when she turned away from the cage. Nearly. "Give me a break!" She shouted at the room. She leaned over, trying to be as careful as possible while rummaging through shards of glass. However, one can only be so "careful" while playing with sharp objects while blind. By the time her numb hands found metal, her breath rattled her ribs, and her stomach roiled. She was beginning to suspect that sickly feeling was more than just nerves.

She fumbled with the lock, leaning heavily against the cage. The animal crooned softly, opening the gate by itself after the soft "click." Any reassurance Mai had was dashed as a chain reaction began, the crackle of electricity was all the warning she had before lights began popping and exploding. She gagged on the smoke, already teary eyes watering excessively.

Her stomach lurched, and she covered her mouth, all her attention suddenly directed towards keeping her lunch down. A strong neck slipped under her arm, a soothing rumble vibrating against her side. What way was up; which direction was down? Were the doors open, or was she being dragged to her death by what could very likely be a feral animal? She attempted to struggle at that thought, but she was slipping, and her limbs didn't hear her. Her body followed the trend of ignoring her, relaxing into the soothing warmth of sunshine on her skin, burning away the blood and bruises.

Woah sorry if that spammed messages, I thought I uploaded this chapter already, but ended up deleting the last chapter and screwing up a few things. Should all be in order now.