#jikook ff

In the whirlwind of emotions I'm feeling, only three prevail above anything else; fear, claustrophobia and hunger. Well, the last one is not really an emotion so it doesn't count but hey, I can't touch it, can I?

The eerie murmur of the dozens of boys around us snaps me out from my reverie. They seem to be deep in conversation about what's happening. That makes me think: what is happening? I move my head in a semi-circle, trying to get a better view of the cave-like arena we're in. Twenty minutes ago, I'd climbed down a flight of very slippery, rusty old stairs to get here and now all I can think of is if it was really worth it. My third emotion seems to agree as my stomach rumbles loudly. I haven't eaten anything in the last eighteen hours and that's saying a lot, considering how unsatisfied of a glutton I really am.

"I told you we shouldn't be here, man! Now what?!" Jimin shouts in a whisper right into my poor ear. He's been panicking like a lost gazelle ever since we stepped foot in this place and thinking back on it, he had all the right in the world. This place smells like medicine, a thick coat of dust covers every surface in sight and rust! so much of it that it's all I can see. Rust on the chairs, rust on the floor, rust everywhere. That bloody brown stains my vision like a blob in a feverish night. Jimin's right. We never should have gotten here.

"Too late now, " I whisper and turn my eyes back to the main scene. The ring of young boys seems to be heating up in their arguments as they get louder and louder with each passing minute. They're all here for the same purpose as we do. To be recruits. But the thing is, they don't look scared. Not even close. In fact, their excitement is through the roof. Anyone can tell by the way they talk animatedly with each other or the way their eyes glint with mischief. And by the way that-

One of the doors on the far corner bursts open, a man stumbling backwards from it. He crawls on the floor for a few seconds, then finally gets his bearings and lifts his head. The crowd gasps. One side of the man's face is completely covered in blood, but there are no cuts or wounds.

The blood is not his.

Jimin hangs on my sleeve for dear life, but I'm too busy staring at the scene to notice his worry.

I hold my breath as faint footsteps come from within the room, becoming louder and louder as they meet their end. My breath hitches in my throat. It’s him.

“Good evening, gentlemen!” Khan smiles. He lets out a delightful laugh, as if he hadn’t just blown a man through the door five seconds ago. It felt weird to finally see that image of him materialized right in front of me. Listening to the countless stories made for this middle-aged man, I’d spent hours thinking about what he would look like. Never would I imagine he’d seem so…normal. His luscious locks are carefully swiped on the side, not a single hair out of line, his clothes are neat and tidy and what surprises me the most is that genuine smile that wrinkles his eyes into half-moons. He looked just like Jimin whenever I gave him an extra portion of meat. Perfectly innocent.

“I hope you didn’t get bored waiting for me, “he continues.

The young boys are left speechless, too caught on the spot to dare answer the mighty Khan. The latter’s smile doesn’t falter. “I’ll take that as a yes, then.” He links his hands behind his back and starts trotting towards the man on the ground. “Well, to make things more interesting, I will call my dear right hand to put on a little show.”

The man groans in pain and I can’t tell if it’s from the beating or the fear.

“Haru! Come here, my dear!” Khan shouts to where the door is. The words have barely left his lips when suddenly, a dark figure appears. He can’t be more than eighteen but I’m not entirely sure as a black robber-hood covers his face, leaving two small holes for where his eyes should be. He’s not very tall but his body is well-built. I can tell that much from his steady walk and from the hard-core clothing. Cargo pants, a multiple-pocketed jacket and combat boots. Typical recruit uniform. The boy called Haru takes two more steps and bows his head slightly after stopping by Khan’s side.

“Haru, the suspect is not cooperating. Can you show the audience how to make him cooperate?” Khan calmly asks. He takes a seat on one of the rusty chairs and pours hot tea into a cup that I hadn’t even noticed.

Haru-boy bows once again and slowly heads towards the man. It takes him three long strides to reach the spot and just like that, he pauses. Waiting.

The man quickly stands up. “I already told you I don’t know anyth-“

Snap

With one sharp movement, the boy has moved behind him and kicked his knees from the back, splatting him flat on the floor once again.

A collective sound of surprise escapes everyone’s lips, including Jimin’s, who I’d almost forgot standing right next to me.

“Oh, Haru come on now!” Khan protests, exasperated as he adds another sugar cube in his cup of tea. “No need to be in full uniform all the time. You’re not making this fun at all!”

Haru tilts his head towards his master, seemingly puzzled by his request and then sighs so loudly, it echoes across the walls of the arena. His hand reaches up and snatches the hood from his head, revealing long flowing blonde hair. I can’t believe my eyes. There’s a girl standing where a boy should have been. A girl, in flesh and bones! Her skin is a rich golden- brown, darker than the average pallid complexion we’re used to seeing. It suits her hazel eyes perfectly, complementing their beautiful almond shape. Every single person in the room is stunned into silence. Everyone except for Khan. He smiles knowingly, challenging anyone who dares meet his eyes with a proud look.

Haru takes that as her cue to start undressing. She rips off the heavy jacket in a quick motion, leaving her with nothing but a black tank-top underneath. In that exact moment, the crowd goes crazy. Hoots, whistles and teasing laughter explode from every single corner, making the arena sound like a showdown match. All eyes (and hormones) are on the girl and her ridiculously good figure. Protruding collarbones hug her wide shoulders and her waist slims into a dorito-shape. I just know for sure that all the guys are way too busy staring at her breasts, which in all honesty are not that exposed, unless you especially look for them.

However, despite all of the ruckus surrounding her, the girl stays perfectly calm in her shoes, observing the scene with a cold look and paying them no mind. Her face betrays no emotion, no feelings. A statue made of rock.

“Talk, “she quietly urges the man squirming in pain. When he makes no effort whatsoever, she lowers herself onto his level and looks him straight in the eye, waiting yet again.

The man spits in her face.

Jimin and I freeze. It seems like every single person in the crowd is holding their breath.

Haru is a slab of stone. She doesn’t even flinch, spit still dangling from her nose and cheeks. Then, she quietly gets up and lifts her tank top to wipe off the disgusting saliva. With just a flash of her toned stomach in sight, the boys go into hysterics. Their laughter and appreciative whistles follow Haru even as she grabs something from the nearest rusty table and puts it in her hand. My eyes go wide open.

Iron handcuffs.

Their infamous sting had been known for a long time among recruits. They used them regularly as their go-to item.

Haru doesn’t even wait for a reaction, swinging her fist right into the man’s face. With a satisfying crunch, the latter falls backward and fondles his nose, wailing in agony. I wonder if the walls are soundproof enough to block his miserable screams. The girl immediately goes for another punch, this time not even letting him breathe. She climbs on top of his body and keeps his hands from moving by using her knees.

Punch

Punch

Punch

One hit after the other, her toned back is glistening with sweat, making her muscles move with the motion.

Punch

Punch

The ominous sound is the only thing heard. The crowd has stopped talking among themselves, the man has stopped whimpering. All eyes are on the torture scene.

Haru pauses her beating and support herself on her palms. “Talk,” she orders, just as calmly as before. “Where is Recruit nr. 23?”

I raise my head to steal a glimpse from the man’s face and almost throw up my lunch. His face is beyond recognition; swollen nose and eyes, blood all over the place. His skin is ripped off and hanging in certain places. I doubt he can even talk anymore. But he does.

“Dasan S-s-street, the b-Bloody bar,” he finally stutters.

Haru immediately retreats. She rises to her feet and goes by her master’s side, the blood still staining her hands.

A brilliant smile overcomes Khan’s features. “Good job, my dear.” Then he faces the crowd, with a new sort of entertained look on his face. “This, my boys, is how to make someone cooperate. Watch and learn from her.”

I see him tuck a stray hair behind her ear and whisper a few words that are too low to make out. Haru’s face is as serious as ever. “Yes, sir,” she obeys and starts walking towards the crowd. She points her finger at some of the boys and gestures for them to follow her.

And then her eyes lock with mine. “You,” she announces and pivots on her heel. The floor seems to sway under my feet. I choke in a mumble of indiscernible words and suddenly forget how to speak.

Me?

Wait a minute, what am I supposed to do? Should I follow her? What about Jimin? He didn’t get chosen.

“Wait!” I squeak. Just like that, all eyes are on me. I try not to think about them and glance at the frightened sight of Jimin instead. He looks at me in awe.

“H-he’s with… m-me,” I say. “If you take me, you have to take him, too.”

Haru stops dead in her tracks and turns around, shooting invisible daggers from her eyes. Her expression hasn’t even changed one bit but I can tell I’ve pissed her off. She starts taking slow steps and trots her way to me, stopping right into my face. Our difference in height is noticeable but it actually looks like she’s the one towering over me.

I try to keep my eyes up but they naturally stoop down to steal a glance at the fair sheen of sweat on her chest. She’s not skinny, but rather muscular, well-built. Even a fool can notice the hard work she’s put into carving the perfect body for herself. Her biceps intimidate me.

“Haru, Haru….,” I hear Khan sing-song as he puts his cup down after a small gulp. “You’re really intolerable sometimes. If they are so fond of each other, you should take them both. We’re not here to break people apart, are we?”

Haru’s sigh is loud but her face still does not change. She breaks the tension between our eyes and switches them to Jimin instead, flicking her head on the side and gesturing for him to move along.

He wastes no time and quickly falls into line with everyone else. In the meanwhile, I’m frozen in my spot as Haru’s eyes stare deep into my soul.

“What’s your name?” she demands.