By the end of week two, Jin no longer looked like prey.
She still wasn't a predator — not yet — but she didn't flinch when the fists came anymore.
She moved with intent.She hit with calculation.She bled, and didn't ask for pity.
It was progress.Almost too much of it.
Aara watched from across the room, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, boots scuffed from long hours on concrete.
Jin was running drills solo now.Fast. Sharp.Almost… refined.
And that's what made Aara's stomach twist.
Because no one gets that good that fast.Not without help.
"Again," Aara called.
Jin nodded, already mid-combo.Elbow, step, fake left, pivot, strike.
"Again."
She didn't stop.Sweat soaked her collar.Blood from a busted knuckle dotted the mat.
Still — again.Again.Again.
It was too clean.
Her punches landed like she wasn't new to this.Like she'd been taught before.
Not by Aara.
Not in this room.
Aara stepped forward.Grabbed her wrist mid-motion.
"Who's training you besides me?"
Jin blinked.
Didn't answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
"You're moving like someone who's been in a ring," Aara said."Not like someone learning it for the first time."
Jin pulled her hand back.
"I thought you'd be happy."
"I'd be happy if I trusted it."
"You think I'm lying?"
"I think you're hiding. Big difference."
Jin turned, walking toward the water cooler.Took a sip. Didn't face her.
"I used to run deliveries for Rae.Sometimes they'd make us spar in exchange for protection."
She turned back.
"I wasn't good. I didn't win.But I remembered everything."
Aara stared at her.
Measured her words.
"You're fighting like someone who isn't afraid of consequences."
"And you're teaching me like someone who still is."
Silence.
Sharp.
Dangerous.
Not between enemies — but between two girls with too many versions of themselves crawling under their skin.
"They're going to kill you in that pit," Aara said flatly.
"Only if I don't go first."
She meant it.
That's what chilled Aara the most.
Jin wasn't eager.
She was resigned.
Like someone who thought the only way out was through the teeth.
That night, Aara didn't sleep.
She replayed every movement from that day.
The way Jin ducked — too early.The way her stance shifted — too advanced.The hesitation in her answers.
Something was wrong.
This wasn't just a girl fighting to survive.
This was someone being groomed for something else.
The next morning, Aara woke up to a message:
Unknown NumberIs she ready to bleed yet? Or do I need to remind her what it means to wear your name?
No signature.No photo.Just coordinates.
A warehouse — different from their training space.
Aara stared at it for a long time.
Then texted Jin:
[8:03 AM] aara:don't show up to training today
[8:03 AM] jin:why?
[8:04 AM] aara:because I'm about to teach someone else a lesson
By noon, Aara was at the warehouse.
It was empty — at first.
Then a figure stepped out of the shadows.
Same guy from the pit.
Still smug.Still chewing on his words like they tasted better than they should.
"Didn't take long for you to sniff the blood in the water," he said.
"You texted me."
"Details."
He tossed a folder at her feet.
Photos.
Not of Jin.
Of her.
Aara. In the ring. In the street. In the bookstore.
Candid. Tracked. Surveilled.
"Why?" she asked coldly.
"Because you think you're done, but the ring isn't done with you."
"She's not ready."
"Then you better finish the job.Because the sponsors are watching.And if she fails, it's not her name on the line — it's yours."
She knelt, picked up one of the photos.
It was her sitting on the bookstore steps, eyes closed, cigarette between two fingers.
Peaceful.
Almost soft.
"This isn't a fight," she said, standing slowly.
"No. It's an inheritance.You built something — even if you didn't mean to.And now they want to see who wears your shadow better."
Aara turned to leave.
But paused at the door.
"If she dies—"
"Then maybe you'll finally step back in."
She didn't answer.
Didn't threaten.
Because she didn't need to.
That night, back at the training room, she slammed her fist against the wall.
Once.
Twice.
Until the skin broke.
And then she let herself feel it.
Not pain.
Resolve.
Jin walked in late.
Saw the blood.
Paused.
"You okay?"
"No," Aara said."But you're about to be."
"What does that mean?"
"It means no more soft drills.It means I stop training you like a girl and start training you like a weapon."
"And what if I break?"
"Then you weren't meant to carry my name."
Jin didn't speak for a moment.
Then nodded.
"Then teach me."
And Aara did.
But this time, she didn't hold back.
She let her bleed.
Because the world watching wasn't going to blink when it saw tears.
It was going to want a show.
So Aara gave them one — in secret.
A girl becoming dangerous.
And the woman who made her that way.