Jack's muscles burned as he stood in a low stance, sweat dripping down his face. The dojo was filled with the sound of steady footfalls and sharp, controlled strikes. Today, the pace was relentless. The instructor moved through the room, giving corrections, demonstrating techniques, and pushing everyone harder than before.
"Block! Strike! Reset!" the instructor barked, his voice carrying over the rhythmic sound of feet on mats.
Jack's arms were starting to feel like lead, but he forced himself to push through, absorbing the movements and learning with every repetition. He was getting better—he could feel it—but the strain on his body was real, and it didn't help that the others around him, especially Hannah, made it look effortless.
She was a few feet away, her form precise, fluid. Every strike, every block, was executed with grace and power. Jack couldn't help but be impressed. He had been training for only a couple of weeks, but Hannah? She moved like someone who had been doing this for years. Her orange belt hung loosely around her waist, a clear marker of her experience.
"Pair up!" the instructor called.
Jack found himself paired with Hannah, and he felt a brief surge of nerves. She'd made it look so easy, and now he had to keep up. She seemed to sense his hesitation.
"Don't worry," she said with a playful grin, "I won't bite."
Jack chuckled awkwardly, and they took their positions. The instructor demonstrated a new self-defense technique, one that involved a quick block followed by an immediate counterattack. Jack's first attempt was far from smooth. His movements were slow, unsure, and his block didn't come close to being strong enough.
Hannah stepped in and gently corrected him, adjusting his form. "You've got the right idea. Just... more focus on your center," she said, her voice calm and patient. Her hands gently guided his, shifting his posture until he felt his body aligned just right.
Jack's next attempt was better—still not perfect, but better. The strike felt more controlled, the block stronger. Hannah nodded approvingly.
"There. That's it. You're getting there," she said, her smile encouraging.
As they continued to practice, Jack couldn't help but notice how natural it seemed for her. Hannah wasn't just skilled—she was confident. And it made him want to get better, to keep up with her.
When the class finally came to an end, Jack's body ached, but there was a sense of pride, too. He was learning, and he was improving. It felt good.
The students began to gather their things, and Jack wiped the sweat from his brow. He caught Hannah's eye as she was finishing her stretches. She walked over to him, her relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to his tense muscles.
"Good work today," she said, her voice easy, unhurried. "You're progressing faster than I thought."
Jack smiled, feeling a warmth in his chest. "Thanks. I still feel like I have a long way to go, though."
Hannah shrugged. "You're doing fine. It's about consistency. Just keep at it."
They walked toward the door, and Jack mentioned, "I actually just started working at that grocery store down the block. I'm there in the afternoons after class."
"Really? I'll probably swing by sometime, then," Hannah said with a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Just to see how you're doing."
Jack's heart skipped a beat, a grin pulling at his lips. "You'd come by just to see me?"
Hannah shrugged, her smile playful. "I mean, if you're going to be working, might as well make it a bit more interesting, right?"
They shared a quiet laugh as they stepped outside into the fading afternoon light. Jack felt lighter than he had in days. The thought of seeing Hannah again, just for a casual visit, made his chest feel warm. It was silly, but he couldn't help it. The idea of her stopping by his job... it was a simple thing, but it made him smile in a way he hadn't expected.
As they reached the parking lot, Jack hesitated. His heart thudded in his chest. He wasn't sure why, but he felt an urge to ask. To take a small step forward.
He turned to Hannah, a bit nervous. "Hey... um, would you maybe... want to hang out sometime? Outside of class, I mean."
Hannah raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the question. For a moment, Jack thought he might have said something wrong, but then she smiled. It was soft, knowing. Her eyes warmed with something like approval.
"Yeah," she said, her voice steady and kind. "I'd like that."
Relief flooded through him, and a grin spread across Jack's face. "Great. Cool. I'll—uh, I'll text you?"
Hannah nodded. "I'll give you my number."
She pulled out her phone, and Jack quickly did the same, both of them exchanging numbers with a shared smile. When the exchange was done, she looked at him one last time.
"Take care, Jack," she said, her voice warm. "I'll see you soon."
As Jack walked away, he felt lighter, more energized. His thoughts buzzed with excitement. It wasn't just about the training anymore. It was about something more—a connection he hadn't expected, but one he was looking forward to exploring.
As the late afternoon sun hung low, casting a golden hue across the Brooklyn skyline, Alastor and Rachel strolled along the path of Prospect Park. The park, tucked away amid the bustling neighborhoods of Brooklyn, offered a quiet escape from the city's constant hum. The sound of traffic and distant chatter faded behind the rustling trees and the rhythmic crunch of gravel beneath their feet.
Rachel's teasing voice broke the peaceful rhythm of their walk. "So, you've finally tried a burger, huh?"
Alastor's mouth twitched into a small smile, though he rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. It's been a big milestone for me. You don't have to rub it in, Rachel."
"Oh, I'm not rubbing it in," she teased, nudging him with her shoulder as they passed under the canopy of trees lining the path. "I just think it's funny. You've been walking around like you've never eaten such a meal in your life."
"Not true." Alastor grinned. "I do eat. Just not at fancy restaurants."
"Like me," Rachel shot back with a wink. "So, if you don't go out to eat, what do you eat?"
Alastor gave it a moment's thought, then shrugged casually. "Mostly home-cooked meals. Either by me or Mr. Thompson. We get food from the grocery store—nothing fancy."
"Home-cooked?" Rachel raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure Mr. Thompson's a decent cook, but you? Really?"
Alastor gave a dramatic sigh, grinning despite himself. "It's not as hard as you think. You just... don't burn things."
"Oh, please," Rachel said with a smirk. "I can't imagine you whipping up anything worth eating. Probably just burnt toast and eggs."
Alastor laughed, shaking his head. "I'm getting better. And Mr. Thompson is a good teacher."
Rachel chuckled. "You know, I've always been curious about something. Your name—Alastor. It's not exactly a common name, and you're from... well, somewhere far from Earth. How did you come up with it?"
Alastor paused, the question hanging in the air. His expression shifted slightly, as though he was searching for a way to explain. "Funny story, actually," he began, his tone lighter now. "When I first arrived on Earth, I didn't know what to call myself. Mr. Thompson found me. He asked my name, and all I could think to do was look around."
He glanced at her, his eyes flickering with a memory, a ghost of something long past. "We were driving out in the countryside, somewhere far from Brooklyn. I was still adjusting to Earth's... everything. And I saw it. A street sign—Alastor Street. A name right there in front of me."
Rachel blinked, trying to picture the scene. "So, you just took the name from a street sign?"
Alastor shrugged, a faint grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. "I wasn't exactly in the mood for an identity crisis. It seemed simple, you know? Alastor—it felt like a name that could blend in, nothing too noticeable. I didn't want to stand out. Not yet."
Rachel nodded, listening intently, her curiosity piqued. "And your last name?"
Alastor's gaze shifted slightly, as though the memory was pulling him further away. "That one's from a book," he said, his voice softening. "A book I found on another planet. I stumbled across Lord of the Rings—a strange thing, really. The book had somehow made its way to that world, even though it was from Earth." His lips curved slightly as he recalled the book's pages. "And in it, there was a character named Faramir. The name stuck with me, something about it felt... right."
Rachel raised an eyebrow, impressed. "You named yourself after a character from a book?"
"Why not?" Alastor replied with a casual shrug, though his eyes held a distant warmth. "It was a good name, and it seemed fitting. Besides, I couldn't keep my real name. Too many people might have recognized it."
He glanced sideways at her, and his tone shifted slightly, a hint of something deeper in his voice. "I didn't want to be known by that name here. Not on Earth."
Rachel was quiet for a moment, absorbing the layers of meaning behind his words. She understood—there were parts of his past, pieces of himself, that he couldn't let others see. And Alastor, as she knew him, was someone who wore a mask, a name he could control, rather than the one that tied him to a history he'd left behind.
"Alastor," she said softly, letting the name settle in her mouth like something comfortable. "I think it suits you."
Alastor chuckled, but then he grew quiet, a curious thought tugging at him. He glanced over at her as they walked, the city skyline framing the view beyond the park. "I know we've talked a bit, but... you've never really told me much about your past. I mean, aside from... you know... your brother still being alive after everything."
Rachel's face shifted slightly, but she shrugged nonchalantly. "What do you want to know?"
Alastor chose his words carefully. "I'm just curious. What was it like for you before all this? What's your story?"
She was silent for a moment, as if weighing how much to say. The sound of their footsteps was the only noise between them now. "I lost my parents when I was really young. After that, my uncle, Mr. Thompson, took me in. He raised me for a while before I became independent. It wasn't always easy, but it was better than being in the system."
Alastor nodded, his eyes softening. "I can't even imagine."
Rachel's eyes focused ahead as she continued, her voice steady. "You don't have to. It's the past. I made it through. Eventually, I got into the police force. I was looking for a way out, a way to make things right."
"You joined the force to... make a difference?" Alastor asked.
Rachel nodded, though she gave a half-smile. "Yeah. After everything I saw growing up, I didn't want anyone else to feel like I did. It's not perfect, but it's something. You do what you can."
Alastor absorbed her words, realizing just how much strength it must have taken to make it this far. "That's... impressive."
Rachel shrugged again, her usual confidence returning. "It is what it is. You just keep going."
There was a comfortable pause between them, but Alastor couldn't help but wonder about something else. "You mentioned dating a few guys before. Three, right?"
Rachel shot him a side-eye but smiled. "You really want to know about that?"
"Well, yeah," Alastor said with a grin. "What's love really like? You've been in relationships. What's it feel like?"
Rachel's expression softened, the mischievous edge to her demeanor gone. She glanced at him, her eyes searching his face for a moment, and then looked ahead as they kept walking. "Love's complicated. It's not always what you see in the movies. Sometimes, it's about trust, about giving and taking, and sometimes, it's about sticking around even when things aren't perfect."
She slowed her pace for a second, turning toward him slightly. "It's not always easy, but if it's real... it's worth it."
Alastor absorbed her words, feeling a connection he hadn't expected, something deeper than the light teasing and banter they'd been sharing. They walked together in silence, the warm glow of the sunset painting the park with golden light, the city sounds distant now, replaced by the quiet buzz of nature around them.
They passed a bench near a small pond, and as they slowed down, a comfortable tension grew between them. Alastor glanced at her, and Rachel met his gaze, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Slowly, almost without thinking, they inched closer, drawn to the quiet intimacy of the moment.
Just as their lips were about to meet, a voice called out, interrupting them.
"¡Oye! ¡Ustedes!"
Startled, they pulled apart immediately, their faces flushed. The moment shattered in an instant. A man stood at the edge of the path, speaking rapidly in Spanish. He looked confused, but amused, his eyes flicking from one to the other as if unsure of what he'd just interrupted.
Alastor blinked, still processing what had just happened. He cleared his throat, forcing a smile. "Uh... what?"
Meanwhile, Jack stood behind the counter at the grocery store, his hands moving with practiced ease as he arranged cans on the shelves. The fluorescent lights above flickered slightly, the hum of the store a constant backdrop to the quiet rhythm of his work. He had been there for an hour now, stocking items, helping customers, and keeping an eye on the clock. The store was bustling with people, but his attention kept wandering back to the entrance.
He wasn't sure why he was so nervous. It was just Hannah, right? He'd seen her in class a bunch of times, but today, at the grocery store, things felt different. He caught himself checking the clock for the third time in the last ten minutes, trying to stay focused.
Finally, the bell above the door chimed as someone walked in. Jack's heart skipped a beat as he looked up and saw Hannah step through the entrance. She scanned the aisles for a moment, then spotted him. Her face lit up with that same easy smile that made Jack feel like he could take on the world.
She waved at him, and he waved back, his stomach fluttering. She strolled toward him, looking casual in a hoodie and jeans, her orange belt still visible under her jacket. The sight of it made him smile—her confidence in everything she did.
"Well, well, look at you," she said, her voice playful as she came to a stop at the counter. "A real handyman behind the scenes. You've got the whole store looking nice."
Jack couldn't help but laugh nervously. "Uh, thanks. It's just... stocking. Not much of a handyman thing."
She leaned against the counter, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "I don't know. You seem like a man of many talents. Stocking, karate... next thing I know, you'll be fixing cars or something."
The compliment made Jack blush, his cheeks tinged with color. He scratched the back of his head, trying to hide his embarrassment. "I—I wouldn't go that far."
Hannah chuckled, clearly enjoying the reaction. "You're too modest. If I needed help with anything, I know who to call." She winked at him, making Jack's heart race just a little faster.
Before Jack could respond, a loud crash came from the far end of the store, followed by a voice shouting.
"Everybody down! This is a robbery!"
The atmosphere in the store shifted instantly. The chatter of customers stopped, replaced by the unmistakable sound of panic. Jack's heart pounded in his chest as he turned toward the source of the noise. A man stood at the far end of the aisle, a gun raised and aimed at the ceiling, his voice harsh and demanding.
"Everyone on the floor! Now!" the man shouted again.
Jack froze for a split second, but then he noticed Hannah. She was already in motion, slipping into a stance as if her body had been trained for this exact moment. Her expression was calm, focused. Jack didn't even have to think. He stepped forward, his instincts kicking in. He felt the familiar weight of the moves they'd been practicing together in class, and for a moment, he wasn't just a grocery store worker—he was a fighter.
The gunman was too distracted by the panicking customers to notice them. Jack moved quickly, closing the distance between himself and Hannah. Without a word, they positioned themselves on opposite sides of the aisle, eyes locked. Jack took a deep breath.
"On three," Hannah mouthed, her stance still perfect. Jack nodded.
One... two... three.
Jack rushed forward, using the same fluid movements he had practiced so many times in the dojo. He slid past a cart, moving low to the ground, while Hannah darted forward from the other side, just as quick and precise. As the gunman turned to face Jack, he was met with a swift block that sent his gun spiraling across the floor. Jack wasn't done—he immediately followed up with a controlled punch to the man's chest, pushing him back.
The gunman staggered but didn't fall, eyes wide with shock. That's when Hannah moved in, her leg sweeping out to take his feet from under him. In one fluid motion, she twisted his arm behind his back, securing him with ease.
The man grunted in pain, clearly struggling, but there was no escaping their hold. Jack and Hannah had him pinned, and in the chaos, the store's security guard finally arrived, rushing to help.
"Stay down! Don't move!" the guard shouted, pulling his own weapon from his belt as he secured the shoplifter's hands.
The store was still tense, but the immediate threat was gone. Jack and Hannah stood there, breaths heavy, adrenaline still coursing through their veins. A few seconds later, the store erupted into applause. Customers who had been cowering in fear started clapping, cheering for the two of them. Jack looked around, stunned by the sudden praise.
"Nice work, man!" one of the customers called out, his voice full of admiration.
"You guys were awesome!" another customer chimed in, his voice still shaking from the shock.
Even a few of Jack's coworkers, who had been hiding in the back during the chaos, came out from behind the aisles, offering their applause.
Jack's face turned bright red, and he glanced at Hannah, who was smiling—genuinely smiling. She gave him a quick thumbs-up, and for a moment, they both stood there, the center of attention in a way neither of them had expected.
The store manager, Mr. Burns, came forward, clapping his hands in approval. "You two are unbelievable," he said, his tone full of admiration. "I've never seen anything like that. You're both getting a bonus for this, no questions asked."
Before Jack could respond, the sound of sirens cut through the air, growing louder as they neared the store. The authorities had arrived. Several police cars skidded to a stop outside the store, and uniformed officers rushed in, weapons drawn, quickly taking control of the situation. The store's security guard stepped aside as they handcuffed the shoplifter and led him out of the building.
A detective approached Jack and Hannah, his eyes narrowed but appreciative. "You two did great," he said, offering them a nod. "That was quick thinking. You saved a lot of lives today." He turned to the store manager, who was standing nearby. "I'll need statements from both of them, but we'll make sure your bravery doesn't go unnoticed."
Hannah grinned, her posture relaxed now that the danger was over. "Just doing what we had to do."
Jack, still a bit overwhelmed, nodded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Yeah... yeah, we did."
As the officers continued to take the shoplifter into custody, the adrenaline finally began to wear off. Jack and Hannah exchanged a glance, both of them breathing a little easier now that it was all over.
"You were amazing," Jack said, still trying to catch his breath.
"Yeah, well," Hannah replied with a shrug, her smile playful, "what can I say? We make a pretty good team."
Jack laughed, still a little in awe of the whole situation. "I think that's an understatement."
"Well, next time," she said with a wink, "let's hope we can just stick to the karate practice, huh?"
"Agreed," Jack said, his heart racing—not from the adrenaline, but from something else entirely.
As the store returned to its usual rhythm, with the authorities now in control of the scene, Jack couldn't help but feel lighter, more energized. Today had turned into something unexpected, something good. And as he caught a final glimpse of Hannah's smile, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was only the beginning of something even more exciting.
Back at the Prospect Park, the man's voice rang out again, sharper this time, his words tumbling out in a string of rapid Spanish.
"¡Oye! ¡Ustedes!"
Alastor blinked, caught off guard. His mind scrambled to catch up, still buzzing from the unexpected shift in the air just moments before. He could feel the awkwardness settling in, the moment lost before it had a chance to truly begin. His gaze flicked to Rachel, who was clearly just as surprised, but her expression quickly morphed into one of curiosity.
Alastor cleared his throat, forcing a smile, and looked back at the man. "Uh... what?"
The man took a step closer, still speaking quickly, his confusion apparent. He gestured vaguely, trying to communicate something. Alastor, trying to mask his discomfort, stepped forward. Without another word, he extended his hand toward the stranger. The man hesitated for a moment, but then took it, clearly puzzled by the gesture.
Rachel raised an eyebrow, watching Alastor's movements carefully. She was about to ask him what he was doing when it happened — Alastor's fingers brushed against the man's, a subtle but deliberate contact.
Alastor closed his eyes briefly, his mind clicking into place. His senses sharpened, the foreign words of the language running through him as if they were his own thoughts. The touch was enough for his kind to learn, to absorb. And in the span of a few seconds, the words from the man's rapid-fire speech were no longer a blur. Alastor opened his eyes again, his lips curling into a small smile.
"Perdón," he said smoothly, his voice now rich with fluent Spanish. "¿Podrías repetir lo que dijiste? Estaba distraído."
The man blinked in surprise, clearly taken aback by the smoothness of Alastor's Spanish. He hesitated for a moment before repeating his question more slowly, still a little confused. "¿Dónde está el restaurante cerca del lago en el parque?"
Alastor nodded, as if the entire conversation made perfect sense now. "Sí, claro," he said, continuing in Spanish. "Tienes que caminar por este sendero, luego gira a la derecha cuando llegues al puente. El restaurante está justo a tu izquierda."
The man's confusion quickly turned to awe as he smiled, nodding enthusiastically. "¡Gracias! ¡Muchísimas gracias!"
As the man walked away, still muttering his thanks, Rachel glanced at Alastor, her eyes wide with surprise. "That... was impressive."
Alastor gave a small shrug, a modest smile tugging at his lips. "I've got a knack for languages."
"Yeah, no kidding," Rachel replied, her voice tinged with awe. "You picked that up in, what, five seconds? That was insane."
Alastor's grin widened, but he shrugged again, downplaying it. "Just a little trick I learned."
Rachel raised an eyebrow. "You could seriously be a language teacher, you know."
Alastor snorted, shaking his head. "No, that's not really my thing."
She smirked, nudging him lightly. "Well, it could be. You're practically fluent in Spanish now. Imagine teaching a class, maybe even French or something. You've got the potential."
Alastor gave her a look, a little surprised by the suggestion. "I'm not sure that's what I want to do. Besides, I'm not much of a 'teacher' type."
Rachel kept her gaze fixed on him, her tone softening. "You know, you might be onto something. You've got this... whole thing about being 'meaningful,' right?" She paused, and Alastor glanced at her, brow furrowing slightly.
She continued, her voice thoughtful. "Uncle Thom told you to do something meaningful, didn't he? Maybe this could be it. You're good at this. Maybe teaching people a language or something could be your first step."
Alastor was quiet for a moment, the words hanging between them like a delicate thread. The idea of doing something meaningful, truly meaningful, still felt far away for him, but Rachel's suggestion lingered in his mind.
She turned toward him as they continued walking, her tone playful again. "You can't just keep sitting around, Alastor. The apartment's not going to be the answer to everything. You've got to do something that matters, even if it's small. I think this might be your first step."
Alastor took in her words, the warm afternoon sunlight casting a soft glow on them. He let out a small sigh, not entirely convinced but not entirely opposed either. He didn't say anything right away. Instead, they walked on in comfortable silence, the sounds of the park around them blending with the city hum just outside.
For a moment, Alastor thought about it. Maybe teaching wasn't such a terrible idea after all.