It was a sunny Sunday.
Sundori had grown tired of pondering on the news about chip manufacturers and wallowing in her own loneliness. Determined to break free from her monotonous routine, she made a decision—she would venture into the bustling city center for a leisurely walk, something she hadn't done in two years.
The city center housed one of the country's largest shopping malls, but Sundori had never set foot in it. Sundori seldom shopped in person. Most of the time, she would just order stuff online and have it sent to her office. Well, old habit – do not disclose private information, such as home address.
Decided to venture out to the city center, Sundori started to get dressed. Even for those espousing minimalism, her wardrobe might seem austere: dominated by navy and grey hues. On the left, garments suitable for professional engagements were neatly arranged—a selection of blouses, a handful of blazers, and an array of business trousers. To the right, sport shirts and sweatpants presented a more casual alternative. Each item lacked overtly feminine embellishments. However, the understated luxury of her clothing was evident in the superior quality of the fabric.
Living in San Jingo, a city blessed with an absence of true winters, Sundori had no need for season-specific clothing. Her current wardrobe was suitable year-round. However, she didn't feel like donning her work attire on this particular sunny Sunday. It would only add to the dullness she sought to escape.
With limited choices at hand, she finally slipped into a sports shirt and sweatpants. As she faced the mirror, she saw an unremarkable woman in her early thirties staring back—an average height and nondescript features. But a closer gaze would reveal a lean, muscular physique silently narrating tales of physical strength and endurance. Scars scattered across her back and limbs —a trained medical professional might deduce they resulted from various wounds, including cuts, gunshots, and beatings; while calluses roughened her hands, a testament to years spent wielding weapons or engaging in rigorous boxing.
For now, Sundori had little concern for her scars and calluses. Instead, her attention was ensnared by her unruly hair. Having only grown it out in the past two years—after sporting short hair for the majority of her life—she had yet to master the art of braiding. Her hair was either a disheveled mess or simply left straight. After wrestling with it fruitlessly for a few minutes, she conceded defeat, pulling it back into a simple ponytail.
With a baseball cap firmly on her head - another old habit from her previous job - Sundori stepped out of her apartment. She wasn't planning any escapades today but she preferred to maintain some degree of privacy amid the ever-present surveillance cameras that dotted the city. The hat served as a subtle shield against complete facial recognition..
The metro was quite crowded during this time of day. Sundori boarded a train bound for the city center, positioning herself in a corner near the door, quietly observing her fellow passengers. Subconsciously, she chose a spot both convenient for disembarking and providing a clear view of the entire carriage. Old habits die hard, regardless of time and place.
Her eyes scanned the scene unfolding around her -- a young couple obliviously wrapped in each other's arms; three energetic children shouted and jumped with unbridled excitement; some elderly individuals sat in the seats, their curiosity about the world undiminished by age.
As she took in these snippets of human connection, a wave of warmth washed over Sundori, thawing the icy walls she had erected around herself over the years. Over the past two years, and perhaps even longer, she had built a wall between herself and others, intentionally avoiding close connections. It was her way of self-preservation. Yet deep down, she longed for human kindness and warmth, craving the company of others. In this moment, surrounded by strangers, she felt content. There was no need to worry about their intentions; she could simply observe them and share in their joy.
The sight of the couple, cocooned in their love, was alien to her, having never tasted such affection herself. But the children's innocent laughter stirred long-buried memories, reminding her of a time when friendship was not foreign to her. A soft shake of her head followed as the term "friend" echoed within her mind.
Further down the carriage, she spotted a young man—disheveled hair hidden behind glasses, worn jeans hanging off his lanky frame, and a laptop backpack slung over one shoulder. His attire gave away little, but his fatigue was apparent. Comparatively, the effervescent children nearby made his exhaustion seem more pronounced. The weight of his backpack appeared to burden him, causing a slight stoop in his posture. "Perhaps he's a programmer, unfortunate enough to be working overtime on a Sunday," Sundori speculated, feeling a pang of sympathy for the man.
Suddenly, her well-honed instincts were triggered. A muscular man was stationed not far from the weary programmer-like young man, his alert gaze never straying from him. Sundori recognized that particular gaze all too well—an expression marked by vigilance and calculation, one she herself wore countless times. "He should be a trained agent or soldier," she thought. "But why target the programmer?"
The stout guy stood sturdily, but his muscles were tightened. Even a few meters apart, Sundori could feel the dangerous sense spread out from that guy. It took a spy to spot another spy. "This guys should be good." Sundori talked to herself silently. "And he is aiming at that programmer. Why?"
Sundori felt her heartbeat quicken, adrenaline flooding her system in response to this potential threat. Her senses sharpened, akin to a lioness readying herself for a defensive strike, instinctively preparing for any eventuality.
The metro announcer's voice echoed through the carriage, signalling the approach of the next stop. As the train began to decelerate, passengers shuffled towards the doors, temporarily creating a clearing around the unsuspecting young man. Suddenly, the stout guy moved expertly navigating through the crowd until he was within arm's reach of the programmer. Sundori's vigilant gaze did not miss a beat. It became evident to her that the stout figure had set his sights on the unsuspecting young man.
In the span of a few seconds, she noticed the burly man extract something sharp from his grasp. The object was minute and given the several meters between them, its exact form eluded Sundori. Yet, relying on her extensive experience, she deduced it to be a compact military knife—a weapon commonly used for effortlessly cutting through various types of bags or pockets.
She was right. The stout guy deftly made a small incision on the young man's backpack with that sharp object. With the train coming to a complete stop, the usual jostling of passengers disembarking and boarding the train carriage created enough distraction to mask his actions, leaving the young man oblivious to the intrusion.
Pickpockets typically make a swift exit after their deed. However, contrary to this norm, the stout man stood frozen next to the young man, an expression of disbelief or confusion etched on his face.
"He must not have found what he was searching for," Sundori contemplated.
"Should I alert the young man?" Sundori wrestled with herself internally. It is better to avoid any unnecessary involvement on any circumstances, not to mention, that young man is a complete stranger. Besides, it was difficult to discern right from wrong. "While most likely, the one who slashed the backpack is up to no good, but we can't be entirely sure, can we? Better stay out of it." Sundori reasoned with herself.
As the metro doors slid shut, the train resumed its journey towards the next station. Despite some passengers disembarking, an equal number boarded, maintaining the crowded atmosphere within the carriage.
The stout man continued to stand in close proximity to the young man, appearing perplexed, perhaps contemplating his next move. "He must have onfident about finding something specific within the young man's backpack but couldn't locate it now," Sundori deduced.
"Could it be something computer-related? Like a hard drive or disk? It's unlikely to be the laptop itself, as that would attract attention and potentially alert the owner," Sundori speculated, attempting to deduce more from the unfolding situation.
While the stout guy was still deliberating his next move, the young man slid his backpack off and seemed to be reaching inside it. Suddenly, an item fell onto the floor from the cut in the bag - a notepad. From her position, Sundori recognized it as a mid-sized Moleskine, a bit larger than an average hand. "Good taste, it's a high-end brand," she mused silently.
The young man bent down to retrieve the fallen notepad, pulling his backpack around to his front. The stout man appeared increasingly unsettled, yet his gaze remained intensely affixed on the young man. "If I were in his shoes, I'd make a swift exit by now. This big fellow must lack street smarts, or maybe he's not that bright and just relies on raw brute force," Sundori thought, slightly amused.
Indeed, while the young man reached down to the notepad on the floor, he noticed his backpack was sliced open. He pulled the bag close to his chest and began to yell, "There's a thief on this train! Catch him!" His voice echoed loudly through the carriage.
In a split second, the young man locked eyes with the towering figure, who by now looked visibly perturbed, but continued to keep his focus on the young man. With one hand clutching his damaged backpack, the young man extended his other hand, making a grab for the large man's clothes.
The burly man finally snapped back into reality, deftly sidestepping and evading the young man's reach. "He has nimble moves, but certainly lacks strategic thinking," Sundori commented under her breath, unable to suppress the intrigue ignited within her.
Despite the large man's nimbleness in dodging the young man's initial attempt to grab him, he seemed at a loss for a subsequent plan of action. He was caught between fleeing and maintaining his feigned innocence. Meanwhile, the young man was convinced that this imposing figure was responsible for slicing open his bag. Yelling "Got you!", he lunged towards the big man again. Acting on impulse, the large man lifted his hand in defense, but put too much force into it, inadvertently pushing the young man back a step.
A flash of annoyance crossed the burly man's face at this point, probably realizing his cover had been blown. Without further delay, he raised his foot to run. This action only served to reinforce the young man's suspicion that something was awry with this individual. Persistently hollering, "Catch him!" he pursued the burly fugitive.
The big man, seemingly unlucky in his decision-making, had two directions to choose from but selected the same side where Sundori stood. "If he's going to run straight into my grasp, I see no reason to let him slip away," Sundori made up her mind in an instant, deciding to interject herself in this matter that had stumbled upon her.
In less than a fraction of a second, Sundori made the daring decision to step beyond the safety net she had painstakingly woven for herself over the past two years - a choice that could potentially upend her life yet again.
In the blink of an eye, the stout guy had reached Sundori's position, only to find his path blocked. The positioning of Sundori happened to obstruct his way. The big man tried to force his way through, but with flawless precision, Sundori deflected his energy, grabbed his arm, and performed a swift pivot, effectively halting his forward drive.
Caught off guard, the stout guy found that his right arm was firmly grasped by an unassuming woman standing perpendicular to him. He was unable to take another step forward.
Soon enough, the young man caught up as well. After a moment of chaos, the other passengers in the train carriage assumed the role of bystanders, conveniently clearing a path and even taking out their phones to record the spectacle. Sundori felt a twinge of annoyance at this reaction. She had hoped others would step forward to assist, but instead, they simply watched the drama unfold.
Sundori stood at a ninety-degree angle to the stout guy, her slender frame largely obscured by his bulky shadow. She held tight to his arm, securing it in front of her. From afar, the scene looked like a man embracing a woman, with only the top of the woman's head visible.
But as the young man caught up and got a closer look, he realized that it was Sundori who had intercepted the big man on his behalf. Both the young man and the stout guy shared a common confusion: how could this small-statured woman manage to firmly hold the big man and prevent him from moving forward?
Such skill and strength didn't come without years of dedicated training. During her training, Sundori had mostly sparred with taller, more muscular men, honing her skill in handling larger opponents.
The young man regained his senses first. He crouched down and thoroughly checked inside and outside his bag. It seemed like he was confirming to himself and also reporting to Sundori, "Nothing is missing."
"Are you sure nothing is missing?" Sundori asked. The young man double-checked his backpack and nodded. In truth, Sundori knew that nothing was missing from the young man's bag because she had observed it. After slashing open the backpack, the big man hadn't found what he was looking for. This delay allowed the young man to notice the cut. However, Sundori was happy to let the victim confirm it himeself.
If nothing was taken, should they let the big man go? Sundori had effectively detained him, convinced of his ill intentions toward the young man. Yet, since no theft had occurred, and there were no witnesses to testify that the bag had been slashed by the burly man, if this case reached the police, it would boil down to her word against his. No definitive judgement could be made in such a situation. Pondering over this, Sundori was unsure about the next course of action as the full story remained uncertain.
After some contemplation, the young man felt that since nothing was missing, it might just be a misunderstanding. Although the cut on his backpack was conspicuous, he couldn't definitively attribute it to the burly man. His sudden attempt to run did raise suspicions, but in a society governed by law, the principle of presumed innocence holds sway.
The young man made up his mind and turned to the curious passengers, saying, "Everything is fine now, really, I'm sure nothing is missing. Please stop filming, thank you, thank you."
"Quite the sharp one," Sundori mused to herself.
In those fleeting moments, both she and the stout guy had engaged in several clandestine bouts of inner strength. Through this subtle combat, Sundori had gauged the true extent of his abilities. The man was a textbook result of Western combat training. His body boasted brute force, but he lacked equivalent power in his lower half. With the right timing and angle, Sundori's martial prowess, rooted deeply with a mix of Tai Chi and Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu, honed through grappling techniques, could effectively subdue such adversaries. However, Sundori knew that in a head-on contest of raw strength, she might not emerge victorious. Her victory over the large man just now relied on her pinpoint accuracy and impeccable timing.
Meanwhile, the big man had recovered from the shock of being bested, recognizing that he was up against a formidable adversary. Despite numerous attempts to free himself by exerting hidden strength, he found himself ensnared in Sundori's unyielding grip. His face betrayed disbelief, yet resignation, as if defeated by the inescapable truth. Likely wanting to avoid more commotion, he refrained from kicking or engaging in full-body struggles.
Given that the young man didn't wish to pursue the matter further, Sundori saw no reason to detain the stout guy any longer. However, she had committed every detail of the man's physical features to memory. She knew that an individual like him, seemingly out of place in San Jingo's metro, was bound to harbor some hidden purpose. This warranted investigation on her part. Although she was yet to devise a plan on how to proceed.
Sundori shared a brief nod with the young man, an unspoken agreement passing between them. As she released her ironclad grip, the stout guy seemed to physically lighten, as if thousands of pounds had been lifted off his shoulders. He looked at her, his face still etched with disbelief, unable to comprehend how a woman of her stature had managed to counter and suppress his daunting physique.
As she let go, Sundori deftly removed a card from the man's pocket. It could be seen as sly, but her movements were so swift and light that nobody noticed – neither the stout guy nor the young man standing nearby. Without as much as a glance at the card, she tucked it away, intuitively knowing that it could serve as a valuable lead for her future inquiries. She nonchalantly slipped the card into her own pocket.
The stout guy swiftly resumed his initial direction, quickly dissolving into the teeming crowd. "Clearly something amiss," Sundori silently observed, noting that the young man was pensively watching the direction in which the big man had disappeared.
The surrounding passengers, who were momentarily captivated by the sudden spectacle, returned their attention to the comforting glow of their mobile screens, as the metro train neared its next station. The fleeting drama had ended as abruptly as it began.