He woke up in the hospital, his wrist rubbed raw, knuckles bruised with dried blood, joints sore and creaky. To his left, there was a man sleeping. He didn't know him, but his body seemed to recognize him. He guessed that was his father. He couldn't remember anything—not his own name, not anyone, not even where he lived. His head ached with a throbbing sensation every time he tried to remember anything.
He got up and went into the bathroom in the corner of the room. He looked at himself in the mirror: dark, curly, disheveled hair, dark green eyes swollen and bruised. He lifted his shirt above his belly button, revealing a big round bruise. Not entirely sure of the details, he assumed he had been in a pretty serious fight.
He left the bathroom, the door shutting behind him and awakening the man sleeping. The man got up and gave him a hug, saying, "I'm glad you're alright, Isaiah." Isaiah hugged him back, knowing that it was okay to trust him. When they let go, Isaiah asked who he was. The man looked at Isaiah with a saddened expression, but Isaiah could tell that the man knew he didn't remember who he was.
The man said, "I'm your uncle, and I've raised you since you were born. My name is Xavier. You usually call me Uncle, though."
After the exchange, the doctor walked in while Isaiah was sitting on the medical bed facing his uncle. The doctor looked at Isaiah and asked how he felt. Isaiah replied, "Other than the fact that I can't remember anything and the general soreness all across my body, I'm doing pretty well."
The doctor started asking him questions about himself and general knowledge, but he couldn't remember any of it. The doctor placed his hand on Isaiah's head, closed his eyes, and focused. There was a light emitting from the doctor's hand and a warmth that spread across Isaiah's body. The doctor removed his hand and said, "There isn't any serious damage to your brain, so I don't know why you can't remember anything. Your memories will probably come back to you with time, or it could be permanent. The brain is mysterious, so there's no telling what could happen. Your body seems to be recovering extremely well. Maybe it has something to do with your ability. We didn't expect you up for at least a week, let alone walking unsupported already."
"Ability?" Isaiah asked.
The doctor said, "Almost everyone is born with one or a few abilities, and only a few are born with more than two."
The doctor scribbled on a piece of paper and gave it his signature. "Go to the front desk and show her this, and you'll be able to leave," he said.
The doctor left the room, and Isaiah and his uncle started packing up. They made their way to the front desk, where the receptionist told them they were good to go. They left through the front, and Xavier led the way to the car. They put their stuff in the back seat, and Isaiah hopped into the passenger seat while Xavier took the driver's seat, driving them home. Isaiah stared out the window, wondering what had happened to him and what his ability was.
When they got back home, there were boxes everywhere. They were moving. Isaiah asked, "Where are we moving to?"
His uncle said, "We should get a new start. We're moving to the center of the country."
Isaiah found his room and started packing. There weren't any posters. There were punching bags screwed into the ceiling and gloves on his desk. He took down the punching bag and put his gloves in a box. Then he made his way to the closet. There were medals and trophies for multiple combat sports—MMA, wrestling, boxing, kickboxing, BJJ, Muay Thai—all of them pushed into a corner in a pile, like they weren't anything precious. Hung up were multiple outfits: daily clothes, gis, singlets, and tight shorts. It seemed like fighting was something he liked. On the ground, opposite the pile of trophies, there was a box full of bandages, ointments, needles, and various medical items. He put this box into the bigger box with his gloves, thinking it was weird, but it made sense if he was fighting.
He put all his stuff in the back of the truck and went back to his room. He sat on his bed to take a quick break and noticed he was sitting on something. He pulled the blankets aside and revealed his phone and wallet. He looked in his wallet—there was his ID. It said his first and last name. He was 5'7", 150 pounds, and 15 years old. He put his wallet in his pocket and swiped on his phone. There was no lock. He had social media, occasionally posting pictures of his wins, but he didn't have any friends on it. The only contact he had was his uncle. He followed gym influencers, fighters, and crime stations on social media—that was it. He went to the search engine, and there were tabs of articles about him, with stats going back years, showing him fighting. There were other tabs with police reports and crimes in the area where he lived.
His uncle yelled at him to remember to pack up his stuff in the garage. Isaiah made his way to the garage, and there was a whole gym—benches, barbells, dumbbells, machines, and a squat rack. He flexed his arm and realized that he had been in here often. Isaiah put everything in the bed of the truck. It was a tight fit, but it worked out. He got in the passenger seat and scratched his wrist, which, only this morning, had been bruised and scratched up, but now it was perfectly fine, if not better than before.
Isaiah's uncle looked at him and said, "Better get comfortable. It's a long drive."
Eventually, Isaiah fell asleep, waking up in the morning, jolted awake by a dream of him fighting several people at night, surrounded by electricity. His uncle looked over at him and said, "Look, you woke up at the perfect time. We're coming into city limits."
Isaiah looked at the city—huge buildings and several lights on, even in the morning before the sun came up. They finally made it to their new house. They looked around the house, and his uncle unloaded his bed, and fell asleep there in his empty room. He had driven throughout the night, so it made sense that he was tired.
Isaiah unpacked his stuff and liked how his room looked. He unpacked his gym equipment and set it up in the basement, creating another gym. He decided he had some time to kill and worked out. He went to the bench press and started with the bar, pushing it up quickly for a warm-up. He put a plate on and repped it for 8, then added another plate and did 8 more. He decided he shouldn't increase the weight, just to be safe. He took a shower and realized that, within a few hours, all of his bruises were gone. He wondered what his ability was and figured it was some sort of regeneration.
He got out of the shower, threw on a tank top and some shorts, and took a walk around the block. When he got back to the house, his uncle had made dinner and told him to eat. As they were eating, his uncle told Isaiah that tomorrow was the first day of school and that he should take it easy and learn as much as he could. After eating, Isaiah went to his room and fell asleep.
He awoke in the morning, grabbed a bag, and walked down the street. The school was a few blocks away, and his uncle had to work. Isaiah made it to the school.