Chapter One: It's Been Too Long

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Chapter One: It's Been Too Long




The current of air zipped millimeters away from her face, the Boken an inch away. She let her body fall back, hands zipping behind her head at the last second to catch herself in a hand stand and then push off the floor, finishing off with a flip that got her right-side-up. The Boken flashed going for a hit in the chest; the old impaling trick. Using what momentum she still had, Deva pushed her body back, feet gliding gracefully off the floor, hands outstretched before her for balance.

Another hit came, this one blocked easily with a slap to the side. Laughter arose from her opponent and he did a roundhouse kick, the Boken flying with his feet. Deva leapt up, her body suspended in the air high enough to avoid the kick and low enough to avoid the Boken. A chuckle left her opponent. "You sure are learning to get creative," he huffed out, Boken held up high. Deva landed on the ground with feline grace in a push up position, and when her eyes met with her opponents, they were dead serious.

"You don't learn to be creative," Deva pointed out, her body sliding against the floor as she tucked her legs in and then kicked out at her opponent. Her hands the only things supporting her up. He saw that, ducking down and giving a swipe at her hands with his Boken. Deva cursed, falling onto her back. The Boken was at her neck within seconds, leaving Deva trapped. But only temporarily.

Using some quick thinking and the advantage of being within close proximity of her opponent, Deva wrapped both legs around his and pulled her legs up into a pretzel. Her opponent stumbled, clearly not expecting the move. "You're born creative." Said with a flash of teeth that was all feral and no where near human. Her arms began to twitch. Her need, her cravings, fluxed, sending her in a sudden frenzy. "Michael..." she drew out the single syllable of his name, signaling a draw and... much more.

He held his Boken up high and hit Deva while she was still herself. Her body hit the floor as unconsciousness began to settle in. But that didn't stop Michael from seeing the array of colors in her eyes, the colors he only ever saw when she lost control. Once she was out cold, Michael took out a rope and bound her body tightly around the pole next to her room. It was standard procedure when she lost it, just in case she woke up as something other than herself.

Michael leaned down at trailed a finger along her jaw line. It had been two years since she'd come to his Dojo. Two years and already she was practically a master. For the first whole year, he'd questioned her fast progress. The second year, he saw it. The girl Deva became when the virus took over. Deva called it a duo persona, but every time she said the words, there was a hollowness to her. That other her... she was a beauty and a beast, mixed together in a lethal, bloodthirsty mix. He'd watched her single-handedly overthrow his whole dojo with ease, not even using a Boken.

When that happened, he'd gone to giving her private lessons. He'd taken measures to make sure that if she lost it, he could handle her. "Just how did the beast find it's way into beauty, I wonder," he whispered to himself, then wrapped a blanket lightly around her bound body so she wouldn't catch a cold. "Good night."

In The Morning

When Michael came back the next day, Deva was still attached to the pole, sweat pouring down her forehead. She looked at him with eyes that churned different colors and Michael knew she hadn't come back to her senses yet. So he sat himself before her and watched with curiosity. Deva had made him swear to not watch her when she... "lost it," but why he wanted to no. There was nothing really different when he looked at her. Just the eyes and that look of need.

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