BMMA: Bestial Mix Martial Arts

Lyra slouched in the dining room chair, a fork halfway to her mouth and a look that screamed 'this is pure agony.'

She had no home, no money, not a single Feral relative to take her in. The streets were a trap: at any moment, her ex-boss could sniff out her trail, sending more Ferals like Robber after her.

'I don't have a choice,' she thought, sinking her fork into a steak so juicy and tender it seemed to melt. 'It's this or the dumpsters. My ancestors would get it, right?'

Sure, her ancestors. They were probably up there in some Feral heaven, nodding with their bushy tails while she shoveled creamy mashed potatoes like it was the world's last meal.

'It's not like I like being here,' she told herself, taking a bite that drew an involuntary moan of pleasure.

Darius's house was a nest of hateful humans, with its dusty trophies and that military medal staring at her like it was saying, "we're watching you."

But, well, Kai's bed—soft, warm, with sheets that smelled of soap—was a sacrifice she was willing to endure.

And the heat from the stove, wrapping the room like a hug, wasn't that bad either.

'Just temporary,' she promised herself, while her tail traitorously wagged, dancing to the rhythm of each bite. 'As soon as I pay my debt to Kai, I'm out.'

But the idea of sleeping under cardboard in an alley didn't sound as heroic as it used to.

A stench of stale coffee and old sweat snapped her out of her culinary trance.

Darius. Her ears swiveled before his footsteps echoed from the hallway, and when he appeared in the room, his eyes pinned her like he'd caught a thief red-handed.

Lyra flattened her ears, shielding her plate with an arm in a street-kid reflex. A soft growl escaped her throat, more habit than threat. Darius frowned, his face a mix of disbelief and disgust.

"What the hell?" he growled. "I'm not here to steal your damn food, beast!"

Lyra blinked, the fork still hovering. "You sure? 'Cause, listen, this steak's got my name on it," she shot back, her lips curling into a mischievous smirk, as if she enjoyed poking at him.

Darius took a step forward, clearly offended, but he stopped. His gaze drifted to the dining room display case, where the military medal gleamed under dim light. He let out a dry laugh, more tired than cruel.

"Find a job, Feral, or I swear the cops'll slap a collar on you before you finish another one of those plates."

Lyra clenched her teeth, her tail bristling. The image of Robber, with his blinking collar, flashed in her mind, twisting her stomach.

'I won't let them catch me,' she thought, but before she could reply, Darius turned and stormed out, his footsteps thundering toward the door.

Alone again, Lyra let out a sigh, her fingers drumming on the table.

'I can't stay here forever,' she thought, but the warmth of the room and the echo of her full stomach betrayed her.

From the backyard, a rhythmic thump broke the silence: Kai, pummeling his punching bag like it owed him money.

She was used to that sound by now. Every day, same time, Kai trained like clockwork.

She left her plate spotless as a mirror and approached the window, wiping a smear of mash from her chin. Kai moved with a precision that mesmerized her, each punch a silent challenge.

'What does he want from me?' she wondered, recalling his words the day he took her in: 'Your reflexes are something I've been looking for for years.'

If she was going to survive in this house—and maybe keep enjoying that mashed potato—she needed to figure him out.

Resolved, she slipped out to the backyard with stealth and scaled the roof with agility, her wounds nearly healed. With decent food for the first time in years, she felt brimming with strength.

'He won't spot me from here,' she thought, a smug smile creeping in.

Kai hammered the bag with a confidence that grated on her nerves, weaving kicks into his combos.

Lyra didn't get all that effort. Ferals had always been warriors; stronger species, like lions or bears, dominated foxes like her.

She knew it well, after working for those mobsters who treated her like a tool.

Frustration tightened her chest. 'Train with me? I'll show you a strength you can't match with your gloves,' she thought, her tail bristling.

Humans, without weapons or tech, were nothing against a Feral. She was superior by nature.

Kai finished his routine and, with his back to her, said, "You're looking better. Ready to train?"

Lyra leapt off the roof, her ears flattening in surprise.

"How'd you know I was there?" she growled, narrowing her eyes.

Kai laughed, a sound that threw her off. "Your murderous stare isn't exactly subtle," he said, wiping sweat. "So, what do you say? We training?"

Lyra scowled, feeling an echo of the stronger Ferals' glares.

"Oh, I'm ready," she snapped, crouching with her hands on the ground, ready to wipe that smile off his face.

Kai looked at her, puzzled, before laughing again. He pulled training gloves from a drawer and tossed them to her. Lyra caught them with a swift move, growling at having to stand.

"Put 'em on," Kai said, slipping on his own gloves. "We're training, not fighting to the death."

Lyra growled but donned the gloves, her eyes locked on him.

'This human has no idea what he's in for,' she thought.

But when they faced off in an empty patch of the yard, something shifted. Kai wasn't the laid-back guy anymore.

His smile vanished, and his stance sharpened, with no openings Lyra could spot.

Lyra felt a prickle at the back of her neck, her fur bristling on her tail and ears. She watched him warily but shook her head.

'I'm overthinking this. Doesn't matter what he does, I'm still stronger,' she thought, though her eyes tracked his every move.

Kai approached slowly, gloves at chin height. Lyra didn't wait: she sprang from her low stance, lunging at full speed. But Kai sidestepped smoothly, dodging her like it was nothing.

Lyra landed, regaining balance, but her gaze was filled with unease. She wanted to believe her eyes had tricked her, but she couldn't deny it.

She turned to Kai, genuine concern on her face. Kai dodged before she could lunge, as if reading her mind.

For a second, her fists clenched, and her eyes flared with an intensity that made her step back.

'What kind of human is this?' she thought, her tail rigid.