BMMA: Bestial Mix Martial Arts

Lyra collapsed onto the edge of the bed, the mattress creaking under her weight. The sharp pain in her joints reminded her of her fight with Kai.

She clenched her fists, her claws scratching her palms beneath the skin.

'His punches didn't even seem that hard,' she thought, but the burn in her ribs and the throb in her shoulder told a different story.

She'd never felt so humiliated. That human, slower, weaker, had dismantled her like she was a clumsy cub.

Her fox ears flattened against her head, and a low growl escaped her throat.

Kai's words echoed in her mind, taunting her defeat: "Without technique, you're just a waste."

She growled again, kicking the worn wooden floor. How dare he? But deep down, a spark of doubt gnawed at her.

'What if he's right?' she thought. Her speed, her reflexes, everything that had kept her alive until now… it hadn't been enough against him.

Restless, she left the room, her bare feet echoing in the dark hallway.

The house smelled of old leather and damp wood, an echo of the yard where Kai had taken her down. She reached the living room, a narrow space lit by the grayish light seeping through the curtains.

Display cases were filled with dust-covered trophies, their dull reflections catching the dawn.

Photos of fighters hung on the walls, frozen in moments of glory: fists raised, faces sweaty, belts gleaming.

Her eyes stopped on a photo in the center. A man, covered in blood and bruises, held a golden belt aloft under blinding lights.

For a second, Lyra's heart skipped a beat. 'Kai?' she thought, her ears perking up.

The stance, the sharp eyes, the tense curve of his jaw… it all reminded her of the human who'd humiliated her.

But as she stepped closer, she noticed the differences: the man was broader, with deeper scars, his hair longer and messier. It wasn't Kai, but the resemblance unnerved her.

His smile, wide and fierce, defied the pain on his face. Lyra tilted her head, her tail twitching nervously.

'Why are you so happy?' she thought, frowning.

Fighting for her had always been a necessity, a claw at her throat to survive another day. Winning wasn't joy; it was air to keep breathing.

A memory hit her, brief but bitter. The Feral mafia, dark alleys where the stench of blood and fear coated everything.

She'd tried to rebel once, before escaping. The boss's right-hand man, a Feral Lion with golden eyes and fangs like daggers, had crushed her against the pavement.

Her swipes had been useless against him, each of his blows a hammer that broke more than her bones.

Lyra shook her head, banishing the image. But the feeling lingered: the powerlessness, the certainty she'd never surpass stronger Ferals.

'If I could fight like Kai…' The idea flared in her chest, warm and dangerous.

She recalled the precision of his strikes, the way he read her movements like an open book.

If she learned that, if she tamed her speed with that technique, she could be more than a tool, more than prey.

She could face the Lion, anyone, and prove she wasn't weak. A shy smile curved her lips, her ears lifting slightly.

A creak behind her snapped her out of her thoughts. Darius approached, his steps heavy but silent, as if the house itself knew him.

Lyra hadn't heard him coming, too lost in the photo. Darius stood beside her, his imposing figure silhouetted against the dawn light.

For a moment, he said nothing, just gazed at the photo with sadness and an unusual calm.

"He was Kai's father," he said at last, his voice low, almost a whisper. "My best friend." He took the frame gently, his fingers brushing the glass as if afraid to break it.

Lyra swallowed, her tail stiff. She didn't know what to say. From the weight in Darius's words, she assumed the man was gone.

The silence stretched, awkward, until a question slipped from her lips, driven by the confusion gnawing at her.

"Why does he look so happy?" Her voice was soft, almost timid. "He looks… so hurt."

Darius turned his head, his eyes widening with surprise. Then he smiled, a small but warm smile, something Lyra had never seen from him.

"Because he proved his strength," he replied, his voice cracking on the last syllables. "Not just to the crowd, but to himself." He set the photo back, but his fingers lingered a second longer, as if reluctant to let go.

Lyra looked at the man's smile again, the raw emotion in his eyes as he raised the belt.

Something stirred in her chest, a mix of envy and longing.

'Prove my strength…' She thought of Kai, how he'd dominated her effortlessly. She thought of the Lion, of the Ferals who'd always looked at her as less.

If she could fight like them, if she could win in BMMA, she wouldn't just survive: she'd be free.

Darius cleared his throat, breaking the silence.

"Kai told me about your plan," he said, regaining some of his sarcastic tone, though a shadow of sadness still tinged his voice. "You know you have to win to make money in BMMA, right?"

But Lyra didn't look away from the photo, Kai's father's eyes shining under the ring lights. Her heart raced, a spark growing inside her.

'If I could fight like him…' She pictured a belt in her hands, not for money, not for Darius or Kai, but for herself. To prove she wasn't weak, that she could surpass anyone, human or Feral.

"I'm going to win," she said, her voice firm, her ears upright. A fierce smile crossed her face, her fangs barely showing.

Darius watched her in silence, his eyes narrowed. For a moment, he seemed to see something more in her, something that made him nod slowly, with quiet approval.

Without another word, he turned and left the room, his heavy steps fading into the hallway.