Life Goes On

It had been 4 years since that night, and Leylin had found himself with a new name and a new home. Leylin Adams, nephew of Hank Adams, owner and proprietor of 'Adams Boxing.'

Leylin had eventually found out that the grizzled older man was originally from America, in a state called Kansas. He had taken Leylin under his wing and began training him to fight. Not the swishing of wands and chanting of incantations that he was so horrible at, but the art of boxing, MMA, jiu-jitsu, kickboxing and more.

Hank was a marine for years until he got injured, then moved to become a martial arts instructor for new recruits. And Leylin didn't doubt it for a second. The man was stern and unrelenting in his methods.

"Watch yer feet!" Hank yelled from Leylins side, watching with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over a muscled chest.

Adjusting his stance, Leylin threw a punch at the sand bag hanging from the ceiling. His gloveless fingers stung from the hit. He'd started training with less and less protection over the years, and just last week he was on to bare-knuckles.

"Because you don't get to use sissy gloves in a real fight." Hank always said.

A real fight, Leylin thought. He never told Hank the details, but the man knew what he was planning. To an extent at least. He knew Leylins mother was murdered, and he knew how Leylin felt about the people responsible, how he wanted them to pay. Even if he had no concrete plan on how to do it. All he knew was that their time would come. Even if it killed him.

4 years, Leylin thought as he threw a jab and then a cross in quick succession. Not a day went by he didn't think of that night. Leylin didnt know the identity of the cloaked man but he still occupied his thoughts constantly. How he uttered those two words at his mother before she died. How he chased him through the biting cold of winter in London. How he seemed to take pleasure in the act. How he laughed and mocked him as he leveled his wand at him. How he almost died if it wasn't for Hank. How seeing the man on the floor, Leylin wanted nothing more than to end his life right then and there. Oh, how it easy it would've been. He could almost feel his fingers wrapping around the man's throat, life drain-

"Leylin! Leylin calm down!" The voice broke him from his thoughts, his breathing heavy and hard. Head drooped, he got a look at his knuckles. They were red and sore. He had been wailing on the bag. No technique, no rhythm, no grace. Just unadulterated rage.

Stupid, he thought to himself.

He felt Hank's hand rest on his shoulder. "Yer talented kid," He said in his deep southern drawl, "but yer too angry. And anger is fine, helpful even, but only when you control it. If ya do what you just did in a real fight against an opponent who knows what they're doing....." He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't have to.

Leylin hung his head against the punching bag. "I know." He muttered. And he did. Hank always told him how important it is to have control over your emotions, but every time Leylin thought back to that night, it was like something burned inside him. Deep and gradual until it's searing and trying to escape. Like a flame ignited by his rage.

Hank sighed. "Go an' get ready for school. You'll be late."

Leylin nodded and went upstairs to take a quick shower. As the hot water cascaded off his dark hair, he stared at his hands. Clenching and unclenching his fists. I should be better, he thought, I need to be better.

If he wanted to make them pay, he couldn't be reckless. One wrong move, one unexpected spell, and he was done for.

Spell, he thought bitterly, magic.

All these years and he still wasn't able to produce even the faintest traces of it. He just hoped he would get a Hogwarts letter. Because if he didn't....well, he wouldn't even know where to start.

******

School passed mind-numbingly slow. Math, science, history, it all blurred together in his brain. He was pretty sure kids from the magical realms didn't attend school until 11, so why did muggle kids have to attend from the age of 5? It was ridiculous.

There was one subject he enjoyed, though. PE was his 4th and second-to-last subject. And whether it was football, rugby, swimming, Leylin dominated.

He knew it shouldn't, but beating all the other kids felt good. He relished in the feeling of winning, knowing Hank would scold him saying something along the lines of, "Don't go gettin' such a big head ya little shit," but he couldn't help it. For once in his life, he was superior to others.

That superiority did come at a cost, though. Most of his class were either actively antagonistic or just ignored him. His only real friend was a short, bespectacled boy with large front teeth named Gary Wright. And the only reason they became friends in the first place was because of their agreement. If Gary helped Leylin with his homework, Lelyin in turn would keep the bullies from picking on the scrawny boy.

But that agreement did eventually grow into friendship. Leylin liked the nerdy kid. He was quiet and minded his business for the most part. Being able to cheat on tests was really just a bonus.

"Want to come to my house after school?" Gary asked him in last period, Language Arts. "My mum and dad bought my brother a Super NES for his birthday, and he has Super Mario World on it. He'll let us play if we do his chores for him."

Leylin looked away from the clock that read 2:56 and to his friend in the desk next to him. "Can't today. Hank said he'll finally teach me some stuff with a weapon."

The prospect exited Leylin. For the past 4 years it'd been hand-to-hand non-stop. While he enjoyed it, kick-boxing in particular, the idea of learning to use a weapon was intriguing. If he could use a sword like in all those movies and books, he could handle someone with a wand, no problem! Like King Arthur from the legends. Who cared about Merlin anyway?

Gary grunted. "I don't get you. Why do you care about fighting so much? Getting hurt....well it hurts!"

"Because pain makes a man." Leylin said, quoting Hank. "And besides," he looked at the growing bruises on his fingers, "I need to."

Gary stared at him like he sprouted a second head. "Whatever, weirdo."

"You know, Gary, it would do you good to learn to at least defend yourself. I won't always be around to help, you know."

Gary yawned and stretched his arms, glancing at the clock. 2:59. "Nah. I'll just keep relying on you and running away when I can't."

Leylin gave his friend a sad smile. If he got his Hogwarts letter, this would be the last year they went to school together. Leylin just hoped his friend wouldn't have too hard of a time without him. Kids were mean, after all. His brother and his friends taught him that lesson years ago.

The bell finally rang, signaling the end of the school day and interrupting Mrs. Torregs spiel about proper nouns or whatever. All the kids began quickly packing up their notebooks and pens and pencils, excited to get home.

"Don't forget to do your homework!" Mrs. Torreg called over the chatter. "Just because this is the last week of school doesn't mean you can slack off!" None of the kids were even listening.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Gary."

"Yeah, see ya."

When Leylin arrived at the gym, the bell jingling above his head, he greeted some of the regular patrons. "Hey Jim."

"Leylin." The squat man nodded.

"Your forms all wrong, Jill." Leylin went over to the middle-aged woman and helped straighten her. "You'll hurt your back if you keep lifting like that."

"Thank you, sweetie." The older woman smiled at him and patted his cheek.

Heading up the stairs, Leylin found Hank sitting at his desk. He was going to ask about the weapons training but seeing the man turning through a notebook, he walked back into the living room. Leylin didn't know what the contents of it were, but he had caught Hank flipping through it on multiple occasions, usually with a bottle of Bourbon in hand.

After about an hour, he heard the door click and the sound of footsteps on the creaky floor. Turning, he saw Hank, face impassive. It was hard to tell what the man's mood was at times, his scar making him look perpetually angry, but after years, Leylin could sort of read him. Now was not one of those of times.

Hank walked over to the closet at the far end of the room and produced two long staffs. Leylin tried to hide his disappointment that it wasn't a sword, but it seemed he didn't very well, for Hank snorted and said, "We're not in the middle-ages, Leylin. I wouldn't teach you how to use a sword even if I knew how." Leylin opened his mouth. "Which I don't." Hank interrupted.

Leylin deflated only for a second. While he really wanted to use a sword, he saw Hanks point. The weapon wasn't exactly the episiotomy of stealth. Though the Bo Staff wasn't either, he didn't mention it.

Over the next couple months, Leylin practiced wtih the staff in tandem with his other hand-to-hand techniques, not wanting to get rusty. He also came to appreciate the Bo Staff more and more. It was hard hitting and had a good reach. It also looked really cool when you spun it around.

Leylin was so engrossed in it that he practically never left the gym, unless Hank forced him to in order to 'socialize.' He would usually just leave to practice in the park. Sometimes with Gary as the boy read a book and watched him swing the staff around.

It was the very last month before school started when Leylins routine was interrupted by an unexpected guest. Well, unexpected to Hank. Leylin was anticipating the visit. Hoping, for it. Hoping he really wasn't a squib like his brother always said. And the appearance of Miss McGonagall proved him wrong. Proved them all wrong.

The woman arrived on a day the gym was closed, standing outside the glass door, seeing the closed sign and looking uncertain. Leylin and Hank were sparring in the ring and, seeing her first, drew his attention from the fight for a split second. The result was a nasty blow to the side of the head.

"Fuck!" He cried, hand over where the staff collided above his ear.

"Don't fuckin' curse." Hank said with a ghost of a smile. "You're too young for that shit."

Leylin chuckled and shook his head. He nodded at the door where the woman stood, about to knock. She was wearing a brown suit with a black tie and a blue fedora atop her head. She looked like an overseas businessman.

"What in the...." Hank muttered, looking at the woman with a raised brow as she softly knocked on the glass entrance.