Archive of Our Own

jab-cross-front leg roundkick-spin sidekick-cross

The steady beat of landed attacks on the swinging punching bag is peppered with the labored breaths of the only soul in the room.

It is a rhythm that Seokjin knows well, as it’s one of her favorite combinations. And “favorite” often becomes automatic and effortless in the martial arts world as combinations are cranked out in sparring matches before the mind can even register.

In the empty training room with its front wall of mirrors and navy blue carpets, it’s a welcome routine to the change that’s happening around her.

On the other hand, however, when moves become automatic, it frees the mind to wander. So, Seokjin is left remembering why she’s even like this. Training like she’s fighting against a tidal wave, struggling underwater, gasping for air, lungs burning.

Because in a way, she is.

Because at this rate, there might not be any more matches on these floors. No more training, no more forms, or grappling, or board breaking...

Stopping to tug off her red foam helmet and unraveling her long black hair from the tight ponytail, she stares down at the forehead piece, thumb running over the peeling white logo.

At least not with this school’s name on it.

The feeling she’s been fighting for the past two weeks is catching up to her now. The choking sensation that has hot tears burning at the corner of her eyes and deep inside her chest. Ever since it was announced that this taekwondo school – her haven, her second home – is closing down.

Busan School of Taekwondo (or Blood, Sweat, and Tears, as the higher ranks affectionately called it) hadn’t been doing well, and everyone knew it. It wasn’t because the lack of members or bad management, actually far from it. It had been run by Jungkook’s father, Mr. Jeon or Mr. J, after Jungkook’s grandfather passed away.

Mr. J was always tough and fair in a gruff sort of way, essentially adopting every one of his students as his own. But he was stubborn and a traditionalist and stuck by the rules set from before him. Even when the rent prices for the space went up earlier last year, he refused to raise the monthly prices, stating that even making students pay for self-improvement was already ridiculous.

So, everyone saw it coming, before the recent shipments of boards had turned out to be flimsy at best and before new orders of sparring gears was held off until it reached a certain bulk size to minimize shipping cost. Until they stopped coming altogether earlier this week.

Everyone took the news fairly well. When Mr. J broke the news to his team of instructors before the rest of the public, Seokjin mostly held it together, though it may have been shock or wanting to maintain face in front of her peers.

But it had really, really hit her today when one of her closest friends, Hyosang, left.

It didn’t take a fourth degree and fulltime instructor like her to tell. Seokjin had known he had been losing interest for a while now, yet just stuck around to spend time with her and his other friends.

But it doesn’t hurt any less seeing him fold away his uniform, zip up his battered gear, and shake hands with Mr. J with soft condolences through the open office door.

And it didn’t hurt any less when he paused on his way out the front doors to see her watching him. Hefting a comforting grin, he reached over the counter and ruffled her hair and said the words that are catching up to her now:

“I know you’ll stay with this place even if it was reduced to ashes, but I just hope you don’t get burned in the process.”

Real tears are threatening the edges of her lips and eyes now, but then the sound of the front doors opening stops them in their tracks.

The school itself is just a part of a long strip of stores that expand from its left side. The training room wall that is shared with the convenience store is gilded with full length mirrors. The right wall has two windows that look out onto the street and a door in between them that is propped open, winter or summer, when it gets too hot inside. To the left of the mirrors is a wall with glass separating the onlookers and the students that serves as the entrance into the training room.

Through the glass, Seokjin sees a slender figure stride in. The newcomer is a young girl, not much younger than herself, with soft bangs and shoulder length chocolate hair. She’s carrying a messenger bag across a hoodie that has seen better days and baggy sweatpants.

They make eye contact through the open door of the training room, and the only word that comes to her mind is soft .

Soft cheeks, soft lips, and most of all soft eyes.

Those round brown eyes scan over her too before she breaks into a smile first – all bunched cheeks and straight teeth.

It says something about Seokjin’s emotional state that it takes her longer than usual to work her face into a passable smile. “Sorry, we’re closed for the day.”

The other girl bows her head respectfully, but doesn’t step inside. “Ahh, I’m sorry,” she says. Her voice is light and airy. “I was just visiting.”

Seokjin tilts her head to the side, surveying her. “And… you are?”

She’s not really sure why she had asked, because the hooded eyes and bright smile are vaguely familiar, but she couldn’t quite place...

The other girl looks a little crestfallen for a moment. But it’s so brief that Seokjin wonders if she had just imagined it.

“Jimin,” she says, brushing the straight bangs from her face. “Park Jimin.”

“Oh, the Hooker,” Seokjin says without thinking. The words have no sooner had left her lips, she claps her hand to her mouth, flushing red. “Oh shit. Sorry, I didn't mean–”

Even this far away from Seoul, Park Jimin's trick Hook kicks are infamous. Jungkook, who had watched Jimin at a conference last year, swears that she’s never seen anyone move with that much flexibility and precision, and if someone strapped a blade to the inside of her knee, Jimin could behead anyone in ten seconds flat, maybe even five.

To her relief, Jimin laughs. “Looks like my reputation precedes me, guess I'll never be rid of that title,” she says, shaking her head. “I can't believe Taehyung made that a thing. But…” she lifts a hand to her chin and makes an adorable expression of contemplation, “it does have a certain ring to it.”

Seokjin cracks another grin despite herself and decides to start putting her gear away, setting the helmet off. First come off the shin guards and foot gear, the loud velcro sounds bouncing off the walls.

She’s straightening to take off her wrist guards and adjust her belt when Jimin asks, “May I?” while gesturing into the room from her spot at the door.

Considering it a moment, Seokjin nods. Why not, no one else is coming today and she almost welcomes the change to keep her mind off… other things.

Jimin sets down her bag on the seats outside and takes off her sandals before walking to the edge of the mats meets hardwood. Then she bows, low, firm, and the full 90 degrees, then steps gingerly in.

Seokjin is reminded of something of a sleek cat in the way Jimin walks, the engaging muscles and purposeful steps. The way her brown hair flutters almost like whiskers, and the way her round-eyed attention moves like shifting ears, taking it all in.

When she stops in front of the wall of mirrors, Seokjin catches her own reflection – smaller and behind Jimin – and realizes she’s been staring. Not of suspicion (not that she thought Jimin would do anything wrong), but more of intrigue and curiosity.

And there’s a sensation more than the feeling that they have met before. It’s a feeling that Jimin has been here many times before, in this training room, and Seokjin has never known.

Jimin answers her unspoken question.

“It's been a long time since I've been back,” she whispers, talking to Seokjin through the mirrors. In the quiet of the space, it sounds like she’s right next to Seokjin. “And…I’m sorry to hear about everything.”

Seokjin starts.

This doesn’t escape Jimin’s notice and her smile is kind and gentle. “I trained up to blue belt here a few years ago. I started around the same time as Jungkook. But then I got injured.” She sighed. “By the time I healed, it was time for college, so I went to Seoul Academy instead. But wow. I never thought … I guess I always thought I could always come back.”

Something bitter rises in the back of Seokjin’s throat, so she busies herself with stuffing her gear unceremoniously into her bag.

She can feel Jimin’s eyes on the back of her neck as she re-ties her belt. “Sorry,” Jimin says suddenly looking like she had crossed a certain line. “I hope I wasn't interrupting–”

“No, not at all. I was finishing up,” Seokjin cuts in, waving her hands. She’s better than this, she berates herself, she can’t be making a stranger worry about her. She reaches up and ties her long hair back and smiles when Jimin slides in next to her, round eyes searching Seokjin’s face.

Beside Jimin and quietly admiring her fluffy hair, Seokjin’s intensely aware how sweaty and gross she is and must be reeking. She steps back and says, “Hey, do you want to grab some food or something? I mean, if you’re not doing anything else…”

The blinding smile she receives is so breathtaking seems to consume Jimin’s entire face and all Seokjin can think is “ Wow ” before she brushes it off.

Jimin follows her out and looks up at her expectantly when they’re at the doorframe.

“ Chadyea (attention),” Seokjin says, and the sound of them simultaneously snapping their arms to their sides bounces around the room. “ Kunye (bow).”

When she locks the doors after she and Jimin step out, Seokjin casts her gaze around the room one more time. Jimin’s words echo back in her head.

I never thought … I guess I always thought I could always come back…

One month…

Not long after finds Seokjin is staring at Jimin, with a shrimp spring roll halfway to her mouth, now entirely forgotten.

They decide to go to the new Vietnamese restaurant down the road and finds it surprisingly empty for a Saturday night.

Once they have sat down, ordered, and settled into their first few bites, Seokjin finds that Jimin is actually very familiar with the academy, knowing not just Jungkook, but also Hoseok, and even Hyosang by name and face.

(“Sorry to hear that Hyosang left,” Jimin says, trying valiantly to fight a small laugh. “But I honestly was under the impression he was forced to be there against his will.”

Seokjin, thinking back about two years ago to how she had all but bodily tackled him and squeezed out every ounce of Hyosang’s dignity to get him to join, so that he could ‘woman up’ and pay her back, agrees that Jimin  really isn’t wrong. )

But the real shocker is a few minutes later when Jimin reveals that, yes, they have met before.

And here they are, Seokjin too shocked to remember that it’s impolite to gape, especially where there is a quietly dripping spring roll from her chopsticks.

“It was you? ” she manages to splutter. “You’re the one who beat me at primary testing?”

Jimin ducks her head behind her own pair of chopsticks and blushes slightly as she finishes chewing her mouthful of pho. Most likely buying herself time before she has to reply.

“Yeah?”

Seokjin tries not to raise her voice in the restaurant, but really needs to make something happen, so she compromises by slamming her chopsticks down a little more forcefully than necessary. “I was a red belt for a year because of you!”

She isn’t angry, she really isn’t. It just hurts her pride just a bit (okay a lot) that because she failed the sparring round, she not only had to wait another year to test, but also watch Hoseok move on without her. And if there is an opposite of a sore loser, then he would be a sore winner. He already is borderline too much with his megawatt smile, and that’s just his default state.

Once she had released the energy and said what she wanted, she settles down. For some reason, she’s finding herself intrigued and drawn to the way that, while Jimin did look a little rattled by Seokjin’s outburst, she did not back down nor stir the fire. Instead, she took all of this in stride, a curl never quite leaving the corner of her lips.

Like she understood her frustration. Maybe she did.

A quiet falls between them as they continue to eat. Somehow, it’s an easy one, lingering more like a comfortable silence between old friends than re-acquaintances. Neither of them seem to mind.

“But you didn’t use your hook kick on me,” Seokjin notes a few minutes later, as she pushes away her empty plate.

“Ahh,” Jimin says, nodding. “That’s because I had gotten injured the round before, but didn’t want to admit it. Otherwise,” she grins, “I’d have to wait a year to test again, since there isn’t, you know, secondary testing for after brown belt...”

Yup, Seokjin thinks. There it is.

But she just hums and asks for the check. “Time really flies, doesn’t it? What rank are you then?”

“Fourth degree,” Jimin says proudly. “Never thought I’d ever get it.”

“I did.”

Jimin raises her eyebrows. “You did?”

Seokjin shrugs. “Taekwondo is my life, I’d never live without it, or with myself if I didn’t try to achieve the best I can. Though,” she sighs, “it’ll be a while before I can test for fifth, and I’m not getting any younger. And with the school closing…” Her voice trails off and she hates the small crack that manages to creep in her voice.

Across the table, Jimin bites her lip. Neither of them say anything as they pay separately and walk out the restaurant together.

It’s already dark out and all the streetlights are casting their different levels of glow onto the highway not far ahead, empty long after evening rush.

But then, when Seokjin turns to ask how she is going home, Jimin’s face brightens so quickly and widely that for a second, it looks like the sun had risen early.

“I have an idea!” she says, springing on her toes and her hair bouncing against her shoulders. “Let’s hold a tournament!”

When Seokjin makes a face, Jimin isn’t deterred in the slightest. In fact, she seems emboldened by the older’s initial reaction.

“ Think about it , Seokjin,” she says, clasping and unclasping her hands. “A tournament hosted by BST and against Seoul Academy! It’s been ages since we’ve competed, since there are so many closer schools to each. But then it gets the name out, get people interested again.”

All of these words are falling out at a rapid speed and Seokjin is quite amazed she can still keep up and understand.

“Maybe we could reignite some friendly competition,” Jimin continues, “and we attract the attention of some newspapers or sponsors and show them what real martial arts is. Something worth keeping and worth continuing! And I’m sure there are archives on how to pull this sort of thing together really quickly. Well, what do you think?”

Seokjin doesn’t give an answer. She wants to believe with all her heart, she really does, but is something like that going to be enough? So many things could go wrong…

They part their ways when the purple line transfers to red, with Jimin transferring to a different subway with all kinds of hopes and dreams written all across her face. Seokjin remains quiet, opting to stare out as the moving wall panels blur by, which really don’t compare to the thoughts racing through her mind.

She still doesn’t reply when Jimin takes her phone from her hand before she leaves and sends herself a whole slew of happy emojis so that they had each other’s number. She doesn’t answer when they are exchanging affirmations of making it home safe and good nights later that night. And Jimin doesn’t ask.

But when she’s lying in bed, staring at the dark ceiling and watching the small trains of light from the cars below flit across the surface, she remembers how Jimin had beamed up at her like that, so full of wild joy and optimism.

And how because of that, Seokjin can’t help but think as she drifts off to sleep that, if anyone, Jimin would be the one who could make anything happen.

Once set in motion, the preparations for a tournament pick up at a breakneck speed.

After that first meeting, Jimin goes back to Seoul. But it isn’t long before she’s bombarding Seokjin’s phone with sparkle, heart, flower, and a few animal emojis before managing out to say that the head of Seoul Academy thinks it’s a great idea as well.

With the impeding school closing in a month, the tournament is set to the Saturday before that date, to maximize training time and coordination, but also leaving enough time for follow-ups if need be. Thankfully, like Jimin had mentioned, the backroom has the archives for tournament set-up equipment and blueprints, so there is only really some tweaking and dusting off (in more ways than one).

The strangest thing to Seokjin about this, however, is not how fast and smoothly everything is moving, but how her friend circle expands.

Along with a couple other high ranked instructors and hand-picked students, Jimin comes back to train with them and introduces Hoseok, Jungkook, and Seokjin to her own friends, who had all found places to stay for time being nearby.

Namjoon is impossibly tall, taller than Seokjin herself, and has a blonde undercut that contrasts with his tan skin, but matches the dimples that appear when he smiles. He towers over everyone else in this group, but even more so next to his partner Yoongi, who is also blonde but collected in a way that came off as standoffish when he is first introduced.

But neither of them compare to the orange-headed bundle of uncontained energy that is Taehyung. She talks fast and never stops moving, but her eyes are clever as she scans everyone up and down with an almost mischievous glint, before stopping on Seokjin.

“Tall, real life model, and beautiful hair and lips, you must be Seokjin,” she says. “I hear you like Jiminnie’s nickname.” She wiggles her eyebrows as both Seokjin and Jimin flush down to their toes at this, remembering Seokjin’s slip of tongue on their first meeting. Jimin smacks her friend’s shoulder while Seokjin tries to struggle out an answer that won’t embarrass them all.

She’s spared an answer, though, when Taehyung’s eyes jump next to Hoseok and she flashes a winning smile that’s straight around the corners. “Hello there, love. Lean and jawline straight enough to kill, you must be Ho –”

Before Hoseok can react, Jungkook steps up in front of him, dark hair swishing in her high ponytail and all but glares at Taehyung, who somehow finds this endearing as well.

“All doom and gloom when provoked, but could endorse Innisfree if you manage to squeeze out a smile, you must be Jungkook,” she says, rectangular grin somehow widening even more.

To everyone’s complete surprise, Jungkook blinks a few times at this and ducks her head. Even from her spot next to Jimin, Seokjin can see that the tops of her ears had turned pink. Hoseok reacts first to this by letting out a loud sound between a laugh and a coo and hugs her tightly around the shoulders, squeezing a small squeak and a deeper flush from the youngest.

The strangest thing, however, turns out to be the mutual compatibility and chemistry everyone has together. Taehyung, despite her energy, prefers forms over sparring and spends a lot of time with Hoseok comparing their rank differences. Even Jungkook opens up by the end of the day and chats up a storm with Namjoon and Yoongi when she finds out they are rappers in their free time.

For the rest of the day, Seokjin catches Jimin’s eye across the training room a few times as she relays the information to Mr. J from the head of Seoul Academy, and they share smiles.

But, as she warms up and instructing the newcomers on training differences, Seokjin tries not to think about all the appearance descriptors Taehyung had gotten before, and where they had come from.

cross-cross-duck-front kick-spin roundkick …

Slam!

Seokjin gets the wind knocked out of her when the sidekick to her left ribs and then there’s Namjoon’s deep voice calling, “ Break! ”

There’s splattered sounds of clapping as the small group of people circling around them as Seokjin rips off her headgear and spits out her mouth guard into her left hand.

Across from her, Jimin is doing the same thing, shaking her soaked hair from the bangs that have slipped out from her ponytail.

Consulting the two clickers he has in either hand, Namjoon announces, “One head kick, one body punch with a cross, which gives Seokjin four points. And Jimin,” he looks at the other. “Two head kicks and one body kick, so that’s five points. So, to approximately no one’s surprise–” Seokjin gives him a tight lipped smile and flips him off, “–this goes to Jimin!”

There is another round of cheering and clapping, much louder this time. Seokjin had already known and takes it with good grace, but can’t help enjoying the fluttering pink that stretches across Jimin’s skin.

“ Chadyea , kunye ,” Namjoon says and the two bow to each other and move back to opposite sides of the circle, but not before shaking right hands with left arm held flat and hand tucked underneath the right elbow.

(“Why do you shake hands that way?” Taehyung asks the first time they spar.

“To show respect and that you’re honorable by showing your opponent that all hands are in view.”

“So that the other person knows that you aren’t holding a sword behind your back and won’t stab them when they aren’t paying attention?”

“…Sure. Let’s go with that.”)

As Hoseok gives her a low five before stepping up to face against Namjoon, as he trades his head gear with the clickers to Yoongi, Seokjin settles down next to Jungkook. The younger gives her a few pointers under her breath while the two warm up. But Seokjin isn’t really listening.

This is the fourth time she’s lost to Jimin in sparring since they’ve started training over a week ago. Seokjin is starting to begrudgingly accept that she’s always going to lose to Jimin and finds that she’s actually okay with it, though she’ll never admit it aloud.

But it’s only because, when Jimin’s grinning at her across the way, or stands close before they let go of a handshake that’s a little longer than necessary, just glowing from just more than just adrenaline and victory.

To Seokjin, it feels a lot like winning.

While there are lots of preparations, the group have lots of free time to spend together, as it is summer for the ones in school (Jungkook, Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok) and the other three having breaks from their jobs.

One weekend they all decide to take a trip to the beach. It’s a little cold with the wind, but it just means less people and more space for them.

They get a game of volleyball going – Seokjin, Jimin, and Hoseok on one team, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Taehyung on the other, and finally with Yoongi as referee. (Jungkook calls him lazy and Namjoon calls him short. But everyone really knows it’s because when provoked, no one will stand a chance against him, not even his own teammates. And frankly, even Namjoon doesn’t get special favors, so he’s about the closest they can get to an impartial judge.)

It’s supposed to be even in terms of height, but Jungkook is far too competitive for her own good, and somehow manages to more than make up for Namjoon, who only has his 181cms plus outstretched arms going for him. Taehyung is everywhere all the time anyway, so she manages to fill all the spaces that Namjoon can’t fill.

On the other side, Seokjin does her best to match Namjoon’s height and Hoseok tries valiantly to spike against Jungkook. But Jimin keeps crashing into Seokjin, despite her best efforts to staying clear.

“Be careful, you can’t keep shoulder-checking me,” Seokjin warns, when they take a water break. “I could knock you back over. And for god’s sake, we’re on the same team!”

From the other side, Taehyung snorts and says, “That’s not the only thing Jimin’s checking.”

“And they do more than just play on the same team,” Hoseok adds smirking, and they high-five obnoxiously.

Seokjin mostly ignores this, but still casually flips them both off over her shoulder as she turns back to Jimin. “Seriously, though,” she says. “You okay? We can switch, I know you’d be more comfortable with Taehyung…”

“No,” Jimin shakes her head so vigorously that her short hair slips out of her tiny ponytail. “I’m okay, don’t worry about me.” She smiles and reaches out her hands that Seokjin hesitates briefly before taking. “I feel safe around you and I like spending time with you.”

Seokjin blames the sun for suddenly cranking up its heat, but she smiles too and gives their entwined hands a quick squeeze.

“Yeah,” she says. “Me too.”

They end up losing spectacularly to Jungkook’s team, but once rounds of ice cream and laughter over a campfire are passed around in good spirits, it’s far out of their minds.

When the last bus back to Busan comes close to midnight, they all clamor into the back. There are scattered seats so they end up splitting up into two groups. There isn’t a whole lot of space in the back row, but Jimin squeezes in between Seokjin and Namjoon and promptly knocks out before Namjoon.

Seokjin has her earphones in, accepting her role as Mom and making sure to stay awake and ensure that they all get off at the right stop, notices in her peripheral vision that Jimin’s head swaying in tandem with the movement of the bus. So she reaches up and gently cups Jimin’s cheek and pulls her to rests her head on her shoulder.

And Jimin must have been still fighting to stay upright because, as soon as she rests her head against Seokjin’s shoulder, she relaxes completely. Her breath is warm and gentle as she snuggles against Seokjin’s neck.

The touch and imprint on her skin lingers long after they reach home.

Before they know it, between training and preparing and coordinating schedules and spending time with Jimin alone or in a group, it’s finally the night before the tournament.

They are the last to leave, with maps of the high school gymnasium nearby and schedules strewn across the training room floor. Seokjin runs through the schedules as Jimin confirms the set up with Hoseok on the phone. He, Jungkook, and Taehyung are on errands buying last minute things while Namjoon and Yoongi set up the gym itself, before they all go home.

When the last calls are finished, it’s near eleven pm. Seokjin is putting papers back in the folders and Jimin is beside her for a second pair of eyes in case one of them forget when the lights suddenly go out. It’s not completely dark because of the streetlights outside the window and the flitting beams that slither across the walls from moving cars.

“It’s okay, it happens sometimes when they are doing maintenance,” Seokjin says, as she feels Jimin moving her head around in confusion. “Mr. J must’ve wanted to make sure they stay lit when we all come back after the tournament. They’ll come back in a bit.”

Jimin hums and leans against the back wall that with the standing dummies and spare training gear.

Seokjin is stuffing the rest of the papers into her backpack when Jimin speaks up.

“Are you nervous?” she asks, “You have a lot to lose tomorrow.”

“I used to think so. This is maybe the only home I’ve ever had,” Seokjin admits. “I wasn't happy at my parents’ place. They fought a lot, so I was angry a lot too, and would take it out – on people I knew and people I didn’t – in the nastiest ways. But then I met Hoseok and he introduced me to Jungkook, and then BST. Mr. J…”

She leans against the other wall to look out the windows. “He saw something in me that I never saw in myself. That first night I met him, I hit him. I resented any adult telling me what to do.” She closes her eyes, reliving the feeling. “But he didn’t stop me. And he let me hit him. Over and over and over again. He just told me ‘Let it out, Seokjin, let it all out, let all the negative energy out.’ When I couldn’t anymore, I broke down, right on the floor.”

Jimin is making all the right quiet sounds that emboldens Seokjin to keep talking. But even if she had wanted to, she couldn’t have stopped.

Letting out a little chuckle, Seokjin continues, “And then he told me he was proud of me for holding it in so long, for being so strong all on my own. But that I didn’t need to anymore. So I found a home there. And all the anger, all the negative energy I had was gone the first time I put on that uniform. The white belt felt like redemption in a way… In a way I never thought I’d ever deserve, but will take it at any cost...”

Then suddenly she has an intense moment of déjà vu. To when she had met Jimin in this room, when she thought she had crossed a certain line. “S-sorry,” she stutters. “I ranted a bit…”

Jimin hums and shakes her head. “No, not at all. Thank you for telling me. You are really strong and it’s amazing that you’ve become the person you’re meant to be.”

Ducking her head, Seokjin scratches the back of her neck. “What about you?”

“My story is nothing like that.”

“Tell me.”

Biting her lip, Jimin looks down at the ground and doesn’t answer right away. But when she does, it’s sure but also vulnerable in so many ways that something in Seokjin aches.

“I was bullied a lot,” she says. “So I started training for all the wrong reasons. I’m not tall or strong, and I was even smaller back then. But I had this idea that if I could beat them up, then they wouldn’t make fun of me anymore.”

She smiles and sits down onto the ground, patting the space next to her.

“But taekwondo gave me strength,” she continues as Seokjin settles in next to her. “But then I realized that it wasn’t about being strong. I was letting them. I was letting them get to me and into my headspace. They bothered me because I didn’t know better.” She pulls her legs up to her chest and rest her chin on her knees. “Martial arts gave me strength, but also calm. And it also taught me that, while I was hurt many times, it gave me an understanding and appreciation for others in pain.”

Then she turns to meet Seokjin’s eyes. “That’s how I met Taehyung. She was being bullied when she first moved to Seoul and I guess I just saw myself in her…”

Her voice drifts off and Seokjin is hit with a strong desire to comfort her, but is at a loss at how to. So, she rests a hand on Jimin’s arm, steady enough to make her intention known, but light enough that Jimin could push her away is she wanted.

But she didn’t. She just stares up into Seokjin’s eyes, the streetlights reflecting off the surface.

“I’m no good with words,” Seokjin says, “but I know that you’re strong too and I’m proud of you. And I think I can speak for all of us, that we are all lucky to be your friend. And none of this, this tournament, all of us together, the chance for BST to go on, none of it could have been done without you. So, thank you… I guess…” she trails off awkwardly.

There is a strange expression in Jimin’s eyes now, and Seokjin isn’t sure if it’s just the light or something else. But before she can decide, Jimin is suddenly standing up and then pulling Seokjin up by the elbow. The older had barely enough to comply and straighten before Jimin is surging forward to take her down.

“W-what?” Seokjin half-laughs, half-gasps. She immediately lowers her body and shoulder-checks Jimin and digging her bare feet into the carpet.

“Last… minute… training,” Jimin says, from somewhere lower and grinning so wide that these words struggle their way out from behind her gritted teeth.

They aren’t fighting anywhere near real, but it has them laughing again and, when Jimin’s laughter is filling the semi-darkness, it feels much fuller of light than shadow.

Then, without warning, Jimin stumbles slightly, right when Seokjin is bending down to grab her by the uniform lapels. Jimin is leaning back, with a soft “ Oh. ” But Seokjin reaches out, yanks her down, sweeping Jimin off her feet with a low swing of her leg, before tossing the younger up then easily beneath her.

The quiet gasp Jimin lets out at impact with the ground washes over Seokjin's face and it takes her a belated moment to realize how close she must be to feel that against her nose, the fleeting sense of victory now far far from her mind.

Jimin has always been soft, but in this moment, gazing up from the navy carpet up at Seokjin with sweat dripping from her bangs, she is something else entirely. The lights still haven't come back on and the windows are cracked open so they can hear the rush of cars passing by the highway, but the tremble of Jimin's breath is the only thing that Seokjin can hear when she watches them escape from those full lips.

Then a tickling sensation on Seokjin's ankle makes her jolt. Jimin is still hasn't broken eye contact, staring up at her, but her hand is now running against the exposed skin beneath Seokjin's pants in a distinctly noncombative way. Seokjin shuts her eyes and tries to hold back the shudder as Jimin's short nails drag against the hairs standing on end.

"Seokjin..." It couldn't have been more than a whisper, a mere passing of breath because Seokjin still has her pinned down at the collar. But it makes Seokjin’s eyes flash open and subconsciously loosen her grip just a little.

Jimin seems so ready to say something, do something more. But Seokjin is closing that distance first.

They crash together when Jimin sits up to meet her halfway, and Seokjin feels the thud in their ribs more than she hears it when their bodies meet in the middle.

Everything about Jimin is still so so soft, but there is an intensity and there are parts of her that are sharper than Seokjin realizes. Like the broken bridge of her collarbones that are now exposed from the ruffled uniform and aren’t covered by the straps her tanktop and sports bra. Or the straightness of her nose as they keep bumping into Seokjin’s, or the edge of her jawline as she tilts her head back to deepen the kiss.

When Jimin lets out a soft, soft moan between their lips before sucking on Seokjin’s bottom lip, it really hits Seokjin that this – spending time alone with her and kissing her and just being with her like this – this is what she had been yearning for so long.

She pulls back and searches Jimin’s face, breath catching in her throat in a way more than any sparring match she’s ever been in. The passion in Jimin’s expression is fading into worry as she tries to understand if there is anything wrong.

So Seokjin just whispers, “Break.”

At this, Jimin’s face breaks into another blinding smile and lets out a breathy laugh before tugging Seokjin back down with a steady hand behind the older’s neck.

They are still kissing when the lights flicker back on.

Even Seokjin wouldn’t have dreamed, or even dared to believe, that the tournament could run so smoothly.

No one is hurt for one, but the rounds move as efficiently as a well-oiled machine that had been dormant for so long, and excited to work again.

Mr. J had promised to take a backseat, but it doesn’t stop him from competing and cheering and doing everything. Everyone on the management team are also very enthusiastic that Seokjin ends up having not a whole lot to do.

She hadn’t signed up to compete, so she ends up mediating and spectating every event going on. Students of all ranks, ages, genders, races are gathered and even though there are many types of colored belts, there is the same brilliant happiness that is shared among everyone present. Competing or not.

First up are forms.

Hoseok and Taehyung is more forms-oriented, so they get second and first respectively for the fourth degree form. Namjoon and Yoongi opted out of it, citing the sparring and board breaking as their priority, and the judges let them since they had gotten up extra early to set up.

By late morning, the forms are finished and, to most, the real fun begins.

Since the seven friends are all the same rank and there aren’t that many fourth degrees, they end up being co-ed, though Seokjin had the mercy to try to split them by weight and height class.

As Seokjin watches Yoongi spar against a BST student, she notices that Yoongi is like Jimin with more fluid movements. But where Jimin is flexible and light on her feet, Yoongi is always balanced and every foot step is calculated.

Jungkook, on the other hand, is just reckless, but Seokjin has to admit that there is something terrifyingly impressive about the 20-yr-old woman who is anything but predictable, to the point that people wonder if she moves by instinct or it's just some combinations she's internalized.

When she takes the win in her section, Hoseok bounds forward and kisses her at the temple, laughing as she swats him away, flushing redder than the adrenaline still coursing through her.

But the real treat was watching Jimin clear her way to the top, and Seokjin sees for the first time her hook kick. It’s a changing move, in one round, is a trick kick, looking like a missed side kick that swings around to land. Other times, it’s just one smooth, clean slicing movement that, with a small jump, earns her three points on the spot. And Seokjin finally understands what Jungkook had meant and makes a mental note to never piss her off.

Later in the afternoon, is the board breaking, which is more for show than anything.

Once the lower ranks have finished their boards, the third degrees and higher up the ante by bringing in concrete bricks with small boards in between each.

Taehyung successfully breaks her brick with a clean and precise palm hand, much to everyone's excitement. Not to be outdone, Jungkook follows up with two bricks with a hammer fist with her non-dominant left hand, but the winning title goes to Jimin who breaks four with a drop elbow.

Seokjin kisses her hard when Jimin brings her trophy and everyone cheers, with a very distinct, “ About time! ” from Yoongi.

Mr. J himself sheds a tear and pulls Seokjin and Jimin into a shared hug, and chokes out a “Thank you” before pulling everyone together.

They all squish together for a group picture, everyone wet from just more than sweat and water doused from bottles, but they really couldn’t care less.

If nothing else, Seokjin thinks as they settle into place and pull her smile, if nothing else, if the school closes down and is swept away from memory as everyone here moves on in their own directions without a look back.

If nothing else, Seokjin wants to remember all of this and keep the memory with her forever.

Busan School of Taekwondo (or Blood, Sweat, and Tears, as everyone affectionately called it) is gone for about a month now.

Or the name at least.

Mr. Park, the head of Seoul Academy, turns out to be Jimin’s father and a former rival of Mr. J. But he’s thoroughly impressed with everyone who completed and understands that most cannot join him at Seoul Academy. So, he proposes that they merge and join as a branch school.

So the new Beyond Taekwondo School sign stands fresh against the slight remodeling and touchup that Mr. Park helped raise funds for, which mostly included an expansion of buying out the convenience store next door.

Hoseok stays at BTS with Seokjin when he graduates, but travels often to Seoul to spend time with Jungkook who transfers to Jimin’s and Taehyung’s college.

Namjoon and Yoongi eventually quit martial arts to pursue their music career, an iconic rap duo. But they always make sure to hold concerts in Busan and come back to visit every holiday.

After a year, Jimin graduates early and takes full residence in Busan.

So she trains with Seokjin daily, pushing each other to their limits. Seokjin still loses often, but it’s becoming more even now (Jimin likes to say that she feels bad for always winning, but Seokjin usually tackles her every time she tries to say this).

And while the carpet is dark red instead of navy and the mirrors on both the front and side wall, and the world is always changing around them, there is no one else in this universe that Seokjin would rather face it all with.