Horangi | Horangi

"So, you're going to help me?" Horangi looked you up and down, as if assessing the goods.

You stood opposite him, hands on your hips, chin up. Against his imposing frame, your six-foot-six inches looked almost comical, but inside, you didn't flinch.

"Yes sir. I'll work with you," they replied firmly, without looking away.

A couple of months passed. During this time, Horangi had to admit his doubts were unfounded. You turned out to be quick, quick-witted, and always caught on quickly. Sometimes even too good; sometimes you did the job better than he did, and it hurt his pride. The others, however, were only drawn to you more, as if you brought a little fire to the team.

And then one day, when you once again shone, he couldn’t stand it.

"Hey, girl, maybe you can fight better than me?" There was a smirk in his voice, but his eyes were already shining with challenge.

“Who knows,” you shrugged. “Maybe it really is better.”

He stood up abruptly and stepped closer, almost right up to her.

"Shall we check? Right now," he grinned. "But whatever, I'll give you a head start. The first strike is yours."