It wasn't everyday that I did something productive, but, when I did, it was usually against my will and being forced by a mysterious dark figure named Zitao.

In order to be fit to live through his teachings, I had to 'tone' my body. That meant that everyday I made it to my class I wasn't learning Martial Arts, I was working out. This was the opposite of what I was looking for, but his intense gaze frightened me away from leaving, and I would always resort back to telling myself that I was fine and didn't need to leave the class just yet. Maybe I could make it.

Ten push-ups later, however, I was back to rethinking what I already thought the first time. My arms burned and refused to move, but Zitao was glancing down at me. Not wanting to seem inferior to his dark eyes, I would push myself until I was broken on the ground, too tired to move anymore.

Then we would switch to trying to stretch for flexibility, and the first time we tried this was when I realized how incompetent I was. No wonder why I was so scared of being kidnapped.

First things was simple; flex your legs outwards until you couldn't anymore. After I watched Zitao practically get into a splits to just watch me try, I knew I was going to fail. If he's as determined as Chanyeol to get me to learn guitar, I was never going to escape. I would shyly part my legs and stretch down to flex and he wouldn't even show emotion other than keen observation. It was like he was an actually teacher instead of Bruce Lee. At that moment I knew that he wasn't going to be the cut throat instructor that I thought he was going to be, but a devoted teacher.

Then he showed me a stretching move when you place your hands on the other person's shoulders and bend downwards at the same time. It was interesting, especially since he could go further down than me, but I found it effective to feel the burn in the back of my legs.

After hooking arms with me and lifting me on his back we finally started to get to business. And by business, I mean sit-ups. After Zitao rubbed it in my face that he could do sixty eight in one minute, I was already feeling weak. Maybe that was his plan to make me want to improve myself. I managed to do thirty before dying completely, feeling my abdomen burn.

He was trying to stretch my legs out by my sides when the door to the classroom opened and Chanyeol came waltzing in Jongin, Yixing and Junmyeon behind him. I make a gasping noise and they pause, seeing Zitao over my spread body. I instantly curl up with a squeal and roll to the side, Zitao watching them.

"We are practicing." He warns, but they laugh.

"Practicing what?" Jongin jokes, walking in front of the mirror and doing a small dance, watching himself. Chanyeol produces a guitar and starts to prepare it, but I know exactly where he was going with this.

"Can we not right now? I'm in a class." I object, still on the floor. Chanyeol looks down at me with a look of absurdity.

"You can practice after. I can wait." He states, settling down by the wall and tuning. I blow a raspberry and sit up, watching as Junmyeon stands above me and Yixing makes a side comment to Zitao. When I stand up I see Junmyeon on his phone, open to the internet. I barely register a picture of a date on his calendar before he turns it off and slides it into his pocket.

"What are we going to work on next?" I ask, putting my hands on my waist. Yixing goes over to Chanyeol and sits down, letting Zitao and I get back to work. Chanyeol strums a tune and Jongin tries dancing to it, expertly moving his body. I force my eyes away when Zitao suddenly reaches down, eyeing his companions, and grasps my ankle.

"Tell me to stop when it hurts." he instructs, making me lift my leg slightly and gently raising it. I watch him carefully and suddenly my vision blanks out, but not from pain.

He's wearing black again, but I get a better look. Something I could only explain as a blanket-poncho contraption was covering his body. He had skinny jeans with tassels on them and wrapped hands. I instantly wonder if maybe this was a premonition. Maybe he was going to kill me in the future wearing this.

His covered hand bring up my legs, but they're no longer in sweatpants. They appeared to be in leggings, but the galaxy print made up the entire cloth. I had black shoes on, and a poncho shirt similar to Zitao's, except I also had a dress on. Longer in the back, shorter in the front, it stopped at my hips but the thinner outer fabric went a few inches longer. It was down to my in the back and didn't have any sleeves.

I notice that Zitao had stopped moving and was watching me carefully, his entire body covered in black. He must not notice that I was having something close to an LSD trip and had a concerned look, only seeing that I looked over my entire body with wide eyes. I swallow and nod my head and he starts to raise my leg up again, the mirrors gone and replaced with a run down concrete room. Where ever we were was a mystery, but so was this whole vision thing.

My leg is soon perpendicular to the floor and he keeps going, past any limits I thought I had before on my flexibility. I'm pretty sure that i couldn't do this earlier, so why now?

Maybe in my past life I was a ninja and Zitao was my partner. That could mean that we were meant to re-meet and join our destiny as top rated assassins once more. This was unlikely, but I could dream.

My leg goes up and soon Zitao is very slowly bringing it up to meet my head, doing some sort of mid-air splits. I make a confused face and suddenly the black and concrete flicker away, back in the mirror room. My leg explodes with pain and I gasp, falling down and hitting the laminated wooden floors. Junmyeon and Zitao are on the floor with me in seconds, Yixing trying to shuffle in my direction and Jongin ceasing his dancing, Chanyeol leaning forward to see what happened. I hold the back of my knee as it screams at me in pain from it's lack of flexibility, even though I felt nothing on the way up.

What just happened?

"I said stop if it hurts!" Zitao scolds. Junmyeon sets his hands on my side and helps me roll onto my back as I stretch my leg down to relax it, wincing.

"It didn't hurt. I don't know what happened." I groan, getting onto my stomach and rising to my feet. Yixing was bending down, looking at my leg and pressing his hands to it. As if he was a master masseuse, the pain goes away and I relax, Zitao asking him something. I catch the words heal, power, and give, but he s