UNBUNDLED THINGS

Hung was halfway down the sidewalk when a sharp yell cut through the night.

It came from an alley just ahead, dimly lit by the yellow glare of the streetlamps. It was past nine, and Hung wasn't the type to poke his nose into trouble—but a glint of movement caught his eye. A smaller, wiry figure stood facing four broad-shouldered men. They weren't street thugs; they looked more like bodyguards.

“Hey! What’s going on here?” Hung called out, the words leaving his mouth before he could think them through.

The slim figure shot him a quick glance. “Step back. You’re not needed here.”

The next second, the "skinny guy" moved like a whip—a heel smashing down on the nearest man's foot, an elbow driving into his ribs, and a sharp backhand that dropped him like a sack.

The other three lunged in.

One of the remaining men circled toward Hung, who instinctively shifted into a ready stance. The glint of a folded knife flicked open in the man’s hand. No more thinking. Fight now.

They clashed—Hung blocking a kick, dodging a punch. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the skinny fighter's sidekick connect with another man’s jaw. One opponent staggered back; another grabbed a stick, ready to strike from behind.

“Watch out!” Hung barked.

The smaller fighter spun, rolled, and came up with a leather belt in hand, snapping it like a whip. Hung felt the air move, ducking the man’s right-hand punch—but the knife in the left hand came in too close, a flash of pain searing through his thigh. Suddenly, the knife-wielder collapsed, sprawled face-up. The skinny fighter stood over him, stick in hand.

Hung was panting hard; the other fighter didn't even look winded. Four down. It was almost too easy.

The slim figure grabbed Hung's wrist. “Come on.”

They ran, not stopping until they were several blocks away. The fighter made a quick call in a low, clipped tone—too quiet for Hung to catch more than the fact it was a report to someone.

“Thanks for the assist,” the fighter said at last. “But next time, don’t try to play hero for a helpless woman—” She stopped mid-sentence, eyes narrowing at Hung’s thigh. “You’re bleeding.”

Hung blinked, staring harder at her face. The feminine features were unmistakable under the dim light. “Oh, hell. You’re a woman!”

She rolled her eyes. “I need to take care of that wound.”

“You’re a woman. I’m—sorry.”

“Come on.”

She flagged down a taxi, taking him to a clean, minimalist apartment. Inside, she pointed him to the couch and disappeared into a bedroom, returning with a medical kit and a pair of linen trousers.

“You just let a stranger walk into your place like this?” Hung asked. “You’re a woman.”

She gave him a look. “Can you chill? You realize I can manhandle you, right?”

“…Fair point.”

“Now take off your pants so I can fix your leg.”

Hung obeyed without another word, catching the flicker of distaste on her face—probably at his hesitation. At least he still had his boxers on. Her movements were precise and efficient: cleaning the wound with iodine, injecting a small dose of local anesthetic, and stitching three neat sutures.

“You a doctor?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Nurse? Paramedic?”

“Nope. Been there, done that.”

“Thanks.”

“You’ll be fine on the couch, right? I’m going to bed. Trousers are yours; the bathroom’s over there.”

She was halfway to her room when Hung called, “Hey—I’m Hung, by the way.”

The door clicked shut.

Hung washed up quickly, finding a neatly folded blanket on the couch. He smiled.

She had a quick warm shower before finally laying down and closing her eyes.

Lukita took a deep breath to end her pranayama, her body slick with sweat.

The sunrise reached the balcony.

She felt relaxed, her body rhythm restored after a half hour of asana. Folding the mattress, she walked inside, aware of a pair of eyes watching her movements.

She met his gaze.

“Good morning,” the handsome fellow greeted her.

She simply smiled.

In Hung's eyes around a half-hour earlier…

Hung woke up, noticing the cool wind from the balcony. He instinctively looked at his wrist watch: 6 o'clock. Folding the blanket, he put on the pants and shirt.

He had slept only in his boxers, noticing last night that the apartment didn't feel like a permanent home, but it was fully equipped.

His eyes found a slim body glistening with sweat on the balcony, performing Surya Namaskar, sun salutations. He feasted his eyes.

The powerful energy in that body, he grinned inwardly, reminded him of last night's fight. She sure is powerful.

He noticed the host was Asian, with black eyes and shoulder-length black hair tied in a low ponytail, taller than the average Asian woman. He watched her end her breathing, the sunrise kissing her face, and break the lotus pose to get up.

Her smile when he greeted her good morning.

Lukita clicked her room door shut and methodically prepared her things in her backpack. A good scrubbing in the shower later really freshened her up.

She walked out and noticed her guest had whipped up breakfast in the kitchen. Toast and bacon were ready on the island table, and a plate of scrambled eggs came next.

“You don't mind scrambling around your kitchen right?” He asked. “Orange juice or milk?”

“Milk for me. And I need to get going after breakfast.”

“Okay.”

They both found each other had a good appetite for breakfast and finished them all. House was cleaned. Hung was ready when Lukita stepped out of her room with her backpack.

“Do you really don't wanna know or ask anything about your guest?” He questioned her right before she opened the apartment door.

“Considering your help even when it wasn't needed, I'll just keep quiet.” Then “Besides, who doesn't know the famous handsome Hung Wibisana. World wide model. Maybe the most easy to find face all across Asia and Europe?”

Facing his astonishing eyes, she continued.

“I know you. Don't worry!”

They stepped out of the lift, a black sedan with a driver waiting in the lobby.

Lukita asked the driver to take Hung to his hotel. She was a bit surprised when she found out that he stayed in a bed and breakfast hotel.

Before he got out of the car. A quick peck landed on his left cheek. Surprised, but Lukita shoved him off and closed the car door.

Hung watched from the hotel lobby as the car sped up.